shellshocklove - Tumblr blog

shellshocklove · 4 days ago

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*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.”

#read

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shellshocklove · 4 days ago

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thank you for including me!! <3

Do you have any Bucky or Logan recs?

okay, i might've gone a bit overboard with the amount of stuff i pulled from my archives, but i figured it's never a bad thing to share your favorite works and authors. so here we go!

fluff - ❀ | angst - 🌦 | smut - 𖦹

⋆⭒˚.⋆ bucky barnes

untitled/headcanons | @angclone | ❀

to love and lie | @orellazalonia | ❀🌦

In 1940s Brooklyn, you're a devoted housewife blissfully unaware that your charming husband, Bucky Barnes, is secretly the head of HYDRA. As small cracks begin to show and your curiosity grows, Bucky works to gently steer you away from the truth while your friends Steve and Peggy, who know everything, say nothing.

red is the color of want | @danysdaughter | 🌦𖦹

in a crumbling safehouse far from the fights you both escaped, you—a former black widow—unravel the man beneath the metal as the winter soldier comes undone in your arms. but when a page of trigger words drags bucky back into the shadows of who he used to be, the only thing more dangerous than his programming… is how much he needs you.

i think i love you | @danysdaughter | ❀🌦𖦹

You agreed to keep it casual—just sex, no feelings. But when loving Bucky in silence begins to break you, walking away is the only thing you can do… even if it destroys you both.

cradles and chaos | @buckysleftbicep | ❀

you wanted to surprise bucky with the news—you’re pregnant. the only problem? everyone else on the team found out first. cue the chaos.

bambi | @barnesonly | ❀

yours and bucky’s toddler daughter visits avengers tower for the first time and immediately becomes everyone’s favorite. alexei is obsessed. yelena is chaotic aunt. bob is shy. bucky comes back from a mission and goes full soft dad mode. chaos and fluff ensue!!

elevator, baby! | @aquaticmercy | ❀🌦𖦹

The team thinks Bucky has a crush on the tower’s interior designer. They don’t know that they’re already married.

jackass | @aquaticmercy | ❀

Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why.

untitled | @opheliabbarnes | 𖦹

headcanons | @themareverine | ❀

aftershock | @cheekybarnes | ❀

A drive far from the Tower leads to a moment that feels like the first step toward the life you and Bucky have both fought for.

untitled | @heldbybarnes | ❀𖦹

they’re like abt to do it but then the reader’s like “actually i’m not in the mood” and bucky complies and he’s a gentleman abt it and they should do whatever she’s comfortable with and the reader did not expect him to actually be like that and the thought that he’s willing to put the reader’s comfort despite his raging hard on got her so turned on that she’s like “actually no, that was so hot let’s do it”

⋆⭒˚.⋆ logan howlett

let me go | @sniktbaby | 🌦𖦹

you are in love with logan, and will do anything to make him feel better as he grieves the death of jean grey.

i miss you, i'm sorry | @kvntonq | 🌦

Logan finds himself haunted by the memory of the one person he walked away from—but never stopped loving.

untitled/headcanons | @rosenclaws | ❀𖦹

sundresses | @lostinlovingrevery | 𖦹

pretty girl | @lolainrainbowz | 𖦹

between these walls | @bpmiranda | 🌦𖦹

baking for trilogy logan | @sacredsorceress | ❀

sanctuary | @pandapetals | 🌦

Logan and Wade are sent by Stryker to find a journalist who has been digging around trying to expose Team X. Logan isn't prepared when he meets an intriguing neighbor causing him to question himself and the mission.

untitled | @logans-whore | ❀

I can't stop thinking of Logan. With a reader who has no/very little experience with dating

untitled | @robo-writing | ❀𖦹

The only two ways to write worst!logan in a relationship is violent beastial feral man or whining attention starved guard dog, there is no in between.

the suit(s) stay on | @eupheme | ❀𖦹

It’s torture, how good they look. How your eyes can’t help but wander at the holiday fundraiser - admiring the tight cling of their suits. Unable to help the itch in your fingers - all too eager to reach out and touch. (or - you can’t wait to get your boyfriends home.)

over each other | @selfcarecap | ❀🌦𖦹

Logan and you are just friends – you have a boyfriend, after all. But sometimes when you and your boyfriend are arguing, Logan listens and jerks off to it. He knows you two will break up soon, and he’s just finding ways to patiently pass the time until you can be his. Until one night, you’ve fought your final argument with your boyfriend and are in need of some comfort that Logan is more than happy to provide.

snapshot | @shellshocklove | 𖦹

short on money for rent, your joke about starting an only fans account, to earn some extra cash, goes over logan's head. but when an accident with charles puts your life in danger, logan takes you up on your offer.

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