luc

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…

my name is lu, i have a daily problem of constantly changing my aesthetic, and also a chronic user of c.ai, it needs to be taken away from me. i am unhealthily obsessed.

all my work is unedited/not proofread. i don’t want any comments talking about my grammar this is for fun not for a grade :)

messages from velvrei ;;

i. requests are OPEN!! ↓ ↓ ↓

currently only writing for : clark kent

ii. warning ; my account is basically just all smut & suggestive content. i sometimes write fluff tho.

please read warnings & summary before reading each story.

 iii. © velvrei : do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

…

you end up alone with fiyero in the quiet hallway behind the ballroom, the music still pulsing through the walls like a secret heartbeat. the two of you stand too close, close enough that you feel his breath mix with yours, close enough that you are sure he can hear how fast your pulse has jumped.

he smiles that easy fiyero smile, the one that always makes trouble feel sweet. his hand brushes yours. it is barely a touch, just fingertips meeting for a second too long, yet it shivers through you like a spark you are both pretending not to notice.

“we should go back,” you whisper, though you do not step away.

“yeah,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your mouth. “we should.”

neither of you moves.

his knuckles skim your jaw, slow and quiet, like he is testing how far he can go before you stop him. you do not stop him. the air between you feels thick enough to lean on. he leans first, his forehead resting against yours, his voice a soft trouble soaked breath.

“this is a bad idea.”

“i know.”

you tilt your chin up and he meets you halfway. the kiss is warm, slow at first, like he is giving you every chance to come to your senses.

you do not.

you curl your hand into the fabric at his shoulder and pull him closer.

he answers without hesitation, his other hand settling at your waist, firm but not pushing, just asking.

the kiss deepens. it steals your balance and your breath.

his fingers trace the line of your spine in a way that makes your whole body tighten with the urge to close the space between you completely.

you feel him fight the same pull, feel the little tremor in his breath when he breaks the kiss only to return to it a heartbeat later.

you press him back against the cool stone wall, the two of you tugged together by something neither of you wants to name. his lips trail along your cheek, your jaw, slow enough to make your knees weaken. his whisper brushes your skin.

“we really should not be doing this.”

you swallow, your lips brushing his again.

“then why are we still here.”

his answer is another kiss, deeper than the last, full of every thought you are both trying to ignore. his hands slide up your back, steadying you even as the moment pulls you under. the world outside stays quiet, distant, as if it knows better than to interrupt.

you’re spread out on the bed, still catching your breath from kissing him senseless, when clark suddenly slips down between your thighs, big hands parting you like he’s starving. “i don’t even need to fuck you to ruin you,” he murmurs, voice deep and thick with need.

his fingers are huge, and the first one slides in slow, making you gasp, making your walls clench tight around him already. “so wet for me,” he mutters, his other hand gripping your hip to hold you down.

the second finger stretches you open, curling perfectly against that spot that makes your whole body jolt. he watches every reaction, blue eyes dark, eating up every twitch, every whimper.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, pumping his fingers faster, deeper, until the wet sound of it fills the room. “clench on me, let me feel you, sweet girl.”

he leans over, kissing you hard while his hand works between your thighs, thumb pressing against your clit at the same time. the mix of pressure has you arching up into him, grinding against his hand, chasing the release that’s already so close it’s unbearable.

“you’re dripping, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “you’re gonna come just on my fingers, aren’t you?”

he barely makes it through the door before you’re on him, pulling at his chest emblem, dragging him back against the wall like you’ve been waiting all night.

“at least let me change,” he chuckles, voice low, but it dies in his throat when you drop to your knees, looking up at him with a hunger that makes his breath hitch.

“no,” you whisper, fingers already tugging at the suit. “i want you like this. i want superman.”

the sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a laugh, his head falling back against the wall as you free him, thick and hard, standing proud against the impossible blue of his suit.

his cape pools on the floor as he grips your hair, watching you with eyes that burn hotter than his heat vision.

the first suck has him cursing, the second has him gasping your name like a prayer, and by the time you take him as deep as you can, the man of steel is shaking against the wall, undone by the one person who sees him as more than a symbol.

he’s barely holding himself together when you pull off him, spit glistening on your lips, eyes wide with want. “fuck me like this,” you say, breathless, tugging at the belt of his suit. “don’t even take it off.”

his jaw tightens, a low growl vibrating in his chest, and then he’s grabbing your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing, pressing you into the wall.

the cool texture of the cape brushes your skin as it wraps around you both, his mouth crashing against yours, desperate and hungry.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps, lining himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance.

the second he pushes in, you cry out, clinging to his shoulders as he fills you so deep it almost hurts, the bulge in your belly proof of just how much he’s giving you.

he doesn’t even move at first, just buries his face in your neck, groaning like he’s finally home. then his hips start snapping forward, rough and relentless, every thrust rattling the wall behind you.

“say it,” he pants, voice breaking against your skin. “say you want superman to fuck you.”

your nails dig into the emblem on his chest, dragging against the indestructible fabric. “i want you, clark. all of you.”

please and thank uu

of course lovey this is so sexc

giving clark head while he talks about his day 18+

he comes home late, hair messy, tie loose, shoulders heavy from the day. you’re already curled up on the couch, waiting for him. the second he sinks down beside you, you can tell he’s exhausted, the kind of tired that even his strength can’t shake off.

“long day?” you murmur, sliding closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw. he sighs, eyes closing, leaning into your touch. he exhales, long and heavy, rubbing a hand over his face.

“you could say that. stopped a bridge from collapsing this morning. some idiot truck driver thought it was a good idea to overload the freight, snapped a cable, and suddenly it’s rush hour chaos. then lex had another one of his press conferences, ranting about aliens, as if i wasn’t standing ten feet away, and after that i barely made it to catch lois’s deadline at the planet.”

he doesn’t notice the way you’ve already slid down off the couch until your hands are on his belt, until you’re pulling him free and settling between his thighs.

his words falter immediately, eyes dropping to you like he can’t believe it, but you just smirk up at him. “keep going, baby. i like hearing about your day.”

his head falls back when you free him, his cock heavy in your hand, already half-hard just from the sight of you on your knees for him.

you wrap your lips around the tip, sucking slow, deliberate, and he groans, trying to keep his composure.

“fuck,” he hisses, then laughs breathlessly, running a hand through your hair. “you really expect me to keep talking like this?”

you hum around him, bobbing your head, taking more of him down your throat.

he shudders, the sound breaking into a groan that turns into a laugh. “then—jesus—then parasite showed up downtown, and i spent an hour chasing him through the town before—fuck—before the league finally tagged in—”

his words fall apart as you hollow your cheeks, stroking what your mouth can’t reach, your eyes locked on his. he looks ruined, cheeks flushed, lips parted, trying so hard to keep telling you about his day but his voice is breaking between moans.

still, he tries, his voice breaking with every thrust of your lips down his cock. “metropolis is—mmm—safe for now, but i swear—oh god, baby—you make me forget everything, every damn thing—”

he’s usually gentle with you, careful like he’s afraid he might break you, but not tonight.

tonight clark’s been pacing all evening, tense, restless, and the second the door shuts behind you, his hands are on you, pulling, grabbing, kissing like a man starved.

“been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he growls against your mouth, backing you up until your shoulders hit the wall.

you can barely breathe before he’s tugging your clothes off, tearing his own shirt over his head, big hands dragging down your waist like he’s already imagining you underneath him.

the next thing you know, he’s got you on the bed, his weight caging you in, his mouth hot and bruising against your neck. when he finally pushes into you, it’s deep, overwhelming, you gasp, clutching at his back, nails raking down muscle as he groans into your shoulder.

he doesn’t ease you into it this time. his thrusts are hard, fast, relentless, each one knocking the air out of your lungs.

the bed creaks under the rhythm, headboard slamming softly against the wall as he pounds into you like he’s trying to make sure you’ll never forget who you belong to.

“so tight,” he mutters, voice rough, “can’t-fuck- i can’t get enough of you.” his hair falls into his eyes, sweat dripping down his temple, but he doesn’t slow down. he grabs your thigh, hooks it over his hip, driving deeper, harder, until you’re moaning so loud you don’t even recognize your own voice.

his hand comes up, cupping your jaw, forcing you to look at him through the haze. his eyes are wild, desperate, like he’s losing himself with every thrust. “look at me,” he pants, “look at me while i fuck you.”

he’s sprawled out on your bed, flannel shirt half unbuttoned, chest rising and falling fast. you’re the one straddling him this time, and he looks completely wrecked already—cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bruised, hair sticking to his forehead.

“you like this, don’t you?” you murmur, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. his breath catches, eyes fluttering shut, and he nods before whispering, “yes… please.”

the way his voice cracks on that one word makes your stomach twist with heat. clark’s always the one in control everywhere else; lifting you like nothing, shielding you from the world, but here? under you? he’s trembling, needy, willing to take whatever you give.

you lean down, brushing your lips against his ear. “look at you,” you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make him whimper, “my good boy.”

his eyes snap open at that, pupils wide, hands clutching the sheets instead of touching you like he wants to. “don’t stop,” he begs, breathless, almost whining.

and the sight of him, broad chest, strong arms, this powerful man laid out and begging for you, makes you ache in the best way.

you slow it down just to watch him fall apart, rolling your hips in lazy circles, making him feel every second of you without giving him what he’s desperate for.

his hands twitch like he wants to grab you, wants to flip you over and take control like he usually does, but he doesn’t.

he grips the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white, jaw clenched as he whines through gritted teeth.

“please,” he finally breathes, voice wrecked, “please, don’t, don’t tease me like this.” his eyes are glassy, chest rising and falling too fast, every muscle straining to keep still beneath you.

you lean forward, your lips brushing his jaw, your words soft but sharp. “you’re so good when you listen. so perfect like this. my good boy.”

you don’t even make it halfway home before clark’s hand is on your thigh, fingers digging in like he can’t help himself.

he keeps glancing at you from the driver’s seat, jaw tight, breath uneven.

“fuck it,” he mutters, swerving the car onto some empty stretch of road.

before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s throwing it in park and leaning over, kissing you hard, messy, like he’s been holding it in all night.

“couldn’t wait,” he growls against your mouth, already pushing your seat back, already tugging at your jeans. “been thinking about this since the bar. since you were looking so damn good, laughing, smiling… fuck, baby, i need you now.”

his mouth trails hot down your neck, his hands urgent, greedy, pushing fabric out of the way until he’s right where he wants to be, kneeling between your legs in the cramped space of the car like it doesn’t matter, like nothing matters except tasting you.

he looks up at you once, eyes blown, hair falling into his face, and then he’s on you, groaning like he’s starved, like this is the only thing that’ll save him. he doesn’t care if the windows fog up, if anyone could pass by, he’s buried, desperate, humming low against you, holding your hips down every time you try to squirm away from the intensity.

“don’t run from me,” he says, voice wrecked, lips slick, “been needing this too long. you’re mine. all mine.”

his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer. his lips devour into your aching love, your head falling back.

you glance down at him, only to be met with desperate eyes that almost look submissive, as if everything he does is to please you.

he moans against you, the sound vibrating through your whole body, his grip tightening when your hips jerk.

he’s messy with it, tongue and lips working like he can’t get enough, like he’d live down there if you let him.

your hand tangles in his hair, tugging, and he groans like you’ve just given him oxygen. “fuck, clark,” you whimper, thighs shaking, and that only makes him hungrier, burying himself deeper between your legs.

he drags you to the edge of the seat, practically crushing himself just to stay there, arms locking you in place so there’s nowhere to run.

you can feel him breathing you in, every gasp he takes as if he’s high on it, drunk off it.

the bar is loud, music thumping through the walls, clark’s hand warm on your lower back until his phone buzzes. “one sec, sweetheart,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple before stepping away to take the call.

you stay at the bar, twirling your straw in your drink, when some guy slides in next to you. he leans close, too close, breath hot in your ear as he starts running lines that make your skin crawl. you laugh it off, but when his hand brushes your thigh, you stiffen.

clark’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp. “back off.” you look up to see him standing there, phone forgotten, eyes burning hotter than you’ve ever seen.

the guy mutters something and slinks away, but clarke doesn’t even watch him leave; he’s already got you by the wrist, pulling you through the crowd and out into the cool night air.

the second the door shuts behind you, clark shoves you back against the brick wall, caging you in with his arms.

his mouth crashes onto yours, hard, desperate, all teeth and tongue and a low growl deep in his chest. “you let him talk to you like that?” he mutters against your lips, biting at them before kissing you again, rougher. “you think i’m gonna stand there and watch some asshole put his hands on what’s mine?”

you gasp as his hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, the hard line of his body pressing into yours. he kisses you like he’s starving, like he needs to erase every trace of anyone else touching you, sucking bruises into your throat just to see them bloom.

“say it,” he demands, voice low, almost breaking. “say you’re mine.”

your head tilts back, a moan slipping free as his thigh pushes between your legs. “i’m yours, clarke. only yours.”

note: all works here written by velvrei, do not take my work and post on third party apps or translate it either.

❦ = smut, ☼ = suggestive, ✿ = fluff

silly little flirting with clark ☼

jealous clarke pins you to the wall ❦

clark eats you out in the car because he couldn’t wait ❦

rough sex ❦

sub! clark loves being called a good boy ❦

giving clark head while he talks about his day ❦

fucking clark in his superman uni ❦

his cape brushed against your legs as he stepped closer, the faint rush of air following the weight of his movements. his eyes locked on yours, blue and burning, the kind of stare that pinned you in place without a word.

“you know,” he said, voice low and husky, “i could hear your heartbeat the second i landed.” his hand lifted, fingertips grazing your jaw, the heat of his touch sending a shiver straight down your spine.

you smirked, trying to hide how breathless you felt. “that’s not fair. how am i supposed to keep any secrets from you?”

he leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours, lips barely a whisper away. “maybe i don’t want you to.” his other hand found your waist, pulling you against the solid strength of his chest, the emblem pressed between you like fire.

the air between you thickened, your laugh caught in your throat when his thumb traced slowly across your bottom lip. “careful,” you teased, though your voice cracked under the heat, “someone might think you’re dangerous.”

his grin curved, wicked and soft all at once. “only with you.”

this is so hot.

…

the second the door slams shut behind you, he’s on you.

no teasing. no soft kisses. just hands everywhere—grabbing, pulling, claiming—and his mouth crashing into yours so hard your back hits the wall with a thud.

“couldn’t fucking wait,” he mutters against your lips, his voice wrecked, breath ragged. “thought about you all day.”

you barely manage a gasp before he’s lifting you, pinning you between him and the wall, his hands digging into your thighs, his hips grinding into yours like he can’t stand even an inch of space.

you tug at his hoodie, fisting it in your hands, desperate to get closer, and he just groans, low and filthy, kissing you like he’s trying to devour every sound you make.

his fingers slip under your shirt, dragging rough up your sides, yanking the fabric over your head without ceremony.

“so fucking pretty,” he breathes, mouth moving over your throat, biting at your collarbone, sucking marks into your skin. “mine.”

you moan when he sucks harder, your hips rolling against him, chasing the friction, and he curses, grinding into you like he’s already on the edge.

“fuck, baby,” he growls, one hand sliding between your bodies, popping the button on your jeans, shoving them down just enough to get to what he wants. “need you right now.”

your nails rake down his back, making him shudder, and when you whimper his name, he loses it.

he drops you onto the bed, stripping you the rest of the way, his hoodie hitting the floor a second later.

then he’s on you again—kissing, biting, gripping your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed so he can fit between them, pressing against you so hot, so hard it knocks the breath out of you.

“gonna fuck you so good, you’ll forget your own name,” he mutters, lining himself up, his voice shaking with how badly he wants it, how close he already is.

you gasp when he pushes in, deep and rough, filling you so fast it borders on overwhelming.

he doesn’t stop to let you adjust, just grabs your hips and sets a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over, making the headboard thud against the wall with every thrust.

“take it, baby,” he grits out, watching the way your body takes him, the way you claw at the sheets, the way you can barely breathe from how deep he’s hitting. “fuck, you feel so good—so fucking tight—”

you can barely moan his name, the pleasure slamming into you over and over, wrecking you, burning you alive.

he leans down, mouth right against your ear, voice filthy and desperate.

“come for me,” he groans, thrusts getting even rougher, deeper, until your whole body tenses under him, the orgasm crashing over you so hard it pulls a broken sob from your lips.

he curses when he feels you clench around him, hips stuttering, and then he’s gone too, groaning your name into your skin, his body shaking from how hard he comes.

for a long second, neither of you move. just heavy breathing, skin slick, hearts pounding.

then he presses a messy kiss to your temple, still buried inside you, his voice hoarse and ruined.

“not letting you outta this bed for a long time.”

…

cobra kai taglist: @karmaswitch @mamasfavourite @justchillin13 @timotheechalametswifeys @jeonkoowife @yoyouourmum @astreiz @adv3rc1ty @yslbaeee @amnesique @yaya-1loveart @izzyelise11 @larussoslostdaughter @elemental-of-magic @robbykeenesposts @mauve-galaxy-427 @ennycutie

no worries love!! i hope you enjoy

…

you’re sitting on the couch in miguel’s living room, your legs curled underneath you, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders. miguel’s beside you, pretending to watch the movie playing on the tv, but you can feel his eyes drifting toward you every few seconds.

“you’re not even paying attention,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

he grins, that easy, boyish smile that makes your chest feel all warm. “can you blame me? you’re way more interesting than some boring movie.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too. “smooth, diaz. real smooth.”

“what, it’s true!” he says, laughing, and then he shifts closer, the couch dipping under his weight. his thigh brushes against yours, and neither of you moves away.

for a second, it’s quiet except for the sounds of the movie in the background. miguel’s hand is resting on the couch between you two, fingers drumming nervously, almost like he’s waiting for something.

you glance at him from under your lashes, biting your lip just a little. “you’re staring again.”

“can’t help it,” he says, voice softer now. “you’re… kinda my favorite thing to look at.”

your heart trips over itself, and before you can second-guess it, you tug the edge of the blanket, pulling him under it with you. he laughs in surprise but lets you, his face just inches from yours now.

“what about now?” you whisper, feeling bold.

he looks at you like you hung the stars. “now it’s even better,” he says, and he leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away — but you don’t.

you meet him halfway, noses bumping clumsily at first, and you both giggle against each other’s lips before it melts into a kiss so sweet it feels like the world outside the blanket doesn’t even exist.

…

cobra kai taglist: @karmaswitch @mamasfavourite @justchillin13 @timotheechalametswifeys @jeonkoowife @yoyouourmum @astreiz @adv3rc1ty @yslbaeee @amnesique @yaya-1loveart @izzyelise11 @larussoslostdaughter @elemental-of-magic @robbykeenesposts @mauve-galaxy-427 @ennycutie

i took inspiration from challengers hehehe

…

the air is thick when it happens.

one minute you’re hanging out—tory stretched out across the floor, robby leaning against the couch, you perched between them—and the next minute, it’s something else.

it starts with a stupid bet. some teasing. tory grinning, cocky and sharp, tossing a smug look over her shoulder.

“you really think you can handle both of us?”

you laugh, shrugging like it’s no big deal, but your heart is hammering against your ribs. because the way robby’s looking at you? slow and heavy and hungry?

he’s not joking.

neither is she.

“come here,” robby says, voice low, rough, like he’s barely holding it together.

you don’t even hesitate. you crawl right into his lap, feeling the way his hands immediately grip your thighs, strong and sure, dragging you closer.

then tory’s behind you, her nails dragging up your spine, her breath hot against your neck.

“bet you break first,” she whispers, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

you feel robby smirk against your skin.

“nah. she’ll take everything we give her.”

their hands are everywhere—robby’s sliding under your shirt, teasing the curve of your waist, while tory’s dragging her nails over your thighs, squeezing, gripping, claiming.

you whimper when robby’s mouth finds your neck, biting a mark into your skin, and tory’s hands yank your shirt up and off in one smooth motion.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” tory mutters, palms hot against your sides.

robby’s hands roam higher, thumbs brushing over your ribs, his mouth still wrecking your neck.

you’re dizzy from it—their touch, their mouths, the low, wrecked sounds they make when you arch between them. you’re their center, their focus, and they aren’t being gentle.

“you’re ours tonight,” robby mutters against your skin.

tory’s fingers tangle in your hair, tugging your head back so she can kiss you—hard, filthy, teeth dragging your bottom lip until you’re gasping.

“all fucking night,” she breathes.

they trade you back and forth like they can’t get enough—hands sliding over bare skin, lips finding new places to bite, suck, leave their mark. every touch feels greedy, desperate, competitive. theirs.

you can’t tell who’s touching you where anymore—you don’t care.

all you know is you’re burning alive between them, and neither of them are planning to let up anytime soon.

not until you’re wrecked. not until you’re begging. not until they both feel you fall apart under their hands.

and even then—

they’re still not done.

…

cobra kai taglist: @karmaswitch @mamasfavourite @justchillin13 @timotheechalametswifeys @jeonkoowife @yoyouourmum @astreiz @adv3rc1ty @yslbaeee @amnesique @yaya-1loveart @izzyelise11 @larussoslostdaughter @elemental-of-magic @robbykeenesposts @mauve-galaxy-427 @ennycutie