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ladylothlorien · 23 days ago

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I really love the voice you have for Clark!

*throws this at you and runs away* its hard to sit here and be close to you and not kiss you for clark kent PLEASE IM BEGGING-

broken down and hungry for your love

a/n: this has ruined me. has me yearning in ways that i never thought humanly possible. and yes the title is absolutely from a jeff buckley song, because this is all i could listen to as i wrote this. just utter fluff and romance for this man. it's what he deserves. i kept it more fluffy than smutty just cause he's such a perfect man for pure fucking romance. i hope you enjoy babes!

summary: late at night you find yourself sitting across from clark kent. a friend, a colleague, and much to your detriment the man you're in love with. OR a conversation leads to kissing him on his couch until oxygen becomes secondary.

word count: 2.1k+

pairing: clark kent x reader

warnings: semi-explicit so minors DNI, tension, romance, fluff, friends to lovers trope, clark being the obvious one, reader being stubborn, mutual pining, making out on his couch, kissing, he begs for it cause i say so.

There were moments in time you wished to document each shadow and glimmer of light. How the lamp glowed in the corner of your apartment, the darkness cast along his mess of curls as his bent head was all you could see—fingers clasped and arms propped against spread knees. Fragments in time that stole what breath remained in the depths of your already barely working lungs. Shallow breaths, unsteady heartbeat, and he could hear each shift along the leather chair.

“What are you thinking about?” he muttered, fixing the smudge on his shoe already scratched to fucking hell.

You smiled at the obvious tension in his shoulders. “Wondering how long it’s going to be before you look at me.”

His eyes rose…barely. Neck still bent and knuckles white, but you could finally catch a glimpse of that haunting blue. Piercing and perfect and unfathomably beautiful in the yellow light of your shitty living room lamp. The same one he helped you carry home three months ago. As friends.

A word you made sure to emphasize, drill into his head with the tenacity of a good reporter.

Now you could feel the regret burrow in your stomach, curling remorse in the notches in your spine until you were unable to run away from that fact. You couldn’t fall for a coworker. Let alone a fellow reporter. But that was the fickle thing about romance—you would never see it fucking coming. A quick timed slap in the face you fought against, battling emotions layered in the betrayal of a stress free love life.

“I’m lookin’ at you,” he breathed—what little oxygen you had catching in the base of your throat at the sight of him. Free of glasses welcoming you to take on all that he way, accept him without secret weighing on his shoulders—help him carry the weight of a god among men.

That was the scary part.

Clark Kent was…Superman.

Clark. The man who spilled coffee on your blouse the first day you met, turning it sheer in seconds as he melted into a puddle of crimson hued apologies. The friend who brought you soup from your favorite spot in the city when you were sick two months ago. The person you counted on to stay during long nights at The Daily Planet, hunched over your desk with you, pen in hand as he searched for mistakes you never caught.

Yet simultaneously the one who saved Metropolis. The hero people called for in their most desperate hour. The same person who swooped in and saved you from a car wreck three weeks ago—depositing you on the very same rooftop Clark met you on during lunch for small conversations and cookies he swiped from the kitchen.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Clark-”

“My eyes are on you sweetheart. What more do you want?”

Your gaze narrowed, nails curling into the arm of the chair. “I want you to face me. Talk to me like you used to.”

The sigh was thick enough to shove another brick in his wall of anxieties; you could see his thoughts churning as he fiddled with his watch. What if you didn’t want this? What if you chose to disregard all you could be to run away from the chaos he brought with him? What if…he wasn’t enough for you?

“You know how I feel,” he said softly, leaning back. “You’ve always known.”

Swallowing past the stone in your throat, you finally relented—allowing months of emotion to spill into your fluttering chest. “Yes…I do.” You shifted, allowing your bare feet to touch carpet and your hands to fall to your knees. “Then tell me about it.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me about…saving people. What made you want to do it in the first place?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he replied, lips curling. “Because my parents from Krypton told me to protect the people of Earth. And because my parents from here raised me to be good. Hopeful.”

You smiled and for the first time in thirty minutes the tension diffused—ease settling back into your bodies with the flick of a switch. “That explains a lot.”

“I should have told you after I saved you-”

“I would have run,” you confessed, fingers tangling together as he settled back onto his knees, closer than you’d been in days. “I—uh—I’m not good at this.”

The dimpled grin he flashed demolished the trepidation in your heart, a flicker of hope—of warmth—wrapping tight around the unsure organ. In the time since meeting him you found peace in his presence. Comfort in his gaze and promise in his touch. He was unafraid to love, unashamed to wear his heart on a rolled up sleeve. But that’s what terrified you.

Not Superman, certainly not his sheer willingness to fall head first into love. It was the thought of finally giving in��showing all the broken parts that no longer worked beneath the already fractured skin. You were clawing along the ground, seeking warmth in the pitfalls of a lifeless winter, until the sun entered your life and burned your skin with something unfamiliar. He cradled your heart in his still palms and you were unsure how to relinquish the final bits that you clung to.

The side of you that reeked of someone who had been victim to false hopes and broken promises.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said with an air of ease you tried not to be jealous of. “‘M yours baby. Since the day I met you.”

You dropped the pieces in his hands with a sigh, your hands shaky and body hot at how his eyes latched onto your parted mouth. That soft blue disappearing in favor of something darker. A hunger you never knew he could possess.

All that filled the room was the tick of your desk clock and shared breaths. His were annoyingly calm, your were…barely there. As if he could see through your lungs, he grinned—cheek caving in—as he caught the quick glimpse of a sputtering heart processing the flurry of emotions. He settled closer, eyes latching onto yours as the clock faded in favor of your own blood rushing in your ears.

“What are you thinking about sweetheart?”

You sucked in air. “That it’s hard to sit here and be so close to you…and not kiss you.”

Half expecting him to profess emotions that were practically scrawled in the extra supply of ink at The Planet, he chose to smile instead. His chin propped in a broad hand, lips pulled wide as he watched you fidget on the seat—unable to meet his gaze for longer than a few seconds.

This would be—to date—the furthest you’d gone in speaking your emotions aloud. Sure the words were barely a puff of air on your lips, but to Clark you might as well have shouted them off your fire escape. Loud enough for the whole of Metropolis to hear.

You wanted to kiss him. You.

The person who clutched his heart in your palm without even knowing it. Didn’t you know he’d bring you the moon if you asked that of him? He’d traverse galaxies and solar systems to find the perfect stone to fit on your left hand. He’d worship the very ground you walked on.

“You can kiss me,” he assured you, blue eyes sparkling in the dark.

“It’s not so easy.”

He huffed. “I want you to kiss me all the time.” A hand, or more a proposition, was thrust in your direction and you forced yourself to take it. Give him the reigns and walk you in between his legs, your hands pressed into the wrinkled white button down that was always one size too big. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

The flutter in your heart ricocheted throughout the whole of your already nervous body, eyes falling to his lips with a shuddered breath. “Really?”

“Yes,” he murmured, voice a low rasp you could practically feel through the air. “Please kiss me.”

Tentatively you leaned down, cupping his jaw even as he tilted his head up to meet you halfway there. His back straight and hands a heavy weight on your hips—the only thing that kept you upright when his lips touched yours. And suddenly you understood. Why romance bloomed between two souls. How it could cling to others with a tragic necessity—the very thing that allowed people to breathe easier at night.

It sparked in the base of your stomach, stretching along veins and tendons, curling like vines into your stiff body that practically melted into his touch. You sighed into his mouth, lips a soft press to his soft ones, and Clark met your breath with a gasp of his own—fingers a sharp press into your flesh. His anchor in the middle of a raging sea.

He tasted like home. Like the honey biscuits he favored in the afternoons and coffee that was more cream and sugar than bean. Like a man who was ready to collapse to his knees at the sight of your smile, devotion clawing at his chest and ripping at his heart.

You sunk into him, tongue sliding wet along his bottom lip to taste more of him, memorize the grooves of his teeth and roof of his mouth. He opened up with a moan that shot a hole through your chest—breath coming in quick and shallow. As if you could barely get enough before he stole it for himself.

Somehow your arms looped around his neck, knees practically ready to sink to the floor. He caught you halfway and dragged you gently into his lap. Your knees pressed into the cushions of the couch and thighs spread around his—fingers burying in his thick curls until you could feel your nails scrape his scalp. Unfathomable warmth built between your bodies, sinking deep into your trembling chest as he licked into you with a soft groan—his hands respectfully latched onto your waist.

Never higher, never lower. Always the perfect gentlemen.

“I like kissing you,” you whispered against his swollen lips. At this point you were certain that yours didn’t fare any better.

He smiled, large and wide and accented with dimples you wanted to press your thumb into. “I love kissin’ you baby.”

The flutter of your heart didn’t go unnoticed by him if the crinkle around his eyes told you anything. “You make it so easy.”

“What’s that?” he mumbled, dragging his lips along yours, tongue peeking out to slide along your bottom lip.

You shivered. “All of this. Being with you. Somehow it’s like breathing to you.”

“I like you.” That seemed to be all he could say, the only explanation that made the most sense to someone who welcomed love with each sunrise and sunset. He shrugged, pulling back to watch your fluttering lashes as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “If this is moving too fast-”

“No.” If only you possessed half his talent of expressing his feelings, the sunshine that poured off his body with an air of ease. “I just…I want to be with you.”

“So be with me.”

“But what if it goes wrong? What if we find ourselves stuck? What if-”

He cut you off with a chaste kiss, lightly pinching your chin to tilt your eyes up. “We won’t know until we try.”

“So corny,” you huffed, eyes pricking with the threat of tears. “Are you sure?”

Another kiss to your lips, your cheek, the curve of your jaw until you were caught in a laugh that spread warmth to the tips of his fingers and toes. If only he could show you what he saw. The light that poured from your eyes when you turned your gaze on him. The beauty always meant to steal his breath the moment you met.

This was always meant to be. Even if he had to write it in the stars himself.

“I’ve never been this sure of anything in my life.” You could tell he meant it, every syllable and letter was punctuated with the blinding certainty in his gleaming eyes. “Well except being Superman.”

You laughed, finding his lips as he finally wrapped his arms tight around your waist. “Well of course. It’s Superman.”

“Of course.”

“I guess…we’re doing this huh Kent?”

Clark beamed, nose pressed into your cheek and lips poised over yours with that tender smile that caught you in his snare in the first pace. “I guess we are sweetheart.”

#clark kent x reader #fanfic #fluffy fuzzy happy

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ladylothlorien · 23 days ago

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I went into this one prepared for the angst and then omg the ending! I love how you blended the angst and the smut together.

exes, tenderness, “you remember the little things. that’s what gets me.” with clarkkkkk (i do this to myself, huh)

everything is meant to be broken

a/n: i am not sorry for how angsty this is. you knew exactly who you were sending this request to babes, but also you told me you wanted angst with clark. so i had no choice but to deliver. i have been yearning hardcore lately. maybe that's why this reads as if i've been watching the pride & prejudice hand scene for four hours straight. i hope you enjoy!! top dividers by @/toastray.

summary: there would be no world in which you could live without him. no future where he could exist without you. the both of you were intrinsically tethered. and you found that finding yourself beneath him in his bed was inevitable.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, angst, so much angst it will hurt at times, exes, second chance love, love confessions, crying, p in v sex, gratuitous smut, needy!clark, he begs because i said so, yearning + pining.

Glasses on his bedside table. Set atop a novel he was halfway through, the page dogeared and pages crinkled—most likely stained with coffee rings and smudges of ink. The lamp glowed yellow, casting long shadows along the floor, and for a moment you could pretend things were normal. That you were back in time, four months of struggling and arguing, dissipated in the blink of an eye.

You could imagine that you hadn’t fallen backwards. Craving only something he could satisfy, the need to feel him press you into the plush comfort of his mattress, his skin hot atop yours and body molded to fit along each limb glistening with sweat. You could live in a world where Clark Kent was your forever and not your for now.

The bed shifted, his arm tight around your waist and face pressed into the back of your neck. It sent shivers down your spine, curled guilt low in a stomach that continued to betray your every thought—fluttering in his vicinity.

How could it not? When he remained sweet, when he never did anything wrong.

Splitting from him didn’t come from nowhere—he knew why that night happened. The series of events that led directly to the results of you sobbing in the street, begging him to find a piece of his life where you fit. Explaining through hiccuped tears how you didn’t know if patience could sustain this fleeting romance, that lonely nights evolved into solitary days.

You didn’t resent him for being Superman. You couldn’t.

The entire world hung over his shoulders, desperate for a savior that chose them first, and you let him go. You chose to give him back to those that called out for help—opting to remove yourself from the equation before he made the choice himself. Not that he would have. Stuck with the belief that he could have it both ways.

“You’re awake,” he mumbled, voice deep and riddled with sleep that clung to him. “‘S four in the mornin’ sweetheart.” The lilt in his words thicker than usual, his tongue loose and body sated after fucking you into the bed two hours ago.

“Can’t sleep,” you sighed, tracing the curve of his glasses with your eyes.

His smirk pressed into the tender skin of your shoulder, his teeth no doubt indented into the flesh—the apology still dripping between your sore thighs. The ease poured off his body. Bliss hazy in blue eyes that burned you with his tender gaze, as if you weren’t about to sneak out in two hours on your way to work. Like things were finally set back into place when you called him six hours ago, aching for his touch, his lips on your body.

He slept beside you like a lover. Not someone you did everything pry yourself from, slicing tendons and veins to separate him from your fracture heart. It was hell to long for him, but it was a different kind of hell to try and remove him from your life entirely.

“Do you want some help?” he murmured, dragging open mouthed kisses to your jaw—your eyes fluttering and breath catching.

Maybe it would help. To let him slide back into your wet cunt, find home and heaven between walls that clamped down around him. Maybe this time you’d be able to let him go. Leave with a clear conscious and healed heart.

You could lie to yourself, whisper false truths in the night as long as he worshiped you come morning.

“We have to-” He toyed with your dripping folds, his mouth finding the spot along your throat that sunk you further into the bed. “Oh fuck.”

Teeth scraped at your skin, two fingers sinking down to the knuckle into your pulsing cunt. Slick coated his skin, sticky and sweet and everything he’d been itching to have. He didn’t do well without you—half the man he knew he should be. His articles came in late, punches grew rough, and for the first time his body ached. The type of pain that couldn’t be cured by the sun or medical attention from his robots; this stemmed from his chest, suffocating an already broken heart.

Clark needed you to live. To walk this planet and know there was a place for him, right by your side. The night you left, a mess of tears and emotions you couldn’t reign in, he disappeared. Flew to the farthest corner of the world and settled until the sun found him, sought him from the shadows that welcomed him.

He mourned what you had. The love that gleamed in your eyes—now turned dull by grief—the promise of a forever slipping through his fingers that remained desperate to clutch at what parts of you he could.

So he’d take this.

He would allow the greed to consume him when you lay beneath him like this, his name a broken prayer on your bruised lips. He’d divulge in something both of you knew was inescapable.

There wouldn’t be a world you could untie that strand of fate; its strength the only thing that kept your heart beating. Unsteady and unbearable at times, but alive. You knew it was futile to leave, attempt to live without him in your life, because it would always come down to this. Stolen nights crying out his name and taking his cock and letting him paint your body with promises that may never come to pass.

He was yours. Nothing would ever be able to change that.

Especially not him.

“Come home,” he gasped into your neck, his cock bottoming out in a space meant for him. A place he carved out for himself—etching his very soul into the fluttering walls that made his head spin.

You whimpered, fingers clawing at the sheets. “Please Clark. D-Don’t-”

“I miss you sweetheart,” he breathed into your mouth, hand cupping your face. And your eyes burned. Tears building along the corners just waiting to fall, pleading to show him that you felt the same—that your heart would forever call his name. “I need you.”

A rough thrust had you gasping into his open mouth, tongue meeting yours with a stifled groan. You wanted to say yes. Crawl in the cavities of his chest and settled in a heart that would always beat for you. But you didn’t know how to handle the loneliness, the worry at each battle and threat he faced. It set you on edge long ago. That night was merely your breaking point.

“You don’t-” The words were ragged at the back of your throat, a moan spilling out when he angled his hips and struck the spot that had your thighs trembling.

“I do.” He pressed a helpless kiss to your lips, breathing life into your lungs. Silent apologies that would echo in your head later. “You have no idea how much I can’t live without you baby. I can’t breath without you. Can’t even think straight knowing I don’t have you anymore.”

The tears fell before you could swallow the stone in your throat. A choked back sob breaking free as his eyes flew open to watch you break before him. Pleasure and that oh so familiar prick of pain melting together in a body that couldn’t discern between the two. He slowed, fingers wiping at the hot rush of tears, but your hand clutching his hip brought him back.

“I want to wake up with you again. Every day. Wanna make you smile, see you happy all the time. Let me do that for you yeah? Let me back in. Let me make it up to you,” he rambled, thrusting erratically into your sopping cunt until all you could hear was the clap of skin against skin beyond his words.

“Clark-”

“I know baby. I’ll give it to you.”

His touch was an expected casualty of the ongoing war in your heart—bloody enough to leave you nothing but a withered version of yourself. Pulling up the hood slick with wet you were, his fingers pressed directly onto your throbbing clit. And you cried into his mouth, feet kicking out onto the bed as he fucked you within an inch of all the life you no longer had.

He took it all when you left. Kept it safe in a heart far too big and body ingrained with the signature of your essence.

“Feels good?”

The gasp was wet as you dug a hand into his curls with a rough yank, tears blurring your vision when he spread his thick fingers around the spot where you two connected. A rumbled moan pulling from the depths of his chest. You felt it vibrate through you. Settle into the base of your stomach and pull.

“I’m gonna-”

He smiled, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “That’s it, baby. Need you to cum. I want to feel it.”

That twisting coil in your body pulled taut when he tapped your clit, your eyes rolling back and spine arching into his touch. He knew how to play your body. As if he were always meant to pluck the strands of your song, memorizing each little thing that made you tick. Until he could hear you from across the world.

One after another had the breath punching from your lungs, his cock grinding into you with obscene wet sounds. Your skin burned, chest far too hot. But he kept fucking going. Splattering the gush of your wet mess onto your thighs, his lips sealed over yours with a cracked moan that sounded like your name.

“For me,” he begged, brows pinched and mouth parted as he gasped for air. “Cum for me. Please.”

His name was a broken shout, your body trembling in his grip as everything in you snapped. Each strand holding your frail soul together broke beneath his touch. It poured out of you, cunt sucking him in deep enough to drive him towards an end you felt despite your fogged mind.

Burying his face into your neck he choked on a sob, fingers a hard indent on your skin as he filled you with all he had. Everything he was seeped into your skin. The time you spent apart seemed insignificant in the throes of bliss. His body atop yours and lips a permanent caress along your skin. He stole all you were, fucking it back into you with a reverence that broke the resolve you’d spent so long building.

With a shaky breath his head pressed into your breast, your fingers still twined into his now mussed curls. He mouthed at your skin, tongue curling over a peaked nipple. A soft touch of the love that still hung in the air—a cloud neither of you wanted to dissipate.

You loved him.

You might always love him.

Even if you broke one another without meaning to.

“Clark,” you started, voice thick with the unshed tears you swallowed.

His muscles stiffened, mouth pulling away with a soft pop. “Don’t say anything yet.”

“We have to talk about…what you said.”

Blue oceans, crystal skies, they collided into your gaze when his eyes met yours. A swirl of all you were afraid to admit painted with brushstrokes you didn’t remember making. But he’d done it all on his own. He formed this picture of your love, piece by piece, until nothing but the full picture remained. A mirrored image you were too terrified to see pour from his blatant expression.

He looked at you like you were the only source of sunlight in a planet burdened by darkness.

The first taste of sweetness after centuries of bitter emptiness.

Something was clear in his face, a look you’d never seen before. And you fought against it—pulled away even as you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I’m not letting you go.

Subtle at first, but now a scream into the chasm that gaped between you two. No matter how long it took, how many years the two of you spent falling back into his bed, he’d have you again. His forever wrapped in white sheets and moonlit rooms. There was no running from it anymore, and you found…you didn’t want to.

“Tell me,” he breathed against your lips, his cock twitching inside you. “That you don’t love me anymore.”

“What-”

“Tell me that and this ends tonight. Permanently.”

What little breath you had was sucked from your lungs, your eyes wide and mouth agape as you struggled to put a final note on this endless symphony. He knew. You could see it in his eyes. How they drowned in your affection, no matter how little it was at this moment.

You would love him until nothing but sea and sky remained. Till the very existence of humanity was nothing but faint memories scattered on a planet begging for death.

“Clark you know I…”

His lips twitched, thumb brushing a path along your cheek. “I meant everything I said sweetheart. I’ll do everything in my power to make up what we lost. I want you to stay. Let me fix this.”

“And if that takes too long?”

“You’re worth the wait,” he replied. As if it were the easiest answer in the world.

You gasped when he slipped out, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hip before getting up from the bed. And you stayed, gaze fixed onto his retreating form. He dug through his drawers and came away with a t-shirt you could practically feel before it touched your skin. Ratty and old and a hole in the side. But your favorite of his.

“The Ramones,” you muttered, letting him slide it over your head. “You remember the little things. That’s what gets me.”

“I could never forget anything about you.” He smiled, dimples formed along cheeks you reached out to cup.

With a kiss to your wrist, he let you pull him back into the safety of rumpled covers and pillows that still held your scent. And in a flash you saw the future he dreamt of. Early mornings, late nights, coffee over newspapers and news articles. A walk to work and a chaste kiss to your lips as he rushed off to save the world once again. Days spent welcoming him home, months of memories and time you would trade anything to keep close.

You felt it settle into your bones. Where it was always meant to be. And with a sigh, you let it melt you beneath his touch. The echo of his words sewing up what pieces he never meant to break. His love healing you with ease.

“Okay,” you whispered, catching him off guard. “I’ll stay.”

#clark kent x reader #fanfic #nsfw

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