#red!clark kent smallville

[littlesoulshine]

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.”

[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?”

[soangelbaby]

red kryptonite clark testing your boundaries and pushing you to new limits during sex . . . here’s da fic

red kryptonite clark . . . would take advantage of every single second of you breaking down for him, and he’d use it all against you, forcing you to submit to him whether you want to or not. he’s all about dominance and control, leaving no room for ifs, ands, or buts, he wants what he wants, and won’t stop until he’s satisfied. he’d overstimulate you, three orgasms in and you’re completely wrecked under him trembling, chest heaving, completely overwhelmed by the intense pleasure—so much it’s turned painful because of how sensitive you are. but clark doesn’t let up, he continues fucking you raw—pounding into you, his hands roaming your body, gripping you so tight, bruises would surely form within the next minutes. “aww,” he mocks, “are you tired already? thought you could handle me…” clark bites at your skin, “guess i overestimated you, baby.” all you can do is moan, whimper, whine, in response to his total corruption, teaching you to take him, to give in, to become his.

red kryptonite clark . . . doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to own you. your mind, your body, your soul, everything about you belongs to him. every little gasp, moan, all because of him. he won’t stop until he’s the only person on your mind, he wants to be sure you won’t even think about letting anyone else near you because you both know they could never do you like him. he knows your body well—too well, exactly how to make you fold, crumbling under his touch, his senses heightening your anatomy, he can feel and hear the way your heart beats faster whenever he touches you, whenever he makes you do or say things you claimed you would never, he wants it all. clark will push and push until you finally break, unable to resist him, “you think you’re in control?” his fingers tug your hair harshly, pulling you into him, “keep pushing me. you’ll give in, i’ll make sure you break, and you’ll beg me for it.” he whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down to grip your neck, tightening just enough to remind you who he is.

red kryptonite clark . . . would corrupt you. his powers give him an extreme advantage over you—as if he needed them anyway. his strength is inhuman, one hand, that’s all it takes. one hand. and your arms are pinned above your head or behind your back while his free hands roams your body, causing you to feel extremely small and exposed. he wants you to feel how powerless you are under him, manhandling you, tossing you around like you weigh nothing, one second, you’re standing. the next? you’re over his shoulder, his palm landing on your ass with a sharp smack as he carries you effortlessly. “you struggle too much,” he mutters. “maybe i should fix that.” he loves how delicate you feel beneath him, how easy he can manipulate your body however he wants. his chest pressed against yours, completely caging you in, “i could do anything to you… and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” you know you can’t overpower him, and he will always make sure you remember that.

red kryptonite clark . . . loves to ruin you, to make you into such a pretty mess for him. he grips your hair harshly, fucking up whatever cute style you had that day—demolished by him. tugging your cute and carefully picked hair clips or scrunchies, throwing them to the ground like they mean nothing, the second he sees you, he shakes his head, grinning, “you really thought this was gonna last?” he pulls it apart slowly, ensuring you feel him, you understand he’s in control of every single moment, if you try to stop him, he just grabs your wrists, swatting you away, “uh-uh, you’re mine, i want you looking exactly how i left you.” and if you get upset? if you pout? he enjoys it even more, tilting his head like he’s so amused by your reaction, “aw you upset?” clark taunts, gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “thought you looked cute? trust me baby, you look so better like this.” and he would make you see what he did, dragging you to a mirror, standing behind you, “go on, take a good look. that little style? gone. all that effort? wasted.” he’d murmur in your ear, fingers digging into your waist, “and why? because i wanted it that way.” and if you refuse to acknowledge it? man, he will force you. his large arm snaking around your stomach, the other tightening on the back of your neck, “no, you don’t get to ignore this. look at what i did to you.” and he won’t hesitate to double down, if you squirm or fight.

red kryptonite clark . . . doesn’t just want your submission, he wants to see you fall apart. leaving you sore, aching, bruised, he wants to see that moment you’re too far gone but too hooked to walk away. he loves seeing that struggle in your eyes, that brief flicker of defiance before it vanishes completely. it excites him, turns him on, knowing you’re trying so hard to hold on, but you’re slipping, and it’s only a matter of time before you fall into the abyss he’s created for you. “you’re so close, aren’t you?” clark’s voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper. “i can see it, feel it, hear it, trying so hard to hold onto whatever left of you.” his every move, every touch is deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge. it’s a game to him—watching you crumble, feeling the tension build, knowing it won’t be long before you’re completely lost in him. “you’re slipping, baby. you’re already mine, and you love it.” the rush that hits him when you finally surrender, when you realize you’re no longer in control, is almost euphoric, more than just a power trip—it’s knowing you’ll never be the same after this. that feeling of ownership is addictive to him. you’re no longer a challenge; you’re a conquest, and with every step you take toward your breaking point, he feels that pull in his chest, that unrelenting satisfaction and he savors every moment of it.

★ rini’s note ; can yall hear me barking???? yeah u hear it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this man this mannnnn i cant even think straight jist need him to corrupt me pls !!! will beg for it !!!! likez and reblogz are sooo sexc so show me sum luv <3

[blackynsupremacy]

DOUBLE TROUBLE

pairings: kal kent x black!fem!reader! x clark kent

summary: you get revenge on your cheating boyfriend by hooking up with his twin brother.

contains: 18+ content (mdni), smut, pwnp, redk!clark twin au, kal and clark are brothers, good twin/bad twin type of vibe, toxic relationship, cheating (both reader and kal), family betrayal, angst/anger, revenge sex, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, mention of birth control, riding, reader and clark basically use each other, manipulation, swearing, cursing, praise, degradation.

a/n: heyyy idk if anyone else came up with this au, but i think it would be cool to see redk!clark as a whole separate person alongside clark. requests are temporarily closed, so please be patient with me because my family and i are mentally preparing for an impending loss, so any thoughts and prayers would be appreciated. love you all sm 🫶🏾

want more? check out my masterlist!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @ellethespaceunicorn @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites @paisholotus @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @v3n1ce-bxtch @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy @artyandink @horror-moviehoe

“ah, fuck, clark!”

you cry out as your hips steadily bounced on clark kent’s massive length, your nails dig into the toned, pale skin of his broad shoulders as his hands cups the plush skin of your ass while he releases his own string of groans and whimpers. with each movement of your hips, the pleasure only intensified between the two of you. clark’s baby blue eyes were hypnotized by the slight jiggle of your breasts, he didn’t miss how the necklace with the familiar red gem you were wearing moved back and forth against your brown glistening skin that was stained with perspiration. god, how he wanted to take it off, but he was so caught up by how good you were at riding him, he could really care less as he was relishing in this sinister moment. you were a sight to behold as your shimmering, dark eyes were half-lidded and your full glossed lips were agape before his name came out again.

“you fuck me so good, clark. ah—wish i chose you instead.”

you breathed out, you were so drunk at how skilled he moved his hips in perfect tandem with yours, you weren’t sure if what came out of your mouth was true or not. one thing for sure, clark knew exactly what he was doing and those words caused him to drill his cock within your pussy faster, resulting in you to whimper with each time his bulbous tip kissed your cervix.

“y’know it, pretty—t-told you i can treat you better than that asshole.”

you hated and loved the fact that he wasn’t lying.

you both never thought that this would happen due to the fact that you were dating, kal kent, clark’s twin brother. despite the two being identical, they couldn’t even be more different. clark was the goody-two shoe twin who was the quarterback that made the best grades, did his part with the chores on the farm, and tried his best to help others in need. although he was charming and popular, he was shy, humble, and a bit awkward. clark seemed like to be the perfect candidate as your boyfriend, but then there was kal, his brother. he didn’t really care much for school, but he was still intelligent like clark. he spent his time skipping classes to go on adventures to metropolis like he was born to be there, instead of driving around in a pick-up truck like clark, kal saved up to get a motorcycle, which had all of the girls wanting to ride with him— or better yet on him, you included. kal kent was a bit arrogant and short-tempered, but he was adventurous, charismatic, bold, and an all around smooth operator when he wanted to be up to no good, especially when it came to the opposite sex.

your relationship with kal was— tumultuous. with the exact right words and actions, you were basically putty in his hands. it amazed you that out of all the girls in the senior class of smallville high, he chose you. with him, you unlocked the courageous wild side that’s been hidden deep within you. you went from a homebody ti a hometown hottie. kal kent was indeed trouble, but he was good trouble as he wasn’t afraid to show you new things and take risks beyond the limits of smallville. every weekend, you get dolled up and sneak out with kal on his motorcycle to journey to metropolis where he would smooth talk his way into the hottest dance clubs for some thrilling night life action—until he gets into a fight, but you still stuck by him as he took you to all of those “bases” that your friends would be hyping about with their respective beaus, your face would heat at the steamy details. now, you don’t feel so shy anymore as kal had completely transformed you to someone more liberated, sexy, and confident.

you loved kal with all of what you got, but sometimes he would be so fickle with his wandering eyes towards other girls. you and kal would be in a heated argument because you would catch him subtly flirting with other women, shamelessly complimenting their looks, or catch a glimpse of their swaying hips beneath their skirts. you never forgot how one time at a nightclub, you caught him bumping and grinding with two randoms on the dance floor after you went to the bathroom for three fucking minutes, causing you to lash out and make a scene resulting in an argument between you. you two wouldn’t even talk to each other for a good week, so you would find solace with clark, who was kind enough to console you and tell you how you deserved better than his brother (i.e. himself, but he wasn’t going to do that now). clark was right, but kal was the fire in your loins. you couldn’t just get over him and you knew he couldn’t get over you. that’s how you and kal would “make-up” then return back to normal.

if by normal, you mean repeating the cycle of kal playing in your face, you break up, you cry to clark, and then ultimately forgive kal just because he got you a promise necklace to match the ring on his finger? then, yeah, that was your normal and you were getting fed the fuck up. after another explosive confrontation on his infidelity, you were at the kent farm with clark in his loft. kal was off on his motorcycle at god knows where with god knows whom, you didn’t care because you were really done with him. there was no way that all of this pain, anger and insecurity was in the name of true love. clark always was there to be a shoulder for you to cry on, willing to listen to your repetitive laments and offer that old-fashioned, kindhearted farm boy comfort.

“i’m so sick of this, clark. i’m so sick of him!” you exasperatedly sigh out as you wipe the final tear from your eyes, finally composing yourself. clark wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his hand gently caressing your arm.

“i’m so sorry, y/n. no one deserves what you’re going through. ever.”

and he meant that with every bone in his body. no matter how many times you’ve cried to him, clark would always reassure that you would find better for yourself, hopefully one day you’ll realize that you wouldn’t have to look far because he was literally right here. clark has always been fond of you, even before you started messing around with his brother. fortunately, his patience was a virtue and it worked out for him in the end as you uttered these words.

“thank you, clark. i never would say this out loud with him around, but i wish kal was more like you sometimes.”

“more like me? in what way?” he inquired, with that signature tilt of his head that you always found to be adorable. it resembled a golden retriever.

“y’know— like a gentleman.” you sigh in relief at clark’s gentle touch on your shoulder. the gears in your brain start to turn as a devilish, nasty idea crept in your mind. you knew this was wrong by any means, but your fiery anger and growing bitterness towards kal kent was the director of your moral compass. you leaned in closer to clark, smirking when his cheeks painted with red at the new close proximity.

“clark—i’ve been burnt by your brother way too many times before and i’ve never thought about stepping out once.” you confess in a light, soft voice, your hand reaching to trace along the warm skin of clark’s jawline.

“this time—i want to burn him back.” you leaned in forward, your thigh was brushing against his as your breaths mingled with each other. you glanced down at his pouty, rose lips that was so similar to your boyfriend’s.

“and i want you to help me.”

“b-but, i can’t. it wouldn’t be fair to kal.”

you smile widely, admiring clark’s angelic benevolence to his savage of a brother and his relationship—too bad that you were going to play devil’s advocate.

“you’re right, clark, but he hasn’t been fair to me.” you emphasize, pointing to your chest. “didn’t you always say that i deserve better? wouldn’t you think that i deserved you?” you press him further, placing your hands on his shoulders to push him up against the sofa you were occupying, finally cornering him. it didn’t help his case as he felt the blood rush straight to his cock when you pressed your heaving chest against his.

“c’mon, clark. we both know you can treat me better, love me better, and maybe even fuck me better. you can tell me all you want, but i’d like it if you show me, baby.”

clark was speechless because you were right. he did want you, so fucking bad. he admired your boldness, your realness, your intelligence, and of course, your beauty. it was common for the twins to bicker, but kal always made sure to rub it in his face and make him feel like such a loser that even a “mr. popular” couldn’t bag a chick as bad as you—well, now this was his chance to prove kal wrong. clark’s own morals started to blur between the lines of right and wrong as your lips drew closer to his. before you knew it, clark threw all cares out of the window as he finally closed the gap between your lips in a kiss that started out as gentle, but grew more fervent as you started to climb upon his lap, grinding your hips in a sweet rhythm to feel the erected arousal buried in his signature levi’s. with each kiss and touch exchanged, every article of clothing that you had was swiftly discarded to the floor leaving you both exposed. 

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

you reveled in the amount of body worship that clark showered you in as his skilled hands roamed to every part of your body, from your chest down to your aching core, it all elicited the lewdest of sounds from you that had you ready to feel him— all of him. it wasn’t long before you got him sitting nice and pretty up on the couch, readily positioning yourself right above his swollen cock. although, he was ready, his sweet self still wanted to know one more thing before you proceeded,

“don’t you think we should use protection?”

you could only simper, he was such a softie that you could melt.

“it’s all good, babe. i’m on the pill—m’gonna start now, you ready?” you ask, caressing his heated face and placing a searing kiss on his lips. with his eager approval, you deliberately lowered yourself onto your boyfriend’s brother’s length. as he filled you up inch by inch, your grip on each other grew tighter as your walls did around him once he bottomed out. your hips began to get into a steady rhythm once you both adjusted to the new sensation. a string of strained moans erupted from your throat with each thrust, usually with kal it would be more about him, prioritizing his release over yours, but with clark, he was more attentive to your needs. from the way his lips would take the time to trail bites and kisses along your chest to how he would tease your clit with his thumb every now and then. to make sure you didn’t tire yourself out, his hips jolted up to meet you in the middle as they gained in speed, his name becoming the only thing on your lips. clark was enjoying every moment of this. he wished kal would walk in to see you completely going crazy as he fucked deeper within your walls.

“heh. look at you, getting fucked so good by your boyfriend’s brother. you’re so damn scandalous, but i love that about you.” he deeply chuckled, fully taking control by tightly clasping your hips and holding them in place to where you couldn’t move. your confusion was brief when clark began to drill himself at such a speed you weren’t even sure was human, but that’s what the fuck you’re talking about. if this was how revenge felt, you’d gladly do it again to teach kal a lesson.

you felt the familiar heat coil inside, burning more intense as you gaze down between you to watch each fluid motion of his cock rutting eagerly in and out your slickness with such precision.

“that’s it, clark. just like that. do it for me, baby, do it for me! y’gonna make me cum all over you if keep doing that.” you mewled out, your nails scratched on his skin as his movements started to be more erratic. the only sounds that filled the room was the slapping of your skin, the squelching of your sex, and the mix of your harmonic moaning in the air.

“that’s right, baby. let that pretty pussy cum all over me— give it all to me, pretty girl. i got you like always.” he mused, the pad of his thumb finding its rightful place on your sensitive bundle of nerves, swiping it rapidly on the wet, puffy surface to elicit the pleasure that you’ve been waiting for. that’s when you feel the final snap of the coil. without ceasing your movements, your lips collide with his in a needy kiss. your whole body trembles, every muscle spasms as your juices disperse all over his navel and cascade down your thighs. it doesn’t take long for clark’s orgasm to follow suit, his fluids rapidly shooting into your walls to paint them white as snow. after catching your breath, you get off of him for you both to retrieve your clothes.

“thanks, again, clark. you may feel crap about it now, but knowing your brother, this should be a humbling experience for him.” you reassure him as you adjusted your hair to break the awkward tension with some humor.

“it’s no worries, y/n, but the question still remains—did you mean what you said about how you should’ve chosen me instead of kal? i know we were caught up in the moment, but—” you cut him off by simply cupping his face in your hands to kiss him, he instinctively reciprocates. with the slight tug of his bottom lip between your teeth, you pull away, a tantalizing smile painted on your glowing features.

“between you and me, clark, you can believe what you want to believe, but know this—drunk actions speak sober thoughts. if you’re down, let’s keep this our little secret and do this again if kal decides to screw with both of us, ‘kay?” with a final quick peck to his lips, you take your exit from the loft before hopping into your vehicle to retire for the night, relishing in the fact that you got kal kent, your playboy boyfriend, back for all of the hurt he’s caused.

at around midnight, kal came stumbling through the door of kent farm. he was out in metropolis again hitting up the club with a couple of hotties, but they weren’t you. he’d make it up to you when you’ve cooled down enough and stopped talking to his cookie-cutter twin.

“i take it that you had a good time tonight. it’s not like your girlfriend was worried sick or anything.” clark snidely remarked with the roll of his blue eyes as he relaxed on the sofa before resuming to watching the cheesy horror movie on the tv.

“you’re damn right i did and let me guess, you did the same loser activities with the same loser friends like you always do on nights like these.” kal called out from the kitchen to retrieve a needed bottle of water before stepping closer to clark.

“instead of butting into my relationship with my girlfriend, you should stay in your fucked up lane of a love life.”

kal then sarcastically feigned a “eureka” type of expression, snapping his fingers.

“oh! i got it. maybe if you had what it takes to live a little, you wouldn’t be stuck doing the same old loser routine in boring old smallville, would you, mr. popular?” kal finished his speech with a chuckle, thinking he had the last laugh when clark was probably playing the bigger person by giving silence as a response. kal had no idea about the bombshell that his own twin brother was about drop on him.

“yeah, alright, kal. i’m such a loser doing the same loser activities, but in reality, i was fucking your girlfriend a couple hours ago, asshole. how’s that for living a little?”clark harshly retorted, the dirty little secret out in the open.

kal immediately stopped at that confession, everything had just—paused. if the harsh tension between the brothers was already damaging, it was now fucked beyond compare.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . EASILY CONVINCED.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . RED K!CLARK X READER

₊˚⊹ ♡ . you want to leave him, but there's one thing keeping you there

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MDNI 18+ | word count — 2.8k | warnings — established toxic relationship, Clark does not care about your feelings at any point at all, manipulation, crying, oral (m. recieving), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, name-calling, hair-pulling

When Clark strolled into your shared Metropolis apartment, it was already after dark. The moonlight streaming in through the window glinted off the smooth marble countertop and illuminated you, already waiting in the shared kitchen for him to arrive home. Your arms were folded over your chest, eyebrows furrowed lightly. You were finally going to have the conversation you’d been needing to have with him for the past few months.

You thought if you came to Metropolis with him, stayed by his side rather than letting him run off on his own, things would get better. That isolation wouldn’t be good for him, and your presence would sway him to take off the ring and return to Smallville. It hadn’t. Sometimes it seemed like it worsened with the passing days—the going out and staying out for hours, sometimes overnight, being mouthy and rude, or just downright insulting. And you saw the way he looked at women passing on the street sometimes. It felt like being stabbed, though you’d given up on reprimanding him a while back. Now, though?

You’d come to the long overdue conclusion that this simply wasn’t the same Clark anymore, wasn’t your Clark. He wasn’t the guy that insisted on fixing your car when it made him late for school that day, or the guy that practically ran to your parents’ house to fix their fence when it broke, or the guy that kissed you like your face was something precious between his hands and fucked you like you actually meant something to him.

As Clark closed the front door behind him, your eyes caught on the obnoxiously large crimson ring still nestled on his giant hand. That old Clark was gone. Maybe one day he’d come back on his own, but for now? You wanted to go home. You wanted your life back.

You cleared your throat, and Clark raised his eyebrows as he regarded you standing there, waiting for him. “It’s late.”

He gives a halfway nod, lips quirking up into a smile, “It gets busier the later it gets. I should’ve stayed, really.”

By it he means that stupid club on the corner downtown. All pulsing blue lights and girls in the tiniest skirts you’ve ever seen. You’ve always tried to push its very existence out of your brain, and an involuntary shiver wracks your arms as you’re afflicted by thoughts of what he gets up to there.

“Well, I ate already.” Your arms tightened around you, silently cursing yourself for always fumbling when it came to things like this.

Clark hums in response, barely paying attention as he tugs his jacket off and tosses it onto the back of the chair. His keys clatter against the counter with a metallic clang, and he’s visibly already thinking about something else entirely.

You take a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you.”

“Y'are talking to me. Right now.” He flashes his pearly teeth, the little points peeking over his perfect bottom lip.

You shake your head, your eyes flicking away from him and instead focusing on the wall, or maybe the fridge. That was always how he got you—it was the same smile, the same twinkle in those blue eyes. It took all your willpower to stay grounded and remind yourself that no matter how bad you wished he was, he wasn’t your Clark. Your resolve trembled every time you looked at him.

“No, I mean talk to you about us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not this again.” There he was. Dismissive and careless, which was all he’d been the last few months when he wasn’t just being blatantly mean.

“Listen! Yes, this again, you never let me finish!”

“I let you finish plenty. Wasn’t it…three times, last weekend?” He wanders over to the fridge, tugging the door open placidly. He looks over to you for a few moments, only long enough to see the way your jaw tightens as your face warms despite yourself.

“That’s not—I was trying to—” You huff, throwing your hands half-heartedly in the air as you struggle to articulate yourself. Like you always did, which Clark knew. “You know what I meant.”

Just as the last word left your lips, he slammed the fridge door. So hard the wall behind it rattled. "Can't this wait til' after I get somethin' to eat? 'M starved after tonight." He huffed out a laugh cause he knew what he was doing, leaving your imagination to run wild about what he'd got up to.

Though your bottom lip quivered a little bit, you shook your head. "No, you're a selfish dick. If I waited for you to want to talk to me, I'd be waiting forever."

Clark was across the kitchen and in your personal space in less than half a second, making you gasp. You tried to back up as he towered over you, but you bumped into the corner—he had you caged up against it. You avoided his eyes, though you couldn't escape his smell with how close he was. Delicious despite his bad behavior—oak barrels and gentle shampoo and sunlight. Your head swam as you took it in, you couldn't fight it when he grabbed your face, forcing it upwards. He craned your neck back to look at him, and his gaze was amused, lips tilted slightly upwards.

"My dick is a lot of things. Selfish is not one. You'd know, huh? There's only one greedy bitch here."

You were shaking like a leaf, and the squeak you let out was pathetic. "You know how I feel about the b-word."

Clark laughed loudly. "How you feel, and how you feel," his tone of voice lilted suggestively as his hand dipped down to the front of your shorts. "Are two very different things."

He paused for a half second, so you'd have time to say no, but it was mocking—he knew you wouldn't stop him. That made the seconds that stretched between you taunting, a total mockery of what you'd been trying to do, the corpse of your dead resolve practically half-buried already as you stood with baited breath, waiting for him to slip his hand where you wanted it.

As his hand went between your thighs, he grinned. “You’re real predictable, y’know that?” His fingers slid through your folds easily from how drenched they were. When he pulled his fingers from your panties, a glistening strand of your arousal clung onto them, and he shoved it in your face. Raising his eyebrows, “and you keep trying to act like you want me to be different. Liar.”

Your lip quivered from the misconstrued truth in his words, the way he could always use that against you. It wasn’t your fucking fault your boyfriend’s voice got you all hot, he was literally the most perfect man in the world, even when he was like this—that didn’t mean you wanted him to stay this way. The late-night whispers between the two of you as you laid on his barn couch back in Smallville, about a house and a family, were more important to you than the sex you seemingly couldn’t stop having. But why couldn’t you stop having it?

Clark shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you clean your own wetness off of them, and he intentionally shoved them back far enough to make you gag lightly. You hated the disappointment that bloomed in your belly when you realized he wasn’t going to relieve you further with his hand, he was just making a point. Your eyes burned.

"You owe me! I was ready to have a perfectly nice night an' settle in—you're the one who had to start somethin'." He rolled his eyes. "You're always doing this, y'know. Not very fair to me, is it?"

Your eyes watered and, though you were fighting furiously to keep it in, a little sniffle escaped you. The sound made Clark's eyes snap to you, just in time to watch the first tear slip down your cheek. The grin that spread across his face was sickening.

"C'mon. On your knees."

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to make him punctate it with, "now."

The last of your resolve was officially gone and buried as you sunk to your knees, which met the cold tile underneath you, and looked up at him. Clark raised his eyebrows, prompting you with a nod, and your fingers found his belt and began undoing it. You fumbled with it a little, hands shaky through your crying.

When you raised a hand to wipe the tears from your face, Clark swatted it away. “Makes it extra wet, y’know that.” He reasoned with a charming smile.

You ignored him and finally got his belt undone, and his cock sprung out of the confines of his boxers already stiff. That only rubbed it in more—every insult and mockery he threw your way only made him harder, and your tears were just the nail in the coffin.

No matter how upset you were, it was muscle memory to take him as far back into your throat as you could, though you struggled. You gagged around it, saliva bubbling from the corners of your mouth. He was right, and the longer you went, your tears from both Clark’s mocking and how harshly you were gagging mixed with your spit and left his cock slick, your mouth sliding around it too easily. Your hand wrapped around the base so you could cover more of it, and his head fell back a little as you twisted your fist around his shaft at the same time your tongue swirled over his tip. The sigh he let out was contented, and he ran his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck.

For a half second, you pretended it was Clark—your Clark. The guy who had held your hair back for you and rubbed your scalp soothingly when you had his dick in your mouth, doing his best to reward you for every good feeling you ‘gifted’ him, which was how he saw it.

The illusion was shattered when the fingers in your hair tightened sharply, making you yelp at the sudden pain. Clark groaned as your pained sounds vibrated around his cock, and he held your head in place as he started sliding in and out quicker, fucking your face at a more demanding pace than you’d been able to handle yourself. You gagged every time his tip hit the back of your throat, and Clark was letting the grunts and moans fall from his lips freely as you gagged, whined, and swallowed desperately around him.

“I like your mouth so much better when I do this. Not all that other shit.” He groaned. “Ah, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

Before he could finish his sentence, or cum down your throat, Clark was yanking you off of him by your hair. You let out a surprised yelp, but he was already snatching you up and tossing you over his shoulder like you were weightless. His shiny, throbbing cock still hung out of his blue jeans as he carried you to the back of the apartment and to your shared bedroom. He bumped your head on the doorframe as he brought you inside and ignored the noise you made, before tossing you down on the bed.

You sat there numbly, defeated, face streaked with tears and drool and precum, as Clark shrugged off his clothes and bared his inhumanly defined body to you. The moonlight coming in through the massive bedroom window—which wasn’t covered by the curtains, so you were sure some news helicopter would get a real eyeful of the habit Clark had developed to avoid a break-up—hit his chest in a way that made his tanned skin glow. Your mouth watered a little at the sight of him, something you’d truly never get used to, as if you needed more spit on your fucking face.

Clark wordlessly snapped his fingers at you as he knelt on the bed, and you moved obediently to hook your fingers in the waistband of your shorts and tug them and your panties down in one motion. Clark finished the job when he got impatient and made quick work of your thin sleep shirt, leaving it in two pieces by the foot of the bed.

He moved you like a doll, on all fours in front of him, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned you the way he wanted. The scream you let out when he sheathed inside you in one smooth motion—too big to fully bottom out, instead abusing your cervix immediately and giving you zero time to adjust—was muffled by his giant hand shoving your face into his pillow. That scent invaded your nose again, familiar and musky and clean, and you focused on it to distract yourself from the sting, gritting your teeth as you waited to adjust. Whines and yelps fell from your lips and were swallowed by the plush cotton, Clark still palming the back of your head to keep it there.

His pace was selfish and unforgiving, and though he was sliding in and out of you with no rhythm and no regard for how you felt, that didn’t stop the way your body began going limp, your pained squeaks turning into desperate moans and whimpers. “Nghh—ah, ah,” and you were sure Clark could hear it, no matter how drowned out it was by the wet, explicit skin-on-skin noises that filled the room.

He let your face up for a minute, and you gasped for breath.

“Feelin’ better now that you’re all full? Y’know—you’re always goin’ on and on—y’say you’re ‘not happy’” he did a high-pitched voice, mocking you, and you keened in response as he kept pumping inside of you, “I think what you mean to say is empty. Cause you’re all smiles when you're like this—real happy, right?”

Your only response was a low whine, and he smacked your ass hard. You jolted and yelped from the pain, but couldn’t move away from the second loud slap he landed against your cheek. He was holding you too tightly in place.

“Answer me.” Clark prompted, though his amused tone concealed an underlying threat as his hand still hovered over the globe of your ass, which was already blooming with red.

“Nngh—yes.” You cried out, but he clucked his tongue at you, ramming into you particularly hard to punctuate it. Your eyes rolled back.

“Yes what?”

“H-happy—‘m happy, thank you.” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the way he was punishing your cunt.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “there ya go!” Though, of course, nothing nice. He never fucking said anything nice. Said you hadn’t earned it, no matter what you did.

“Aah, shit—” His hips stuttered a little bit, and he let out a breath through gritted teeth. You clenched around him harshly and he groaned in response, your own release was creeping up on you.

“I dunno if you—argh—deserve my cum. Not today. Y’just cause problems.”

The pleading whine you let out was high-pitched and pathetic, the pillow wet with your still-flowing tears and the idea of him pulling out right now was torturous to you. He could’ve threatened to kill you and it would’ve been a less horrific idea.

“Please… please, Clark, please.” You babbled like a broken record, borderline incoherent through the snot and tears and broken moans. He was drilling your pussy, which was still squeezing him like a vice, and he laughed at your begging.

“One day I’ll stop bein' so nice, y’know?” Was the last thing Clark said before he came inside of you with a low, delicious groan, hips slamming into yours harshly as he fucked you through his orgasm. Your whole body shook with the force of it, limp and spasming, though he held you up easily. Your own release washed over you, and you finally let out a desperate, ecstatic cry as you were rewarded with the white-hot pleasure. The two of you were one, actually together for a few moments as you both reveled in the pleasure, something you didn't get from him anymore. Something you desperately missed, and your face screwed up at the familiar feeling.

It was over as quickly as it happened.

After Clark pulled out, he had the decency to arrange your limbs into some semblance of a laying position for you, since you were far too gone to do it. Your whole body felt like syrup. He laid your head on your own pillow, which made you miss the familiar smell of his, and tugged the covers over you. You didn't think you could speak if you wanted to, or remember your own name—or think of anything but him.

Clark rolled back over, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He was perfectly composed, though your chest still heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Shakily, you took a few slow, deep ones. There was a fuzzy warmth tugging at the edges of your brain and your chest. Like there always was after he was done with you.

“I love you.” You mumbled as your eyes drifted shut.

Clark’s answer was matter-of-fact, so close to being neutral if it wasn’t for the smugness that crept in.

“I know.”

[vakariaan]

Clois +

[bugisastranger]

Could I please have angst with a happy ending with Best friend Clark, where you’ve been pining after him for the longest time, but he’s still after Lana. So you give up and start going on dates/bars to get over him, and he’s confused at the sudden emotional distance because you’ve never done that before, and he finds himself jealous. 🙏🙏🙏

a/n: sorry this took a bit anon! i am such a busy gal this semester </3. this one's a lil long - might not be as angsty as you were hoping but i haven't written angst in agessss so i apologize. ty for the req my love!

"who's this?"

is what you hear before you can even turn your head to see clark approaching you in the beanery. you had figured he wouldn’t even be here—he’d surely be supporting lana at the talon—but clearly the world had a way of taunting you, because you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“clark,” you start, finding it absolutely unbelievable that he found a way to worm himself into your life regardless of how much you tried to avoid him. “this is steven. steven, clark—my friend.” you give a pointed look to clark. “what’s up?”

“oh, i just wanted to see you.” you’re kidding. as often as clark says things which make you double take, this is not a time you doubt what he means; even your date is baffled by his words.

“i wanted your help, actually. with my english project," clark says, and it almost seems like he came up with that on the spot.

“what? clark, you’re good at english.” there is no way.

“well, this one’s giving me trouble.”

“i… can it wait? or can’t you ask chloe?” you try urging, hoping it'll make him get the hint.

“chloe’s busy.”

“okay, whatever, i can come by later.”

“i have a thing later," clark says, and it's taking all of your power not to strangle him. he never even acted this way if you were talking to people he knows.

“a thing?”

“yes, a thing." you roll your eyes, finding clark's behavior beyond absurd.

“you know what – i was gonna go soon anyway,” steven says awkwardly, standing. 

“no, stay. clark was just going." you jump to your feet, trying to resolve the situation.

“no, i wasn’t!”

“oh my god, clark shut up!” 

“i’ll call you, okay?” steven grabs his jacket, and that’s when you know that clark has entirely ruined this for you. 

“are you sure? i’m sorry about him, he’s—”

“i’m what?” clark interjects.

“intruding.” you finish, and it's clark's turn to roll his eyes. “i really am sorry about this, my friends usually don’t interrupt my dates, i promise.”

“that’s okay. it was nice spending time with you.” 

steven isn’t even out of earshot when you start scolding clark, swatting him with a magazine off the table. “are you serious?! what is wrong with you!”

“what’s wrong with me?”

“yes, you!”

“you’ve been avoiding me for weeks!”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, trying to play dumb.

“what am i talking about?" clark touches his hands to his chest, confused how you're turning this on him. "are you kidding? you used to hang out with me nearly every day, and now i barely even see you at school.”

“and?”

“and?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up. “and i like spending time with you? i care about you? is that seriously something i have to tell you?”

“maybe it is,” you say, hands moving to your hips.

“who even is that kid? you didn’t tell me you were going on a date.”

oh. oh.

“that’s what this is about?”

“uh. yeah. you tell me everything." the sass in his voice is a quick reminder that you have such strong feelings for clark, but you try to push that thought away. and clark's right, anyway. you would typically tell him most things.

“i do not tell you everything,” maybe it’s the way that you say it—or maybe it's just the sentiment in itself—but clark furrows his brows, the sentence hitting him like a punch.

“what don’t you tell me?”

“i don’t know, clark—things!” but you do know, and it’s that you’ve been harboring feelings with him for god knows how long. “you keep secrets from me all the time. i don’t pry.” and that seems to shut him up. “listen, can we not talk about this now? let’s go back to yours.”

“okay. okay, yeah,” he says, walking towards the door and holding it open for you. on the walk back to his house, you start talking about other things—the english project that he didn’t need your help with so urgently, the errands his mom had him run earlier, and what chloe had been telling him about yesterday.

clark’s english project took far less time than he’d hoped, and he was only able to keep you an extra half hour because his mom joined the conversation. and when you left, that only made the cut deeper, because she brought up how she’d barely been seeing you around lately. he doesn’t see you the next morning at school, and barely catches sight of you at the end of the day, talking to steven. he’s about to walk over there, interrupt the two of you again, but pete appears in front of him and drags him over to the torch before he can protest.

the next few days pass slower than time ever has for clark. it’s like he’s spending every minute thinking about you, and he doesn’t even realize why until it hits him that he’s been seeing lana with whitney and it doesn’t make him feel the same way it used to. the only thing making him feel that way is you. that realization occurs in his math class, and he nearly thinks that he’s around some of the meteor rock because of how it makes him feel. he’s lucky that his actual teacher is out sick, because when clark comes back from the bathroom, he’s already thinking about what he’s going to say to you.

“please open the door, please open the door, please open the door,” clark whispers to himself as he rings the doorbell. it’s not too long until the door’s creaking open, and luckily it’s you—not your parents—on the other side. “hey.”

“hi.”

“how are you?” he stalls.

“i’m fine. you?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe. honestly, it kills you to be so cold towards clark, but there’s not another way you can imagine to get over him. every second you’re with him is indescribable. 

“i wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“okay.” you look back into the house before stepping out front, shutting the door gently behind you. it’s a moment of you looking at him expectantly before he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for your reaction.

“i don’t think you should see steven anymore.”

“what? why?”

“i just don’t think he’s the guy for you.”

“okay, well, that’s a really great and specific reason, clark,” you say sarcastically. “what do you have against him?”

“i don’t have anything against him!” wrong. “i just don’t want you going out with him.” and wrong thing to say. 

“you don’t get to control who i go out with, clark.”

“that’s not what i meant–”

“what did you mean, then?” you ask, angrily. it takes clark by surprise, really, ‘cause he can’t remember the last time you’d snapped like that, and he never thought you’d react that way to him.

“i just think you deserve better.”

“you don’t even know him! you have no idea how he treats me.”

“just trust me.” clark looks down at you with what you can only describe as puppy eyes. “come on, i know you trust me.”

“i do trust you—usually—but this is so unlike you.”

“this is unlike you! you never talk about boys or going out with anyone or—”

“yeah, well maybe i had my eye on someone.”

“what?”

“nothing, clark! nothing.”

“how does you being interested in someone mean that you don’t ever talk about them?”

“god, clark, you’re so blind,” you mutter under your breath. “because it’s you!” oh. 

“what?” clark replies, his eyes wide. it doesn’t even cross his mind what it actually means, he’s just so shocked. “what?”

“you heard what i said.”

“no, yeah, i did. but what?” “i’m not repeating myself.”

“how long?”

“i’m not answering that, clark. that’s humiliating.”

“no, it’s not. i—” he takes another deep breath, shaking his head slightly. “i’m jealous.”

“what?”

“of steven, i’m jealous of him. and i—i don’t really know where it’s come from, but i don’t want you seeing him, i want you seeing me,” clark’s words make you still, the anger being drawn out of your system. “i miss you,” he adds quietly. 

“okay. wow. that’s… okay.”

“okay?” he teases, taking a step forward with a smirk. it’s starting to set in that you feel the same way, and he suddenly doesn’t feel so bad about the way he’s been sneaking glances at your lips this whole time. clark watches you grow a little nervous, starting to fluster, and he’s kicking his past-self for never realizing how cute you are. 

“i’m nervous.”

“i can tell,” he smiles, the toothy grin nearly making you implode. “so, what does this mean?” 

because of how close clark is, you’re having to really look up at him, and though it’s already hurting your neck, you can’t make yourself look away. “i’m not gonna talk to him anymore. i wasn’t going to, anyway. it’s not fair, using him to get over you.”

“was it working?” you shake your head. “good.” he’s staring down at you for another moment, and the silence isn’t awkward. all he’s waiting on is a sign, something to tell him that you actually do want him—more than just words. then you’re looking at his lips for a little longer than a simple glance, and he’s bending over, leaning in. clark would be lying if he says he’s not nervous, but he’s wasted so much time being blind to your feelings that he won’t do it any longer.

clark snakes a hand around your body, pulling you closer to him as he presses his lips to yours in what can only be described as a rom-com kiss. it feels that way, too, and he has to force himself off of you. he almost wants to apologize for how eager he is, but he doesn’t.

you stare at each other for another moment, like neither of you really knows what to say, and then you look to the side, half hiding your face as you try not to giggle out of excitement. “um, i have to go back inside. my parents are…”

“yeah, that’s okay,” clark says, beaming. “let me take you on a date. are you busy later?”

“no, later works,” you nod. clark huffs at how adorable it is, before glancing back at the front door—making sure nobody’s looking—and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“i’ll come get you at six.” he starts to walk off before turning back around, “and, uh, maybe wait a second before you go back in. your face is all red.”

[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

[smallcloisville]

Lois Lane x smoking

[honeylouwho]

freak like me ; red!clark kent

synopsis: as clark loses his inhibitions, your desires become his.

cw: nsfw (18+) / red!clark / power exchange / mentions of bruising / rough play / fear play / piss / dubcon / impact play / size kink if you squint wc: 775 love note: red!clark is an absolute menace

“What?” Red!Clark Kent mocks, the word filled with pseudo sympathy as you tremble underneath him. Chests pressed together, it didn’t take long for him to force your legs apart and position himself hovering over you. “You always say you want it rough. Now it’s too much? Gotta make up your mind, sweetheart.”

Clark’s hand lingered on your hip, propping himself up with his other arm. With your back pressed against the bed, you closed your eyes, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the laundry detergent coating the sheets. Things with Clark had been different the last couple of days, everything he was too scared to do with you before seemed to dissipate in under twenty four hours. It was like a switch flipped, fogging up his decision making skills and rewiring his brain chemistry. “I do, but… You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” Clark sounded amused as he squeezed his colossal hand around your hip. The sheer size of his hand against you made you look small in comparison. This towering man, throwing you around like a rag doll was something you had fantasized about, but now that it was coming true, it made you a little uneasy. It was true, you had told him that you wanted it a little rougher. A little dirtier. A little… nastier, but you hadn’t expected him to get so brutal with it. “Don’t you want to make me proud?”

There was underlying shame to it, too, but that was the fun of it, right? Feeling a little ashamed for wanting these salacious desires, and now that Clark was offering them to you in forms of slaps and bite marks against your skin, you weren’t sure you could ever go back to regular fucking with him. It hurt, yes, but that’s what made it so good. It scared you, yeah, but you liked that feeling of terror in the pit of your gut. You enjoyed that your body couldn’t tell the difference between true danger and sex with Clark.

“I do want to make you proud,” the words came out of you in between breaths, your muscles tightening with each word. Clark looked so pretty like this, even if there was a haze behind his eyes, void of any emotion other than the desire to destroy you.

“Then take it like a champ,” Clark told you, sinking his teeth into your neck. He bit into the skin, tearing at it with his teeth. Sharp canines moved throughout your neck, down your collarbones, leaving behind territorial marks.

“You’re trembling so much, baby. You scared?” Clark lifted his mouth from your skin and squeezed your hip harsher, his thumb pressing into one of the bruises he had left behind during a night of rough play with him. Your bottom lip quivered as you thought of a response, because the truth was… you were scared right now.

“I am scared, Clark,” you confirmed, tears brimming at your eyes as he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out on the first stroke. He let out a groan, wondering just how far he could push you until you told him to stop. The tip of his cock hit your cervix with each thrust, forcing cries as your face twisted in pain. 

Natural instincts took over, the more it hurt, the more you tried to squirm away from him, until he had your head pressed against the headboard and his hand around your throat. The cool metal of his ring pressed into your vocal chords, silencing your whimpers. 

And that’s what really sent you over the edge, fear dancing throughout your body— not being able to scream if needed by the way he held your throat. Silencing you completely forced your flight or fight to kick in as he rocked his hips in and out of you. 

Clark let up, releasing his grip on your throat as your body tightened up. You hadn’t even realized you had to pee until your body was forcing it out of you, trickling down Clark’s shaft and coating him with it. “So scared you pissed? So afraid you couldn’t control yourself?”

It was all so confusing; the arousal from your fear, the fact that you… pissed from fear, and the feeling of Clark continuing to move in and out while hitting that sweet spot inside of you. With a mix of emotions running through you, you gripped his bicep as he hit that sweet spot one last time. Squeezing around his wet cock, you shuddered as you reached your climax.

With his cock still inside of you, Clark let out a low laugh. “You’re a fucking freak, you know that?”

[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

.

[littlesoulshine]

Can we just talk about the fact that dating Clark is about knowing he'll be there for you whenever you want and need him? One phone call, and he's standing in front of you, like- I'm smiling like an idiot

And you would feel very safe and secure

author's note: yess anonie!! just thinking about it makes me giddy 🤭

the night was quiet, but your mind wasn’t. the weight of the day pressed down on you, and all you wanted was clark. just the thought of him, his steady presence, his warm embrace, was enough to soothe some of the tension. without thinking twice, you picked up your phone and dialed. it only rang once before his voice came through, soft and familiar.

“hey,” he said, concern already lacing his tone. “everything okay?”

you didn’t need to say much. “can you come over?”

there was a slight rustle on the other end, and you knew he was already moving. “i’m on my way.”

not even a minute later, there was a gentle knock at your door. you opened it to find him standing there, a small smile on his face, his hair slightly windswept from the speed he’d used to get to you. he looked at you with such tenderness that your heart ached in the best way possible.

without a word, you stepped into his arms, and he wrapped you in his embrace, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. the moment his arms were around you, the tension began to melt away. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, sinking into the safety of him.

“i’m here,” he whispered against your hair, his voice a comforting balm.

you smiled into his chest, feeling like an idiot for how much joy that simple truth brought you. he was always there—always—and the knowledge of that made you feel safe in a way you’d never known before. with clark, there was no need for grand gestures or elaborate explanations. one call, one simple request, and he was by your side, no questions asked.

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “thank you for coming.”

his eyes softened as he cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “i’ll always come when you need me.”

you didn’t need to say anything else. the emotion in his gaze, the warmth in his touch, was enough. leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss slow and tender. it was a kiss that spoke of gratitude, of love, and of the unshakable bond between you. his lips moved against yours with a soft reverence, as if savoring every second of the connection.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he rested his forehead against yours, his smile radiant. “i love you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“i love you too,” you replied, feeling the truth of those words in every part of you.

with clark, everything was easier, lighter. and as you stood there in the quiet of the night, wrapped in his arms, you knew that with him, you were always safe, always loved.

[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.

[soangelbaby]

୨୧ breath for me ; clark kent

๑ synopsis ; red kryptonite clark controls your breathing during sex . . .

red clark thrives on power, on the way your body reacts to his control. his large hand placed around your throat, just enough to slow your breathing, causing you to gasp at the sudden cut off of oxygen.

“ah, no baby, don’t do that, you know better than to fight me.” his grip tightens the second you try to gasp, his smirk growing as he pounds into you. every thrust drawing a stifled moan from you, his free hand slides down your body, feeling your warm skin beneath his fingertips. you can feel the pressure building in your chest, the desperate need for air clawing at your insides while you chase your orgasm. he only speeds up his pace, telling you this is his moment, his moment to break you down, to have you crave something as simple as air—and right now? he’s the only one who can give it to you. or take it away.

“mmph…cl-ark…” you barely breathe out, swallowing hard, your body shaking, your pulse thudding in your ears. but clark was savoring every moment—his fingers dug into your skin, you could feel his body tense, could feel his dick twitch inside you as he pulled you deeper into him. “shut up. the more you try to take, the less i’ll give. so relax and be good for me, yeah?” he mumbles against your neck, his grip loosens just a little bit, enough for you sneak a smidgen of air before he resumes position. the only sounds bouncing off the walls in the room is your heavy breathing, the sounds of your soaking wet cunt around clark’s dick, and his deep groans rumbling against your skin.

he’s relentless, completely consumed by the sight of you under him. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your face almost flush of any color, each desperate gasp for air sending a wave of panic through your body, but he doesn’t let up. the lack of air makes everything feel slower, as if time is stretching between every heartbeat. your lungs ache, your chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm but you can’t fill them. “look at me, don’t you dare close your eyes.” he warns, keeping you trapped in the haze of suffocation, “you won’t miss a single second of this. you’re mine to ruin, remember?”

⭒ rini’s note ; ehm—i froze up towards the end—brain is blanking cause this is just soo soo red k of him—ofc a part two is coming. stay tuned lovers…

[tiffycat]

Hey there Smallville

[kent-farm]

—Smallville, "Red"