#tom welling fics

[sabrinasopposite]

drinks or coffee?

college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

I'm feeling so good At a bad party We don't have to talk I know that you want me Gotta keep it nice We cannot be naughty We can get drinks Or we could get coffee

summary: y/n is stuck in this lame, boring and bad college party, yet she starts to find more reasons to stay there as she was talking to her crush, charlie baker.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her vintage camera, letting the weight of it steady her. She stood in the corner of the crowded apartment, where strings of fairy lights stretched across the ceiling, casting warm, uneven glows on the peeling walls. The party was alive, pulsing with music and laughter, but Y/N felt like she was outside looking in, a ghost in a room of vibrant, living people.

She raised her camera, the familiar click and hum of the focus grounding her. Through the lens, the world always made sense: fragmented, composed, controllable. She scanned the room, her eye catching on flashes of movement and laughter, on the way the light hit someone’s cheekbone just right. But when her camera landed on him, she froze.

Charlie Baker.

He was leaning against the worn-out bookshelf on the other side of the room, casually laughing at something one of his friends said. He had that effortless charisma Y/N couldn’t look away from.

His dark curls fell perfectly messy over his forehead, and his faded denim jacket looked like it had seen its fair share of oil changes and late-night drives. He was all sharp angles and soft smiles, an easy magnetism that made everyone around him feel seen.

Charlie wasn’t like the others on campus who dressed to impress or strutted their way into conversations. He was real, grounded in a way that felt rare. Y/N had heard bits and pieces about him—how he grew up in a big, chaotic family, how he used to be the star of the football team but decided to trade that life for working with his hands.

Word was he wanted to drop out of college altogether and become a car mechanic, though most people couldn’t understand why someone who looked like that wouldn’t want to be famous instead.

Through the lens, Y/N could admire him without fear. She could notice the little things: the way his hands moved when he talked, rough and calloused but deliberate, or the faint grease stains on his jacket cuffs. He had a habit of glancing down when he laughed, like he didn’t realize how captivating he was.

Her heart tugged, a quiet ache she wasn’t sure what to do with. She lowered the camera and sighed.

“Still hiding behind that thing?”

Her breath hitched. She turned to find Charlie standing beside her, a crooked grin on his face. How did he move so quietly?

“Still asking obvious questions?” she shot back, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Charlie chuckled, a low, warm sound that made the noise of the party blur into static. His smile was lopsided, like he wasn’t sure it belonged to him. “Touché,” he said. “So, what’s the verdict? Getting any good shots, or is this place a creative wasteland?”

Y/N shrugged, her pulse racing. “It’s... lively.”

“Diplomatic answer.” He tilted his head, studying her the way he might study a car engine that wouldn’t start, his brown eyes sharp and curious. “What are you really thinking?”

She tightened her grip on the camera strap. You’re making it impossible to think. Instead, she said, “I’m thinking that not every party needs to be immortalized.”

“Maybe not,” he said, leaning a little closer. “But I’m betting you’ve already found something worth keeping.”

Charlie was the kind of guy who could make anyone feel at ease. He had this way of giving people his full attention, like whatever they were saying was the most important thing in the world. Tonight, though, it felt like his focus was entirely on her, and Y/N didn’t know what to do with it.

He asked her about her photography, genuinely curious, and she found herself talking more than she expected—about her gallery submission, her love for capturing fleeting moments, how the camera helped her make sense of the world.

“You must have the patience of a saint,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Not really.” She smiled, feeling her cheeks heat. “I just know what I’m looking for.”

His gaze lingered on her, a beat too long. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I can see that.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, and she quickly looked away, pretending to adjust her camera.

It wasn’t fair, the way Charlie existed. He was every bit the campus heartthrob, but there was nothing flashy about him. He didn’t chase attention—it just followed him, like moths to a flame. He continued to carry the conversation as he told her about his love for cars, how he’d spend hours in the garage back home with his dad, rebuilding engines and making junkers run like new. “It’s honest work,” he said, his voice tinged with longing. “There’s something satisfying about fixing something with your hands, you know?”

Y/N nodded, though she didn’t fully understand. What she did understand was the way his face lit up when he talked about it, like it was more than a job—it was who he was. She found herself noticing everything about him: the way his hair caught the light, the faint smudge of grease on his forearm, the way his voice softened when he talked about home. She wanted to capture it all, not with her camera, but just for herself.

As the party wound down, Charlie stayed, lingering in her orbit like a half-finished thought. Someone called him away, and she thought the moment was over. But later, as she stood on the balcony, trying to let the cold air clear her mind, he appeared again. “Thinking about calling it a night?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Maybe.”

He hesitated, then smiled, something shy in the curve of it. “I was thinking of getting coffee. You know, to detox from all... this.” He gestured vaguely toward the party behind them.

Her heart raced, but she shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

When she finally decided to leave, he was waiting by the door.

“Still up for coffee?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. But then she nodded. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

They walked through the quiet streets, the tension between them humming like the low purr of an engine. At the café, under the golden glow of the lights, Charlie leaned forward, his hands wrapped around his cup.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I wasn’t really thinking about the party tonight. I was thinking about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around her own cup.

“I’ve been seeing you in a different light,” he admitted. “And I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong, but...”

She met his gaze, the courage rising unbidden. “You’re not.”

His smile widened, slow and warm, and suddenly, the weight of unspoken words lifted. The night stretched ahead of them, full of possibility, and for the first time, Y/N felt like she didn’t need her camera to hold on to it.

🥡 taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @angelsgalore @callicela @seulgi-burgundy

pt 2 is out !

[deansbeer]

☆ summer heat // clark kent.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

synopsis. a quiet drive-in date with clark turns into something far more intimate. with his soothing reassurances, you surrender to him in the confines of his dad's creaky blue pickup truck.

warning(s). smut | f!reader | pet names (baby, baby girl) | clark being a lil horndog | semi-public sex | explicit language | gentle dom behavior | truck sex (?) | domestic fluff.

kari yaps. inspired by nai @st4rfckerz to write some clark smut :) it's my first ever time writing something like this for baby so pls be nice about it <333

the drive-in had been clark's idea, a rare night off from his responsibilities and a chance to spend time together without the weight of the world on his shoulders. the summer air was warm, the windows of the small blue pickup truck cracked open just enough to let in the faint breeze. the smell of buttery popcorn wafted in from the concession stand, mixing with the soft hum of the projector and the distant murmurs of people in other cars.

he'd been quiet most of the evening, his arm draped around your shoulders as the two of you leaned back against the worn leather seats. the movie—a horror flick you couldn't quite focus on—played across the giant screen in front of you. clark had been holding you close, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm, but something felt… different.

at first, you thought he was just restless. his knee bounced lightly, his breathing a little heavier than usual. you leaned into him, hoping to soothe whatever was bothering him, but instead of relaxing, his arm tightened around you, his fingers digging slightly into your skin.

"clark?" you ask softly, tilting your head up to look at him. his jaw is clenched, his eyes fixed on the screen, but there's a flicker of something in his expression that sends heat pooling low in your stomach.

"i'm fine," he murmurs, his voice a little strained, but the way his hand moves to your thigh tells a different story.

you swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the closeness of the cab, the way his fingers are sliding higher, inching beneath the hem of your sundress.

"clark," you whisper again, a warning this time, your eyes darting toward the cars parked around you.

"relax, baby," he says, his voice soft but commanding. "no one's paying attention. they're all too busy watching the movie—or rather on each other."

his lips brush against your temple, his breath warm against your skin as his hand presses higher, his fingers grazing the edge of your panties. your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation flooding your senses.

"but—" you start, your protest dying on your lips as he shifts, turning you slightly so you're facing away from him.

"trust me," he says, his voice low and full of promise.

before you can respond, his hands are on your hips, guiding you forward until you're on your stomach, your chest pressed against the cool leather of the seat. the position is awkward at first, your knees bent beneath you, but then you feel him, hard and insistent against the curve of your ass, and any thought of stopping him evaporates.

"baby," you whisper, your voice trembling as his hands slide beneath your dress, tugging your panties down your thighs.

"shh," he soothes, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. "no one will notice. i'll make sure of it."

you want to believe him, but the creak of the truck as he shifts behind you sends a fresh wave of nerves through you.

"what about the truck—"

"'s fine," he says, his voice firm as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "they're all too distracted."

his hands grip your hips, pulling you back against him as he frees himself, the heat of him almost too much as he slides against you. when he finally pushes into you, slow and calculated, a broken moan escapes your lips, muffled by the seat beneath you.

"that's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "so perfect."

his thrusts are slow at first, his hands steadying you as he moves, but the angle—the way the cramped space of the cab forces you closer together—has you biting your lip to keep from crying out.

"fuck," you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat as he picks up his pace, each movement sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"you're doing so good,” he praises, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "just let go. no one can see you. it's just us."

you try to focus on his words, on the way he feels inside you, but the faint creak of the truck and the knowledge that anyone could look over at any moment has you teetering on the edge of panic.

"they'll see," you manage, your voice muffled against the seat.

"they won't," he assures you, his hand sliding up your spine in a soothing gesture. "trust me, baby. they're all too busy with their own thing. and even if they did…" he trails off, his lips brushing against your ear. "i'd still ruin you right here."

his words send a wave of heat through you, your body clenching around him as he continues to move, his thrusts growing deeper, more deliberate.

the sounds of the movie—screams and dramatic music—fill the air, masking the soft creak of the truck and the muffled moans that escape you despite your best efforts.

clark's hands grip your hips tighter, his breathing ragged as he chases his release, and you can feel yourself spiraling, the tension in your body building with every movement.

"come for me," he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. "let me feel you, baby girl."

it's all you need. the wave crashes over you, your body trembling beneath him as you bury your face against the seat to muffle your cries.

he follows moments later, his movements slowing as he buries himself deep, a low groan escaping him as he collapses against your back.

for a moment, the two of you are silent, the sounds of the movie and the faint hum of the projector the only things breaking the quiet.

"see?" he says finally, his voice soft and teasing. "told you no one would notice."

you let out a breathless laugh, your body still tingling as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, his hands gentle as he helps you straighten your dress.

"you're impossible," you murmur, but the smile on your lips betrays you.

"and you love it," he counters, pulling you into his arms as the two of you settle back against the seat.

as the movie continues to play, you rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. despite the flush in your cheeks and the lingering thrill of what just happened, you can't help but feel safe in his arms.

and maybe a little scandalized.

SPECIAL TAGS. @floralscented @titsout4jackles @aileenunfiltered @fallbhind @lacydollette . . . ୨୧

[beaucate]

๑°⋆｡ ୨୧ nsfw . . . blurb for the mean time bcz im busy </3 — it’s meant to be awkward but i also haven’t written anything suggestive in a while so be patient pleek!!

you were sprawled half-asleep on the couch within the kent’s barn, painkillers smudging your vision into a blur of purple and black hues, when suddenly; clark’s heavy boots thudded up the loft stairs.

his red flannel was rolled to his elbows — forearms streaked with light dirt, and all you could do was stare dumbly as he crouched beside you, all broad shouldered and nervously sweating.

“ma said you’re still… y’know.” he gestured vaguely at his jaw, cheeks pink as your drool coated the plush of your swollen lips.

“still dying,” you slurred, tilting your head back with a light thud. the motion made the room spin. “s’your fault. your mom’s apple pie is a calling for cavities”

he huffed a half-hearted laugh, and sat on the edge of the couch near you.

in your dazed state; you hadn’t realised how close he was until his knee bumped yours, denim rough against your bare leg, as your skirt scrunched upwards. his hands flexed, like he’d wanted to touch but held himself back.

“let me,” he muttered, but his gruff tone didn’t match the way his fingers trembled when he cupped your chin.

you let him pry your mouth open, too hazy to care about your dignity — and gasped softly when the rough pad of his thumb pressed into the swelling ache. your tongue involuntarily (or so you tell yourself) brushed his calloused skin, and he made a noise; a low, almost pained grunt— before he shifted closer.

the old couch creaked dangerously as he leaned in, his hip accidentally slotting against yours.

you both froze.

for a pregnant pause, all you felt was the heat of him, the hard line of his muscular thigh pressing into the sensitive skin of your legs. the way his breath stuttered when your knee slipped between his.

“clark-“ you breathed out, his thumb still pressing against your gums, and sliding slowly so that it brushed against the inside of your cheeks and on your tongue.

he was already moving, a hand slipping from your face to lean against the worn out pillow behind you. that small shift of his body had made him slide forward, his larger body pinning yours deeper into the couch.

your hips rocked up, ‘accidentally’, and his free hand gripped down on your waist, holding you still.

“don’t,” he stuttered out, eyes wild.

though his own words fell to deaf ears, because you weren’t sure who moved first.

maybe it was the arch of your back. but suddenly he was everywhere all at once, the thick muscle of his chest crushing against your hardened nipples, and his knee nudged your legs wider. it was all so clumsy, and reeked of desperation; his hips jerking forward once, before he had to wrench himself back like he’d been shocked.

“i-i have to-, tractor,” he stammered, jumping hurriedly himself off the couch, your saliva connecting a line from his thumb to your lips. he tripped over his own boots, catching himself on the doorframe, and fled.

you laid there, heart jackhammering, and underwear chafing against your swollen bud. your tooth still throbbed, but the pain dulled in comparison to the way he’d looked at you, like he wanted to eat you alive, and like it terrified him.

[lawboysammyy]

he’s a gentleman — clark kent x sensitive!reader

summary: clark comes home to find his pretty angel baking in the kitchen on valentine’s day

contains: soft and sweet boyfriend clark, suggestive towards the end

The smell of freshly baked cookies and the sound of a faith hill song invaded Clark's senses as he walked into the kitchen. He saw you standing at the counter wearing one of his flannels and a pair of pajama shorts, setting down a tray of what appeared to be chocolate chip cookies on the stove.  

“Hey, angel. What are you baking in here?” Clark's voice caused you to jump backwards into his strong chest as he walked up behind you.  

“Clark! You scared me. I though I've told you not to sneak up on me like that,” you smiled as you turned to face the tall brunette. He had kicked off his work boots by the door, leaving him clad in a dirty, white t-shirt and his typical blue jeans.  

God, how did he manage to make such a simple outfit look so good? 

“I'm sorry, angel. I didn't think you'd be up this early,” Clark replied earnestly. He was right, it was early for you. The clock on the oven read 8:24 and you usually didn’t wake up until well after 9 o'clock when you spent the night at the Kent house.  

You turned to face the counter again, cleaning up the slight mess of ingredients as Clark wrapped his arms around your waist, bending down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “To answer your question, I baked some cookies to thank Lana for letting me pick up some shifts at the Talon.” 

Clark smiled into your neck, inhaling the scent of yesterday’s perfume. “Well, that’s real sweet of you, honey. I'm sure she’ll appreciate it. I hope you weren’t planning on hanging out with Lana all day, though, because I've got somethin’ special planned for you for valentine’s day.”  

You tossed the rag you were using to clean onto the oven handle and turned to face Clark. “Oh yeah? Can I have a little insight into this plan, so I know what to wear? I got a new dress the other day and I wanna wear it out,” you told Clark. While this was partially true, you really just wanted to know what your boyfriend was planning because while he was good at keeping secrets from his peers, Clark just couldn’t help it when it came to keeping secrets from you.  

Clark let out a soft chuckle before answering your question. “i was thinking of going to a movie, then a nice dinner...maybe have a little fun after dinner.” You knew what he was hinting at in the last part of his plan. His parents were out of town for a wedding, leaving the house empty for you and Clark. “How does that sound, angel?” 

You hummed contently, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to the boy’s lips. “I think that sounds perfect, Clark. Thank you,” you complimented as you took Clark's hand in yours and began to lead him to the staircase. “But what if we had a little fun right now? We've got a couple hours to kill. I told Lana I'd stop by her place at around 10 to drop off a top I borrowed from her”  

Clark’s eyes practically lit up at your suggestion, and suddenly you were in his bedroom, pressed against the door. “That sounds like a great idea,” Clark replied in between kisses. 

[soangelbaby]

ৎ୭ tainted by you ; clark kent

“c’mon, nobody’s gonna catch us,” clark prodded, his hands sliding up your hips, twirling his fingers into the waistband of your denim skirt as he pushed you back against the cold brick of the alleyway wall, “you know i could get us out of here before they’d even register what was happening.” his voice low, leaning into the crook of your neck, his tongue grazing over the warm skin before sinking his teeth into it. you yelped at the contact, your arms shooting up to push at his chest, your stomach churning, “clark! what the hell was that?” you whined out, but clark’s grip was firm, and he didn’t even bother to pull away. his mouth still working on you, his hands slid up your denim skirt, it bunching up at your hips as he gripped your ass harshly and pulled you flush against him.

your head tipped back as you held back a moan of pleasure and pain, your acrylic nails tugging his hair, and he groaned against your skin. “there ya go baby, gonna let me take care of you right?” clark’s fingers looped around your panties yanking them down, your hands shot to push his wrist away—still attempting to hold onto any sense of control over this moment, but you knew it was useless. “clark—we shouldn’t—” but he cut you off by smashing his lips onto yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease, forcing you open for him. you whimpered into his mouth, feeling him plunge to fingers inside your throbbing pussy, clark’s lips traveled down your jaw and behind your ear, “you tell me no but you’re so wet for me, why is that?” he bites down on your earlobe, his tongue gliding over the cartilage, placing sloppy kisses everywhere. you can’t help but moan at the feeling, melting into him, he knew your body, exactly where to place his lips, his hands, every single spot, like it was specifically designed for him to unravel.

your body rocked against the brick wall, his fingers working so fast in and out of you, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your clit. you arched into him, feeling the tightness build your stomach, “cl-clark m’ gonna—” you barely made out, your body glitching against him, before squirting all over his fingers, staining his grey sweatpants, drops trickling down onto the pavement. clark’s fingers barely slowed down, “fuck baby, that was so hot,” he groans, “such a dirty girl, ruining my clothes in this damn alleyway, not as innocent as you pretend to be hm?” his fingers slide out of you, reaching into his sweats and tugging his dick out. you can barely speak, still trying to catch your breath from the action that just transpired. but clark’s moving fast—too fast for you to catch up, “wait-wait-slow down” you pant, pushing at his chest. clark doesn’t listen, his tip sliding in between your slit, already coating himself in your wetness, “you want me to slow down? you think you have a say in this?” he growls, slipping into you, raw and rough, feeling the intense stretch of him between your walls.

you squeal loudly trying to back away him, moving up the wall. clark slaps your face, your head whipping to the side, cheek stinging hot, anger welling up inside you��and even more so, fear as you looked into his eyes, vision blurry through your tears, “stupid slut, you must wanna get caught, making noises like that” clark bites at your jaw, before licking down your neck, “say my name then, tell em’ who’s got you folded up like this.” shaking your head, you clench around him, still pulsating from your last orgasm, your fingers lock in his hair, “bitch, i said say it.” he slaps your ass, causing you to jerk forward, his tip slamming against your cervix, you bit down on your lip, hands tightening around his neck, “f-fuck clark, please” you gasp out, he rests his forehead on yours, grunting as he speeds up, his eyes locked on yours, “louder.” clark demands, and you gasp, feeling the tightness in your stomach once again, your eyes dare to roll back but you stay focused, for your sake, you can’t bare another harsh slap.

“yes—fuck clark—im so close,” you moan uncontrollably, your head tipping back hitting the brick wall repeatedly, your grip on him slips, lazily clawing at his shoulders, clark’s ears twitch, and he smirks at you “people are coming. but you’re gonna cum on my dick anyway, right slut?” you nod weakly, halfway feeling ashamed, the other half craving the humiliation, loving how he makes a fool out of you, being so desperate and needy for him. it’s pathetic, you know, but you don’t care, you need him, and he wasn’t afraid to let everyone else know it. just then, you felt his warm cum shoot into you, your eyes squeezing shut, trembling against him, throaty moans escaping both of your mouths as he collapses on top of you, chest presses hard against yours, still holding you up against the wall. and you hadn’t even realized you had squirted again on him, completely drenching his sweats, puddles on the pavement around you. you fought to catch your breath, the group of people passing by the alleyway, in deep conversation, completely oblivious to what was happening underneath these red lights.

“see what happens when you’re good for me? so where are we thinking next? the mall? movies?”

★ rini’s note ; spoiling my red kryptonite clark lovers today huh?? i can’t get enough of him—too hot to handle, but he’s got me wrapped around his finger. & ik he’s just such a freak like i just know it 💔 srry ab any typos grr i rush but they will be fixed in due time <3

[blackynsupremacy]

SICK DAYS WITH

CLARK KENT

HEADCANONS

pairing: older!smallville!clark kent x black!fem!reader

summary: clark nurses you back to health when you feel under the weather.

contains: fluff, established relationship, clark being a green flag, reader can imagine any clark ofc.

a/n: i missed writing for him sm. i’m going through this rn, so writing this made me feel a little less worse. please enjoy while i try to sleep this off!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @paisholotus @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @ellethespaceunicorn

• there’s nothing worse than waking up with a sore throat, fever, chills, and a stuffed nose.

• you groan in agony as you feel like absolute garbage.

• clark is stirred by your sound and turns to you with a gaze of concern.

• he takes one glance at your peaked face.

• it doesn’t take x-ray vision for him to know that you’ve come down with something.

• he feels your forehead and as soon as it feels hot as the sun, he immediately calls in the daily planet for both of you.

• those headlines and deadlines were gonna have to wait because to clark, your safety and your health were his top priority.

• he urges you to stay in bed because with him around, you won’t have to lift a finger.

• he makes sure that you have the necessities like tissues, water, cough drops, saltines, and ginger ale. (ifykyk)

• he waits on you hand and foot.

• whether you like it or not, he’s making you an appointment to the doctor later on. home remedies can only do so much.

• he cooks for you a soup that’s his mother’s special recipe.

• clark puts his heart, soul, and heat vision in that soup.

• when you finally get the appetite, clark makes sure that you get your fill.

• don’t bother trying to skip on that water, he will be on you about hydrating yourself.

• and taking any medication that the doctor prescribed.

• hypes you up when you have a big pill to swallow.

• you love that he doesn’t get sick as humans do, so you can kiss and hug him without any fret of spreading your illness to him.

• alien or not, you can’t resist showing your affection.

• clark is so, so, so, good to you.

• you guys aren’t married, but he takes in sickness and in health to a whole new level.

• he’ll sanitize the apartment for you.

• he we will give you the whole queen treatment.

• bubble baths, back massages, foot rubs, you name it!

• you tell him to relax and lay down with you.

• you put on shows like judge judy or general hospital.

• he reads to you or tells you stories about his life in smallville.

• not to be a creep, but it’s peaceful for him to watch you sleep.

• you deserve some good sleep for enduring this illness all day.

• clark holds you close and fixes your scarf/bonnet if it shifts.

• if you’re still feeling feverish, he has an ice pack ready to gently lay on your head.

• whether he sleeps or not, he wouldn’t dare to leave your side for a second.

[rafessweetgirl]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ tay's favs ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

warnings: mdni, 18+, read warnings for each fic!!! here's where i share my favs from imagines to full on series. i've read pretty much all of these at least twice. ♡ will be updated frequently! make sure to check out my works too! last update: 03/12/25

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚rafe cameron

one shots

♡ ex-bf!rafe breaks in through your window - @rafesangelita

♡ mean!rafe + dacryphilia - @sweetproclivity

♡ diet pepsi - @littlelamy

♡ champagne problems - @rvfecamerons

♡ new year's rockin' eve (bodyguard!rafe) - @rafescvntyclubgf

series

♡ heartbreak:live  - @zyafics (smau)

♡ honeymoon - @rafesangelita

♡ bar down - @rafescvntyclubgf (smau)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ charlie baker

one shots

♡ lazy mornings - @daylighted

♡ my boy’s a mechanic! - @daylighted

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ smallville clark kent

one shots 

♡ taking it all - @soangelbaby

♡ summer heat - @deansbeer

drabbles

♡ she just went to heaven and back - @hanasnx

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ spencer reid

oneshots

♡ touch tank - @nereidprinc3ss (came out on my bday <3)

♡ relax - @nereidprinc3ss

series

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ dean winchester and co.

oneshots

series

♡ all the good girls go to hell (stepuncle!dean) (stepdad!sam) - @cockslutpadalecki

drabbles

♡ diddle that skittle(soldier boy)- @littlesoulshine

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ chris evans

oneshots

series

♡ severance (1/4) - @punani

♡ coalescence I: midnight (2/4) - @punani

♡ coalescence II: before dawn (3/4) - @punani

♡ coalescence III: daybreak (4/4) - @punani

♡ his koala bear (dark!steve rogers x eventual dark!reader)- @kinanabinks

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚misc

oneshots

♡ seeing is deceiving (salesman, squid games) - @willyoubemycherryy

♡when pope doesn’t want to hit you during sex - @rafesangelita

♡ snowball! (stepbro!ushijima wakatoshi) - @toshisdecadence

series

♡ the penthouse (multiple c. evans and s. stan characters) - @kinanabinks

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

heartless- clark kent

thinking abour red red kryptonite clark teasing you and making you ride his thigh to get off... mmm

this is smutty so you have been warned

“I don't know why you keep squirming around like that angel. It's not gonna let you cum any faster.” Clark chuckled as you pouted upon your pedestal- his denim clothed thigh, struggling to get any form of friction to quell the heat that puddled between your legs.

It had been over an hour of this, of you trying to be extra sweet to please Clark, in hopes he would pick you up the way you liked- like a doll, and coo at you as he’d make you cum repeatedly in his bed.

Instead, you were here- desperate for relief as he mocked you.

Your usual schemes had failed, his gaze amused and uninterested as you tried extra hard to do things you knew tended to get him head over heels for you. It was as if he could see right through you.

Those attempts had resulted in failure, as Clark was anything but sweet. No, his demeanour was darker, and he was meaner.

But fuck if you didnt enjoy it, just a little.

He had coaxed you up onto his lap, where he man spread wide across the couch in his room. You straddled his thick thigh, rubbing your hips on your own accord. He refused to help, and it drove you to the point of tears.

“Please Clark, please- I ju-just need your help.” you hiccuped, feeling a tear start to slip down your cheek as your legs started to quiver and shake, just as your lower lip did.

He smirked, hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your lower lip- forcing its way into your mouth. You sucked, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“You look so pretty when you cry baby. Such a cute lil thing, aren't you?”

He bucked his knee up, bouncing it up and down in rhythm, making you squirm even more as you clung to his t-shirt, bawling the fabric into your fists.

“You really need my help to make you cum, don't you? Pathetic. Can you do anything on your own?”

You shook your head, another tear falling down your cheek, leaving them feeling sticky in its wake as it fell to Clarks hand.

“No, no that's right, you need me to do everything for you. You need me, cause no one can fuck you as good as I can- yeah?”

You frantically nodded, eyes widening as his hand slid down to your hips, guiding them as you grinded on him shamelessly, a wet patch on his pants.

“Yeah, I know baby. Maybe I’ll let you cum.” he said coyley, a smirk on his face, eyebrows raising as you tried to protest, only getting out incoherent mumbles through his thumb in your mouth.

“What's that? You can hold off a little longer? Oh angel..” he cooed as you shook your head, trying desperately to hold off from finishing. You knew if you came without his permission, you’d be in for it.

“I- I cant hold off anymore.” you choked out, drool dripping down your chin as he removed his thumb, shinny with your spit.

“Too bad.” he grinned, a flash of red shining in his eyes.

[hearts4johnwick]

SUMMARY. your school has a football game against smallville. after the game clark kent approaches you and asks if you want to hang out, but there’s one problem.

CW. academic rivals—except clark and reader rlly don’t hate each other, reader’s “boyfriend” doesn’t take no for an answer, fighting, fluff.

A/N. guys… before you read, i have to say I JUST started watching smallville 😭 I’m on season 1 ep 5, so some I’m going to be improvising some stuff, so, clark isn’t going to be like s1 clark, he’s going to be a bit like red k clark? so, there’s that. the ending lowkey makes me mad 😔 but yall lmk if yall want a pt 2 maybe? 😗

you and your cheerleaders celebrate your team for winning the football game against smallville with chants, flips, and jumps. you guys were happy that you won after losing two games in a row, first one was against gotham and the other against central city, which was weird because these teams haven’t won against metropolis in decades, but, the team won once again and that’s what matters tonight.

“troy’s in for a real treat tonight, huh?” your friend avery cocks her eyebrows and you chuckle. “he scored the winning touchdown, you have to rock his world, baby.” she winks at you and goes with her other cheerleading friends. your tongue runs over your teeth as you try to hide your annoyed face.

the footballers run over to the squad and you stand aside, you’re the captain, you should be there sharing the moment with them, but you don’t, you stay a few feet away ruffling your Pom poms and smiling.

you have a few friends from smallville since you were raised there, you and your brother moved to metropolis with your parents because your father had been offered a nice job there, and he took it. you recognize lana lang, whitney fordman, chloe sullivan, pete ross, and of course, clark kent.

your dad and his were practically brothers, they were inseparable ever since the sixth grade, but as they grew older, before moving to metropolis, clark’s father suddenly stopped associating with your father. you never knew why, it wasn’t your business, but now that you see clark’s face, you might ask your father.

your thoughts are interrupted by a figure standing in front of you, you focus back and it’s none other than clark kent!

“i gotta say… your dancing skills were always bad, but now? oh, they got worse.” you raise an eyebrow as he grimaces.

“yeah? well at least i still don’t run like I’m scared of tripping my own feet.” you press your lips into a thin line.

“you know, every time your squad threw you up in the air i was waiting for them not to catch you and let you fall into the dirt.”

“i didn’t see your dad here… guess he still regrets the decision to adopt you.” you click your tongue and he chuckles.

“okay, I’m going to give you that one.” you smile and shrug.

“what are you doing here, kent?” you question.

“you’re in my school’s football field, if there’s someone that should be here, it’s me.” he furrows his eyebrows.

“yeah no, after that nasty loss? might have to claim this as our territory now.” clark scoffs and looks down. “7-24? yikes!” you exclaim and inhale sharply through your teeth. “go home, kent, or else our team will show you no remorse.” you cross your arms together and he gets closer, towering over you.

“what about you? what will you do?” your eye contact is strong, and you’re teasing him with a cocky smile, but his charming eyes get you weak in the knees, you scoff and look down, giving in.

“i’m not going to do anything, i don’t have the heart.” you pursed your lips. in a blink, you notice clark’s hand shielding your face, in his hand was the football that connor, the linebacker from your team just threw. you didn’t even notice how badly you flinched, but you stayed still, staring at clark’s heroic move in awe, your eyes travel from his hand holding the football, to him. and you swear that something inside you snapped, the way he made the football stop from hitting you, how fast he reacted, that made you feel something you didn’t even know clark kent was possible of making you feel.

“holy—! i’m so sorry, y/n, i didn’t mean for it to go in your direction!” connor apologizes, but you shoot him a death glare.

“what the hell is your problem, connor?!” troy pushes connor and rolls his eyes.

“i didn’t mean to throw it at her! it was meant for kent!” clark rolls his eyes and throws the football back to him.

“thank you, kent.” you slowly straighten yourself up. “that was crazy, what on earth are you training for that makes your reflexes so fast?” you question and he just shrugs with a smile.

silence engulfs the two of you and it feels awkward, the only thing heard was the screaming and chanting of your cheerleading squad and the football team. clark’s eyes narrow from all around, to you, he feels nervous around you, but, the worst thing she can say is no, he thinks, so he—

“y/n.” he calls you and catches your attention. “i was thinking if maybe you’d like to hang out… later.” you shoot him a soft smile and he analyzes your reaction. “i mean, i-if you can, I’m sure you’re going to celebrate your win with your squad and team, nevermind..” he shakes his head, regretting he even asked you. ‘it’s not like she was going to go out with you anyway, clark, she’s with troy.’ he thinks. he thought it’d be game over until—

“no, i don’t plan on celebrating, i wanna be alone, you know? i don’t want to party or anything. i-i mean, I’d like to be alone with you.” you close your eyes and shake your head once you realize what you said. clark can feel the heatness creeping up his face and he laughs. “oh my gosh… i mean that like, yes! I’d like to hang out with you!” ‘jeez, no way I’m actually this awkward. I’m literally embarrassing myself oh my God, I’m going to cry’ you thought.

“great! maybe we can meet up in the beanery? it’s—“ your eyes widen and you shake your head.

“the beanery? that old thing?” you question and clark furrows his eyebrows.

“hey!” you raise your hands in defense.

“no, we’re going somewhere better, there’s this diner in central city called dine fine, we can go there, we can dine something or share a milkshake, whatever you’d like!” you smile at him and he nods.

“okay, sounds great! it’s a da—“ your smile turned into an annoyed look when you felt arms wrap around you and lips kiss your cheek. troy, your “boyfriend” watches clark’s expression change and shoots him a wink. clark can feel his face heat up, and it’s not blushing, or jealousy, he closes his eyes to avoid burning troy to a crisp.

“what’s up, kent?” troy greets clark with a bitch attitude. “she’s precious, isn’t she?” your eyes avoid troy’s, but are glued onto clark, and he can see you’re feeling uncomfortable, and you don’t know how badly he wants to smack the hell out of troy and tell him to back off from you. and he doesn’t know how badly you want him to do it. troy raises an eyebrow, urging him to answer the question.

“yes, she is, troy. you’re a lucky guy.” clark’s eyes never leave you, troy notices how yours don’t either, and his nose flares.

“i know.” he smiles. troy pulls you aside, away from clark. “hey, we’re going out to celebrate, you want us to go back to my place, or go out?” he asks you, and you pull away, shaking your head.

“it’s okay, troy, i don’t want to go out.” you cross your arms and troy smirks, he glances at clark behind you.

“okay, so, you want to go back to mine?” he asks, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“no.” troy’s eyebrows raise in reaction to your tone, and clark hides a smile, and forces back down his laugh.

“okay, whatever, we’re going to go out and celebrate, let me know if you change your mind.” you nod and he leaves. your friend alanna walks over to you and locks her arm around yours.

“ready to go?” she asks and you nod.

“yeah, give me a second, I’ll be right there.” your friend nods with a cute smile and her eyes narrow between you and clark before she walks to her car.

“so, I’ll see you maybe at 8?” clark questions.

you nod at his timing and he smiles. “I’ll see you there, kent.” you turn in your heels and walk to your friend's car.

clark admires you from head to heels and god, you in that skimpy cheerleading outfit did something to him. he blows out a breath after admiring your figure and smiles to himself, trying to hold back on his thoughts. he can’t believe he’s going to see you again later, and neither can you.

you tell alanna to take you to your grandma’s house so you can shower and change your clothes. since you visit your grandma quite often, you have clothes you wear once in a while there, so after a shower, you ready yourself and head to central city right after you’re done.

since alanna is heading to metropolis due to work, she gives you a ride to the diner where you are meeting up with clark. “have fun, sweetheart, love ya!” she blew you a kiss before driving away. you blew her a kiss back and waved goodbye.

you don’t see clark inside, but you decide to enter anyway, and just as you are a few feet away from the entrance doors, your name is called out, and when you look at where the voice is coming from you notice it’s clark, your face lights up, and so does his.

‘woah.’ clark thinks to himself, for some reason, he thinks you look better in casual clothes than in your cheerleading outfit. not that he’s complaining, he loves your cheerleading outfit, the colors favor you and it shows the perfect amount of everything.

‘damn.’ you think to yourself. he’s wearing a cap with a graphic tee that shapes his biceps perfectly. ‘forget the damn diner, I wanna dine him!’ you lick your lips to hide your smile at the thought.

“hey.” he greets you first with his pearly smile.

“hi.” you say right back and also give him your pearly smile.

he places his hand behind your shoulder and you lead the way, he opens the door for you and you go inside, the 80’s music is at the perfect volume, it smells amazing inside, and overall the vibe is nice.

you sit down at one of the benches and clark sits in front of you. “is there something you want in specific?” he asks.

“we could order some fries with some nuggets, unless you actually wanna find something?” your eyes meet and he stays silent, studying your eyes he opens his mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out. you laugh and look back at the menu.

“whatever you want.” clark answers your question. “I’m okay with whatever you decide.”

“okay, well, I’ll order some fries and nuggets, and ooh! you have to try their strawberry milkshake, it’s so good, so, we’re ordering that too!” clark’s eyes stay glued on you, your excitement makes his heart melt, he loves this side of you. ever since you moved to metropolis, he thought you’d turned into this cocky, mean, captain of the cheerleading squad, but, he’s been proven completely wrong. he still sees that little bullet of a girl with princess band-aids all over her arms, and legs in your personality. “is it okay if we order that?”

“as i said, y/n. whatever you want.” he nods and you smile widely with a chuckle. “you know, for some reason, i thought that when you moved to metropolis you turned into this mean, and cocky cheerleader, but no. can i ask? why aren’t you celebrating out there with your squad and team?”

“I’m nothing like that, the rest of my squad? maybe—except alanna! but i don’t like that whole cocky mean girl vibe, i tried it, just to fit in, but fitting in is stupid, so, outside i might seem like that, but once you get to know me, i’m not.” clark nods, paying his every single attention to you. “and the thing is i don’t celebrate with them because they have a really weird way of celebrating and i don’t want to be getting drunk or anything. I’d rather be relaxed, or hanging out with my real friends, you know?” clark nods.

“i like that.” your eyes find their way back to his and you smile. “i don’t want to sound nosy, but… you and troy?” he watches the drastic change in your face from happy to disgusted and he laughs. “that bad, huh?”

“it’s all fake. the football coach just wanted that typical “captain of the football team and captain of the cheerleading squad” love story, but, there’s not one ounce of love between us.”

“i mean, i see love in his eyes.” clark mentions and you scoff.

“lust is what you’re seeing, clark.” you hold your breath and clark closes his eyes. “i can’t stand him, he’s a jerk, he doesn’t take no for an answer and it’s the worst, someone always has to come in and step in, even his teammates.” you roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” you dismiss him with a shrug. “i saw it in your eyes today, that’s what i saw, and i wanted to do something, but i thought it wasn’t my place. i should’ve done something. i hated seeing him on you like that.” clark shakes his head and looks away from your eyes, you place your hand on his forearm, your warm touch sends him goosebumps all over his body, your eyes speak a million words, and his mind runs a thousand thoughts as he takes in every inch of your perfect face, your eyes, your lips.

“thank you, for at least knowing the right thing to do. also, thank you for that crazy save from me getting hit by a football.” you both share a laugh and he nods. he places a hand over yours and smiles.

“you’re welcome, and, you’re welcome.” your smile relaxes into a softer one, and the two of you stay staring into each other’s eyes, no other words need to be spoken, your eyes already do.

his ocean eyes tell you everything you need to know, does he need to admit how he feels right now? his heart racing, how he wants to feel your soft hands all over his body? his eyes are saying all of that to yours.

and yours? your eyes are begging for him to save you. for him to make you forget who troy even is. one more look and you swear you’re moving back to smallville, or more specifically, his bed.

“clark…” the way his name rolls off your tongue is something he could never get tired of, he prays that whatever comes out of your pretty little mouth is an invitation.

“kent!” the familiar voice knocks you both out of your trance and your eyes widen. you look back and see troy and half of his teammates walk behind him. “you mind getting your hands off my girl?”

“troy…” you whisper.

“you shut up, okay? get in the car. we’re going back to metropolis.” troy points at you with his index finger, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“you call her your girl and then treat her like that?” clark raises an eyebrow and stands from the bench. your heart begins to race and not in a good way. there’s no possible way this is going to end well.

“she’s my girl, kent, that means that since she’s mine, i get to treat her however i want.” troy’s teammates share uncomfortable glances and shake their heads.

“she is not your pet, troy. you need to treat her right, like she’s the woman you love because that’s what she is, isn’t she?” clark towers over troy and you like that, you like that very much, apart from the fact that he’s defending you. but you push back your feelings and thoughts, because you’re scared right now, scared for both in reality.

“and if i don’t? you think you will? in your dreams, kent.” he scoffs, and walks over to you, grabbing your hand. “come on, y/n. we’re going home.” he raises you from your seat, and you stand beside him. just when you thought this could all end here, Clark decides to open his mouth.

“i would treat her better than you ever have.” your mouth opens, and you try your best to hide your smile. when troy’s grip around you loosens, your face drops.

next thing you see is troy swinging at clark with a right hook, you back away and troy’s teammates hold you back. “no!” you exclaim at troy’s punch. thankfully, clark reacted quickly and dodged it, but then, clark grabbed troy by the collar of his shirt and pressed him against the wall.

“clark, no!” you stop him from causing further damage and he slowly lets go of troy. you wanted to troy get what he deserved, but, just not now. the time will come. “let’s just go.”

“i don’t want to see you step foot in smallville again. if i so much as see your face, or hear that you did something to her, i’ll deal with you for good.” clark throws in before walking off. you follow behind him and leave the diner.

you were still trying to process what the hell just happened in there, clark defended you and went face-to-face with troy because he disrespected you. ‘oh my god?’

clark has his back against you, your eyes look up and he turns. “clark… what—“ you blink repeatedly.

“y/n. if he ever lays a single finger on you again, you let me know, alright?” you nod and hum. he nods and caresses your arm. “are you okay?” he asks and you hum.

“uh-huh…” clark chuckles and you inch closer to him.

you don’t exactly what you feel right now, but it feels good, and you hope he can help you with it because he’s the reason you’re feeling like this. your eyes are searching for an answer, ‘does he want this? because i sure do.’

“how far is your grandma’s house from here?” you pause in your daydreams to answer his question.

“like 15 minutes, i know the way.” you answer.

“okay, but, you’re not going alone.”

“why not? you don’t think i can handle myself?”

“oh, i know you can handle yourself, but, let me take you, ‘kay?” you smile at his offer and suck on your bottom lip before you lead the way.

the walk to your grandma’s house was silent, thankfully, it wasn’t uncomfortable silence, but the two of you were on the verge of speaking, you just had no idea of what. of the sexual tension before troy ruined it? of the almost fight? how clark defended you? why did he defend you exactly? God, you think that whatever the answer is, it’d land you both on top of each other.

clark can see how your heart is beating quickly, and he doesn’t know if it’s because you’re either scared, mad, nervous, or maybe just turned on. it’s the fourth option, you know that very well, but he thinks it’s the second.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” he speaks, breaking the eternal lasting silence between you two. “i-i didn’t mean to scare you or make you mad by what happened at the diner. it’s just… you don’t deserve that asshole.” the two of you stop in your tracks. you flutter your eyelashes at him and he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever, he swallows before speaking again. “and I’m also sorry that we didn’t get to share a milkshake.”

“apology not accepted,” you say. his face drops and your eyebrows furrowed. “they’re not needed, clark.” he sighs in relief and you smile. you continue your walk, you’re about 3 minutes away from your grandma’s house, but you wish it were hours instead, you do not want to say goodbye to him at all.

“i’m glad we could share this night, clark.” as you arrive at your grandma’s house, you stop your feet and turn to face him. the only light that’s making you able to see each other is your grandma’s porch lighting. “would’ve been better if we could’ve shared a milkshake, but…” you sputter and he chuckles.

“it’s okay, just a moment with you is enough for me.” his words made your knees weak, you lick your lips and suck your bottom lip in, close your eyes, and feel his index finger brushes your cheek. your eyes open and reunite with his.

“can we stay like this?” you whisper, as your eyes travel to his lips.

“yeah.” he whispers back, his finger still caressing your cheek.

his hand finds its way to your waist and he pulls you forward, your chest touching his, your breathing matches and you’re still deep into each other’s eyes.

‘if only he knew I’m sending him the most straightforward invitation to come inside.’ you think right as your eyes remove themselves from his lips and back into his eyes.

your tongue traces over your teeth and you smile. you look down to the ground and lean forward. you press a soft kiss on clark’s cheek and he closes his eyes. when you back away, your lips are so close to each other, and his eyes have the green light on for your lips to move to his, and as much as you want to, you don’t, though you could feel his slightly rose yours.

“i’ll be seeing you around, kent.” you smirk as you run your hand over his arms, again, your gentle touch sends goosebumps through his body, the second your fingertips are removed from his skin, he misses you already, all he wishes to do is turn you back around and make you all his for the rest of the night.

your heels touch the ground and you turn, approaching your grandmother’s steps, you tease him with a look back and a mocking grin, and he chuckles as he watches your expression. the second you enter the door he runs back to his house, but, safe to say that wasn’t the end of his night.

❛ ‘cause you’re a good girl and you know it

you act so different around me. ❜

[iniquitousyearning]

Ok but why is this so Tom coded??

PLS IM YEARNINGGGGGGG

[franzkafkagf]

queen PLEASE rewrite the brothel scene so it makes sense I BEG YOU.

Aegon stumbled into the brothel, the dim lighting and the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume and sweat wrapping around him, suffocating him. Martyn, Leon, Eddard, and Rodrick, Martyn’s new squire, followed him. Aegon's own face, flushed and unfocused from too much wine and ale, betrayed a desperate attempt to drown out unwelcome emotions.

“This place is as good as any to get it wet,” Aegon slurred, his arm slung over the squire’s shoulder. The boy, still green behind the ears, looked up at the king with wide, nervous eyes. “Time to make a man out of you, eh?” He punctuated the statement with a bawdy laugh, echoed half-heartedly by his friends.

The brothel was dimly lit, with curtains draped around, each one hiding unique secrets. Aegon staggered forward, yanking aside the first curtain he came to. Behind it, a couple gasped in surprise, but Aegon was already moving on, cursing under his breath. His mind was set on finding a particular woman—a distraction, an escape.

“Her name is Selyse or Selsie… or something like that,” Aegon continued, leaning heavily on the squire. “She’s great. Nothing like that woman’s touch to—hic—to forget your troubles.” His laugh was a bitter bark, masking the hollow ache in his chest.

He flung open another curtain, revealing yet another entangled pair, before stumbling on. Each step heavier than the last, the sounds of pleasure and the stuffy air seemed to close in on him. The sight of flesh and sweat did nothing to ease his mind; he still felt powerless, terribly powerless. King he might be, but even a crown couldn’t shield his family from harm.

Finally, he found her—the woman he sought. But instead of the welcome distraction he craved, he was met with a scene that stopped him cold. She was not alone. In her arms, naked and unashamed, was his brother, Aemond.

Aegon’s vision blurred, he did not know if he should laugh or scream. The room seemed to tilt as he stumbled forward, nearly ripping the curtain down in an attempt to steady himself. "Aemond the Fierce!” he roared. “Look at you!”

Aemond looked up at him, scrambling from the woman’s embrace and standing up to put on a robe. She herself shrank back too, pulling the sheets up to cover herself. The tension in the room was a tangible thing, crackling between the two brothers.

“You see, I do not exaggerate,” Aegon’s eyes flicked to his companions as he stumbled further into the room. His voice had an air of lightness to it—but it carried an undercurrent of anger, deep anger. “Such is the Madam’s prowess, that my brother does not want to sample another.”

“Tell me, brother.” Aegon clapped Aemond on the shoulder, too hard, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Was this where you were? With this whore while my son was being murdered? When Jaehaerys was breathing his last, were you still fucking your very first?”

Aemond’s face darkened, the shadow of guilt flickering across his features before being masked by a cold, defensive anger. “You think I didn't want to be there? You think I don’t wish I could’ve been there to fight off those cowardly assassins? I grieve my nephew too.”

“Grieve?” Aegon’s laughter was hollow and bitter. “If you hadn’t been busy killing Rhaenyra’s bastard, she’d never have sought retribution. If you’d been able to behave yourself, my son would still be alive!”

Aemond’s eye flashed with rage, but the truth in Aegon’s words was undeniable. “What of you, brother? Where were you? Drowning yourself in strongwine and whores—why didn’t you protect your son?” Aemond was facing his brother head-on now; years of resentment and anger finally flooding out of him. “You’re just as much at fault as I am. You’re a wastrel, Aegon, a weak and unworthy king.”

Aegon's face contorted with fury, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He remembered Larys’ words from before, could it truly be? Was his own brother planning to overthrow him?

“Plotting to take my crown, are you? Is that what this is all about?”

Aemond scoffed, “you think I want your crown? You can hardly keep it on your own head.”

Aegon saw red. His fist shot out before he could think, landing squarely on Aemond’s jaw. The force of the blow sent his brother staggering back. The woman yelped, scrambling off the bed, desperate to get away from the two.

Aemond seemed shocked for a moment before he launched himself at his brother. “You’ve always been a coward,” he shouted as the two tumbled to the ground in a flurry of fists and curses. “Hiding behind your whores and your wine!”

Aegon’s punches were wild and uncoordinated as he struck his brother again and again. “And you’ve always been a viper, waiting for your chance to strike!” His fist connected to Aemond’s ribs.

“You think I don’t suffer?” Aemond growled, landing a punch to Aegon’s side. “You think this is easy for me?”

The fight was brutal, raw, and undignified. It would have been embarrassing if it wasn't so profoundly sad—two brothers, driven by grief and guilt, lashing out at the only target they had left.

Martyn, unable to continue watching, forced his way between them. “Enough! Both of you, enough!” he shouted, pushing them apart with all his strength. “Calm down!”

Aegon struggled against Martyn’s grip, eager to keep fighting. “He’s a traitor, Martyn! A traitor!”

Aemond, chest heaving, wrenched free from Martyn’s grasp. “You're a fool, Aegon,” he spat before turning and striding away, leaving the room behind.

Aegon swayed on his feet, the room beginning to spin. His stomach churned, and he felt bile rise in his throat. With a groan, he doubled over and vomited onto the cushions.

Martyn knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come, Your Grace,” he said, helping Aegon to his feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

[sabrinasopposite]

you'll always find a way back home ❀

clark kent x reader (miley stewart summer au)

❀ summary: being a cali-girl has its advantages—surrounded by beaches, parties, and sunshine. Y/N loves her life there, but she forgets that deep down, her roots lie in the opposite: Smallville. Her summer takes an unexpected turn when she returns to Smallville for her summer break and crosses paths once again with her childhood enemy, Clark Kent.

word count: 6,755

There’s always the best of both worlds—one filled with glamour and the other, well, the opposite of it. The same could be said for Malibu and Smallville. Malibu embodied glamorous salt air, the sound of waves, and the endless rush of life. Smallville, on the other hand, was different: cows, meadows, and pure silence—the opposite sides of existence.

For Y/N, the feeling of living in two different worlds wasn’t a big deal. She had left one world behind at the age of seven, spending the next ten years in Malibu. Salt air, endless beaches, and the golden glow of the sun—it was a life she had carved out for herself, a world she had seamlessly become part of. The rush of city life, the hum of vibrant streets, and the pulse of constant motion nourished her soul in ways she could never have imagined as a seven-year-old. The sprawling metropolis of Malibu felt like a living, thriving entity at the edge of the world.

Before Malibu, there was only Smallville. The life she had known as a child was painted in shades of green—vast, open fields stretching endlessly in every direction. The land was quiet, so silent it could almost swallow her whole. Days were spent wandering dusty roads on horseback, the sun scorching the back of her neck, while the sound of crickets and rustling corn served as her only soundtrack. It was a life where the horizon never seemed to change, and the sense of being trapped within the narrow confines of the small town’s heartbeat was ever-present. A world of barns, hand-me-down denim, and the thick scent of earth—the very soil seemed to anchor her in place, a constant reminder of who she once was.

Then came the transformation. She shed the weight of Smallville like an old, weathered coat and replaced it with the sleek, gleaming allure of Malibu. Gone were the cowboy boots—now she walked in strappy sandals. The scent of hay gave way to the salty tang of the ocean breeze. Her hands, once calloused from farmwork, now held delicate silk fabrics and the soft sheen of designer handbags. Dusty roads became wide, pristine boulevards, and the simple country air was replaced by the intoxicating aroma of city life.

And she liked it.

Hell, she loved it.

She loved being a city girl, a Cali girl.

She had long forgotten the quiet winds that swept through Smallville’s open fields, the scent of grass and earth underfoot, and the cool embrace of the night sky.

Yet, as summer break loomed, she envisioned herself spending it with friends at the beach or going to parties. But plans took an unexpected twist, like a tornado without warning. Her father, Robbie, appeared with his ever-stubborn insistence. He informed Y/N and her brother, Jackson, that they were heading back to Smallville for a celebration—Martha Kent’s birthday.

Martha, Robbie’s childhood friend and the ever-kind, patient woman, had invited them to join the Kents for the occasion. Y/N wasn’t thrilled. Her original summer plans had promised excitement, filled with the laughter of friends and the sparkle of club lights—the kind of plans Malibu always encouraged. Smallville, though? It felt like a relic of the past, a place where time stood still.

“I don’t want to go,” Y/N protested, her voice sharp with frustration as she flopped back onto the couch. “I had plans. I was going to hang out with my friends, hit the clubs, you know, actually have fun.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “This is important, Y/N. You haven’t seen Martha in years. She’s been asking about you. You’re going, and that’s final.”

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You’re really going to make me spend my break in a field with cows and tractors?”

Her brother, Jackson—the ever-peacemaker and, somehow, the most annoying brother—glanced over with a sympathetic smile. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun. Like old times. You can hang out with me, catch up with everyone, and maybe the fresh air will do you some good.”

Y/N groaned, slumping into the cushions. “I don’t need fresh air. I need a beach, not cornfields.”

But her father wasn’t listening to her complaints. “Pack your bags. We’re leaving in an hour.”

The truck rumbled along the familiar winding roads of Smallville, the scent of dust and fresh air filling the cab. Y/N leaned against the window, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the condensation. Outside, fields stretched endlessly in all directions, dotted with grazing cows and the occasional weathered barn. The sight should have been nostalgic, but to Y/N, it only deepened her annoyance.  

It had been years since she’d been here, yet the quiet of the countryside felt almost suffocating. The stillness pressed against her like a heavy blanket, the kind that made it hard to breathe. Smallville seemed frozen in time—its unchanging landscapes a stark contrast to the vibrant motion of Malibu.  

She glanced over at Jackson, who was scrolling through his phone in the passenger seat, annoyingly unbothered by their sudden detour into the past. Robbie sat behind the wheel, humming along to a country station on the radio, clearly in his element. The whole scene made Y/N’s skin itch.  

She sighed, the sound loud enough to get Jackson’s attention. He smirked without looking up from his phone. “You okay there, city girl?”  

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, shifting in her seat. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how irritated she was. But in truth, she wasn’t fine. The weight of Smallville’s simplicity—the fields, the dirt roads, the lack of anything remotely exciting—was already settling over her like a cloud.  

The truck slowed as they passed the familiar white sign welcoming them to Smallville. Y/N’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. The memories she’d worked so hard to bury began clawing their way back to the surface: the laughter of kids on the school playground, the smell of hay bales during harvest, the quiet nights spent staring at the stars because there was nothing else to do.  

She shifted her gaze back to the window, trying to drown out the flood of emotions with the rhythmic crunch of the tires on the gravel road. “Why couldn’t we just send a card?” she grumbled under her breath, earning a chuckle from Robbie.  

“It won’t kill you to be here for a few days,” her father said, his tone equal parts teasing and firm. “Besides, Martha’s been looking forward to seeing you. She’s practically family, Y/N.”  

Y/N rolled her eyes. That was the problem. Smallville wasn’t just a place she’d left behind—it was a version of herself she’d buried, a girl she didn’t want to be anymore. Being back here felt like opening a door she’d slammed shut years ago, and she wasn’t ready to step through it.  

As the truck turned down a familiar dirt road, the Kent farmhouse came into view. It looked exactly as she remembered—whitewashed walls, a wide wraparound porch, and the iconic red barn standing proud against the horizon. Y/N could already picture Martha’s warm smile and open arms, the way she’d welcome them with fresh pie and a hug that felt like it could squeeze the air out of your lungs.  

Her father parked the truck and hopped out, stretching with a contented sigh. “We’re here,” he announced cheerfully.  

Y/N stayed put, gripping the door handle but not opening it. The idea of stepping out and being enveloped in the reality of Smallville made her stomach churn. She wasn’t ready to see the barn, the fields, or the people who would ask her questions she didn’t want to answer. She wasn’t ready to feel like the little girl who used to belong here.  

“Y/N?” Jackson’s voice broke through her thoughts. He was standing outside now, leaning against the truck with a knowing look on his face. “You coming, or are you planning to live in the cab?”  

With a heavy sigh, Y/N pushed the door open and slid out. The warm summer air wrapped around her like a blanket, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was as if Smallville itself was welcoming her home.  

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and trudged toward the house, muttering under her breath, “This is going to be the longest summer of my life.”  

The Kent farmhouse was just as Y/N remembered it, a picture-perfect postcard of rural life. The white picket fence framed the yard, the flowerbeds bursting with color, and the iconic red barn standing tall against the clear blue sky. Despite herself, she felt a twinge of warmth at the sight of it all.

Martha Kent stood on the porch, her apron dusted with flour, waving enthusiastically as the truck pulled to a stop. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little. Martha’s energy was infectious, and her kind heart had always been a constant source of comfort during Y/N’s early years in Smallville.

“Y/N! Jackson! Oh, it’s so good to see you both!” Martha exclaimed, rushing forward with open arms. Robbie got out of the truck first, grinning as Martha pulled him into a quick hug before moving on to Y/N and Jackson.

Y/N braced herself for the inevitable bone-crushing hug, but when Martha wrapped her arms around her, it wasn’t suffocating—it was warm and reassuring, like stepping into the sunlight after a cloudy day. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” Martha said, pulling back to get a good look at her.

“Thanks, Martha,” Y/N said, her voice softening in spite of her earlier annoyance. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“And Jackson, my goodness, you’ve shot up like a weed!” Martha added, giving him a playful nudge.

Jackson grinned, always happy to be the center of attention. “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Kent.”

“Now, none of this ‘Mrs. Kent’ business. You know you can call me Martha,” she said, ushering them toward the porch.

The house smelled like freshly baked apple pie, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg lingering in the air. Y/N couldn’t deny that it felt nice—familiar, even. Martha’s home had always been a safe haven, a place filled with warmth and kindness.

As they settled into the living room, Martha brought out a tray of lemonade and cookies, chatting animatedly with Robbie about old times. Jackson joined in, sharing stories of their life in Malibu. Y/N stayed mostly quiet, sipping her lemonade and letting the conversation flow around her. She liked Martha, but being back in Smallville was like stepping into a pair of old shoes that didn’t quite fit anymore.

“Clark’s not here, by the way,” Martha said suddenly, glancing at Y/N with a knowing smile. “He’s somewhere.”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around her glass. Of course, Clark Kent would come up eventually. He was practically Smallville royalty, and Martha couldn’t help but dote on her son.

“That’s… fine,” Y/N said quickly, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Clark Kent was the most annoying boy next door, y/n has ever known. He was always teasing her about her farming skills, or pulled pranks with Jackson on her. Y/N always teased Clark that he couldn’t speak properly to girls, or that he looks like a grandpa. It was always forth and back.

Martha chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I seem to remember the two of you didn’t get along very well as kids.”

Jackson snorted. “Didn’t get along? That’s putting it mildly. Clark was always teasing her—pushing her to the hay, hiding her toys, calling her ‘city slicker’ even though she wasn’t from the city back then.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, annoyance was clear on her face. “Yeah, well, he was a terror. I’m surprised he didn’t get himself kicked out of kindergarten.”

Martha laughed, clearly amused. “Oh, he’s grown out of that phase, I promise. He’ll be happy to see you.”

Y/N highly doubted that. The last time she’d seen Clark Kent, they’d been seven years old, and he’d shoved a frog into her lunchbox, resulting in her shrieking so loudly the teacher had to call the principal and Y/N pushed him later as revenge to a lake. The memory still made her cringe.

“Well, let’s hope he’s matured,” Y/N said in a sarcastically tone, setting her glass down on the coffee table.

Martha patted her hand gently. “I’m sure you’ll both get along better now. People change, Y/N.”

“Sure they do,” Y/N replied, though she wasn’t convinced. If Clark Kent was still the same smug, teasing boy she remembered, this summer was about to become a whole lot more complicated.

After the small talk in the living room had run its course, Y/N found herself wandering toward the window, gazing out at the sprawling fields behind the Kent house. Her eyes drifted to the paddock near the barn, and her breath caught when she spotted a familiar figure—Blue Jeans, her old horse.  

The years hadn’t dulled his striking appearance. His glossy black coat gleamed in the sunlight, his white star-shaped marking standing out proudly on his forehead. Her heart squeezed as memories of riding him across the fields rushed back—those carefree days when the world felt vast and full of possibilities.  

“He’s still here,” Y/N murmured, more to herself than anyone else.  

Martha, who had been tidying up, looked over and smiled warmly. “Of course, he is. Robbie couldn’t bear to part with him after you guys left. He’s been here ever since.”  

Y/N couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips. Blue Jeans had been her constant companion during her Smallville years, a source of comfort when the quiet got too loud. She suddenly felt a tug of nostalgia and longing that she hadn’t anticipated.  

“I’m going to go see him,” she said abruptly, grabbing her phone and heading toward the door.  

The heat of the sun kissed her skin as she walked across the yard, the scents of hay and earth growing stronger with every step. When she reached the paddock, Blue Jeans was grazing lazily near the fence, his tail swishing against the flies.  

“Hey there, boy,” Y/N called softly, leaning against the wooden fence. Her voice wavered slightly, a mix of excitement and nervousness. “It’s me, Blue Jeans. Remember me?”  

The horse’s ears twitched, and he lifted his head to look at her. His dark eyes, once so full of trust and familiarity, now stared at her with a distant curiosity. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment.  

“It’s been a while, huh?” she said, stepping closer. She reached out a hand, hoping he’d recognize her scent or the sound of her voice. “I’ve missed you, you know.”  

Blue Jeans regarded her for a moment longer before snorting and turning his head away, clearly uninterested.  

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Y/N murmured, slipping through the fence and into the paddock. She approached slowly, her hand outstretched, but as soon as she got close, Blue Jeans startled. His ears pinned back, and before she could react, he bolted across the paddock, his hooves kicking up clouds of dust.  

“Blue Jeans, wait!” Y/N called, her heart sinking as she watched him gallop toward the far side of the field.  

She stood there for a moment, the weight of his reaction pressing down on her. He didn’t remember her. The bond they’d shared—the one she’d thought would last forever—was gone.  

Frustration welled up as she stopped near the edge of the pasture, catching her breath. She hadn’t expected this—her own horse, the one she’d ridden through countless childhood summers, didn’t even know her anymore.

Movement on the far side of the field caught her eye. A rider was approaching swiftly on a sleek black horse, cutting across the open space with practiced ease. They seemed to have noticed Blue Jeans’ runaway gallop and were moving to intercept him.

Y/N squinted, trying to make out the rider. The sunlight glinted off the black horse’s glossy coat as the figure leaned low in the saddle, guiding the animal with effortless precision.

The rider expertly maneuvered their horse, heading off Blue Jeans before he could get any farther. With a firm but gentle pull of the reins, they brought him to a halt. The black horse stood steady, calm in its dominance, while Blue Jeans pawed at the ground, uncertain but no longer running.

Y/N stood frozen, watching the rider stroke Blue Jeans’ neck and murmur something she couldn’t hear. She felt a pang of gratitude mixed with curiosity.

As the rider turned and began leading the two horses back toward the barn, Y/N finally got a better look. The tall figure was dressed in a simple flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. The confidence in his movements stirred something vaguely familiar in her memory, but she couldn’t place it right away.

When the rider dismounted, handing Blue Jeans’ reins to her, Y/N finally got a clear look at his face—and her breath caught. 

Clark Kent.

Of course, that was him.

He looked different—taller, broader, more confident—but the smug little smirk on his face as he approached was unmistakable.

“Lost something?” he called out, his voice carrying across the field.

Y/N crossed her arms, her jaw tightening as Clark brought both horses to a stop in front of her. Blue Jeans looked calm now, his ears twitching as Clark dismounted and handed her the reins.

“Your horse didn’t seem too thrilled to see you,” Clark said, his tone light but with that teasing edge she remembered all too well.

Y/N snatched the reins from his hand, glaring at him. “He just didn’t recognize me. It’s been a while.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, if that’s what you want to tell yourself.”

She huffed, focusing on stroking Blue Jeans’ neck instead of responding. Clark’s black horse snorted behind him, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how well-trained and strong the animal looked.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide her irritation.

Clark shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I could ask you the same, city girl. Perhaps I was riding but I didn’t think I’d end up saving your horse in the process and I am still waiting for a ,thank you,” His tone sarcastically as ever.

“Thanks,” she muttered begrudgingly, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone annoyingly cheerful.

As Clark mounted his horse again, he glanced back at her with a grin that made her blood boil. “Good to see you again, city girl. Try not to lose him next time.”

With that, he urged his horse into a trot and rode off, leaving Y/N standing there with Blue Jeans and a swirl of emotions she didn’t want to unpack.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath, tugging lightly on Blue Jeans’ reins. “Welcome back to Smallville.”

Y/N walked slowly back toward the barn, Blue Jeans obediently following behind her, though he was still skittish from the brief escape. Her thoughts were racing, the familiar, maddening presence of Clark Kent bringing all kinds of feelings she’d hoped were buried. She couldn’t believe it—after all these years, he was still the same teasing, infuriating kid she remembered. Only now, he was taller, more confident, and somehow, even more irritating.

As she reached the barn, she heard the sound of hooves approaching again. This time, it was slower, more deliberate. She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, there was Clark, riding his horse back toward her. 

He pulled the reins as he stopped a few feet away, his eyes narrowing with that mischievous glint she remembered so well. 

“So, Malibu, huh?” he said, his tone light and teasing, as if he was trying to provoke her. “I actually didn’t even recognize you earlier. Thought you were some California tourist passing through.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. “You’re not the first person to make that mistake,” she muttered, stroking Blue Jeans’ neck a little more forcefully than necessary. 

Clark chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “No kidding. You look nothing like the girl I used to torment.” His gaze shifted up and down, inspecting her with an expression that felt far too knowing. “You’ve definitely changed. I barely recognized you without the pigtails and the dirt on your face.”

Y/N couldn’t suppress a huff of frustration. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve been really paying attention,” she shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Why would I want to look like that annoying little girl you used to pick on?” 

Clark grinned, clearly enjoying every second of this. “You know, I never understood why you were so touchy about me teasing you. It was all in good fun. You were, what, seven? Not like you’d remember any of it now.” His eyes twinkled as if he was savoring the memory of their childhood rivalry. 

“Trust me,” Y/N replied, her tone sharp, “I remember plenty. And just because I don’t look like that girl anymore doesn’t mean I’m not still the same person.” 

Clark leaned back slightly in the saddle, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. Of course. But it’s hard to see past the whole… Malibu vibe. You’ve got the whole ‘I’m way too cool for Smallville’ thing going on.” His grin widened, and Y/N couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or genuinely poking at something he knew would get under her skin.

Y/N glanced at him, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not too cool for Smallville,” she said slowly, “but maybe it’s you who can’t see past the small-town life. Maybe it’s you who hasn’t changed.” 

Clark raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by her comment. “I changed. I’m just not *bragging* about it like you are.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the way she stood in front of him, her posture more confident, her clothes undoubtedly a far cry from the ones she’d worn all those years ago. “I mean, Malibu does wonders for a person.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but refused to back down. “I’m not bragging. And for the record, there’s more to me than whatever you think you see from your small-town perspective.” She met his gaze, refusing to let him get the best of her. “You know, I didn’t ask for this visit. I had better plans than standing here in the dust, talking to the same person who made my life miserable when we were kids.”

Clark leaned forward in the saddle, his expression softening slightly. “Hey, I’m just messing with you. I didn’t mean anything by it. But seriously, Malibu… It must be a whole different world from here, huh?” His tone was more genuine now, though still laced with that teasing undercurrent. “I bet it’s *pretty* hard to leave it all behind.”

Y/N hesitated. For a moment, the teasing and the rivalry faded, and she could hear the underlying curiosity in his voice. “Yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “It’s... different. It’s all the things people think it is—beaches, sun, parties. But it’s also lonely. Harder than people realize.” 

Clark’s smile faded, and he gave a small nod, as if he understood more than he was letting on. “I get it. Doesn’t matter how shiny things are. Not every place feels like home.” 

Y/N looked at him, surprised by the change in tone. For a moment, it felt like they weren’t just two childhood enemies standing in the middle of a field—they were two people who, in their own ways, were just trying to make sense of their worlds. 

But before she could say anything more, Clark seemed to snap back to his usual self. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your horse,” he said with a wink. “Just don’t lose him again, okay? I don’t want to have to rescue you next time.”

Y/N scowled. “You’re lucky I’m not punching you right now,” she shot back, but even as she said it, there was an undeniable hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Clark laughed, a light, carefree sound that made Y/N realize how little she actually knew about the boy who had teased her for so long. “I’ll be around, city girl. Don’t go getting too comfortable.”

Y/N watched him go, the sting of their old rivalry still there but somehow not as sharp. Maybe Smallville wasn’t as small as she remembered after all.

Over the next few days, Y/N found herself spending more time with Clark than she’d expected. Every time she tried to avoid him, he seemed to find a way to show up, like some kind of cosmic joke. And despite her best efforts to maintain her distance, she couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward him. It was the kind of pull that only small towns seemed to foster—familiar, unspoken, and inescapable.

It started innocently enough. Martha had insisted that they all help with the chores around the farm, and, of course, Clark had been the first to show up, grinning like a cat that had gotten the cream. 

“Ready to get your hands dirty, city girl?” he’d teased, standing at the entrance of the barn with his sleeves rolled up, looking like he belonged there more than anyone else.

Y/N shot him a glare, arms crossed. “I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly capable of doing chores, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, clearly not convinced. “I doubt you’ve done a real day’s work in your life,” he shot back, leaning against a barrel of hay. “I mean, Malibu’s great and all, but I don’t think they teach you how to muck out a stall out there.”

She clenched her jaw. “You’d be surprised what I can handle.”

And handle it, she did. After a little grumbling, they worked side by side, shoveling hay, cleaning out the barn, and feeding the animals. At first, it was awkward—Y/N wasn’t used to the rhythm of farm life anymore, and Clark didn’t hesitate to point out every little mistake she made. 

“Oh, you missed a spot,” he’d tease, always with that smirk of his, as he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, city girl.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she liked the banter. It reminded her of her childhood, when everything was simpler, when everything had felt like a game. 

“Look, if you think I can’t do this, just wait until I show you how it’s done,” she said, determined to prove him wrong. 

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I’m waiting.”  

And then, to his surprise, Y/N had grabbed the pitchfork and shoveled with more precision than he had expected. She might not have grown up with the same skills as him, but she knew how to get things done.  

When they finally took a break, Clark leaned against the barn wall, wiping his forehead. “Alright, I’ll admit it. You’re not as bad as I thought. Maybe Malibu’s *not* all you are.”

Y/N smirked, a spark of competition in her eyes. “Told you so.”  

Their time together continued like that—moments of teasing and lighthearted jabs followed by quiet, almost comfortable silences. They’d ride together out in the fields, their horses’ hooves beating a steady rhythm on the dirt. Clark would always make sure to *just barely* stay ahead of her, giving her a playful wink when she caught up. 

“You know, I’ve always been better at this than you,” he would say, his voice a mix of challenge and amusement. “You used to be so slow. Guess Malibu's not doing much for your speed.”

Y/N would roll her eyes. “You really need to stop talking about the past, Kent. I’m faster now. Catch me if you can.”

And then she’d race ahead, her heart pounding in the excitement of the chase. Clark would grin and follow, effortlessly keeping pace with her, never really pushing to overtake her. They were both competitive, in their own ways, but Clark’s subtle teasing always managed to keep her on her toes.

One afternoon, after a long ride, they returned to the barn, both a little winded and flushed from the exertion. Clark tied the horses up, and when he turned to Y/N, he caught her looking at him for a moment longer than she intended. 

“What?” he asked, his grin widening as he noticed the lingering look. 

“Nothing,” Y/N replied quickly, her heart unexpectedly fluttering. “I was just thinking how *different* it is being here. It feels… good, I guess. Like it fits.”

Clark didn’t miss the tone in her voice. “Glad to hear it,” he said quietly, his smile softer now, like he wasn’t just teasing her for once. “You know, Smallville has a way of doing that to people. It’s like it gets under your skin.” 

Y/N swallowed, feeling her heartbeat quicken. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And then, almost as if to remind her that some things never really changed, Clark stepped closer, leaning in just a bit too close for comfort. “I’m still way better at riding than you, though,” he said, his voice low with that playful challenge. “I mean, you did need me to catch your horse earlier.”

Y/N huffed, trying to stay unaffected by the closeness. “I don’t remember asking for your help.”

He flashed a grin, his eyes lingering on her face for just a beat too long. “I’ll remind you of that next time I rescue you from your own horse again.”

The air between them shifted, a silent tension hanging in the barn as they stood in the afterglow of their ride, the sound of the horses settling in the background. Y/N felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but before she could respond, Clark seemed to snap back into his usual playful demeanor. 

“Well, I’d better go help my mom with dinner,” he said, a little too casually. “You know, so you don’t think I’m just here to torment you all day.”

“Too late for that,” she retorted, though her lips twitched into a small smile.

And as Clark walked away, Y/N found herself watching him longer than she probably should have. It wasn’t just the way he’d changed physically—stronger, taller, more confident. It was the way he seemed to settle back into Smallville with a comfort that felt almost... easy. The way they both fell back into their old rhythm of teasing and rivalry, like time had stood still, despite everything.

But somewhere beneath the playful jabs and the teasing grins, Y/N couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe—just maybe—Clark Kent had grown up in ways she hadn’t expected. And that left her wondering if there was more to the new Clark than the boy who used to torment her so many years ago. 

The next day, after a hearty breakfast at the Kent farm, Clark suggested they go on a ride to a place he thought she might like—a small waterfall hidden away just on the outskirts of town. He’d mentioned it casually, like it was no big deal, but Y/N could tell there was something about this spot that meant more to him than he was letting on. 

They saddled their horses and set off, the cool morning air whipping past them as they rode side by side through the fields. The peaceful rhythm of the horses' galloping hooves against the dirt seemed to melt away all the tension that had lingered between them the past few days. It was easy, comfortable, in a way Y/N hadn’t expected. There was something about being on horseback, moving through the wide-open space, that made her feel connected to this place again—like she was finding pieces of herself she had forgotten.

Clark led her down a narrow path that wound through trees, and soon the sound of rushing water filled the air. They emerged from the trees and reached the small clearing. There, nestled between moss-covered rocks, was a hidden waterfall, cascading down into a crystal-clear pool below. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dancing shadows on the water's surface. It was quieter here, the only sound the rush of water and the occasional birdcall.

“Wow,” Y/N breathed, momentarily stunned by the beauty of it. “This is... amazing. I never thought a place like this would be hiding right here.”

Clark smiled, clearly proud of the spot. “Told you. It’s one of my favorite places. Not many people know about it.”

He dismounted, tying the horses to a nearby tree, and then looked over at Y/N. “You should come down to the water. It’s the best part.”

Y/N hesitated for just a second, eyeing the small, clear pool at the base of the waterfall. “I don’t know, Clark. It looks kind of... cold.”

Clark grinned. “It’s refreshing. Trust me, you’ll love it. Besides,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “you could use a little adventure. Also don’t you have beaches in Malibu?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her own grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, don’t even start with that again.”

But before she could protest any further, Clark was already walking toward the water’s edge, kicking off his boots and rolling up his sleeves. Without warning, he jumped into the sea with a splash, sending water flying in every direction. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him, drenched but clearly enjoying himself. 

Clark poked his head out from the water, eyes sparkling. “Come on, it’s not so bad!”

Y/N shook her head, still laughing at the sight of him. “You’re crazy,” she called, but even as she said it, she found herself grinning. There was something about seeing him so carefree, so unguarded, that made her feel... lighter, like the tension between them from their childhood had completely evaporated. 

After a beat, she hesitated. She hadn’t planned on going into the water, but part of her felt like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was time to let go of her reservations and enjoy the moment. 

With a resigned sigh, Y/N slowly walked toward the water, kicking off her own boots and rolling up her sleeves. She dipped a toe in, testing the water, and winced at the coolness. 

“See? Not that bad,” Clark teased, grinning like a boy who had just won a victory.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she muttered, but before she could fully make up her mind, Clark swam closer to her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Race you to the waterfall,” he said, his voice light with playful challenge.

Without waiting for a response, he splashed through the water, making his way toward the base of the waterfall. 

Y/N’s competitive spirit flared up instantly. “You’re on!” she shouted, charging after him.

The water was cold, but the rush of the challenge and the sight of Clark splashing ahead of her made her forget the chill. She pushed forward, splashing water everywhere, and as she caught up to him, she could hear him laughing. The sound was carefree, filled with the kind of joy that she hadn’t heard from him in years. It made her heart flutter in a way she wasn’t quite prepared for.

Clark reached the waterfall first, turning back to look at her. “I knew you were slow.”

Y/N shot him a mock glare. “Not funny.”

But before she could protest further, Clark lunged toward her and, with a quick move, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the deeper part of the sea. Y/N yelped in surprise, but her protest was cut short as she found herself falling into the cool water, completely submerged for a moment.

She came up sputtering, her hair plastered to her face. “You jerk!”

Clark was already laughing, his eyes full of playful amusement. “Couldn’t resist,” he teased. “You’ve got to admit, it’s fun.”

Y/N wiped the water from her face, but as she looked up at him, something shifted between them. The teasing glint in Clark’s eyes softened for a moment, and for a beat, there was something in his gaze that made her heart skip. 

He reached out, pushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin for just a second longer than necessary. “You know, I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice quieter now, the teasing gone, replaced by something more genuine.

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. “Missed what?”

He smiled softly, his eyes locking with hers. “To tease you the whole time?”

Y/N’s lips curved into a chuckle, shaking her head. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

Clark chuckled, tilting his head as he moved a bit closer. “What exactly do you want me to say, then?”

Y/N found herself looking into his eyes for a moment longer than usual, her breath catching. There was something about his tone, something flirtatious but also not, and it made her feel... strangely open to the moment.

She let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “Like that you missed me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clark’s gaze softened, a hint of something more real flashing across his expression. For a moment, the world seemed to slow down around them. The teasing was gone, replaced by an unspoken understanding, something deeper than the playful back-and-forth that had defined their relationship for so long.

Clark hesitated for just a heartbeat, before his smile widened. “I think I can say that,” he said, his voice gentle, but there was still that glimmer of playfulness there. “I missed you, Y/N. Even if you were always a little... annoying.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, a mix of warmth and something else she couldn't quite place. She tilted her head, her voice playful but soft. “You’re still teasing me.”

Clark’s expression shifted, and for the first time since they hang out the whole time, he seemed to be a little more serious. “Maybe I am, but it’s because I... I don’t know, I like seeing you smile. You don’t even know how much I missed you.”

Y/N’s breath caught again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed for something genuine from him, something that didn’t involve teasing or childish rivalries.

She reached up, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm, before letting them fall back to her side. “Well,” she said, her voice softening, “I missed you too, Clark. In my own way.”

Clark didn’t say anything for a moment, as if letting the weight of her words sink in. Then, without warning, he gave her a crooked grin, his tone returning to that teasing edge she was so familiar with. “So, does that mean you’ll forgive me for all the cowboy or malibu jokes?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but this time, the smile on her lips was different—gentler, warmer. “Maybe. But only if you promise not to throw me into the water again.”

Clark laughed, the sound light and easy. “Deal. But just so you know, it was totally worth it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. The moment had shifted from playful banter to something much more. Something real.

And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure if she wanted to let go of this new side of Clark—this side that made her feel seen, not just as the girl from Malibu, but as someone who could still be a part of Smallville, in her own way.

Maybe it was true, that you’ll always find a way back home.

❀taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @angelsgalore @tinainaction

[deansbeer]

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧

[descendantofthesparrow]

The way this stupid mf has invaded my brain is unfair

[sneverussape]

severus gasped and flinched away from lord riddle’s — tom, call me tom, your mother and i were housemates, merlin how time does fly? — touch. the man’s skin was uncannily cold, despite it being nearly summer. like a fish…or a snake.

there was a momentary panic as severus was convinced that the glamour he had painstakingly applied had failed, and he would have to explain his battered face to lucius and cissa. it would ruin the entire evening! fortunately, a cursory glance at one of the many mirrors that lined the hall showed him that the glamour had thankfully held.

but then…how…?

“it was well applied, i must congratulate you on that. very impressive for someone as young as you are.”

severus threw tom a look that was almost defensive. “i’m fourteen. i’m not that young.”

“of course,” tom looked amused. “i didn’t mean to offend. i merely wanted to recognize talent when i see it. you wouldn’t have been able to learn that until…hmmm…NEWT-levels perhaps?”

severus flushed. “it isn’t—” he found himself stammering, “it really isn’t that difficult. jus’ need to be resourceful. i made it for me...”

he bit his lip before he could speak any further and bury himself deeper into a hole. but it seemed tom had caught on well enough.

“I know that pain,” tom said quietly. “I’ve had to hold my own more than once a child.”

“you have?” severus couldn’t help asking. he couldn’t imagine tom having been in his place, at the bottom of the pile that had potter, black, lupin, and pettigrew up on top. he straightened, remembering his manners. cissa would cuff him mightily if she caught him slipping. “begging your pardon, sir. i did not mean to pry. I apologise.”

to his great surprise, tom laughed, wide and open, with his teeth glinting in the firelight.

“oh, severus, you remind me of myself when i was young,” he said. “i daresay brax was right about you.” at severus’ confused expression he explained further. “im a…teacher for…further studies you see. lord malfoy has been generous enough to send a kind word in about you.”

severus coloured for the second time that night. “he has?” he squeaked. he had rarely met lord malfoy but the little that he knew from lucius’ stories was enough to put a liberal amount of fear in him of the powerful wizard. he decided to add with haste, “lucius of course has been teaching me since I arrived in hogwarts, and narcissa too…”

“lucius is a worthy heir for the House of Malfoy, as narcissa is for the House of Black, but you mustn’t discount your own abilities, severus.” tom’s eyes seemed to flash red as he held severus’ awed gaze, but it was gone in the next moment. “you have determined simpler but more effective ways of doing level 6 potions. you’ve invented charms your own professors couldn’t have dreamed of. you can break down spells into their most basic elements and refashion them for your purposes. your excellent glamour is proof!”

tom leaned down to his eye level, and severus held his breath.

“you have the potential to be one of the greatest wizards since merlin, and believe me, i don’t say that lightly. you are utterly brilliant, severus snape. i see your wonderful mind and your desire for knowledge, and i would be glad for you to be my pupil.”

“oh yes!” severus nodded before he could stop himself. his heart was thudding hard against his chest. “is it…er…is it for the summer hols?” his gut churned as he realised it might even have a fee. shite. “and…i’d have to ask mam and my da in case there’s payment…”

to his surprise tom waved him off. “there is no payment, you don’t need to worry. all I need is a willing heart and a brilliant mind. also im afraid i only start taking in pupils once they’ve reached the age of majority.”

“sixteen?” severus’ face fell. that was years away!

“if you would still be willing by that time, I’ll be happy to have you,” tom said. “i can save you a spot. mind that you keep learning, however. i won’t accept anything less than your best. and you must keep our conversation a secret. it isn’t my habit to hand out personal invites.”

“of course!” severus felt almost smug. he could wait two years. “you won’t regret having me.”

tom’s lips curved upward into a wide smile.

“no, i don’t believe I will.”

—

au/hc where severus meets tom at lucius’ leaving party at malfoy manor.

fun fact: the painting behind them is the missing carvaggio, Nativity (bit of a heavy-handed symbolism but i couldn’t help it lol). it’s been missing (from the muggle world at least) since 1969. 😎 guess lu has a not-so secret hobby.

[soangelbaby]

❤︎ you’ve been mine ; charlie baker x reader

‹𝟹 synopsis ; charlie baker is your brother's bestfriend, and he's 3 years older than you. you've always wanted each other but your brother has deemed you off-limits but this valentine's day, all bets are off the table, who will make the first move ?

the house was quieter now, the chaos of your brother’s valentine’s day party fading into the background. the room was a mess, scattered with red and pink streamers, deflated balloons, and the aftermath of too many drinks. but all you could focus on was the heat creeping up your spine and the adrenaline buzzing in your veins as you tried to steady yourself on shaky feet.

you should have been out with friends—maybe hitting up the local bar or at least making some kind of memory that didn’t involve cleaning up after your brother, you could’ve tagged along with your best friend, but her and her boyfriend had a romantic date planned, and you, well, you weren’t exactly in the mood to play third wheel. your other girlfriends had their own plans too—some with their boyfriends, others out with people you didn’t really know. you didn’t mind the solitude, really. you never did. but tonight? tonight felt different.

throwing another crushed red cup into the trash, you turned around to see charlie entering the doorway. shirtless, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass that was nearly empty. he wasn’t even trying to look casual; it was in his nature. his messy hair was falling into his eyes, and he now wore some basketball shorts that clung just a little too perfectly to his hips. he didn’t say anything right away, just stood there watching you for a moment, as though he were giving you a chance to catch your breath, to pull yourself together. but you could feel it, the tension in the room building, thick and palpable.

“still cleaning up?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, as if the very act of talking was another way for him to pull you in. you both had been circling each other all night, love in the air, the alcohol, and charlie’s lingering looks, all amplifying your emotions—making this all feel too real, and charlie look too good. you shot him a fake smile, “yeah, someone has to. you could help y’know.” you mutter, dropping the bag of plastic cups on counter. running a hand through your hair, you exhaled, reaching for your water bottle beside you, mind still hazy from shots you took throughout the night.

charlie snickered as he watched you, setting his cup down as he made his way over, raising his hands in mock surrender. “yeah? i thought i was off the clock.. but i guess i could help.” he rolls his eyes grabbing the half full bag you were previously were using off the counter, “you sure this isn’t just your excuse to get me closer now?” your pulse quickened, a nervous flutter in your chest. the way he was looking at you, his eyes dragging over you, taking in the sight of your red satin dress, though slightly disheveled still clinging to your curves. one strap hanging off your shoulder, you spun around nudging him as you pulled it up, “you wish, baker.” you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the tension, but you felt yourself drawn to him, more than you ever had before.

he grinned, a hint of that charming confidence shining through, and without another word, he slid closer, brushing his hand against yours on the counter, “right, i forgot you’re scared of your brother.” charlie chuckles, throwing the empty dishes into the sink. you crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as your brows drew together, “i’m not scared, just… cautious, you know how he is.” you mumbled, leaning against the counter huffing. charlie nodded in amusement, a low laugh escaping his lips, “but he’s not here now, is he?” he raises an eyebrow, tying a knot in the garbage bag before taking a step closer to you, “you don’t have to pretend anymore y’know? i’m right here, and i mean, it’s valentine’s day.” he hummed, adjusting your dress strap as it began to fall again. your breath hitched in your throat, feeling the heat radiate off his body, his piercing gaze locked onto yours, “charlie—we shouldn’t—“ you started off, voice barely audible as you weakly protested.

but there was nothing stopping you guys now, all the times in the past, your brother had interrupted, always catching you before things got too heated. and like charlie had said, he wasn’t here now. “maybe we shouldn’t—but we can. and you know we will.” he muttered, his large hand slipping to the back of your neck, tugging the hair at the nape of your neck slightly. you gasped, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, hesitating, half-lidded eyes searching his own. “if we do this—we have to be quiet.” you whispered fimly, gaze dropping to charlie’s bare chest before back up to his eyes. a lazy smirked tugged at his lips, his free hand dropping to grip your waist, the soft fabric curling under his fingertips, “you think i can do quiet?” you smacked his chest playfully, rolling your eyes, “charlie i’m serious! my room is right next to his, if he hears, i’m basically dead.” you shot back, gripping his shoulders firmly, acrylic nails digging into his skin, leaving impressions.

charlie’s eyes shot behind you, and he grinned, “i could always take you in the pantry,” he mumbled, one hand sliding up your back, your cheeks heated up at the thought, and more so at the possibility of your brother coming downstairs. but it was the quickest—and quietest option, so you weren’t exactly opposed. you grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward the pantry swiftly, the wooden door closing softly behind you both. you flicked the switch a few times, before realizing your brother never switched the bulbs when he was supposed to. “asshole..” you whispered, but to your luck, the lights from the kitchen barely shined through the blinds of the door, partially illuminating charlie’s large frame in front of you.

“no light, but we can make it work.” you said, a little breathlessly, hands already tugging at his basketball shorts, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, sliding up your little dress as he hoisted you up against the door slightly thumping, “fuck—i’ve been waiting to do this all night,” charlie groaned against your neck, nipping and biting at the skin there, his hips pressed flush against yours. your hands tangled in his hair, arching into him, you could feel his hard-on rubbing against your stomach, craving any type of friction, “needa feel you already, charlie please,” you moaned, he pressed his chest against yours, one hand gripping your ass as he held you up to tug off his shorts. his dick brushing your thigh as it sprang free, pushing up your dress and tugging your panties aside, charlie lined his dick up at your entrance, arousal already coating him, “made me wait so long for this, s’been torture, baby.” he grumbled, sinking into you with a low groan. you gasped, feeling your walls clench around him already, at the stretch of him inside you.

“mm, so fuckin’ tight—” his hips stuttered against yours, hands tightening around your waist as he sped up, your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer if possible. his dick twitched inside you, “i’m not gonna last—fuuck” you could feel the tightness pooling in your stomach as he pounded into you, you tried to warn him but before you could your eyes squeezed shut, body glitching against him as your orgasm washed over you, scratching harshly at his back. charlie bit down on your shoulder as his cum shot into you, thrusts turning sloppy. his chest heaved against yours as he pulled out, quickly moving your panties aside, ensuring no drips of his cum slipped out. his lips crashed onto yours, tongue slipping into your mouth with force, before pulling away, his hand slipped between your legs, patting your soaking cunt roughly,

“happy valentine’s day.” charlie snickered, his lips pressing against yours once more.

𐑺 rini’s note ; omg yall dont hate me !! so erm—first im so sorry this literally sucks ass bc i changed my whole idea last min bc it wasn’t going how i wanted 🫠 so pulled this out my ass so late and yeah…. excuse potential typos js had to get ts out ahh lygs