#red!clark kent smallville

[fablehaven-rulez]

@hanasnx I have a feeling you'll like this one, reminds me of your writing

clark leaned against the locker room door, his eyes blazing with an unmistakable crimson hue. the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips wasn’t just charming—it was downright infuriating. red kryptonite had turned smallville’s golden boy into a swaggering, irreverent bad boy, and he knew exactly how to wield that dangerous edge.

“y’know,” he drawled, tilting his head lazily as his gaze slid over you, unhurried and electric, “i’ve got a talent most boyfriends don’t. i see things… things other guys can only dream of.” his voice was low, gravelly, a sinful mix of arrogance and tease.

you folded your arms, feeling the heat of his stare as though it had a weight of its own. “what are you talking about, clark?” you snapped, pretending the flush on your cheeks was from annoyance and not the way he was looking at you—like he already owned every inch of your body.

clark chuckled, a deep, wicked sound, and stepped closer, the space between you crackling with tension. his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, but his posture screamed dominance. “oh, don’t play coy,” he said, his eyes flashing to yours briefly before dipping lower again. “lacy red with a little bow in the front? cute. but maybe next time, try something sheer. you’re hiding a masterpiece under there.”

your breath caught in your throat, indignation and something darker surging through you. “excuse me?!” you hissed, your hand instinctively tugging your skirt down. “did you just…?”

“did i just use my x-ray vision to admire my girl’s panties?” clark interrupted, leaning down so his lips were just a breath from your ear. his voice dropped, husky and unapologetic. “damn right i did.”

your heart was pounding now, a wild rhythm of embarrassment and excitement. “you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, trying to keep your composure. but it was hard to stay indignant when he had that smug, wolfish grin on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“and you’re gorgeous,” he shot back effortlessly, stepping even closer, his body brushing against yours. “seriously, babe, you should’ve seen yourself bending over to pick up your books earlier. let’s just say it made gym class a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“you are impossible, clark kent,” you said, but your voice wavered, betraying the growing heat between you two. his confidence, his audacity—it was intoxicating.

“impossible?” he echoed, finally pulling his hands free of his pockets and bracketing you against the lockers. “maybe. but you love it.” his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, his smirk softening just enough to be almost sweet—almost. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll keep your little secret safe… for now.”

[vakariaan]

Clois +

[chiasfeu]

pt 2!! hehehe + again apologies for any grammatical errors

part one here

SECRET ADMIRER - clark kent x reader

“Hmm it’s getting late.. how about we pick back up tomorrow?”

Clark lets out a shaky breath, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “y/n that’s not fair..” Your lips curve slightly upwards at his remark, letting your fingertips trace upwards on the exposed skin of his arms you ask, “What’s not fair, Clark?” He stares at you intently, gulping, unable to let his thoughts out. You move closer to Clark, positioning yourself slightly above him, reaching a hand to push his hair back, you whisper lowly, “tell me what you want, Clark..” He looks up at you, his eyes glued to your lips. “You..” he whispers shakily, wrapping his arms around your waist and peering up at you. Smiling at his words you bring your hands down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it off your head and tossing it to the side. Hovering your face over his, you bite your lip, “kiss me, Clark”

He wastes no time delving into your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You feel his strong hands grip your hips as you slowly rock them on his thigh, running your hands through his hair. He looks at you, brows furrowed and eyes glossy, “please…” he whispers, his hands travel up your back, gripping you with despair. You feel his dick grow in his pants, poking you as you straddle him; the thin fabric of your panties and his pants being the only separation between the two of you. You blush to yourself, noting his shaky breaths as you feel the pulse of his erection through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Clark looks at you with desperation in his eyes, his hands gripping harder onto the sides of your hips. Biting your lip, you slowly come down to his neck, kissing him. You feel his body relax into you as you trail your kisses lower and lower down his body. His muscles tense as your kisses reach his v-line. “y/n” he groans, “I don’t know if we should be doing this” he says bringing a hand out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your face. “But I need you too, Clark” you whisper, sitting back up straight and reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. He watches intently, gulping as your bra unclips and your boobs fall into their natural position. You watch him squirm on the bed, trying to create some friction for himself. You lean back down to his v-line, not breaking eye contact, and tug undo the button on his jeans. “Is this ok?” you ask. “Yes,” he says, almost too quickly. You smile as he blushes, “I’ve thought about you.. like this a lot..” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you ask teasingly as you unzip his pants and pull them down. You feel yourself clench when you catch a glimpse of his bulge; a wet patch already on his boxers from the precum. “Me too,” you say breathlessly, reaching towards the top of his boxers, pulling them down. His cock springs out, tip already leaking and veins pulsing. You swallow before looking at him, his eyebrows pointed upward as he pants breathlessly. You reach your head down at the base of his dick, kissing it before licking a long strip up to the tip. Clark moans, and you push your legs together feeling a familiar ache form at your core. You lick the precum off his tip before slowly taking his dick down your mouth. Clark reaches towards you, grabbing a fist full of your hair as you sink down towards the base of his cock.

As you continue working your mouth on his dick, you feel a twitch and stop. You pull away as a string of saliva connects your swollen lips to the tip of Clark Kent’s dick. You climb back up on him, kissing him sloppily as you rub your ass on his dick. His hands find their way to your ass, he pulls away from you. You feel his fingers tug your underwear to the side, and the ache in your core gets stronger. “Clark” you moan into his neck, “I’ve wanted this for so long, y/n” he whispers softly in your ear. You feel his tip against your entrance, your hands move to his head, gripping his hair softly to brace yourself. He sinks into you, filling you up entirely. Clark lets out a groan, throwing his head back as he slowly thrusts upwards into you.

You bury yourself into his neck, muffled moans leaving your mouth as Clark speeds up his pace. “y/n” he moans, wrapping his strong arms around your body, “look at me, please, baby, I need to see your face.” You pull yourself up to look down at him as he ruts into you, his mouth open from pleasure, a small smirk forming across his lips as he sees your face. You bite your lip, trying to supress a moan from falling out of your mouth. Clark notices, smiling before attaching his lips to yours, kissing you messily. You struggle to keep up in the kiss as he increases his pace, you pull away moaning, feeling the knot in your stomach get tighter, before you finally come undone; clenching around him as you ride your high.

You get off his dick and bring your mouth up to it for the second time, taking him in all the way. He whines as you quicken your pace while sucking him; feeling him twitch in your mouth you stop. His cum gushes out into your mouth, you watch as he convulses after ever load he lets out before he stops. You slide your mouth off his dick and swallow before crawling besides him to cuddle. He smiles, wrapping his arms around you, “I’m really glad I wrote that letter.” He says chuckling.

[sabrinasopposite]

game-boy !

red kryptonite!clark kent x reader

you got a cute face  and that kept me entertained and the way you said my name,  won't lie, it felt amazing.

summary: clark kent finds himself caught in a whirlwind romance with y/n in metropolis, his heart as unpredictable as a gameboy game. what starts as an exciting, addictive connection soon reveals itself as a series of highs and lows, with y/n unable to escape the emotional rollercoaster. as the game progresses, she realizes she’s been playing a losing game, constantly chasing a happy ending that may never come.

The flickering glow of the cinema screen painted Y/N’s world in shades of silver and shadow. The soft hum of the projector was her comfort, a backdrop to her quiet nights in the old theater nestled in the heart of Metropolis.

Here, stories came to life—perfectly framed, perfectly scripted. If only life outside the reels could be so simple.

“Popcorn for one, or is it two tonight?” she teased, turning to the tall, dark figure leaning casually against the concession stand.

Clark Kent grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye that made her stomach flutter despite herself. “You tell me, Y/N. Think anyone in this city could keep up with me?”

Her laugh was soft, polite—a practiced shield. “Plenty of girls would love to try.”

“Yeah?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “But I’m only here for the ones who can keep me guessing.”

Y/N froze, her cheeks heating against her will. She hated how he could do that—turn an ordinary moment into something electric. She tried to play it off, shaking her head as she handed him his ticket. “You’re shameless, Clark.”

“Guilty as charged.” He winked, brushing his hand against hers as he took the ticket. The touch lingered just long enough to make her heart skip before he disappeared into the theater.

Alone again, Y/N let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching the counter as if to anchor herself. She could feel the danger in his charm, the way his words wrapped around her like a velvet ribbon—beautiful, soft, but binding. Like when he said her name, it felt amazing.

She told herself she wouldn’t fall for it

But telling herself something and believing it were two different things.  

The week rolled on like an old film reel, each day blurring into the next. Y/N had her routine: school, work, a quiet walk home. And yet, Clark became the unexpected twist in her predictable story. He didn’t just come to the cinema—he lingered. Each visit brought a new quip, a new glance, a new spark of something she couldn’t quite name.  

“Let me guess,” she said one night as he approached the counter again, his broad shoulders framed by the golden light of the marquee. “You’re starting to think this place needs a loyalty card?”  

Clark grinned, his hands in his pockets as he leaned on the counter. “What’s the point? I already know the best part of coming here isn’t the movie.”  

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, and she ducked her head, busying herself with the popcorn machine. “You really don’t quit, do you?”  

“Why would I?” he asked, his voice laced with that same teasing charm. “You make it too easy.”  

Her lips pressed together, fighting a smile she didn’t want him to see. He was trouble, she could feel it. The kind of trouble that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, unsure of where you landed.  

“You must have a whole book of lines like that,” she said, her voice light, but there was a trace of something real in her words—an edge of vulnerability she tried to hide.  

Clark tilted his head, his eyes scanning hers like he was searching for something. “Just the ones that work on you.”  

Her heart jumped, and she hated herself for it. She forced a laugh, shaking her head as she handed him his ticket. “Enjoy the show, Clark.”  

“I always do,” he said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. “See you, Y/N.”  

He brushed her hand as he took the ticket, the contact brief but electric, before he disappeared into the theater.  

Alone again, Y/N let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching the counter as if to anchor herself. She didn’t know what to make of him—the way he could make her feel special and off-balance all at once.  

The next night, she told herself she wouldn’t let him get to her. But there he was again, standing at her counter with that same easy grin, his presence filling the room like he owned it.  

“You must really like popcorn,” she said, trying to sound indifferent.  

“I like this place,” he replied, his gaze holding hers a moment too long. “And the company’s not bad either.”  

Her stomach twisted. How could someone be so effortlessly charming, so completely... unreal?  

It all started small. A passing comment here, a lingering glance there. Clark had a way of weaving himself into her days, like a melody she couldn’t get out of her head.

“Y/N, are you always this serious?” he asked one evening, leaning against the counter with a smirk. The last show of the night was playing, and the cinema was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of popcorn bags and the faint score from the theater behind them.

“I’m not serious,” she replied, wiping down the counter. “I’m just working. Some of us have to, you know.”

“Oh, come on.” He gestured at the empty lobby. “You’re saying there’s nothing fun about this job? Not even talking to me?”

She paused, giving him a mock glare. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he said with a grin. “But you haven’t told me I’m wrong.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Fine. Maybe you make things a little less boring around here.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He stepped closer, his tone playful but softer now. “So, what do you do for fun, Y/N? Outside of this glamorous life of popcorn and projector reels?”

The question caught her off guard. No one had asked her that in a long time. She shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really have time for fun.”

Clark tilted his head, studying her. “Then let’s change that.” She blinked. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, his eyes lighting up with that same mischievous glint. “After your shift. Let’s get out of here. You and me.”

Y/N hesitated, her heart pounding. She should’ve said no—should’ve reminded herself that he was a walking complication. But instead, she found herself nodding.

“Okay,” she said softly.

That night marked the beginning.

They went for late-night walks through the glowing streets of Metropolis, the city humming with life around them. Clark had a knack for finding hidden gems—quiet diners with the best coffee, rooftop spots with breathtaking views, street performers who played music that made the world feel still. He made her laugh, teased her endlessly, and listened intently when she talked about her dreams, her worries, and the stories she wished she could write for herself.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said one night as they sat on a park bench, sharing fries from a paper bag.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You don’t even know me.”

“Sure I do.” He turned to her, his expression unexpectedly serious. “I know you’re kind, and smart, and way too hard on yourself. And I know you deserve more than this job you hate and this city that doesn’t appreciate you.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe someone like him could see her that way.

And so, she let herself fall.

The situationship unfolded like a dream, one where the edges were just blurry enough to ignore the red flags. Clark would disappear for days, only to show up with that same dazzling smile, pulling her back in with an inside joke or a casual touch that lingered.

“Miss me?” he’d ask, leaning against the counter at the cinema as if he hadn’t been gone long enough for her to question where he’d been. “Hardly,” she’d reply, trying to sound unaffected.

But it was a lie, and they both knew it.

The days turned into weeks, and Y/N found herself slipping further into Clark’s orbit. He was magnetic, always pulling her closer with that effortless charm. Their late-night escapades became routine—quiet pockets of time that felt stolen from a movie script.

One night, as they sat on the roof of a crumbling building downtown, the city stretched out like a glittering sea beneath them, Clark leaned back on his hands, gazing at the skyline.

“Why do you work so hard?” he asked, his voice low but curious.

Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always at the cinema,” he said, turning to face her. “Studying, working. Don’t you ever just… want to do something for yourself?”

She hugged her knees, her breath misting in the cool night air. “It’s not that simple. I’ve got rent to pay, and college isn’t exactly cheap. Besides, who has time for themselves in this city?”

Clark frowned, his expression softening. “You deserve more than just scraping by, Y/N.”

His words struck a chord she didn’t know existed. She looked at him, trying to gauge if he meant it or if this was just another line in his endless repertoire. But his face was earnest, his blue eyes steady on hers.

“Not everyone can just…” She hesitated, gesturing vaguely at him. “Be like you. You act like you don’t have a care in the world.”

For a moment, Clark’s expression flickered, a shadow of something she couldn’t quite name crossing his face. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual grin.

“Maybe I don’t,” he said lightly. “Or maybe I just know life’s too short to spend it worrying all the time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “Must be nice.”

“It could be,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “If you’d let yourself try it.”

It wasn’t all rooftop views and stolen moments. Sometimes, Clark left her hanging. He’d promise to meet her after her shift, only to vanish without a word. Days would pass, and just when she thought she might never hear from him again, he’d show up—apologetic, charming, and impossible to stay mad at.

“Sorry, got caught up with some work stuff,” he’d say, his voice tinged with just enough sincerity to make her believe him.

And she did. Every time.

Because when he was with her, it felt like the world stopped spinning. Like nothing else mattered but the way he made her laugh, the way he looked at her like she was the only person who existed.

But there was a cost.

One evening, as they sat in her small apartment, the city’s glow seeping through the curtains, Clark leaned back on the couch, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

“You’ve got this whole place to yourself?” he asked, his tone teasing. “I was expecting roommates or something.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Nope. Just me. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have a rent-controlled unit in Metropolis.”

“Lucky?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’d call it resourceful. You’re full of surprises, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest spread at his words. He had a way of making her feel seen, even when she didn’t want to be.

“What about you?” she asked, curious. “You’re always showing up out of nowhere. Where do you even live?”

Clark’s grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, tossing another piece of popcorn in the air and catching it. “Oh, you know. Here and there. I’m a man of mystery.”

“Clark…”

He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “What’s the fun in ruining the illusion, Y/N? Just enjoy the ride.”

She wanted to push, to ask the questions bubbling in her mind. But instead, she nodded, biting back the words.

Because that was what it felt like—a ride. Fast, exhilarating, and impossible to get off, even as she felt herself losing control.

Y/N had never thought of herself as impulsive. Her life had always been a series of calculated steps, careful decisions made to keep her afloat in the chaos of Metropolis. But with Clark, everything was different.

Their moments together were often fleeting, stolen pockets of time that felt more like dreams than reality. She didn’t know when it started—the first time he reached for her hand, or the night he walked her home and lingered on the doorstep just a little too long.

“Goodnight,” he’d said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss she’d seen in the movies she played every night at the cinema. It wasn’t choreographed or perfect. It was real, slow and searching, his lips brushing hers as if he wasn’t sure she’d let him. When she kissed him back, his hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, and for a moment, the city disappeared.

After that, the kisses came more easily. Quick pecks when no one was watching, longer ones that left her breathless when they thought they were alone. She didn’t let herself think too much about what it meant, afraid that if she did, the spell would break.

As their situationship deepened, Y/N found herself holding on to the moments that felt real—his unexpected vulnerability, the way he’d light up when he talked about the stars or how he’d brush her hair back from her face when she laughed too hard.

But even then, she couldn’t ignore the cracks. The unanswered texts, the fleeting glimpses of his phone when he wasn’t looking. The nights when she’d watch him leave, wondering if he was going to someone else.

And still, she stayed.

Because despite it all, he made her feel alive.

Y/N couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the feeling started—when the quiet nagging in the back of her mind grew too loud to ignore.

It wasn’t like Clark made it obvious. In fact, his charm was part of the problem. Every time he smiled at her or pulled her close during one of their stolen evenings, the doubt seemed to shrink, fading into the glow of the moment.

But it always crept back.

One night, as they sat in her apartment, Clark sprawled comfortably on her couch while she worked on a paper at the small dining table, she noticed it.

His phone buzzed once, then again. He was scrolling through something, his expression as casual as ever, but her gaze lingered.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen his phone go off before—it always seemed to buzz with some notification or another. But tonight, something about the rhythm of it tugged at her curiosity.

Clark caught her looking and raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s with the stare? You jealous of my phone now?”

She rolled her eyes, forcing a laugh. “Hardly. Just wondering if I should start charging you rent, the amount of time you spend here.”

“Ouch,” he said, mock-wounded as he tossed his phone onto the coffee table, screen down. “I thought you liked having me around.”

“Sometimes,” she teased, though her smile felt tighter than she wanted it to.

The next time she noticed was when they were at the cinema after her shift. Clark had offered to walk her home—something he’d started doing more often lately, as if trying to cement his place in her life.

As they stood in the empty lobby, his phone buzzed again. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen briefly before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Who’s that?” Y/N asked, her tone casual, though she wasn’t sure why she was asking at all.

“Just a friend,” Clark said smoothly, not missing a beat.

The words were innocent enough, but the way he said them left a strange taste in her mouth. She told herself she was overthinking it. She had no reason not to trust him—or at least, that’s what she wanted to believe.

But the moments kept piling up.

Once, as they sat on a park bench sharing ice cream, his phone buzzed on the table between them. He didn’t pick it up, but Y/N’s eyes flicked to the screen before she could stop herself.

The name Lana flashed briefly before the screen dimmed.

Her stomach dropped, and she quickly looked away, trying to focus on what he was saying. Something about how the city looked different at night, how the lights felt like they told their own stories.

She nodded along, forcing a smile, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Lana.

She didn’t ask. She didn’t even react. But the name lingered, repeating itself like a line of dialogue she couldn’t quite shake.

The turning point came on a quiet Sunday afternoon. They’d spent the day wandering through Metropolis, stopping at a food truck festival where Clark had charmed his way into getting her an extra serving of her favorite dish.

Later, as they sat by the river, watching the boats drift lazily past, his phone buzzed again. He picked it up this time, his fingers moving quickly as he typed out a response.

“Busy?” Y/N asked lightly, trying to keep her tone even.

“Just catching up with someone,” he said, not looking up.

The words stung more than she wanted to admit. She tried to brush it off, telling herself it wasn’t a big deal. He wasn’t hers—not really.

But the more she tried to ignore it, the more the doubt festered.

Over the next few days, the pieces started to come together. She’d catch glimpses of his screen more often than before—names she didn’t recognize, messages that seemed to come at odd hours.

Clark’s behavior hadn’t changed; he was still the same playful, charming presence in her life. But for Y/N, it was as if a curtain had been pulled back, revealing something she couldn’t quite unsee.

And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to confront him.

Instead, she told herself she was imagining things, that she was looking for cracks where there weren’t any.

But late at night, when she was alone in her tiny apartment, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was holding onto something that wasn’t hers to keep.

It was a rainy afternoon, the kind where the city’s usual hum dulled into a soft, rhythmic patter against her window. Y/N had the day off for once, and she spent it curled up on her couch, a blanket draped over her legs and an old Game Boy in her hands.

The screen glowed faintly, and the familiar 8-bit theme of a puzzle game filled the quiet space. She hadn’t touched the thing in years, but nostalgia had called to her, and for a while, it was comforting.

Until she started losing.

“Come on,” she muttered, pressing the buttons a little harder, as if that would help. The pieces weren’t falling into place the way they should. She kept making mistakes, and the game wasn’t forgiving.

By the time the little pixelated “GAME OVER” flashed on the screen, Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, tossing the Game Boy onto the cushion beside her.

She sat back, staring at the ceiling, the lingering frustration from the game mingling with something deeper. Her mind drifted, as it often did lately, to Clark.

He was like that Game Boy in a way, she thought. All bright and addictive at first, easy to pick up but impossible to put down. Every button press, every move, felt like it mattered. But no matter what she did, she was always one wrong move away from losing. 

The thought made her stomach twist.

She reached for the Game Boy again, turning it over in her hands, tracing the edges of the faded plastic. The thing was so old, yet it still worked perfectly—reliable. Clark, on the other hand...

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. Reliable wasn’t the word she’d use to describe him.

He’d been MIA for the past two days. No texts, no calls. She’d tried not to overthink it, but every time her phone buzzed, her heart leapt—only to sink again when it wasn’t him.

She hated how much space he took up in her mind, how even when he wasn’t around, he lingered in the buzz of her phone or the gaps in her schedule. Two days without a word, and it felt like the world had shifted just enough to make her stumble.

Y/N powered the Game Boy back on, more to distract herself than anything. But as the game’s cheerful chime filled the room again, the metaphor struck her with full force.

Clark didn’t just remind her of a Game Boy. He was a Game Boy. She was the one pressing all the buttons, trying to figure out the right moves, while he stayed the same—unchanging, unbothered. And the worst part? He made her feel like winning was possible, even when the game was rigged.

The thing about the game was that it didn’t care how hard you tried. It followed its own rules, punishing every misstep without hesitation. No second chances, no rewinds. And yet, she couldn’t stop playing, hoping that maybe, this time, she’d get it right.

The thought stung more than she expected. She hit “Start” on the game, more aggressively than necessary, but her focus was already elsewhere.

Later that evening, when Clark finally called, his voice warm and playful as if nothing had happened, Y/N couldn’t shake the lingering bitterness from earlier.

“Miss me?” he asked, his tone as casual as ever.

She hesitated, the words caught in her throat. She wanted to call him out, to tell him how it felt to be on the other side of whatever this was. But instead, she forced a small laugh.

“Maybe a little,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

Clark didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

As the call ended and the room fell silent again, Y/N picked up the Game Boy one last time. She stared at it for a long moment before setting it back down.

Maybe it was time to stop playing altogether.

Yet, she couldn’t stop. It was like an addiction to this game, she didn’t want to play but she wanted to reach the end, the happy ending. 

Y/N had grown accustomed to the uncertainty. The missed calls, the unreturned texts, and the occasional days when Clark would vanish altogether. But somehow, when he did show up, it always felt like enough to keep her hooked.

She told herself it was temporary—that whatever it was between them, it would find its footing. Clark wasn’t perfect, but who was? She liked the way he made her feel when they were together, even if the gaps in between left her spiraling.

Late one evening, they found themselves at her apartment again. Clark had breezed in like he always did, with that easy charm and a bag of takeout in hand.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the bag on the table.

Y/N smiled, pushing down the familiar ache in her chest. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, leaning against the counter. “Gotta keep you from wasting away, right?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head, but as they ate, she couldn’t ignore the buzzing of his phone on the table between them.

“Popular tonight?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

Clark glanced at the screen but didn’t pick it up. “Just stuff,” he said, brushing it off.

She nodded, not pressing further. But the tightness in her chest remained.

Yet it was like finally reaching the end of a level in a game, only to see the mistake you’d been overlooking all along.

The city was a hush of soft shadows and distant lights when Y/N found herself walking through the park. Her shift had run late, and the cool night air was both soothing and unsettling in its emptiness. The rhythm of her footsteps echoed in the silence, a lullaby of solitude that matched the slow beat of her heart.

She had no intention of looking for him—not tonight. But then she saw him, standing beneath the streetlamp like a figure she could never quite forget. Clark.

For a fleeting moment, her chest fluttered, the warmth of seeing him grounding her in a way she couldn’t explain. But that feeling faltered when she saw her.

The woman.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, and her mind scrambled to make sense of the scene unfolding before her. Clark stood with her, his figure tense, his back slightly turned. It didn’t take long for Y/N to notice the subtle shift in the air—how Clark’s posture had become a cage, arms crossed tightly, his body angled away as if protecting something fragile. The woman stood too close. Too comfortable.

Y/N’s feet froze on the path, as if the ground itself had turned to quicksand. She wanted to look away, to deny the scene before her, but her body betrayed her, drawing her closer to the shadows of the trees where she could no longer pretend she wasn’t watching.

“I’m not leaving until you listen to me,” the woman’s voice cut through the night, sharp and demanding.

Clark didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze dropped to the ground, the weight of his silence heavier than any words he could have spoken. Y/N’s breath hitched. Something in the air shifted again—tighter, colder—and the world felt as if it were held together by the thinnest thread.

“Clark…” The woman’s voice was softer now, laced with something deeper. Familiar. “You’ve been acting like a completely different person. You don’t get to just pretend everything’s fine.”

Y/N felt the tremor in her chest. She was a witness to a story she hadn’t known she was part of. Her heart pounded a frantic beat, the pulse of something unraveling. Her eyes stayed locked on them, unwilling, unable to pull away.

Then came the name, sharp and clear, ringing through the night air like the crack of a bell.

“Lana.”

It was just one word, but it crashed over Y/N like a wave—cold, relentless, pulling her under. She gasped, instinctively shrinking back behind the tree, but she couldn’t escape the force of it. The name had weight, had history, had meaning she could never understand. A name that tore through the quiet between them, carving itself into the space where she stood, invisible but not unseen.

Clark’s lips parted, but it wasn’t the words Y/N was listening for. It was the tremor in his voice, the falter in his breath.

“I’m fine,” he said, but there was no conviction in it, no strength. Only a thin veneer of something that felt like a lie.

Lana didn’t flinch at his words. She stepped closer, her hand light on his arm. The touch felt like a declaration. “You’re not fine, Clark. You’re not the man I used to know.”

Clark stiffened, but Lana didn’t let go. The grip of their conversation tightened around him, around them both. She wasn’t letting this go.

Y/N’s stomach twisted, a knot of disbelief gnawing at her insides. She could almost feel the pull of the gravity between them, a force too strong to escape.

“Maybe I don’t want to be that guy anymore,” Clark finally said, his voice barely a whisper, a secret too heavy for him to carry alone.

That guy. The words echoed in Y/N’s mind like a cruel whisper, and with them, the realization broke her like a tidal wave. She wasn’t even part of the equation. She was never meant to be.

Lana’s next words were the ones that would haunt Y/N long after the night ended, long after she walked away, trying to escape the truth.

“You’re my boyfriend, Clark,” Lana said softly. The words wrapped around the air, thick with a kind of finality Y/N couldn’t ignore. “And I’m not giving up on us.”

Boyfriend.

It was the word that shattered the glass, the weight that crushed her chest, the sharpness that split open the place inside her she thought was invincible. The pain bloomed from her heart, a wildflower of confusion and bitterness. She should have known. She could have known. But somewhere along the way, she had let herself believe in the game.

Her hands shook as she took a step back, retreating into the shadows, every part of her wanting to scream. Why hadn’t she seen it? She had known all along, hadn’t she? This was never hers to win. She was just another player, another hand on the controller.

But now, the game was over.

That night, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts replaying the scene in vivid detail. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to hate him. But all she felt was the weight of her own foolishness.

She’d been a chapter in a story that wasn’t hers, a subplot in a life already entangled with someone else.

Clark didn’t come back. Days turned into weeks, and the silence stretched like an endless road.

Months later, as she sat in her apartment, the Game Boy in her lap, Y/N realized something. Clark had been like the game all along—an unpredictable rush of highs and lows. And like any game, it had an ending.

The difference was, this time, she wasn’t hitting “Start” again.

As she set the Game Boy down, her phone buzzed on the table beside her. For a fleeting moment, her heart leapt. But when she looked at the screen, it wasn’t him.

It never was.

And maybe, she thought, it was time to stop waiting.

She didn’t want to play anymore.

AHHHHHHHHHH!!! its probably one of my fav stories. along with ,star of the show'---- maybe.

pt 2: game-boy: resume?

ps: stream the song ,gameboy' by rosé to have a better vision of the story :)

💌taglist: @blackynsupremacy @angelsgalore @alelo23

[blackynsupremacy]

REDK!CLARK KENT x BLACK FEM!READER

BOTH ARE AGED UP! 18+

I DON’T PLAY ABOUT MINE, I DON’T CARE.

I’M ADDICTED TO YOU AND IT’S CLEAR.

you’re standing in front of the full sized mirror that leans against the wall in your bedroom. your eyelids were shut momentarily at the request of your boyfriend, clark kent while you felt his fingers maneuvering along the nape of your neck. his warm breaths descending down the bronze skin leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. clark wanted to give you something special. something to remind you and these other creeps who try to throw some vibe at you that you are his one and only. this was the better solution than literally burning holes into another man’s where-the-sun-don’t-shine if they even glance at you for a second. some may call that overprotective, controlling, or maybe even possessive, but clark don’t give a damn. you knew of his abilities and you encourage him to obviously use them to help not harm or show off, but it’s gonna take somebody one time to try that shit with his woman and kal el will see to it that it will be dealt with real quick.

you lean your head backwards and exhale, feeling the warmth of his body heat as your back was centimeters from his front. his gleaming smile appears on his lips, his pristine canines appearing at your reaction to his subtle touches. “open your eyes, pretty girl.” he softly commands. after fastening the gold chain together, his palms slide down to caress the upper region of your bare back up to your shoulders then moving to your front, guiding his fingertips to delicately trace the outlines of your collarbone. you eyes obey his command. first finding clark with his chin resting on your shoulder, his baby blues peering up at you in expectation as your own trail down to the dazzling crimson gem that rests above the crevice of the black, low cut corset top that you chose to wear for the evening out with clark. the gold zipper that adorned the middle elevated the supple skin of your bosom, which clark definitely doesn’t mind. you smile at the charm and heat rises on your cheeks as you realize it matches the gem of his signature ring that’s always donned on his finger. ugh, this man treats you so fine. your index and thumb caress the smooth texture of the red jewel. it pairs perfectly with your new fiery, red full set and ruby coated lips. you really feel like ya’ll are locked in for real. his voice brings you out of your love-filled daze.

“well, what do you think? you’re usually not this quiet when it comes to other things that i give you.” he slyly retorts as a chuckle bellows from his chest, a lopsided smirk lingering on his rose tinted lips. his arms slouch down to your waist, resting his palms on each of your hips giving them a firm yet sensual squeeze. you lean your head back, giggle, and place your slightly smaller hands over his. “oh, you got jokes! but, clark, it’s beautiful. i never really gotten anything like this before, so thank you, boo! it’s so thoughtful and i really love how we’re matching.” you respond and gaze at his ring, softly caressing circles on his jewel with the pad of your thumb.

“you’re really trying to lock a girl down for real now are you, kent?” you quizzed before you turned your body to face his, your chests forming a small gap before they completely meet. you sorta need to lean your chin up to hold eye contact given your man’s towering height. he looks so damn good in his black sleeveless tank, rightfully showing off the brawny muscles of his arms. he was also sporting some dark, denim levi’s and a classic pair of timbs. clark took a moment to gaze your figure from top to bottom. don’t get him wrong, he adores your heart, mind, and soul, but goddamn—he loves the way your body is. you care for it in the best way you possibly can and he loves you for that! your black top paired with that necklace complementing the melanated glow of your skin is driving him crazy. not to mention the precious cargo you possess in that denim mini skirt. shit got him weaker than any green kryptonite could. inwardly, he’s suppressing his kryptonian dna from canceling your plans, ripping that stuff off, and giving you exactly what you deserve. losing full control. right here in front of this mirror. your voice broke him out of his lustful trance

“my eyes are up here, kent. you never answered my question! what are you tryna say with this, huh?” you questioned again pointing to the gem. you softly chuckle and pause. you feel his large palms lock themselves on the small of your back, forcing your bodies to make the contact they’ve been yearning for. one of his hands snake from behind you to hold your jawline tilting your face closer to his while the other descends to firmly grip your on ass. you yelp a bit at his boldness, but you give him your full attention.

“to let all these other guys know that you’re all mine. no one can or will have you as long as i’m breathing. you just have no idea how much you affect me, do you? you belong to me.” he declared and it took one time for you to whisper out his name for him to close the gap between your faces and sensually pulled your lips to his. he’d usually wanted it to be fervent, but he wanted to savor it. savor this moment. savor you. he used his feet to quickly pull you both back for him to sit on your comforter and for you sit on his lap, placing your knees on each side of his thighs. one of your hands gripping on his muscular shoulder while the other runs through his plush, noir curls. as your lips move together, his hand moved from your jaw and pressed against your neck to pull your mouth as close to his as possible.

his fingertips are applying a bit of pressure on the skin as his teeth takes your bottom lip pulling it slightly forward and letting fall back into place which causes you to open up your mouth a little, giving his tongue the opportunity to intrude. he caresses it against your own for a moment before he pulls his lips away to plant his infectious kisses all around neck. you groan out of both pleasure and a bit of annoyance because you’ve been wanting to go out on the town for a minute, but your body betrays as you lean your head backward to give him full access. you can’t see it, but clark’s blue eyes flicker to red as he watches himself in the mirror completely devouring your skin. “hah…clark..clark, please!” you’re trying to get him to stop to tell him something, but he keeps at it anyway.

he couldn’t help, but to feel smug watching you go weak by his touches, kisses, and bites. the hand on your behind is awarded one last squeeze as it ascends up your hip, side, and finds its way to affectionately grope one of your breasts that’s still confined in your corset top. he doesn’t stop there at your neck before he briefly pulls away from your skin and dives his pretty ass face into your cleavage. he makes sure to leave a little kiss to the gleaming red-colored stone that rests in the middle. his tongue glides across both of the girls, giving each that good tlc (titty-licking-clark) as he listened to the melodies of your whimpers of pleasure and protest. with each nibble, grope, and tugging of skin between his teeth your arousal started to ignite within your center. you regained your strength to at least stop his fingers from unzipping your top.

his face raises up, eyes staring deeply into your own and his nose resting in the valley. you notice that the melanated skin of your chest was glistening with the trails of saliva left by his affections. you huff out a breath and laugh a bit. “clark, as much i really want you to go further, i want to go out tonight! i promise as soon as we come home we can get down, but i want to spend this quality time with you, boo….please?” you playfully pout and peck him on the lips a few times and bat your natural lashes to plead your case. damn! clark knew he couldn’t resist your hypnotic amber gaze or sweet kisses. plus, you said please, so he’ll let you slide, but not that easily. he’s gonna get a little starter before the main.

his icy eyes then zeroes in on your chest for a few seconds. he raises a brow before his gaze shifts up to your face, a toothy grin playing on his lips. “ooh, no bra? if i weren’t mistaken, i believe it was your diabolical plan to seduce me all along.” he jokingly stated and you playfully rolled your eyes. his pointer and thumb playing with the zipper that holds what he wants in place before he speaks again “alright—you got it, babe. i’ll take you out, but there’s something i need to do first.”

“bet! let me get my bag, so we can head out.”feeling accomplished, you attempt to lift yourself from his lap before your body is suddenly pulled back, your spine now resting comfortably on the mattress as your knees are apart and perched up to the ceiling. clark’s hands are making their way up your thighs to swiftly pull back your underwear releasing your scent into the atmosphere. before you know it, you peer down to see his raven curls, red eyes, and starving tongue preparing to make contact with what’s in the center. “oh—that’s what he said he needed to do.” your inner self chuckled as you’ve been once again caught in his dangerous trap. this is gonna be a long night.

taglist: @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @yugiohio

[supercap2319]

"You're seriously studying?"

Y/N turned to the sound of the voice and found Clark Kent standing in the doorway of the now empty classroom. He looked like Clark Kent. And he even sounded like Clark Kent, but he wasn't dressed like Clark Kent. The farm boy traded in his jeans and flannel for leather and Armani suits.

"Clark, hey. I'm just studying for the history test tomorrow. I think I've got most of the dates memorized, but I'm still having trouble between the Cold War and the Battle of Trenton." Y/N said as Clark took a seat next to him, glanced at his books, and wrinkled his nose. "That's boring. Let's go do something fun."

"Like what? Have another basketball game with Pete on the courts? Help Chloe rearrange her bedroom again?"

"I was thinking we'd go to a bar. Maybe to a club and find some nice chicks to hang out with."

"Okay, who are you, and what planet are you from? In what universe does Clark Kent want to go clubbing and drinking?" Y/N asked.

"The kind who's tired of living the quiet life of a bumbling farm boy and is ready to explore the real world. All the best things in it. Come on. I bet we could get some action from some really hot girls." Clark nudged Y/N, who blushed hard.

"As fun as girls sound, I have to study."

"Oh, come, Y/N. Don't be so uptight." Clark said. "If you need to, I can help loosen you out. In more ways than one." He smirks. "Okay, did you just try to make an innuendo at me? Since when are you into guys? I thought you only had eyes for Lana."

Clark frowns at the mention of Lana's name. It's true that Clark couldn't get within five feet of Lana Lang without becoming a freakshow of clumsiness, but as of recently, Clark's been really cocky and confident. "Well, there's plenty of others to fool around with than Smallville's resident fairy princess. Probably give up easier and much better in the sack, to I'll bet." Clark grins.

"I don't know." Y/N said.

"Come on, Y/N, imagine it. Dancing. Drinking. Getting your dick sucked. It's pure unadulterated ecstacy." Clark said.

"If I say yes, will you let me finish my studying?"

"Sure thing, handsome." Clark winks

.

[tiffycat]

Hey there Smallville

[kent-farm]

—Smallville, "Red"

[rosiestalez]

I See Red

TomWelling!Superman x afab!reader

Word Count: 664

A/N: Smallville (as Lois would call him) has been aged up to be 20. Post graduating highschool. I’m only on season 4 at the moment so the characters are only from the first 4 seasons (also not my gif!).

Warnings: Little bit of RedKryptonite!Clark, suggestive language, angsty asf, bad grammar, mention of family member death. I think that’s it!

Happy Reading!

It was one hell of a stormy day in Smallville, closely imitating twister weather. You’re sitting up in the Kent Hay loft watching the rain pound over the farm, it was relaxing. This weather put your mind an ease, you weren’t thinking about school, the Talon, or Clark. You hear a voice, you jump turning to face the one calling you.

“Hey!”, Chloe waves, “Sorry, I- didn’t mean to spook you.” She smiles walking to sit across from you on the bay window seat. “I heard you were staying with the Kent’s, and I wanted to drop by and check on you, I know things have been rough since Clark disappeared.” She reaches her hand to your shoulder.

“I’m okay”, you flash a fake smile turning you gaze back to the rolling rain. “How’s Lana?”, eyes still fixed on the rain.

“She’s not great, but she’s also not okay”, Chloe removes her hand from your shoulder.

“Oh”, is all you can muster up.

“Why don’t you go talk to her, and ask her for yourself?”, this question removes your eyes from the downpour.

“Why? She’s not talking to me. She thinks I’M the reason Clark left.”

“I doubt that’s true, y/n. You’re her BEST friend.”

“WAS”, you sneer.

“No IS”, she replies. “I think you should go to the Talon, and TALK to her.” She stands up, grabs your arm tugging you off the seat. “Gosh you’re so weird, I would definitely put you on my SECRET wall of weird if you’re weren’t human.”, you roll your eyes. Your body is hesitant to stand up but you finally do, following Chloe out of the Hayloft. “You and Clark are really are perfect for each other.”

“Yeah, I guess so”, you chuckle. You file into Chloe’s new red beetle and head into town. After while, the rain soaks back up into the clouds, and you are finally at Lana’s coffee shop. Your heart pounding with anxiety, “I don’t want to do this, I have nothing to say to her.”

“Oh yes you do”, Chloe got out of the drivers side walking around to you and pulling you out of the car. You entered the shop, you pick out the table farthest from the bar where Lana is cleaning the after math of the rainstorm rush.

“Chloe, I don’t want to be here.” You put your head down on the table and let out a long winded dramatic whine.

“That sucks, but you guys need to talk”, she rubs your back. “HEY! Lana!”, she waves her over. Lana walks over smiling, you lift your head up smiling back.

“Hey! Chloe! Y/n!”, she exclaims, she doesn’t see upset at all, or maybe she’s putting on face to save Chloe some embarrassment. “Usuals?”

“YES?”, you and Chloe exclaim in unison.

“Got it! Two. VANILLA iced lattes coming up!”, she walks away making her way back to the coffee bar.

“See, she’s not upset! You’re fine.”, Chloe gestures.

“She doesn’t seem like it, but Lana has always been good at putting on a face. You and I both know that”, you respond.

After about 5 minutes Lana returns with three blue coffee mugs, “I need a break, I think I’m gonna join you girls for some coffee, if you don’t mind!”, she sits down in the chair across from you and Chloe.

“Totally!”, Chloe states. You guys chat for a bit about school, life, and nothing about Clark; you preferred this. Lana has been your best friend since Kindergarten, and you guys have made it a point to not let petty one sided drama get in between your friendship. The Clark situation left as quickly as it came. Chloe was shocked at the lack of Clark talk, maybe she wanted some drama for her Tourch gossip.

After your coffee dinner you ended up back at the Kent’s getting ready for bed, 5 am comes quickly, you put your hair in a braid and put on Clark’s primary red sweatshirts and a pair of boxers and climb into his bed that you were borrowing. You dose off after 20 minutes. Your sleep was restful for the first hour. You jolt awake from the bed shifting beside you.

“You look peaceful”, the voice was familiar, but in your groggy state you couldn’t pin it down.

“Wha-“, you roll over turning on his bedside lamp, and jump spooked by the boy sitting next to you shirtless on his bed. “Oh-oh my gosh CLARK?!”, you whisper scream as to not wake his parents. You reach your hand out to touch his face in awe, “oh-oh wow!”, a smile fills your face.

“Hey baby”, his smile was alluring, but it wasn’t normal, it was full of mischief. “Sorry I did not mean to wake you.” He adds running his hands through you hair sweeping back the whispies blocking your face.

“Clark, what are you doing here?”, your voice laced with concern.

“I thought it was time to come home.”

“Wow”, you huff, crossing your arms slightly pushing your boobs up. Clark stares intently at your chest. “CLARK! You’re a perv!”, you swiftly uncross your arms hitting him on the shoulder as hard as you can. He chuckles.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” He lays down next you stripping off his pants so he’s left in only Calvin Klein briefs. You can’t help, but use your “X-Ray” vision, “Hey you pervert. I’m trying to get some rest”, he mocks. He rolls over you to turn off the lamp. He wraps you in his arms and both of you drift off to sleep.

You feel something growing against your back, you lean into him acknowledging that you feel his hardening dick unintentionally. He draws you in closer, kissing down your neck as a response to your movements. He sends shivers down your spine, he snakes his hands underneath the sweatshirt lightly stroking the bare skin of your back. “So soft”, Clark whispers against your neck, “I missed your skin.”

He’s acting like nothing has happened, like he didn’t disappear for 2 months to who knows where. You looked for him in Metropolis, Gotham, other parts of Kansas and yet you couldn’t find your stupid boyfriend especially when you needed him the most. Your grandpa passed away and it left you homeless and due to your proximity to the Kent’s they let you stay during summer before the Fall semester of KU began. You appreciate their kindness, but for some reason Mr. Kent wanted you, the girl with the pretty nails and terrible sleep schedule to wake up at 5am to “pull your share” which meant mucking stalls and lifting heavy bales of hay. You were completely okay with this set-up you love being outside and around animals although the hay rash is a tad bothersome.

“Do your parents know your back?”, you whisper eyes still closed.

“No.” His voice was stern, like he was angry at you for even asking.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry I’ll tell them in the morning”, he follows, “we aren’t waking up at five am, as a member of the Kent family I declare you have an off day.” You smile exhaling a sigh from your nose.

“Fine”, he smiles into your neck wrapped you in closer.

The sun creeps through his curtains and an annoying screeching fills the room. You wrestle to turn off the alarm clock blaring in your ear. You finally get it off, you feel emptiness beside you, ‘where is he?’ You get out of bed sliding on a pair of house shoes and stumble out the room, down the stairs, and begin making your way out the house to the hayloft where you suspect Clark to be hiding. You don’t see him, but the storm cellar door is open in the distance. You knew this ship was hiding there, you know Clark’s secret, but not everything. You didn’t know why he disappeared, or why he was acting like a complete ass before he left. You see a red light beaming through the dark room. “Good morning”, you say waltzing down the stairs.

“Hey.” He doesn’t turn around, his eyes fixed on the glowing red rock.

“What is that?”, you ask coming closer and wrapping your arms around his toned stomach.

“Red Kryptonite”, he answers eyes still enamored.

“Oh.” You give him a tight hug, sighing into his back, “what does it do?”

“Changes me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It makes me feel like me,” he pauses, “like Kal- El.”

“Who?”

“That’s my birth name”, he answers.

“So the real you disappears for a long period of time, doesn’t tell anyone where you are, and comes back out of the blue acting like everything is okay?”, you break away from him. He finally removes his gaze from the rock, closing the led box.

He sighs, “I don’t FEEL anything, that’s what I like. I FEEL so much, sometimes I don’t want to. I want to make my decisions based off myself sometimes and not care about how others feel”, Clark exclaims.

“You can’t be serious right now”, you argue irritations flooding your voice. He just looks at you with those dumb baby blues. “I swear! That was so selfish of you, why did you do it? Because you couldn’t handle the fact that I was leaving Smallville? Were you scared? Why Clark? Why would you be so selfish at a time I needed YOU most”, tears fill your beautiful bright eyes. You begin crying, sliding down onto the ground, emotions completely uncontrollable. He sighs, sitting down next you wrapping his big arms around you pulling you into a comforting hug.

“I thought I told you were sleeping in?” He chuckles. You sniffle staring up at his blue eyes yet again.

“Clark, I’m not playing with you I’m very upset and I think you owe me an explanation.”

“You will get one, but not right now. Right now you get an apology”, he begins softly stroking your messy curls that peaked out from last night’s braid and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sorry y/n, I never meant to hurt you” he adds rocking you in his arms.

“Well you did, did you know papa died the day after you left?”

“Yeah, I was at the funeral.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t, and that’s because I was being selfish”, you hum at his response.

“I’m hungry, I think your mom is awake. Let’s go eat some breakfast and we can talk about this later”, you smile standing up, reaching out your hand to pull him off the ground. He pulls you back down with his ‘super strength’. He kisses your lips deeply, a kiss you missed so much. You match his rhythm hands tangling in each others hair.

“I love you”, he breaks away from the kiss looking lovingly into your eyes. You smile leading him out of the storm cellar to Mrs. Kent in the kitchen laying out freshly cooked pancakes.

[sbd-laytall]

Smallville | 4.11 | "Unsafe"

[kentsgirl]

red kryptonite clark was just tooo fine but literally so scary, best of both worlds 😫❤️‍🔥 i need allll of him

and this scene—the way he’s looking down at her just like my gosh—and his voice grrr

not to mention, that dangerous ass smile, he could get whatever from me idc idc idc

source : @ ssaint.01 on tiktok.

[smallcloisville]

Hot Fudge and Halibut 💋💞✨

The way he carries her in last gif tho😭😍

[chiasfeu]

as a retired ff writer ive come out of hibernation bc the lack of smallville clark kent ffs is unacceptable tom welling is toooooo fine

sorry for all the grammatical errors i wrote this all at once and didn’t reread

part two

SECRET ADMIRER - clark kent x reader

Fumbling the lock of your locker, you sigh; you were on your fifth day at smallville high school and you weren’t ecstatic to say the least. After your dad had gotten into some legal trouble with LutherCorp your family had to move out of Metropolis to somewhere more safe.. more remote. Adjusting to the rural life of smallville had proven to be difficult and the people seemed strange. Slamming a fist against your locker you try again, meticulously turning the lock of the locker. Click. As you open the doors of the locker, a piece of paper slowly falls out.

Picking it up you read your name in bright red across the folded up piece of paper, you smile to yourself thinking, my very own secret admirer..

Maybe smallville won’t be so boring.

—————

Sipping on your coffee, you annotate your copy of the scarlet letter for English class. “Hey! y/n right?” A friendly voice calls out. You look up from your book, smiling. “Yeah! you must be Lana?” She nods, “I see your getting ready for the English exam, you need any help?” You glance at your book before starting, “I’m good for now.. I’ll let you know if I have any questions!” She smiles again before turning away to walk back behind the counter. Your eyes follow her as she talks to the costumers by the counter, they look familiar— a blonde girl with short wispy hair, and two other guys beside her.

You almost jump out of your own seat when you lock eyes with one of the boys, has he been looking at me this whole time? You think, embarrassed, quickly focusing on your book again. Although you’ve looked away you can still feel his gaze lingering on you.

“Hi.” You’re startled as you hear the voice, looking up at the boy that was staring at you from across the room. Before you can reply he starts, “You’re in my first period Bio class.. you know.. with Jenkins..” You blink, waiting for him to continue. He gulps, “uh well Jenkins is really tough.. and we have our first quiz next class so I was wondering if you would want any help….?” You smile sweetly, what is it with small town folks being so eager to help out? “Yeah I would really like that actually,” He smiles, almost in a relived way. “Great. You’re actually my new neighbor so I’ll just come over to help out,” He says before turning away. You cock your head to the side before saying, “Wait.” He turns around, facing towards you, “I never got your name,” you say.

“Clark Kent.”

—————

You’re sitting on your bed as you peer up at Clark while he explains how to convert moles into grams, “So you’re going to divide the number of particles by Avogrados number..” You yawn tuning him out, your eyes fall the paper that slipped out of your locker earlier today. I still haven’t read that note. You grab the note, opening it up, “y/n are you listening to me.” He says clearly frustrated. “Sorry Clark..” you say apologetically smiling, he notices the paper in your hands and nervously looks back up at you. “What is that?” He says, shifting around in his seat, looking intently at your face. You smile lightly, giggling, “It’s a letter from my secret admirer.” He visibly relaxes, “Oh.. I take it you like having one?” You nod shrugging, “makes smallville a lot more interesting than it could be.” He fake winces, “Smallville is a lot more interesting than you think.” You raise your eyebrows unconvinced, “Really? You’ll have to show me what’s so ‘interesting’ one day.” He smiles glancing down, “Maybe I will.”

You look at Clark’s notebook and your eyebrows furrow, the handwriting looking strikingly similar to the one in the note you found this morning. “Clark..” “Hm?” He looks up at you, “Do you possibly happen to know whoever wrote me that note?” He scratches his head, “No? Why would I?…” You shrug, “Just curious..” He awkwardly smiles before writing in his notebook again. You shift your position on your bed, scooting closer to him, “Clark, it’s ok you can tell me if you do know…” you bring your hand to his exposed forearm caressing it. He coughs before breathlessly stating, “I really don’t know who wrote it, y/n.” You push up against him, drawing circles up his arms, “Hm.. that really is too bad..” He swallows dryly, “yeah?” You nod slowly, “yeahhh.. I would’ve gone along with everything they wrote in that letter..” There’s a moment of silence as he looks at you. He shuts his eyes, sighing hard before confessing, “I wrote it.”

You grin mischeviously, running a hand through his hair, “You really didn’t have to lie, Clark..” He opens his eyes to look at you, his cheeks red from embarrassment, “y/n” “hmm?” You hum, tilting your head bringing your lips closer to his. He glances at them, sighing heavily before parting his lips to say something. He’s cut off by you pressing your lips against his, you feel his body relax into yours, his hands sliding up your back and his lips pushing deeper into the kiss. You pull away from the kiss, your hands holding Clark’s head; using your thumb you wipe lipstick off of Clark’s swollen lips as he looks at you longingly.

Yoau press your lips together, suppressing a giggle, “Hmm it’s getting late.. how about we pick back up tomorrow?”

[sabrinasopposite]

game-boy; resume?

pt. 2 of ,,game-boy !'' / clark kent x reader

but you took my love for granted and it took me two years to understand it

summary: a broken heart and a gameboy. y/n makes her way to smallville to fix the things that matters her, was it her desire of the happy ending or truly her heart?

It was strange, how a game could feel so much like life—full of little victories and crushing defeats, like a series of choices made in a world that offered no reset button. Y/N had tried to move past it all—the late nights, the quiet silences after Clark’s absence, the emptiness that lingered in the spaces he used to fill.

Yet, she found herself holding the Game Boy again, tracing the worn edges of its plastic casing. It was as if the world had somehow paused for a moment, waiting for her to press *Start* again.

She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for. That the game would offer something new? That it would play itself differently this time?

Maybe.

But there was something about it—the way the colors flickered on the screen, the way the music filled the air—that made her feel like she could win. Even if the game had been broken before, maybe now it could work again.

The days drifted by in a haze, a blur of routine that left her empty and wanting. The memory of Clark lingered like a half-finished puzzle, pieces scattered around her heart that she couldn’t seem to place. She would see him sometimes, in passing, his smile as easy as it had always been. But it wasn’t the same anymore. She wasn’t the same anymore.

One morning, she found herself driving without quite knowing why. The motion of the car was almost soothing, a rhythmic hum that filled her thoughts with a strange kind of quiet. It wasn’t something she planned. Sometimes life didn’t need to be planned. Sometimes it simply asked you to follow the faint trail of breadcrumbs, just to see where it would lead.

And so, she drove, westward, the road stretching before her like a never-ending line on a map. There was a place she’d seen once, a shop with peeling signs and neon lights that flickered like forgotten memories. The words "Vintage Electronics Repair" had called to her then, and when they reappeared in her mind now, she didn’t question it. She just drove.

The shop was tucked between rows of weathered buildings, a small oasis of history amid the rush of the world. Old clocks, radios, and scattered trinkets filled the window display, each one a relic of a time that seemed to stretch out like a half-remembered dream. Inside, a man was bent over his workbench, his glasses perched low on his nose as he adjusted the internals of a broken radio. He barely looked up as Y/N approached, but when she handed him the Game Boy, there was something in the way his fingers touched it—a recognition, maybe. Or understanding.

He nodded silently, taking the device from her as if he knew it held more than just circuits and plastic. It held memories, and perhaps, pieces of her heart.

Hours passed. Y/N wandered the town aimlessly, trying to avoid the thoughts that buzzed in her mind like static. Her hands felt empty without the Game Boy, and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something important. The moment stretched out, pulling her further from the reality she’d been living in, into a strange space between wanting and needing.

When the repairman finally returned, she was almost nervous. Would it be the same? Could it be the same?

The Game Boy was different. In her hands, it felt… better. The worn edges had been smoothed, the screen clearer than before, the buttons clicking with a newfound precision. It was almost too perfect. Like someone had restored it to a version of itself that felt unfamiliar. It was… better. 

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tracing the contours of the newly restored device. It was no longer the one she remembered. It was something new, something polished, something she didn’t know how to approach. It had changed, but so had she.

As she stood in the shop, staring at the Game Boy, the soft sound of a familiar voice reached her ears, pulling her from the haze of her thoughts.

"Hey."

Her breath caught in her chest. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Clark stood in the doorway, his posture relaxed, but there was something different about him now. His smile was the same, but his eyes—they held something more now. Something softer. Something deeper. The lines of his face seemed both older and younger at once, as if time had moved in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

It took her a moment to find her voice, to remember how to speak in the presence of someone who had once been everything to her. “What are you doing here?”

His smile faltered, just for a second, before it returned, warmer than before. “I heard you were in town.” His voice was casual, but his eyes… they lingered on her face in a way that made her heart ache. “Smallville’s a small place. Thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

The words felt like a weight, heavy in her chest. She wasn’t sure if he was here out of politeness, or if there was something more behind his visit. Either way, it didn’t matter. It was like stepping back into a level of a game she had already lost.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N’s gaze dropped to the Game Boy in her hands, and for a split second, she wondered if this was it. Would it always be this way—trying to fix something that was already broken?

“Clark…” she began, but her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. There were too many things she wanted to ask, too many things she needed to know. But instead, she held his gaze, searching for something that might give her an answer.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know things ended… differently,” he said quietly. “But we don’t have to pretend it never happened.”

It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was the one she needed. The weight of his words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, she felt as if the game had started again. But this time, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to play.

Y/N stood there, her fingers still lightly grazing the newly repaired Game Boy. Clark’s words hung in the air like a thin thread, delicate, yet weighted. She knew she should walk away—should leave the shop, the town, everything behind—but there was something in the way he was looking at her, like a flicker of the past had ignited in his eyes. It pulled her back, as if the magnetic force of their shared history had never quite released its hold on her.

For a moment, she thought she could walk away. She thought she could turn the Game Boy off, leave the old world behind and start anew. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to turn the screen dark again.

Clark shifted his weight, sensing her hesitation. His voice softened, pulling her out of the dizzying loop in her mind. “You look different,” he said, and there was something about the way he said it—an observation more than a compliment, like he saw past the surface and into the layers of time between them. 

Y/N forced a smile, though it felt thin. “Guess time does that to people,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words felt hollow, slipping off her tongue like they were meant to fill a void that only he could see.

But he didn’t push it. Instead, his gaze dropped to the Game Boy in her hands, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Still got that thing, huh?”

It was as if he was trying to make a joke, a way to bridge the gap between the past and the present. But it didn’t work. It only made the silence louder.

“I had it repaired,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “It’s… different now.”

Clark nodded slowly, taking in her words. His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but he stopped himself. The space between them felt impossibly wide, yet neither of them seemed ready to cross it.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady her pulse. Her hands tightened around the Game Boy, feeling its weight—new, restored, like it was waiting for her to push Start again, as if the game could fix what was broken. But the truth was, she didn’t know if she could play this game anymore.

Before she could speak, Clark’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence again. He glanced at it quickly, his expression unreadable. Y/N’s stomach twisted in knots, the old feeling of being left behind creeping in, the sensation of watching him slip away even when he was standing right in front of her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the screen before quickly tucking it back in his pocket. “Work stuff.”

Y/N nodded, though the tightness in her chest didn’t go away. There it was again. That familiar distance. It was the game she’d been losing for too long, but each time she tried to quit, each time she tried to walk away, she found herself back in the same spot. The same loop. The same unresolved question: Could she ever really stop?

The relapse started quietly, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She’d told herself she was over it—over him, over the weight of the past. But when Clark stood before her, in the same small town, with the same smile, the same pull in his gaze, it was as if nothing had ever changed. It was like being handed the controller to a game she’d promised herself she’d never play again.

But here she was.

“Clark,” she started, her voice barely a whisper. “You... You’re still with her, aren’t you?”

There was a brief silence. His eyes flickered, guilt flashing across his face before he exhaled sharply, looking away. His expression wasn’t just regret—it was the heavy weight of someone who had hurt the person they loved and didn’t know how to fix it.

“No,” he said finally, his voice low. “But… we’re trying to be friends. We’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N felt like she’d been struck. He wasn’t with Lana anymore, but they were still tethered to each other in a way she couldn’t understand. They were tangled in a history Y/N wasn’t part of, and no matter how many times she pressed Start, she would never find herself in the same level.

She had been so desperate for the game to reset, to find a way back to the beginning, when everything had been simple, and nothing had hurt. But now, with the screen so clear in her hands, it was harder to ignore the fact that some things couldn't be fixed with a button press. Some things weren't made to be replayed.

A familiar ache twisted in her chest. She felt like she was falling behind, like the game was moving faster than her fingers could follow, each press of the buttons failing to keep up with the pace of the game, her heart.

"I don't know if we can be friends," she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself. "Not after everything. We were toxic from the start.“

Clark’s face softened, the edges of his mouth curling into something like regret, like understanding. But Y/N couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep replaying the same levels, trying to force a different outcome.

With one last glance at the Game Boy, she realized something. She hadn’t been playing to win. She’d been playing to lose, over and over again, because it was easier to lose than to walk away.

And maybe that was the hardest part—to stop. To shut off the screen. To leave the game behind.

Clark stood there for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but the words faltered, held back by the weight of everything that had passed between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice a whisper, raw and sincere.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the weight of his apology settling heavily between them. “I know I hurt you. I shouldn’t have just disappeared the way I did. It wasn’t right, and I... I regret it.”

Y/N stood frozen, the Game Boy still clutched tightly in her hands. The sincerity in his words cut through her like a blade, but it also stung with the realization that this was the first time he wasn’t just apologizing for his actions, but truly understanding the consequences of them. But was it enough? Was he enough?

Clark stepped closer, his hand hovering like he was unsure whether to reach for her. His voice was softer now, almost pleading. “You matter to me, Y/N. I— I don’t want you to think that you were just something I could walk away from or play with.”

Y/N’s heart twisted, torn between the overwhelming desire to believe him and the knowledge that she had been hurt too many times. Clark’s voice shook, but his words weren’t just a last-ditch effort. They were the admission of someone who had been through months of reflection, who was no longer just talking from a place of guilt but from a place of understanding.

For a moment, she thought about giving in, about losing herself again to the pull of the past. But even as she fought it, she knew: She had to let go.

“You don’t get to do that, Clark,” she said, her voice shaking as she fought to stay grounded. “You can’t just show up and say that like it fixes everything. You can’t just come back and expect me to fall into step with you again.”

His face tightened, like he wanted to say something—like he was fighting to explain himself, to make her understand. But then he stopped, his eyes flickering with an almost resigned pain. He knew she was right.

“I know,” he said quietly, taking a small step back, his voice soft. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But I had to try.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. In that moment, she saw the raw truth of his words—the quiet acceptance that he may never be able to fix what he had broken. It was a growth she hadn’t seen in him before. He wasn’t asking her to forgive him. He wasn’t asking her to play along or try again. He was finally giving her the space to decide what was best for her.

There was a long silence, thick and suffocating, and for the first time, Clark didn’t try to fill it. He simply waited, as if knowing the decision was hers alone to make.

Y/N’s mind screamed for her to walk away, to shut the door on him and everything he represented. But her heart—her foolish heart—whispered for her to stay. To take the chance.

But no. The game had changed.

"I think we both know," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady, "that this—whatever this is—can't go on like this."

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes steady and unflinching. Clark’s expression faltered as if he was about to say something, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“I need something real, Clark,” she continued. “Something that doesn’t break apart every time I let my guard down. Something that doesn’t leave me wondering if I’m just an option you pick up when it's convenient.”

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing larger as she spoke. Clark was silent, but there was no anger in his eyes—only the understanding of someone who had known what it was like to be lost, to feel like there was no way to come back.

He looked at her for a long moment, his own chest rising and falling as he fought the urge to reach out to her. He wasn’t going to stop her. He wasn’t going to plead. He just stood there, holding the space for her to make her decision.

“You’re not just an option,” he said softly, his voice almost hoarse. “I never meant to hurt you. I just... I don’t know how to fix it.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in months. And in that moment, she realized that she wasn’t looking for him to fix it. She wasn’t looking for any promises anymore. She didn’t need him to say the right words, or to prove himself.

"It doesn’t need fixing anymore, Clark,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I’ve learned how to fix me.”

Clark took a slow breath, and though his expression was still pained, there was a quiet respect in the way he looked at her now. He had nothing left to give, nothing left to ask. And for the first time, he understood what she needed, even if it wasn’t him.

Y/N slowly stepped back, the Game Boy still in her hands, heavier now than ever before. She could almost hear the echo of the button clicks in her mind—the same rhythm that had once drawn her in. But she had learned that no game, no matter how addicting, could define her.

“I think,” she said softly, her voice steady with finality, “it’s time for us to finally be done with this game.”

Clark didn’t argue. He didn’t try to pull her back into the cycle they had once shared. He just nodded slowly, his eyes still holding hers, as if silently acknowledging the end of this chapter.

Y/N took one last look at him, then turned and walked toward the door, her heart aching but lighter than it had been in months. She wasn’t running anymore.

“Goodbye, Clark,” she said, her voice steady.

The soft hum of the city outside felt like a lullaby, a promise of new beginnings. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N smiled—not because of a rush, but because she knew she was ready to live.

🕹️ hi everyone! I know it's not a happy ending but I wrote so many drafts of the part two.. and somehow I always end up with the version of them two being on their own. It's important to see the toxicity of them both and y/n's addiction or idea of clark's attention. just like in games, we are all focused on it and feel addicted to know what's the next step, what's the next level. 🕹️I am still thinking of writing a spin-off to clark's version of the story, or maybe a ,bonus' chapter of them in few years :) love ya ! 🕹️ taglist: @blackynsupremacy @angelsgalore @alelo23 @caliicela

[blackynsupremacy]

get ready to get sick of me because i got one topic for the next few days….

RED K CLARK KENT.

Season 2 Episode 4, “RED” Smallville (2001-2011)

he ain’t shit, but i can match his freak.

[dailyplanetmedia]

I submit the nxt ign...