#dark!clark kent

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You nurse your glass of wine. You're not much of a drinker, you mostly brought it for Melanie. Despite her agitation, she seems to be enjoying it. She snuggles up to Clark as you sit awkwardly at the other end of the couch.

You really shouldn't be here. The longer you sit in silence and pretend to care about the movie, the more you think of leaving. You definitely crashed their party and they're not being very subtle.

You reach for a handful of popcorn to busy yourself. The crunch blocks out Melanie's shameless whispers. She doesn't get much back but she doesn't give up. You can't find an exit plan that isn't completely obvious.

Finally, she quiets down upon getting a grunt from Clark. She nestles against him and rests her head on his shoulder as he drapes an arm over her. You can't help the pang of loneliness. You're not jealous, it's just been a while since you had someone to snuggle aside from your stuffed hippo.

You sit back as you swallow down the last of the kernels with a swig of wine. You put the wine glass on the glass coaster Melanie kept reminding you of. As the evening sets in, the room is only lit with the glow of the television. The haze of colours and alcohol itches on your eyelids.

You yawn and plant your elbow on the armrest, leaning into it as you tilt your head. Your lashes close, only for a moment before you twitch. You feel a tickle on your hip. You lift your head slightly and peer down from the corner of your vision.

Is he... touching you? Maybe it's a mistake or he doesn't realise he's doing it. You freeze, mortified. You should clear your throat or move or something...

You can't. His fingertips brush down your thigh and back up it, lingering just along the curve of your ass. You reach for your wine and he rescinds his hand, curling his arm around Melanie as she gives a delighted moan.

What was that? You're overthinking this. He probably thought it was her. Somehow. You're not sure. He's a nice guy, a stranger still, he wouldn't just touch you.

You drain the last of your wine and stand up, "just gonna pop into the bathroom."

"Whatever," Melanie dismisses as she rubs Clark's chest. 

You don't look at him but you swear you can feel his gaze on you. You circle around the back of the couch and find your way to the bathroom. You close yourself in and shake the jitters from your nerves.

You're tired and you don't know if it even happened. You've been drinking and maybe just maybe you're a little tipsy. Well, at least the movie is almost done. You can try to catch the last bus or turn in for the night if Melanie lets you have the couch.

You get yourself together and go back out. As you near the couch, Melanie and Clark quickly part, their sloppy kiss ending in a pop. You try not to give away your discomfort and resume your seat, pressing yourself against the armrest as small as you can.

"I'm getting tired, sweetie," Melanie whines.

"The movie's not done," his voice is rocky and low.

"I've seen it," she pouts.

"Well, I haven't. If you want to lay down, I'll be in when it's over," he says coolly but not unkindly.

"You can finish it tomorrow," she simpers.

"Hon, you got a friend here," he reminds her, "don't be rude."

He looks at you and sends you a smile you barely glimpse as you shy away.

"I never even invited her," she hisses under her breath.

"Go to bed, Mel," he retorts, his timbre steady, "you've had too much wine."

"I haven't had enough," she snarls.

"Honey," he softens his tone, "remember what we talked about."

She's quiet as she stares at him. You can only see the back of her head. She sniffs and leans in to kiss his cheek, "sure, sweetie, I'll be in bed..." she stands, tickling his jawline, "waiting for you.”

You give a sheepish ‘good night’ but she doesn't answer, or even look your way. You dip your chin down, embarrassed by her indifference and turn your focus back to the television. Well, not much longer and you can hide in the dark and wait for morning.

Clark bends forward to take the bowl of popcorn off the table. He sits back and offers you some as he sidles a bit closer. You shake your hand and murmur, “no thanks.” All the salt and butter is already curdling in your tummy.

He shoves a few kernels in his mouth and chews as he watches the screen. You don't enjoy it as much now. Your nostalgia sears away as the tension rises between you and him. The kiss that should be a resolution is suddenly awkward and cringe worthy.

“So,” he swallows, “how long have you known Melanie?”

His voice is like thunder in the lull. You rub your arm, his shadow lurking at the edge of your eye line as you keep your head straight. You clear your throat, “for a while… since high school.”

“Oh, wow, she never mentioned you,” he says, “what's that like ten years or something.”

“About that,” you answer. 

“I mean, don't know why it wouldn't have come up. A friend who brings snacks? That's the best kind,” he puts the popcorn down and grabs one of the coloured napkins to wipe his fingertips.

“Um, I stayed… back in our hometown. Went to school in the next city but lived at home so… just moved here to see what it's really like,” you shrug.

“Oh, just got here? How are you liking it?”

“It's… blurry,” you chuckle nervously. Didn't he want to see the end? He's talking over the whole thing.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he stretches his arm across the back of the couch as he reclines. He sets his knees wide as his hand rests just behind your head. “I grew up on a farm. When I got here, I was so lost.”

“A farm?”

“Oh, yeah, big wake up call, but there's not much fodder for journalism in a field,” he snorts.

“Right, you're a journalist?”

“Sure am, with The Daily Planet. Little magazine you may have heard of.”

You blanch and nearly slap yourself, “Daily Planet? Clark… Kent?”

“Ha, so you've heard of me.”

“Yeah, uh, I…” you pause. He's older than you expected but you're not surprised. Melanie always had a type. “I wrote a review of your work in my undergrad.”

“You did?” He sounds amused as he leans a bit closer.

“Sure, well, we had to choose a contemporary writer…”

“I'm flattered. You did journalism?”

“Not exactly, it was just one class,” you wilt into the armrest.

“So what do you do?”

“Well, not what I studied,” you sigh, “I work a desk job. Data analysis.”

“Riveting stuff,” he kids and nudges you playfully when you don't laugh. “You know, Mel never mentioned she grew up in a small town. She always just seemed like she was from around here.”

“Uh, yeah, well, she hated the place so…” you scratch your chin as the hest crawls up your face. “How long have you and her, er, been dating?”

“Well, three months officially. Before were were just ‘having fun’,”he brings his hands up to curl his fingers in quotation, “that's what she called it anyway.”

“Oh, well uh, she seems to really like you,” you utter dumbly.

“Yeah, I think so,” his smirk is laced in his tone.

The room goes completely quiet and suddenly the drum track begins. You watch the credits roll as Clark faces the television. He laughs, “oops, guess I wasn't paying attention.”

He drags his arm from the back of the couch as he stands, his hand grazing your shoulder. He stretches and you notice the hem of his shirt lift, a peek of his muscled stomach above the elastic of his sweatpants. You quickly dart your eyes in the other direction. 

“I should… go check on her, but can I get you anything? Water? Help dilute the wine?” He offers.

“Er, well, no, I can get some myself. I’d hate to infringe–”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask if it was a problem,” he says.

“Really, it’s fine, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

He nods and glances towards the hall, “you know, it didn’t bother me having you here. I’m sorry about her.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know she forgot. She’s done it to me too. Before we were… official,” he says the last word with punctuated syllables.

“Oh, I’m sorry–”

“See, it’s not that hard to apologise so, I’ll make sure she does,” he interjects, “and I’ll let you settle down. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Coming all the way here after work. You really went out of your way and I had a great night. Thanks.”

“Er, yeah, sure,” you murmur, “thanks for… joining in.”

He reluctantly leaves you as you watch him with bated breath. You’re so frigging awkward. You wait until you hear the bedroom door shut before you get up, taking the wine glass with you.

You go to the kitchen and rinse out the glass, refilling it with fresh water. You bring it back to the living room and move a pillow against the armrest, pulling down the fluffy throw onto the cushions. You shut off the television and tuck yourself in, the blanket too short, even for you.

What a lame Friday night. You could’ve had more fun alone.

🌆

It takes a bit for you to even feel tired. Your body is achy and sore but your mind is racing. Finally, you manage to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. You roll over to face the back of the couch and nestle into the pillow. You yawn as you feel yourself drifting.

A high pitch leaks into your ears. You twitch and your lashes flutter. It’s just the pipes or a siren somewhere in the distance. The city sure is loud. You hear it again, something more akin to a squeak.

You shift onto your back as your stomach tingles. You cover your face with your arm and try to ignore the irritating sound but it just doesn’t stop. Your eyes snap open as you rip your arm off your head, realising what it is.

The soft low growls in return, the steady tap against the wall… it’s not the pipes or a siren. It’s Melanie. And Clark. They’re… 

You flip the pillow over your head and bend your arm around it, blocking out the noise. Just when you think you can’t get any lower. You’ve been there before. The third wheel, the wing woman. High school was just you standing against the wall as Melanie made out with boys at a party you weren’t even invited to.

Maybe things haven’t changed that much. Maybe it’s that you didn’t see what was right in front of you. The one friend you thought you had, forgets you just like everyone else. This whole thing was a mistake. Moving to the city just so you can be her tag-along.

You wallow in your self-pity and sink down into your unconscious. The world slips away from you as your dreams ripples with muddy colours. You feel as if you're floating, bobbing on soft waves, disoriented and dazed.

You wake to the clink of glass. You groan as your head aches, the cushions stiff and unforgiving. Your neck is knotted just above your shoulders. You rub your cheek and stay as you are, still under the pillow as you get your bearings. You remember where you are and cling to the dregs of sleep in your eye.

Cool air tinges your skin, your leg hooked over the blanket. You hug the crumpled throw as the night seeps icily though your pajamas. The thin short set speckled in the little red hearts offer little warmth. You reach back to pull the shorts to your thigh as it rides up and tilt onto your back.

As you do, you sense a shadow over you. You peek under the slits of your eyelids and see a figure standing just a few feet from the other end of the couch. Long breaths blow into the air. It’s too large to be Melanie. It’s him. Is he watching you?

You can’t move. You’re paralysed in horror. Why is he just standing there? Goosebumps raise on your skin. You feel a whisper against your hip where he touched you earlier. It just can’t be that. He’s too nice.

You don’t know what to do so you close your eyes and lay completely still. You measure your breath as you wait. There’s a soft thunk as he sets down a glass on the table by the armrest and walks up the side of the couch.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move…

He tugs on the throw and spreads it over you as best he can. His fingers drag up your arm and he lingers, stroking your cheek as you resist the urge to pull away. He lets out a low growl and lumbers away, swiping up his glass as he goes.

You let your eyes open and catch a glimpse of his silhouette. His back is bare and thickly corded. The moonlight limns his muscles just before he disappears into the hall. You shudder as you release the heavy breath from your chest.

The bedroom door snaps shut as you clutch the blanket tight. It starts again. Melanie’s moans, Clark’s grunts, and the knocking of the bed frame. Quicker than before, almost furious. You just want this night to end.

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

To be alone with you Masterlist

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (Clark Kent)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Hallows' Eve

Written: Oct 2 2020

Pairing: dark!Bucky Barnes, dark!Steve Rogers, dark!Clark Kent x Black Female Reader

You expected a nice night on the eve of Halloween with your boyfriend, Bucky.

A/N: Ahh shoutout to my bff @titty-teetee for indulging me with this idea lol. I love ya >:D

October 30th, middle of somewhere, Texas.

Well, there was a house-- rickety as it was, the home stood in a clump of mesquite trees, accented with tufts of Johnsongrass, springing up through the cracks of the stone walkway and leaning against the stairs to the front porch. It had never looked darker than this night had. But even so, the jagged wood roof  rose high to a second story, long windows looked like eyes with the small front door for a mouth. A steady breeze moved through the trees, shaking and whishing the long thin branches, slicing through the air. The whispering of nature speaks to you, like God to man, invoking what has been and what was to come. An unexpected thin place perhaps, the house, having not been filled for quite some time looked like it could have been haunted. Maybe a part of you wished it was. Like the walls and foundation had the ability to make up its own people within, or remembered who once lived there. 

Bucky’s fingers nudged your lower back as you walked alongside him. The duffle bags zipper clinked against the fabric and you were suddenly aware of how quiet it was out here. The crisp autumn air, slowly contorted to that spikey chill of early winter lingered on your skin. So you walked closer to him for some quick warmth. 

“They should be--” said Bucky, lights glowed up from the dirt road. The paleness glowed over both you and Bucky, the house, the dormant land. “There they are.” he said pausing for a moment and then continued once again.

“You had to pick the spookiest spot huh?” you said under your breath. 

He shrugged as he stomped up the stairs. “I was here yesterday, I got it ready. It’s a perfect spot for a quick get away.”

“But did you have to invite company? I was looking forward to it just being you and me.”

Bucky rummaged for the keys in his pocket as a couple of car doors slammed behind you. 

“‘Come on babe, Steve doesn’t have anywhere to go really.”

“I’ll start the fire!” shouted Steve. 

You didn’t turn around, your eyes stayed on the shadows of Bucky’s face where his eyes should have been. 

“Okay, I get that. But what about the other guy? What did you say his name was? How do you know him?”

Bucky jabbed the key with the lock, he chuckled a bit before answering. “Clark Kent, his name is Clark.”

“So you’re picking up strays now?” 

“Get to know him, you’ll like him. He's a great guy, hardly a stray...”

You followed Bucky into the house slowly, he flicked on the switch flooding the living room with light. Okay, you thought, doesn’t look so bad. At least the furnishing appeared to be from within the last ten years, the walls looked newish, with sharp borders, and reasonably decorated. 

“Besides, I picked you up, remember?”

You dropped your bag flat on the ground. “Hey, now. Are you trying not to get lucky while we stay here?”

Bucky continued into the house with the grocery bags. “I’ll get lucky regardless.” he cut his eyes over his shoulder back toward you. It sent another chill, this time up your inner thighs. He wasn’t lying.

“Oh god, not that stupid-”

Bucky ducked in close, the flimsy plastic mask buckled under the pressure of nuzzling your neck. You gazed into the bathroom mirror at Bucky who’s rubber Michael Myers mask was staring lifelessly back.

“I know you wanted to try something different….but….”

His hands kneaded your sides, higher he climbed over your sweater to your breasts.

“You look ridiculous…”

One hand left your nipple and began tugging at the top of your leggings.

“Shh…” he tried to stifle a laugh. “..just go with it..”

And you did, by leaning your head back against the blue denim jacket as his fingers wondered underneath your underwear.

“..let daddy have a feel.” his breathy question muffled through the mask. Slowly he began to circle your clit, mouth hanging open your hand held the top of his black gloved hand and pushed him to press harder.

“Look at yourself...how needy you get.” he whispered.

You try to peer beyond the mask, the slits for eyes but there was nothing. Only darkness met you there. Bucky brought up his hand, held it in front of the mirror and you. He split his fingers, thick wetness strung between them like webs.

“Bend over-- hold on to the sink.” he ordered, with his hands disappearing behind you. The sound of his clothes ruffling you stared back at the mirror.

Bucky stepped forward, knocking your ankles apart with his shiny black boots and yanked your pants, underwear down and gently, he tipped into you. His long length traveled against your folds sinking further inside.

Ghostly scenes are made from the smoke casting up from the flickering fire being fed from lava colored coals. The metal chair underneath you feels cool on your bottom, because even though you are sitting on a blanket the cold night air hangs around you. 

Steve was ending his story. Though hardly a spooky tale, it didn’t have to be, for his tales were based on true events. Speaking of blood and gore the morbid tone grew in his voice and brought a shadow of delight in his eyes. You carefully watched him, observed his hunched over shoulders, his eyes turned to yours sometimes while he spoke but mostly stayed on the fire. 

You chugged from the bottle of hard cider as Bucky ate, that stupid mask was pulled up over his brows. But Clark Kent, this stranger, sat nearly directly opposite. You moved your eyes to him ever so often while Steve told his story. One of the two thought about food on the way here, chicken, you guessed was their craving. Clark leaned back, his black jacket bunched at his waist as he rose a hand to his mouth. The crunch of the crust of fried meat did not break Steve’s momentum. 

When he finished, Bucky nodded to the accuracy of the amount of soldiers, to why the only man left was brave and courageous. Clark’s eyes met yours over the flames, his skin pale, the wavy dark curls framed his face. He smiled at you as he chewed. You noticed it then, unsure why you wouldn’t have before, he held the grey cooked bone between his fingers and stuck the end in his mouth. You blinked, maybe you were seeing things -- this was your sixth cider for the night.

“Are you eating the bones?” you asked.

Clark continued to gnaw on it till it broke off in his mouth. “Waste not want not,” he said through a mouthful.

He continued to stare back at you and at the same time a chill coursed its way down your spine. Shivering in the gentle breeze the urge to go to the bathroom shot through you. 

“I’ll be right back,” and excused yourself from the fire.

Had to be a bit past ten p.m., though this was supposed to be a pleasant fall break, it didn’t truly feel that way. Not with two extra guests. You tried to not feel so desperate to be alone with Bucky. You finished washing your hands and opened the bathroom door. In the dark, lit up by the light of the bathroom a figure stood. You jumped so hard, grasping at your sweater, bent over grabbing your waist, the boogeyman mask simply stared back at you without moving.

“Bucky I swear to -- why would you? -- take that stupid thing off-” and you reached for the mask but his hand grabbed your wrist. Slowly he walked over the threshold, leaned over and flicked off the light. 

“Oh no!” you feigned a plea. “Seriously..--help..help.” you giggled through another.

The door slammed behind him trapping the dark inside. He pulled you close at first, residing to his strength, you let him touch, grab, pluck at your body. Backing you back up against the sink the rubber mask pushed against your neck, smiling in the dark you could hear him attempting to kiss you there. 

His hands ran around the waist of your leggings, one big hand gripped and caressed your ass, slipped toward your split and rubbed your asshole. You jumped again, this time wrapping your arms around his neck. Different, he had never done such a thing before, but you went with it. 

His finger crawled passed it, his other hand pushed down the front of your legging and circled your clit. 

“..help...a big bad man...help..” you chuckled under a moan. 

He jerked you away suddenly, pulled down your leggings and underwear, with a hand on your shoulder he forced you to bend over. The room filled with the sound of a smack to your back side. 

“Bucky!” 

The stinging lingered but white hot pain replaced it with another hit from his gloved hand. 

“Okay!” you rushed out. Maybe he was just being kinky, perhaps your pretending might have put him out of the mood. 

He hit you again making you grip the lip of the sink harder. “I’m sorry daddy..” you hissed.

He was back behind you again, his whole body pressed against you, scratching at the skin of your ass he plunged two thick fingers into your entrance.  Heavy breathing billowed from under the mask, hot air pooled over your shoulder and around the back of your neck. The weight of him bent you forward. He pulled out his fingers from within you and began to prod with something warmer, and far thicker at your slit as his other hand tangled with your fingers on the sink. 

And he pushed in, “..damn!” you moaned.

Jerky, irregular thrusts stretched you more than what you remembered. “Bucky!” you gasped, hoping he would slow the pace. But the other hand grabbed for your throat, squeezed tight and pumped you harder. 

“Daddy, please..” you half begged, half needingly whimpered. 

That changed his stroke, and soon the ache descended into bliss. 

“Fuck...daddy…”

His hand on yours returned to your clit, pushing hard and swiping steadily, your knees nearly buckled. Thicker for sure, veiny too, you thought, god what the loss of one sensory can do on a drunk mind. Your body bucked back against him as you rode out the orgasm. He squeezed harder, hissing and groaning under the mask you could nearly imagine him as someone else. And when he stilled inside of you, even his hiccups of pleasure could be thought of another. You shook the fantasy away as he stepped back. 

Before you could even turn around, the door opened, your eyes shot to his brown boots and then up to his back. And he left you there.

You stuffed pieces of a premade popcorn ball into your mouth. Bucky sat there weaving a tale of spirits walking through walls, of ancient gods embedded into objects best left to rest where they laid. Still buzzing hard you stayed captivated by his tone. It was something about the secretive way his voice projected that kept you staring at him, wondering if it could be true, but knew it mustn’t. 

It was still cool out, the shabby blanket thrown over your sore legs did little to keep the wind out. But it made for a good catcher, which is what you were doing toward the end of his story. Picking up pieces of fallen popcorn, and pizza flavored chip crumbs somehow made it to your mouth despite the only source of light was a waning fire.

“So if you ever hear your name called..don’t ever answer back, unless you can see it’s a actually living person.” Bucky finished and glanced over at you proudly.

“I hate that story.” you slurred your words a bit and shook out the blanket on your lap. “I hope you’re happy, you have to walk me everywhere until we return home.”

You picked up the last bottle off the ground and drank the last bit. The clash of flavors swirled on your tongue leaving a bitter after taste.

“Babe do you have any gum?”

“There’s a pack in the middle console--” Steve spoke up. “Back there in the truck..” he said hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes over in Steve’s direction. A smug grin, and a wrinkle on the side of one eye simply gazed back at you. 

“You’re fine,” he said finally. “You’ve got us here...nothings gunna get you.” he reminded smoothly.

And the moment was quiet, poised on the end of the gentle breeze blowing through the heat of the fire. The rustle of sleeping honeysuckle vines, somewhere near the old rotted out shack Steve’s truck sat was the only identifiable sound for a few seconds. 

“Fine.” you huffed and stood up to get that gum.

You walked down the dirt path the short way from the front of the house where Bucky, Steve and Clark sat. The tin roofing of the old shed rocked, and slapped against itself the closer you got. And of course Steve parked on the other side, out of the sight of the house and fire. But you walked quickly, or rather, as fast as two aching legs could in the cool weather. 

The knocking sound only got heavier, louder as you squinted in the dark toward the blackest corner of the area. Steve’s truck was within a few footsteps and you batted away any imaginings of spooky phantoms. You slipped passed the door, your hand flipped up the middle console and snagged up the pack of gum before slamming the door back. And when you turned around, just off from where you had previously walked was a figure. The white, deathly pale mask was the only part you could really see.

“Fuck!” you shouted, dropping the pack of gum. “Bucky!” you hissed and reached back down to retrieve it. 

The yellow fire light was at his back when he moved forward toward you. 

“Okay...no more mask!”

You stuffed the gum under your arms and went to yank at the mask. But he caught your arm and squeezed down like a vice grip. “Hey--easy there..” you said quietly. 

He pulled you toward the shed, but just outside of it, along the rotten wall of it a few old deep freezers were lined up against it collecting weeds, and dust. 

“Oh no, Bucky..those look super dirty..” you tried to jerk your arm away but he only pulled you harder. “...Really? You’re this committed to fucking in that mask?”

This time your hand grabbed enough of the back of the mask to rip it fully up over his head. At that same moment you were jerked forward between the rusty freezer and him. Your eyes now bulging and fighting for light to correct what you were seeing in the dark stared up at him. You blinked several times once more before you realized the angular features did not belong to Bucky. Thick curly hair, messy all over haloed around his face, and of course, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t noticed before, he was taller. It was Clark.

You made to quickly move away from him but he snapped you back, “Get off me!” Your voice shook, and so did your body. 

“Bucky’s right over there...all I have to do is scr--”

The air whipped out of your lungs so fast as Clark slammed his palm over your mouth and rushed your back down on to the freezer. 

“I’ve been waiting all night for this..” he whispered.

No amount of squirming could equal the might Clark welding against your struggling. It was like a man made of iron held you down, even when his other hand disappeared between your legs, the tearing of your legging, your underwear did not loosen his hold. And then the unfolding of his clothes paired with the gentle brushing of the vines against wood near your head sent you into hysterical kicking. Your legs on either side of him squeezed, and jerked to no avail. 

“-don’t act so innocent. You’ve already fucked two different men tonight.”

You stopped kicking, eyes wide above his hand you glowered at him through the dark. “You won’t mind..will you?”

Shaking your head you held your breath. The thick end of his cock began to push past your folds. 

“Slut.” 

He lowered his forehead on to yours, what you imagined was him staring back down at you but could see only the tip of his nose. A shuddering breath pulled through your nose as he sank further to his balls. “You’re wet from it still…”

He started snapping into you, hard and fast, slapping his lust into your unwilling cunt. Clark’s hand slipped to your chin, his lips hovering above yours. 

“Are you going to call me daddy too?” he asked, with his breath steadily huffing into your mouth. “..Say it for me baby..” 

“Let me hear that little desperate voice..” He kissed you, slipping his tongue along the inside of your lower lip and then against your face as you turned your head. “Come on..” And then he started jabbing, a feral thumping into you. Sharp pains up your thighs shot further into your core. You denied him and he lowered his head to your neck. He sucked on your skin, flicked his tongue around and inside your ear. “Say it,” he whispered. 

You whimpered in response as his teeth began to snag on the wet skin of your neck. He sucked hard, drawing out needle points of pain. 

You pray to god Bucky could hear this, you’ve been gone too long certainly either Steve or him could. Clark kept nibbling, and groaning in between thrusts. When you refused once again he shoved his palm back over your mouth, the other brought your wrist up and twisted it into a bone breaking angle. 

He stopped moving inside of you as his deep voice raked over clenched teeth, “What was that?” he asked. The warm palm slid down to your chin. 

“..daddy.” you shivered out.

You could hear the satisfied smile in his voice. “Good..girl.” he whispered. 

“That wasn’t so hard to say was it babe?”

The sound of Bucky’s voice from the darkest, most grown up side of the shed sent your eyes reeling in the dark. Clark put his hand back over your mouth and kept going. 

Bucky stood at the edge of the freezer, in the dark the features of his face were smudged. A gentle hand caressed the top of your forehead. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let Clark finish.”

At Bucky’s words, Clark released your mouth, he rose up and held your upper arms down as he continued to fuck you roughly. Your eyes stayed on Bucky’s silhouette, high pitch whimpering up at him did not go unheard. 

Bucky cupped your chin and head. “Shush,” he hushed down your sobbing face. 

Another pair of hands tore at the front of your sweater. To his right, another figure stepped to your side. The figures loomed over you while your breasts chilled, and peaked in the cool night air. A deft hot hand kneaded and groped at the nearest one. 

“You told us she was good….” Steve pinched your nipple hard. “She’s fucking outstanding.”

Bucky leaned over you, he grabbed for your thigh but you kicked away. Clark relinquished some leverage to pull your thigh up so Bucky could hold your ankle. “Yeah, get in there good.” Bucky’s voice rose above your strangled cries. Steve got your other leg, held it folded it in high and tight, that allowed Clark to pound you deeper. 

He grinded his hips into yours burning his stiff cock into your core. His grip tightened around your arms pinning you for good below him. “Where am I going to empty my balls?” Clark demanded on a puff of air. 

Tears slid down the corners of your eyes. They rolled from the darken outlines of Bucky above you to Steve at his side and then back to the man between your legs. 

“..in me.” you sniffled out. 

“And who are we--” Bucky asked softly. 

You didn’t bother to look in the direction of his voice, Clark’s head threw back, a deep moan started in his chest as his hips kept pumping. “Say it baby..” Clark whispered.

“..daddy.” you whimpered.

[holylulusworld]

Papillon - Prologue

Summary: You’re more than the new maid.

Pairing: Mobster!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, roughness, language, hand around throat, violence, blood, unwanted kissing, threats, darkish Clark, mafia AU

Papillon Masterlist

Everything went according to plan. You got the position at his household. Bugged the whole place. You even managed to sneak into his office to hide a camera.

Everything went according to plan until the house of cards you built on uncertain ground collapsed.

One lapse. A simple mistake.

Your boss told you to watch your every step. Never let your mask slip. Obey. Clean the rooms. Listen to every snippet of conversation you hear.

He told you to not interfere with anything going on at Clark Kent’s household. Never.

Duck your head. Get the information you need to bring his organization down. Don’t make mistakes.

Easier said than done.

All the other employees seem to be used to watching Clark’s men beat a man to death.

You aren’t.

For four months you were invisible to Clark Kent. The man most people, even cops fear. For four months you did a great job.

You made him believe you are a shy mouse, never even looking his way. Just how he likes his employees. Scared and discreet.

Not a look in his direction. Not a word said.

Until tonight.

Damn, his right-hand man. He wanted you to clean Clark’s office while said man is around. Including the men beating someone into submission.

One of your colleagues. Or rather an officer crossing Clark’s path this morning.

The man minded his business and only tried to do his job. He made the mistake of stopping Clark’s car because the feared mobster drove too fast.

“This is my town,” Clark taunts as the poor officer shrinks even further into the seat. “You don’t stop Clark Kent on his way to a business meeting. Everyone knows the rules in this town. Because I run this fucking town.”

Clark nods at one of his men, smirking as you try not to watch one of them hit the officer square in the jaw. Blood splatters all over the freshly cleaned floor, and a tooth lands right next to your foot.

You don’t look up or try to help the officer. Clark won’t kill him in front of witnesses. And he won’t let him disappear. Too many people saw his men drag the officer inside his home.

No. He will only make sure that the rookie knows the rules after he’s done with him.

You try to blend the noises the officer makes out. Ignore the blood. Ignore his screams. You can’t blow your cover for some rookie. If you do, you are both dead.

He’ll live and learn his lesson the hard way.

“Break two fingers,” Clark orders. Your eyes flit up for the first time since you worked at his house. Mistake. His stormy blue ones meet yours, and you know, he saw right through you.

“Stop.” Your heart starts racing when Clark lifts his hand to stop his men. “Bring him home. Make sure he gets medical help. I think he learned his lesson.”

“You sure, boss?” Jimmy asks. “We barely touched him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Clark holds your gaze. He smirks, dismissing his men as he won’t look away. “Leave me alone.”

“What about the maid?”

“She can clean the mess you made, right?” Now you swallow thickly. Clark took two steps toward you, dwarfing you with his sheer presence. ��Get out!”

“Okay.” Jimmy and one of the other men help the officer out of his seat. They walk out of the room, leaving you with the big bad wolf.

“So,” he dips his head as you grip the mop a little tighter. Your fight-or-flight instinct kicks in. Can you make it to the door? But what good will it do if you reach the door? You still have to outrun all of his men.

Men with guns.

“I’ll clean the mess up, Sir,” you hastily say. Maybe. Just maybe he didn’t see the disgust and judgment in your eyes.

“Drop the act, papillon,” he dips his head to look you up and down. “I knew something was off with you. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Now I know.” You gasp when his large palm wraps around your throat.

Clark slams your body against the shelf at his office, making you cry out in pain. The air gets punched out of your lungs at the force and you struggle to breathe. “You are not a maid, aren’t you.”

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about, Sir. I came here to clean the house. Jimmy wanted me to clean the office today.”

“Hmmm…” he leans closer, nose brushing over your cheek. Clark can feel your pulse racing. “Why are you so scared then?”

“Y-ou hurt a man and there was blood. I-I’m just a little dizzy. I can’t see blood…I’m sorry,” you try your best to present a believable lie. “Please, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh, papillon,” he purrs in your ear. “Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t find out that you are a sneaky little rat? You bugged my place and that little camera you tried to hide. Masterfully.”

Clark laughs in your face. You failed. Epically. This is the end. He will kill you now, and no one will ever find your tormented body.

“I…” what can you reply? There is nothing you can do but accept fate.

“Do you know what gave you away?” He roughly grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “You’ll learn that I want you to answer me if I ask you a question. So, do you know what gave you away?”

You shake your head.

“Use your voice.” He warns.

“No.”

“Your eyes,” he grips your chin a little tighter. “The way you looked at me,” Clark smirks darkly. “You looked like you were about to attack me.”

His lips press against yours, claiming them as his property without asking.

“They know I’m here,” you try. “They will come for me.”

“No, they won’t papillon,” he nips at your lips. “They sent you to me to get rid of you. I knew from you the moment you applied for the job. I asked for a proof of trust. And they gave me you.”

“I don’t understand,” you press your hand weakly against his firm chest. Clark is like a brick wall pressing you against the shelf behind you.

“I wanted something nice this time. Something I can break,” he nuzzles your cheek. “I'll give you a choice.”

“Choice?” you hiccup. There is no way out. No one will come to your aid. You drop your eyes and whimper. “What choice?”

He drops his hand from your face and steps away, admiring your scared form.

“You can either tell them to get you, and save you or,” Clark smirks darkly as he roams your body, “or you go down on your knees and put that lying tongue to better use.”

Tags in reblog.

[lycheeloving]

randomly remembered a fic I once read with Injustice!Superman, where you're in the resistance with Batman but you both get captured. It's similar to that scene in Batman vs Superman where Bruce is chained up and Clark kills everyone else he captured and unmasks Bruce, except the reader was also there and instead of getting killed, reader gets fucked (and I'm pretty sure Bruce was also left alive & had to watch lmao), but I can't find it anymore.... if anyone knows what I'm talking about and knows where to find it please let me know 🙏

Update: I think I found it! not x reader, though

[mystic-shadows42]

The Scream Heard Around the World

Warnings: Language and Violence

“There’s a story that Superman has another weakness besides Kryptonite. It’s not a form of element or another dimensional being, it’s a woman. A human one. It’s said that once Superman’s lover died, he went mad. Killed everything and everyone but there was one whom he didn’t harm. He kept her. Some say that he keeps her locked up somewhere that no one else is able to go. Keeps her chained up in a pretty white dress.”

“Bullshit!” One person exclaimed.

“You think so? Well, then why do you think the Man of Steel doesn’t go hunting 24/7, only in the daytime?”

Everyone was tense because even though this was indeed just a story being told, this was their reality. Under the rule of Superman. He controlled everything because of the power he possessed. There was no one to challenge him or his rule. The people lived in fear waiting to see what mood he would wake up in today.

“That can be anything though.”

“I doubt he stopped killing because of good pussy.”

“He can still change. He was good before he can be that again.”

“What about that god-awful scream?” Everyone went silent at that. All of them exchanged wary looks.

“I suspect that he got that woman pregnant and she had his baby and when it was born it screamed so loud that it killed everyone that could hear it. We all heard about those people who just suddenly died. All with the same symptoms. Ears and eyes dripping with blood. Their bodies still shaking because the brain doesn’t know that they’re dead yet. The scream heard around the world.”

That was what those who survived called it. That awful scream that killed half the world. 

Everyone who believed the story speculated what happened but no one truly knew. They assumed the woman died giving birth because what human could possibly sustain carrying Superman’s spawn? Or even endure the screaming of the newborn? Maybe both mother and child died? There was only ever one scream and it invoked fear in everyone if another was ever heard.

“There were no repercussions for us,” another spoke. “If he lost either one or both he would have been plagued with grief and anger but it’s been quiet since then. No visits, sightings, or killings. What if they’re both alive, somehow?”

“I guess we’ll never quite know? But God Bless those who ever encounter Superman and the spawn he’ll raise.”

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Part 1

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU. I'm not yet sure if this will be a full series or just a two part story.

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Nick pulled up to the City Clerk’s offices. He had all the off times memorized so he could always get a good parking spot. He had some clues to follow up on with McMann. 

He also had your work schedule memorized so he knew he'd get the right help. He once made the mistake of thinking someone else could help him while you were on vacation. Never again. Thankfully your quiet demeanor didn't seem to extend to him and you would let him know when you'd be out, barring a sick day here or there.

He’d asked you before about why you worked so many hours. “You have seniority here. Have some of the younger people work the overtime.”

“They’re just kids,” you chide him. “Let them enjoy life a little. If they want the overtime, they get it but I’m happy to see them actually having lives. If I can help keep the world from breaking them so quickly I’ll happily do it.”

Nick smiled at the memory of your conversation. The smile dropped when he walked up to your desk and noticed your red, puffy eyes; your trash bin filled with tissues. “What happened,” he asked. 

“Oh,” you sniffle, “it’s just some allergies is all.”

“You’ve never had allergies before. What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter, Nick,” you objected. “Now, how can I help you?”

“You can help me by telling me what happened.”

You tried to stare him down but knew from experience it would be a losing battle. When Nick wanted answers, he got them somehow or another. You sag your shoulders and tell him, “you remember I was visiting family recently?” He nods. “I…my ex-boyfriend…hooked up with my sister. They got married last month and no one told me. It was a big wedding, too.” 

Nick nods in sympathy, “no notice or anything. Doesn’t sound like good family to me.”

You agree, “and I know it shouldn’t bother me. He is an ex-boyfriend after all. But…it still hurts. My sister said they didn’t tell me because they didn’t want me to ruin their special day by being upset.” You laugh harshly, “I guess I’m just proving their point.”

“No,” Nick demurred. “They are in the wrong here. Someone should have at least told you they were together. I’m sorry they hurt you.”

You sniffle, “thanks Nick. It’s nice to have someone on my side.” You smile up at him and he smiles back. “Anyways, what are you here for? How can I help you?”

The two of you easily step into your usual work rhythm. You spend a couple hours finding all the documents Nick is looking for, getting them scanned, and everything else he needs. The work is intermingled with the occasional joke or story. You and Nick have gotten along well ever since he learned you could help him with the most detailed of requests. Where others would give him a binder to sort through, you seemed to always know where in the binder the exact information was. Nick appreciated that kind of skill. 

As he’s wrapping to go he takes another glance at the tissues in your trash bin, a reminder of your tears and hurt. He turns to you and asks, “have you heard the phrase “the best revenge is living well”? It’s not the exact line, but you get the sentiment.” You shake your head no and he continues, “I know you don’t like hurting people but I don’t think you should wallow in your pain. Your best option to get revenge on your family for excluding you is to, well, live well. Show them they didn’t hurt you as much as they think.”

“That’s a nice idea, Nick, but my life is so dull I don’t know that I can.”

“Well,” he hesitates, “I’ve got a charity event coming up. It’s nothing too fancy, not a black-tie thing. But I could use a plus one.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “It’s not a date,” he quickly assures. “I just get tired of inane conversation and could use a friend to help me out.”

“Why go at all if you don’t enjoy it?”

“Work requirement. My bosses want me to schmooze a few people. Having you with me might actually be helpful. If you’re up for it.” You consider his words and he goes on, thinking to sweeten the deal, “the drinks are free, you can dress up, and maybe you’ll meet someone who’ll help you completely forget about that ex of yours.”

You smile, “you know what, Nick? That sounds absolutely lovely.”

The day of the event you get the notification from Nick telling you he’s outside your building. When you step outside he immediately spots you and his eyebrows raise.

“Is..is something wrong with my dress,” you ask.

“Not a thing,” he whispers. “I just…I never would’ve figured you to have something so…high class.”

“Oh, yeah,” you smile, heat hitting your cheeks. “I honestly was never expecting to have an opportunity to wear it. But sometimes you just need to treat yourself. I’d sometimes put the dress on and walk around my apartment just because it made me feel pretty.”

“Well, please allow me to confirm that you are very pretty,” Nick smiles as he opens the car door for you. You thank him as you get in, completely unaware of Nick’s internal dialogue about whether or not to make this an actual date. 

Nick continues to be a gentleman as you arrive at the event. He opens your door for you and offers his arm to walk you inside. You eagerly accept, surprised at how beefy his arm feels. He generally wears long sleeves so you had no idea he was hiding so much muscle. 

You walk inside and breathe a little easier when you see that Nick was right in saying it wasn’t an overly formal affair. Part of you had worried you would be under-dressed. Nick walks you around, showing you where things are (especially the open bar), and answering your questions about the event’s etiquette. Remembering that you’re supposed to be here as just friends, once you’re comfortable, you let Nick get to work and wander around on your own.

Nick is trying to focus on his work, getting intel and talking up influential people. But he makes sure to keep an eye out for you, making sure you’re having fun. He finishes up a conversation and hears you laughing loudly before quickly trying to muffle yourself. Nick smiles as he looks for you, but it quickly drops when he sees who you’re with. 

Clark Kent, nicknamed Man of Steel because of his near monopoly of the industry. His union busting and bribery has kept him on top and made him richer than any one man should be. Nick’s been working for the Family to try to find anything that can bring him down. Unfortunately, he’s bulletproof. Nothing sticks and he gets to keep his incredibly clean record and reputation. And he’s chatting you up, making you laugh. 

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

@alicedopey

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Darkness of the Heart

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

You can’t help but have a little crush on the handsome star reporter at the Daily Planet, but he wants so much more

Warnings: dark!superman, implied kidnapping, violence, m masturbation, manipulation, sedatives, needles, innocent!reader, age-gap (reader is over 18), naive!reader, blood

WC: 3.5k

A/N: Later parts will have content like non-con, dub-con, forced pregnancy, kidnapping, and Stockholm Syndrome so this is a massive warning now

Minors DNI

Credit: google

Part 1

The First Date

Your feet were constantly sore nowadays but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care. Working for the Daily Planet, even if you were just an intern, was a dream come true. 5 days a week for 8 hours everyday, you wore heels and ran around the office floor, delivering coffees, making copies, delivering assignments, and on special occasions, helping to edit articles for the paper.

Sometimes, when everyone was busy and you had no other work to do, you would sneak off to the break room in the back of the office, the one that was barely used, and take off the three inch high monstrosities that gave you leg cramps for days. That’s how you met him.

You sighed in relief as you slipped your stocking covered feet from the black cone heels you bought on sale years ago that you had sitting in the back of your closet. You definitely regretted not breaking them in. The cool tile felt amazing on your sore feet, and you leaned back in the slightly unstable metal chair. Fishing your big thermos from your bag, you poured yourself a small cup of tea into the little mug from the jar.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.” The deep baritone with a slight southern twang shaking you from your thoughts. The man stood in the doorway, his body so huge that he nearly filled out the wide entryway. His dark hair was unruly, he had obviously been running his fingers through it, his shockingly blue eyes bright behind the thick frames of his glasses. He had on a simple white button with black slacks and a brown tie. “Oh Mr Kent! Sorry, I just- never mind, is there something I can help you with?”

He waved you off, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. “Please just call me Clark. I was just hoping to escape my ex for a minute but it seems you’ve found my hiding place.” He gave you a cheeky wink which made you squirm in your seat. “Well there isn’t a monopoly on hiding places, so you could join me. But only if you want! You don’t have to.” 

The chair legs scrapped the floor as he pulled it out from under the table, taking a seat directly across from you. Even sitting down, Clark was taller than you, his intimidating frame offset by his kind smile. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flick down to his chest where the buttons of his white button-down were straining to contain his muscles. Clearing your throat, you looked away bashfully. “You’re Y/N right?” That caught you off guard. “Um yeah. How did you know?”

He huffed but the smile on his face widened. “Of course I would know the person that has been helping to edit my articles. I have no clue how you make me sound so smart. You must have some kind of magic.” Your cheeks heated and you couldn’t bring yourself to look into those cerulean eyes. “I wouldn’t say that, you’re really intelligent already, just maybe sometimes, your grammar isn’t amazing.” 

The reporter threw his head back and gave a deep belly laugh, you smiled shyly, crossing your feet over each other as your hands played with the hem of your black work skirt. “Any other critics I should know about?” He teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. You just shrugged. “Maybe invest in some spelling lessons too.” After another round of chuckles, he settled back into his chair. 

You easily settled into a light conversation with the man, surprised by how similar you were. You found yourself relaxing the more you talked, suddenly the huge powerhouse reporter was just a nervous (and slightly cheeky) farm boy that wanted to know everything about you, and by god was it flattering.

There was a brief lull in conversation when you stopped to pour yourself some more tea, which Clark had politely declined when you asked him, and his eyes flicked down to the floor, a cheeky smirk coming over his beautiful face.

“I guess you don’t appreciate the office dress code.” He chuckled, gesturing down to your abandoned shoes. “Ha ha yeah, I’ve never worn heels before so it’s tough getting used to them. But honestly, I’d take this pain any day cause it means I get to work here!” “Oh well I don’t know if you should be sacrificing your health for any job but it’s good to know you’re so dedicated.” A shiver rolled down your spine at his concerned tone. “It’s worth it if I get to meet my heroes!”

Clark leaned forward, propping his head up with his elbow on the table, his massive hand cradling his chilled jaw. “Lemme guess, Perry?” “I’ll say yes to that because I don’t want your head to get any bigger than it already is.” You giggled behind your cup but quickly stopped as the aforementioned man entered the room behind Clark.

“Ms Y/L/N, there you are, I have some assignments I need you to deliver and then you can head home for the day.” You scrambled to clean up your little nook, slipping your heels back on your still sore feet, trying to hide your wince as the pain started again. “Yes of course. I’ll get that done now.” The older man nodded his thanks, handing you a big stack of manilla folders. “Clark, we’ve got a meeting in 15 minutes, don’t forget.”

“I’ll be there. Hey um Y/N could you hang back a second?” His voice suddenly went from confident to nervous boy as he hunched his shoulders to make himself look smaller. Perry gave him a puzzled look before sighing and leaving the room, muttering something about office romances. You turned your body to him, listening intently. “Yeah, um what did you need me for?”

Avoiding eye-contact, Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just wondering if you would like to maybe have dinner with me tonight? There’s this great ramen place only a few blocks from here.” Did the most gorgeous man you had ever met ask you out on a date? Yes he did. And were you just standing there, mouth open in shock like an idiot. Also yes.

“N-nevermind, it was stupid-“ “Yes.” You stopped his rant before it really started. “I would love to go to dinner with you, Clark.” The smile he gave you was absolutely dazzling as he sprung to his feet, vibrating with excitement. “Great! I mean um, that’s good. I should probably get your number so I can let you know where to meet.” You fished a pen and post-it note from your purse, quickly jotting down your cell-phone number with a little heart at the end.

You handed him the note. “I guess I’ll see you tonight Clark.” Your fingers brushing his slightly, he was so warm. You thought you handled that well, stayed cool even if you were screaming and jumping for joy on the inside. As soon as you rounded the corner to where he couldn’t see you, you squealed and did a little happy dance, heart beating wildly in your chest. 

You just scored a date with the cutest guy ever! This was so worth the sore feet. You darted through the office, quickly delivering the folders so you could get home and spend the next few hours going through your entire closet in deciding what to wear but definitely no heels.

——————

Clark smirked down at the pink post-it note you handed to him. Of course, he already knew your number, he knew everything about you. He had been infatuated with you since he saw you two months ago when Perry first hired you.

You were so young, incredibly beautiful and naïve. Clark likes that about you, how flustered you get when he smiles at you, the way you squeak in embarrassment when someone makes a dirty joke in front of you. He can only imagine the sounds you make when he claims you.

Fuck, it was so hard coming into work every day just to see your plump body running around everywhere, paying attention to everybody but him. The way your arms and legs jiggled as you moved, your tits bouncing wildly with every step. How your lips separated slightly when you were lost in your own thoughts. He once even caught a glimpse of your little white panties beneath your stockings when your skirt rose up as you bent over to pick something up.

He had practically sprinted to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock. He spilled onto his hand crying your name, nearly crushing the wall to the stall in his firm grip. It was a waste of his cum but he just couldn’t stop himself.

And now, you were practically his. Just a few dates, just a little touching, a bit of hand-holding, some innocent kisses to the cheek, and hugs here and there, and you would fall into his arms, forever.

——————

The restaurant was quaint. Only a few tables that faced the open window kitchen where the divine smells wafted into the rest of the small space. You nervously stepped over the threshold, the hem of your baby blue summer dress swaying around your plump thighs. You paired the spaghetti strap dress with a light wash jean jacket and white converse with little flowers you had embroidered into them.

You were the picture of innocence, standing there fiddling with your fingers, wide eyes scanning the room, a little purse hanging off your shoulder. The only jewelry you had was a little pendant necklace that sat right on your exposed collarbone, enticing Clark’s eyes down to the fat of your breasts which was covered entirely by your dress, showing not even a little hint of cleavage.

Clark waved at you, drawing your attention to the huge man who had somehow fit himself onto one of the small wooden chairs near the back. He preened as your smile grew when you spotted him and you hurried over. The reporter pulled your chair out for you, head dipping down so he could get a whiff of your hair, he really couldn’t help himself. Your natural smell was overpowered by the cheap flowery perfume you had put on.

He’d put a stop to that soon enough, but for now he settled with the faint scent of your honeyed musk that clung to the back of your neck. “I’m glad you picked here, this spot is really cute.” You gushed, picking up the small menu as he sat back down across from you, the dark red of his henley, he had obviously changed before coming here, made his eyes pop even more. “I thought it was a good spot for a first date. The tables are small so I can do this.” He laid his large hand over your smaller one, giving it a little squeeze. 

You squeaked but allowed Clark to rest your hands on the table, his palm engulfing yours as he placed his thick fingers on your wrist. “So, what are you thinking of getting?”

You both were smiling like idiots as your orders arrived, too caught up in each other to notice the huge bowls of soup until they were placed directly before you. You tried to pull your hand away, flustered at being caught being so affectionate in a public place. “Can I have my hand back?” Your voice was unexpectedly shaky. But Clark held strong, lifting your knuckles to his plump lips, laying a small kiss to your skin.

“Now you can.” Letting go of your now shaking hand, he winked at you, making your heart leap. “Clark.” You practically whimpered, holding your hand to your chest as if savouring the small kiss he had given you. 

“What, it’s not like you’ve never had someone give you a kiss before~” He teased, picking up his chopsticks. “You have kissed someone before right?” He asked after a beat of silence. You shook your head. “This is my first ever date.” You whispered, ashamed of your inexperience compared to the older man. Clark’s blue eyes widened in shock, of course he already knew, Bruce did a real deep dive for him, but you didn’t ever need to know about that.

“Seriously? How? You’re gorgeous!” “Well you’d be the only one to think that then. I was bullied a lot as a kid and I guess people don’t really like the fat girl.” You shrugged, folding in on yourself, suddenly aware of how much food you had ordered. “Oh no no no. Please don’t doubt yourself. You are a beautiful young woman and those people must be fools for not seeing how truly amazing and beautiful you are. But their loss is my gain cause right now, I have the most divine woman in the world sitting across from me, letting me take her on a date.”

Clark was so big that he easily reached across the table and cupped your face, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. You tried to look away but those big glimmering eyes were hypnotising and you couldn’t help but believe what he was saying. “Ok.” You were quiet but that was enough for him. “Good. Now that we’ve got that sorted, I am starving.” 

——————

“I had such a wonderful time tonight.” Clark’s right arm was wrapped tightly around your thick waist, his hand resting on your plump stomach. You had, at first, shied away when he wrapped you in a hug after your meal. His face fell into a little frown and he held you closer, bending down to rest his forehead against yours, the little black curls brushing your skin.

“Please don’t run from me.” His voice was so quiet you barely heard him. The pure sadness in his tone made you slump back into his arms, your own winding around his muscular torso to keep him close. “Never.” And his smile returned. 

Like a real gentleman, he offered to walk you home, especially considering it was now completely dark out and you didn’t live in a great part of town. He let you ramble on about your day, giving little anecdotes here and there but otherwise remaining quiet. As you reached your door, he drew you back into his huge arms, the heat from his body soaking into you, the smell of his cologne making your knees weak as it enveloped you. “Thank you for letting me take you out kitten.” Your face went hot at the pet name.

“Too much?” You shook your head, thoroughly flustered. “I like it.” “Good. Goodnight kitten.” You panicked as he lowered his face to your eyes level. Oh god, was he going to kiss you? Your body unconsciously jerked back, your door handle digging painfully into your side. Your hands flew up and pressed against his chest, trying to push Clark away. “No.” You whimpered.

He pulled back and you sighed in relief, he obviously got the message. “Did you think I was going to kiss you?” You didn’t bother answering, just turned your head away, fully prepared for him to tell you off and insist you had to give him something in return for paying for your meal. “Oh kitten. I’m sorry. I was just going to kiss your cheek. We’ll go at your pace, no kissing until you’re ready.” A large weight was lifted from your chest.

Clark was good, he would listen to you. He was a good man. You could trust him.

With a quick peck to your still heated cheek, he sent you inside, remaining just long enough for you to lock up. Pulling off your jacket, you went to hang it up, but paused. The woodsy cologne Clark had been wearing had rubbed off onto the course fabric. Taking a deep inhale, you savoured the comforting scent. Maybe next time, you shouldn’t bring a jacket and he’d give you his. 

You kicked off your shoes and practically floated into your living room, sinking into your overstuffed couch. “God he’s so dreamy.” You fanned your hot cheeks, completely overwhelmed by the day. 

When you closed your eyes, all you could see was his smiling face and the way he bent down so his face was level with yours. How his surprisingly plump lips had opened slightly, how his breathing became heavier. Maybe, just maybe, you should’ve kissed him. You couldn’t imagine how wonderful it would have been.

Knock knock

“Did you forget something?” You giggled, pulling the door back open, fully expecting the muscular body of your date to be standing there, looking sheepish, maybe looking for an excuse to see you one more time. But instead, a frazzled-looking red haired woman who immediately pushed into your apartment as soon as you opened the door. “Ms Lane?”

The renowned reporter, and the ex-fiancée of the man you just went on a date with, was now in your flat, shutting all the windows in the studio apartment and making sure that the curtains and shutters were drawn. “Are you ok? Do you need me to call someone for you?” You slipped your phone out of your jacket pocket, tucking it into your palm and held it behind your back. 

You didn’t know much about her, only that she and Clark were engaged for a while and then she just skipped town a couple weeks before you joined the Daily Planet. No one had heard from her until she unexpectedly turned up at the office this morning, collecting her final pay-check and having a shouting match with Perry about seeing Clark for five minutes, which he stoutly denied. 

“You have to listen to me.” You tried to scramble away as she came closer but her hands shot out and held you in place, her fingers digging into your shoulders, her unkempt nails digging painfully into your collarbone.

“Just fucking listen!” You nodded but your thumb was now frantically pushing on the power button to your phone, hoping that even with the spotty cell-reception in your home, you could utilise the safety feature and get through to the police. “I-I’m listening.” She seemed to calm down for a moment, then the siren-like alarm went off on your phone, signalling that you were trying to call 9-1-1.

In a split second, her grip lessened and you ripped away from her, turning and sprinting to the door. She launched at you. Your body collided painfully with the hardwood floor, the breath being knocked from your lungs but you kept trying to get away. “Get off me!” Your nails clawed at the floor. Her hand wrapped around the back of your head and slammed your face into the ground, effectively stunning you.

“Stop fighting!” Lois straddled your back and pinned your arms down, pulling the phone from your grasp, cancelling the call. “I’m just trying to help you!” Your eyes were rolling in your head, a throbbing pain building in the base of your skull as blood poured from your nose and a high pitched whine ringing in your ears as you were forced completely flat on the wooden slats. “Stay away from him. He’s not good! Stay away!” A coldness was spreading through your body as she kept you down, having shifted so her knee was digging into your spine.

“S-stop.” You wheezed but couldn’t get any air into your lungs. “I’m protecting you. He’s crazy. I’m just protecting you.” Just as the dark spots in your vision were starting to get bigger as you struggled for air, Lois’s weight was gone from your back, the dulled sound of shattering glass lost in the background of your thoughts. The ground below you shook and there was muffled yelling, the ringing in your ears getting more intense. You rolled over and attempted to pull yourself up, then a wave of nausea suddenly hit you. You doubled over, your vision swimming.

A cold breeze blew over you and dull thuds resonated through your throbbing head. A pair of hands wrapped around your biceps and tried to pull you forward. “Stop please!” You screamed, legs kicking out, landing a solid hit to the figure in front of you. They didn’t even grunt as they pulled you closer, forcing your body into the plastic-like material that covered their chest.

Your nails dug into the chest of your attacker in an attempt to fight them off, but their grip only got tighter, sending a fresh wave of panic through you. “She’s in shock, I’ll have to administer a sedative.” The raspy voice broke through the fog in your mind as huge arms forced you closer, wrapping around your back, pinning you. 

“Don’t you dare!” Another voice called out. You cried as your head was yanked to the side and the tell-tale pinch of a needle was pressed into your neck. A warm sensation flooded your body, immediately placating you, the tingling sensation relaxing your limbs so you slumped forward. The arms holding you didn’t feel like they were caging you in, now it was your only anchor as your eyelids became heavy, darkness quickly overtaking you. 

“No!”

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[oh-for-fic-sake-library]

A line is drawn

Masterlist

Summary: Superman finally finds his limit. And he makes it abundantly clear.

Warnings: angst, darkish superman?, violence.

A/N: just a random little angsty drabble. Tried to switch up my writing style abit in this, just doing a few writing exercises. I hope you enjoy.

People whispered about the death of superman. The final cry of the alien echoing across the city, the cry causing ripples out in the bay swaying boat and shaking windows. A final war cry of a god. His death was still a victory for the city, for man kind.

But that had been nothing compared to the low mornfull furious cry. Buildings shuddered, dust wafted from ceilings and roofs windows cowered some cracked and shattered. Car alarms began screeching as if panicked by the fearfull cry.

Everyone had froze. Time had stopped.

All eyes were on the man of steel as his framed crouched over the body of an unknown woman. She laid still, arms either side of her head face down in the asphalt. Her hair was loose and splayed, sheilding her identity from all the onlookers. Blood began seeping from below her.

Superman tugged the woman close. Rolling her over calljng out to her name. His eyes glossed over as the womans head lolled back and forth. Then a whimper.

The whole crowd released a sigh as the woman soft pained cries carried through the silence. The god shoulders sagged, cape draping over the ground. And suddelny there were calls for an ambulance.

"Clar-Kal? Kal please.... pl-please it hurts" the words were weak and airy. Hissing pants, air being sucked through clenched teeth.

At the womans voice superman seemed to realise she was still alive. He tipped his head down, quickly scanning the woman whose hands were now holding her abdomen. The bullet wound hidden beneath. He sighed thanking god before touching foreheads and pressed a sweet kiss to the woman.

"I will fix this, the ambulanceis comming. Its not hit anything to serious. You'll be okay, youll get better. Youl, be safe. I promise you i will make this city, this country, this world safe for you." The woman shovered, but nodded mewling 'okay'.

But joker managed to regain everyones attention as he waved his gun around in a frantic joy. He was elated playful like a child. He seemed to enjoy his madness as much as he enjoyed the mayhem he caused. There seemed to be a sense of pride arohnd him. Proud of how close he had come to shaking the unshakeable. breaking the unbreakable. He had found the man of steels weakness.

'"Oh? Deary me! I didnt do a good job of that did i boy scout?" If the scene wasnt tense before it certainly was when the clown spoke.

The man of steels shoulders squared and his eyes glowed. Igniting whe his vision locked onto the green hairs clown.

"Take another step and see what happens clown" the voice was almost unhindged. Fury biteing into every word. The loathing was plunged into the syllables, a growled his that threaded threat into each word. There was a respunding quiver of fear shared by everyone present. Joker smiled oh no. His voice

"Step? Oh no no no~ i wont step closer, i promise." The mad man cooed standing on his tip toes mimming almost falling forward. But then skipped back finishing his announcement with a chilling laugh.

"I dont need to take another step, the good thing about guns means i can? Well here let me just try again;" the joker didnt even finish his sentance. No one could even registerhis words before there was a flash. A red flash, molten heat roared over the woman drawing a yelp.

But only her yelp was heard. Joker didnt stand a chance, the force of supermans rage knocked him off his feet, butthe heat had cremated him befor he could drop to the floor.

Everyone held their breath, shock ringing out in screaming silence. Metropolis had just changed. Superman had commited murder, in broad daylight in front of millions. But none could manage a sound. The sirens of an ambulance called out, hauntingly across the quiet scene.

Superman looked down to the woman.

"This world will be safe my love. It will be safe for both of you. I swear" he cooed, one hand moving to cup her lower abdomen. That was when it all became clear. Superman had drawn a line. And he will kill for his family without hesitation.

[lambtotheslaughterr]

COMING SOON

Currently in the midst of writing Part One of the The Day The World Ended universe but am nearly finished with the Rafe Cameron mini series When The Bough Breaks. So, here are the two moodboards for the next mini series I have planned.

Let me know what you think!

[ALL OF THE FOLLOWING WILL INCLUDE THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. 18+. READ AT YOUR DISCRETION. MDNFI.]

1.] I Burn— Reader is reluctantly placed into a rehabilitation faciity for individuals who struggle with their various addictions. She has low expectations of the facility & even lower expectations of herself to improve, especially when she catches the attention of fellow patient Rafe Cameron... her addiction to sex just became that much harder.

sexaddict!reader x dark!Rafe Cameron

2.] The Taming— Reader is a privileged young woman who sleeps by day & parties all night. Anti-love, anti-men, this pro-party, pro-independence young woman finds herself being stalked throughout the streets of Metropolis. Unfortunately for her, she's going to learn--one way or the other--that her bad attitude will be tamed...

reader x dark!Clark Kent

---------------------------------------------------------

This is what's next for my precious lil readers. Please let me know what you think! I'm excited to talk about these & even more excited to get started on them.

beau<3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Make You Work

Sequel to Work It Out

Warnings: noncon, body insecurity, minimal editing.

Trainer!Clark Kent x short!chubby!reader; we didn't think this one was gonna happen, did we?

To those who read, I’d love a thot or two of what you think!

You press your back to the lockers. You can’t breath. Your skin speckles in a new sheen of sweat as you stare at the beast before you. The man with his damp curls and flushed cheeks, stone set in his jaw. The flames in his eyes scald you. 

“Clark?” You croak, terrified. 

He moves, too fast for you to react. You cry out, your feet tangling as you throat out your arm and drop your jeans onto the floor. He catches your arm and pulls you back, pinning you to the lockers as he snarls down at you. You brace yourself, whimpering as grabs your other wrist and forces your arms straight above you. You wriggle and flutter your lashes as tears sting in your eyes. 

“Clark, please, what are you doing?” You puff breathlessly. 

“I need you,” he growls as his humid breath fans over you. 

“No--”  

Your voice snags in your throat as his eyes drop down. He looks down at himself and you follow his gaze to the front of his shorts. You see the bulge beneath the dark fabric, twitching as you gasp. You tug on your wrists to no avail as he pushes them together, squeezing them tight as he wraps them in a single hand. 

His other roams down to your shoulder and his fingertips brush up your neck. You squeak as traces the line of you chin and pushes his knuckle against your lips. You stare up at him through welling eyes. You might be flattered if you weren’t so damn scared. 

He drags his hand back down, trailing down your throat and along your chest. His fingers rest over your ragged heartbeat and he tilts his hand to cup you through your bra. You shiver as he gropes you. 

“Please,” you beg in a willowy whisper, a tear riveting down your cheek. 

He doesn’t seem to hear you. There’s a tint to his eyes that makes you doubt he can. He slips his hand around the band of your bra and forces his between you and the metal doors. He pinches and swiftly unhooks the clasp. The fabric slacks and lifts as your tits drop out the bottom. It stays strung across your chest as your arms remain locked in his clutches. 

He brings his touch back to your chest, jiggling each tit, rolling his thumb around your rigid nipples. He purrs and dips his head. You cry out as he takes a bud in his mouth abruptly, his warmth seeping in you. Your sneakers squeak on the floor as you shift helplessly. 

He nips and you babble, more tears flowing as you shake your head. This isn’t happening. He can’t do this. He wouldn’t. Not to you. You’re not... good enough. 

He flicks his tongue around and sends a thrill down your spine. His hand wanders down your stomach and you suck in, conscious of your extra cushion. He tickles along the top of your panties, the one’s he said were so cute only moments before. A compliment you took as a taunt. 

He pushes his fingers flat against you and slips beneath the cotton. You tilt your head up and gnash your teeth, staring up at his grip still firm around your wrists. It isn’t as nice as you once fantasized. All those years when you thought you would die to have a man like him look your way. This just feels... suffocating. 

He grazes along your glossy curls and you squirm. You squeeze your legs together against his touch and he growls against your skin. He teethes you as his breath stains your chest. He nuzzles between your tits as he pokes two fingers between your folds, curling them as he forces them against you. 

Your knees buckles as your hip pangs suddenly. You whimper as the shock that zips up your leg, feet slipping apart as you try not to collapse. You don’t think you actually would, just dangle from his grasp like a puppet. 

He pushes further, his hand lodging between your thighs as he feels along your cunt. He drags his fingertips back and forth, rubbing you as your insides coil. A slick layer coats your lips, smearing around as lifts his head higher, burying it in the crook of your neck as he prods around your entrance. 

He drags his fingertips back and toys with your clit, flicking, swirling, swiping, teasing until your puffing wildly up at the ceiling. Your lip trembles as your chest burns. The sensations meld into a store of horror and delight. 

He snarls and bites into the tendon of your neck, pinching as the tension builds inside of you. Your thighs strain shake as you arch your back. A whine rises from your throat as sparks scatter through you and orgasm rents right up your middle. Your stomach muscles knots and your eyes roll back. 

It’s wrong, you know it is, but you can’t and won’t stop him. 

He pants against you, in time with you, as if he could feel the same release. He unlatches his mouth from you and raises himself up. He looks down at you and jerks you forward away from the lockers. You yelp as pout helplessly. His eyes creep up and down your body as he slips his hand free of your panties. 

He spins you suddenly, releasing your arms as you exclaim and flail towards the bench. You catch yourself on the metal, bent over and breathless as he closes you in from behind. He grabs your hips and you try to stand. He grips the back of your neck and holds you down, your ass up as he presses his crotch against you. 

He rocks his hips, simulating his intent as he grunts. His fingers crawl around your waistline and he rips the elastic down your ass. You yipe and squirm as the fabric falls just above your knees. He kicks your feet further part as he squeezes your neck till it tweaks. 

He feels along the front of his shorts and yanks them down. You fill him spring out against your ass, the rigid flesh rubbing between your cheeks. Your knees touch the bench and you lean forward, only for him to pinch your neck tighter. You relent as he guides his tip along the curve of your ass. 

You close your eyes and grit your teeth. Your hang your head as he bends his knees. He rubs himself against your folds, pausing to push against your entrance, before repeating the motion. Down, up, down, up, then he stops, poking until you feel your cunt stretching around his tip. 

He splits you in half slowly. That’s what it feels like. He rocks patiently, inch by inch, dipping deeper and deeper. The hot invasion has you moaning and mewling as your head lolls back and forth. His hand slides to your shoulder and his fingers curl into the muscle there. 

He leans into you until you’re on your toes. You whine as his pelvis presses to your ass. He wiggles as he buries himself completely in your taut walls. He groans and holds himself there. 

He exhales as he pulls back and your insides clench. As he slides back in you whimper. How do you feel even more full then before. 

He grabs your hip and pulls your ass higher as he thrusts again. Still slow, still patient. His deep groans drone through the air.  

His hand drifts down your back as his rhythm slowly builds. He brings it to your other hip, holding you in place as he rolls his hips against your ass. He growls and bucks harder, jolting you as you cry out. Your shoulders wrack as his nails dig into your flesh. 

He snaps his pelvis again. You mewl and he lifts your feet off the ground, holding you just off it as your bodies clop together. He rams into you, harder, deeper, furiously battering you as he loses all control. You keep your hands on the bench, dangling helplessly as he uses you. 

He slides his hand away from your hop and hooks his arm across your stomach. He pulls you up flush to him and your head falls against his shoulder. He clings to you, keeping you hovering as he ruts wildly, puffing over you as he bounces you against him. 

“You’re so sexy,” he snarls, “can’t you feel it?” 

He pounds harder and harder as your voice fizzles out and you reach back to latch onto his thick shoulder. His fucks you furiously as you bite down on your tongue, spasming. You cum again, even less ready for it than before.  

He turns and pushes you against the lockers. He crushes you as he jerks his hips up, over and over, grunting and growl as his hand runs up to knead your chest. He presses the tip of his nose to your grown and groans as he quakes. You feel him cum inside of you, fucking it into you until he’s whimpering. 

He stills, urging himself as deep as he can go. You gurgle and press a shaky hand to the metal. He lifts his head and kisses the top of your head. Slowly, he lowers you to the floor and slides out of you. A gush spills down your thigh as only your gasping breaths meet your ears. 

You lean, trembling, on the lockers and stiffly roll to face him. Your panties droop to your ankles as he pulls his shorts up. He cracks his neck, one way then the other, and shakes out his arms. He blows out a sigh and pushes back his curls. He smirks at you as his blue eyes glint. 

“Good work out,” he chuckles as he wipes his forehead, “don’t forget to stretch.” 

He spins on his heel, whistling as he struts away. You stare after him, stunned, and slide slowly down to your ass as your knees finally give out. You bow your head and reach under you, feeling along your swollen lips as you flinch.  

You feel empty and torn. You snatch your hand away and mop the tears from your damp cheeks. You didn’t even realise you were still crying. You fix your bra and reach back to hook it in place. Every muscle in your body hurts. 

You put your hand down and lean forward, groaning as you lift yourself to hands and knees. You crawl to grab your jeans the shift towards the bench. You grab it and push, forcing your feet under you, one then the other. 

You stand, swaying, and shake out your pants. It takes you several tries to step into them.  

When you finally get them buttoned, you pull on your jersey shirt then the zip-up you wore over it. You zip up your gym bag with your phone inside and ball up your gym clothes. You care them to the bin by the door and waver at the threshold. You drop them into the garbage and make yourself leave. 

You stumble through the gym, looking straight and no where else. Is he there? Is he watching? Will he follow you again? 

You walk faster and faster, unsteady and clumsy as you rush towards the stairs. Your fear bubbles up with the humiliation. You don’t let it boil over it, fighting desperately to outpace it as you clamour down the flights. 

You’re never going back. Never, never again. You tried working out. It’s not for you. 

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

In Abstract Masterlist

A sequel no one asked for. First Series: Portrait of a Dangerous Man

Summary: You adjust to life with Clark, thought the past won’t seem to let you go.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

[holylulusworld]

Papillon Masterlist

Summary: You’re more than the new maid...

Pairing: Mobster!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, roughness, language, held hostage, criminal activities, blood, violence, dub-con, smut, possessive Clark, mafia AU

Papillon – Prologue

Papillon (1) - In the lion's den

Papillon (2) - In his hands

Papillon (3) - Caged bird

Papillon (4) - His papillon

[ilikereadingthisiswhatilike]

Clark Kent / Superman

Collections of Clark Kent x reader stories. None of the stories are mine.

No Smut

Platonic Yan!Superman @blughxreader Summary: An afternoon-in-the-life of Super-family kidnapped darling. Warning: Kidnaping

Sibling Squabbles @black-aurora-nora Summary: Clark and John are delusional but their relationship to reader. Warning: Kidnaping, bodily harm

Smut

A Splintered Holiday* @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Summary: You try to be good on Christmas Day. Warning: Kidnaping, Rape, bodily harm, degradationSpecial Tags: sub/dom dynamics

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Part 8

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: Mild violence and mentions of blood. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU.

Part 7 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

The day of the Tea Party you hold Nick’s hand as much as you can in the car. While it’s impossible to really have a plan for what’s going to happen, you’ve talked through some plans for what to do if things go bad. Nick made sure you memorized the directions to the nearby Cairo Hotel and to ask for the manager, Jonathan Pine. As a fail-safe Nick had reserved a room under both of your names.

Nick parks the car but stops you from getting out. He gently holds your chin and, eyes full of worry, he pleads, “promise me, if anything happens, you’ll get out. Don’t stop or try to help me. You just get the hell out of there.”

“It wouldn’t look good if your girlfriend just bolted,” you argue.

“If things go south there’s gonna be a lot of chaos and a lot of things could go bad,” he asserts. “You run to the hotel. I’ll do better if I know you’re safe. Please.”

“I can’t promise that, Nick,” you object. “Believe it or not, I do actually care about you and don’t want you killed because I decided to provoke him.” Nick’s eyes widen at your confession so you continue, “it’s not romantic care. Not right now. But we’ve been friendly for so long, I can’t say it wouldn’t hurt to lose you.”

“Thank you for that,” he whispers. “But I can’t let you go to this party unless you promise me you’ll take care of yourself first.”

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “But I get to decide what taking care of myself first looks like.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” he smiles softly. “You can be so delightfully stubborn.”

Part of you wants to believe he is interested in being more than just friends. That his words are heartfelt compliments. You brush those thoughts away and mumble, “let’s just get this over with.”

You’re a little disappointed that the rooftop garden is so much a garden as it is a rooftop lawn. There aren’t any plants aside from grass and some plain green bushes that have been trimmed into neat, orderly box shapes. The only color is provided by the pink tablecloths that adorn the few designated eating areas. It makes you wonder if your dress is out of place and too colorful for the occasion. 

There were other people already in attendance. A small group of young ladies posing for their phones, smiling and laughing. A few gentlemen who were clearly dragged along by the young ladies, sitting and grumpily staring at their phones, occasionally discussing whatever it is rich young people discuss. And Clark Kent, directing the catering staff and telling the bartender to not let his nephew have more than two drinks. 

Being the polite guests that you are, you and Nick make sure to tell Clark that you’ve arrived. He plasters on his best fake smile to greet you, not even bothering to look at Nick. 

“Ah, sweet Lady, you brighten this party with your presence,” he schmoozes, taking your hand to kiss it. “Sincerely, I feel out of place with all of these young ones. It’s nice to have someone mature to have a conversation with.”

“Yes, Nick and I do seem to be the only adults on the guest list,” you comment. “Are you hosting this for someone else?”

Clark sighs, “my nephew is trying to impress his girlfriend. Apparently she’s trying to make it big on Instagram, or whatever. He’s hoping attending a party hosted by Clark Kent will be good for her profile and, thus, good for him.”

“Ah,” you smile. “Kids in love are so adorable.”

Clark scoffs, “it isn’t ‘love’ it’s just horny college boy stuff.”

“Oh,” your smile falls. “He told you as such?”

“No, but I remember being that age,” he retorts. “All that’s on his mind is getting laid.”

“I remember being that age as well,” Nick interrupts. “And I remember thinking it was love.”

“And clearly it wasn’t,” Clark rebutted. “Or else you wouldn’t be here with this lovely Lady today.”

“Not all love can be true love,” Nick countered. “But it can still be real. You take the lessons you learn from that love and apply them to the next, in an effort to keep it.” He looks at you, eyes soft, yet steely with determination. “Maybe it’ll even become a true love with time and work.”

“Agree to disagree, I suppose,” Clark rolls his eyes as he smiles. “I’ll believe in love when it actually happens.”

“Given how things worked out for us, I’m inclined to agree with Nick,” you banter. “Sometimes life makes us too cynical, too hard on ourselves, to see real love. I think it’s why I adore when younger people are in love. It’s so cute and pure. But, this is clearly something we’re not all going to agree on so how about we just enjoy the food, drink and company?”

Nick kisses the back of your hand, “my Lady is so very wise.”

“Agreed,” Clark hums. “Feel free to partake of any of the food and drink that interest you. And do let me know how you like it. I need to make sure to leave feedback for the caterer.”

About an hour into the party you find yourself enjoying the company of the younger folk. They’re a lot like the young people you work with and you almost feel like “the cool aunt” with how willing they are to open up to you, how they light up when you ask more about their ideals and dreams. Nick stays with you and follows your lead. He hasn’t seen you so relaxed and happy in a while and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way. 

He also keeps an eye on Clark, who is sulking near the bar. You’d clearly been invited to keep him company but you’re enjoying the company of everyone else. Nick’s lost track of the number of refills Clark’s gotten on his drink but it’s definitely been enough to start affecting him. The casual observer might be fooled but Nick notices the slight tells of Clark being buzzed, closing in on drunk. 

To be honest, though, a drunk Clark Kent isn’t Nick’s primary concern; it’s the Instagram girl constantly taking photos and videos. Nick doesn’t care much for putting his face out in public but the young lady is insistent on getting everyone in view. He’s grateful when you comment about him being painfully camera shy and go out of your way to block his face when you can. 

At least until the Instagram girl tells all of her followers how much fun you are. When that pronouncement comes out everyone hears Clark shout, “she’s supposed to be talking with me! Not you young idiots!” He comes storming over to you and Nick immediately jumps in his way, hands out in a calming, placating manner.

“Mr. Kent,” Nick entreats, “you’ve had a lot to drink today. Please take a breath and consider what–” He’s interrupted by a punch to the face. 

“NICK!” You immediately run to him to see if he’s okay. 

Your scream seems to pierce Clark’s drunken state and he shakes his head trying to clear it. That’s when he sees the phone is still out. Still live-streaming. He looks over to you and Nick and closes the distance to punch Nick again, this time putting him on the ground.

“You did this on purpose,” Clark shouts. “You set me up for ruin with your schemes and plots!”

“Mr. Kent,” you scold, “we are your guests. You invited us here and we’ve been nothing but polite.”

“You should leave,” Clark snarls. You take a step back, startled by the rage in his face. 

Nick is up and grabs your shoulder, pulling you behind him. “He’s right, we should leave.” He keeps between you and Clark as you head towards the stairs to get to the elevator. Once inside you see the blood draining from Nick’s nose and get some things from your purse to try to clean him up. As much as he wants to enjoy your caring touch, he has to keep alert. Especially when the “express” elevator stops early. 

The door opens and a small group of burly men gesture for you to step out with them. Nick looks at you and whispers, “remember the plan.” You nod and Nick throws himself at the small posse. 

You hit the “Close Doors” button and stay out of sight until the doors close. You stay in that spot until the doors open at the lobby and you rush out. Your entire system is on high alert but you have to pretend to be calm as you walk through the lobby. You don’t want to draw attention. Silently you thank Nick for making you memorize the path to the hotel as it becomes the mantra for your brain, keeping you from panicking. 

The Cairo Hotel lobby is immaculate and you do feel a little safer just for being there. You approach the front desk and shakily ask to see Jonathan Pine, the Manager. The woman behind the desk gives you a once over but goes to get him. You keep looking to the hotel entrance, hoping to see Nick, afraid to see Clark. You’re certain Nick is strong and capable; Teach said he’s one of their best security people. It’s why he was called in to protect a witness. You’re still very scared for him, though.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a polite cough from behind the desk. A tall, lean man with blondish brown hair and blue eyes is smiling politely, “you asked for me?”

“Y–yes,” you start, “I was told by Nick Fowler to come and ask for you?”

Mr. Pine’s eyes flicker with recognition at the name, “ah, yes. Mr. Fowler speaks highly of you. Please come with me so we can get you taken care of.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As he begins to lead you away you hear your name being shouted from the hotel entrance. You’re not sure if he followed you or if this place just made sense, but it’s clear Clark is very angry with you.

“You owe me an apology and an explanation,” he shouts as he storms towards you. 

Mr. Pine steps in front of you and calmly tells Clark that he needs to leave. “I will not have a disturbance at my hotel, Mr. Kent. I will especially not tolerate any violence or threats of violence against one of my guests.”

“She’s not a guest,” Clark spits. “She can’t afford a place like this! I’ve seen her pay statements! She’d be lucky to be able to afford a half hour here!”

“She is a registered guest at this hotel, Mr. Kent, and I will not let you threaten her.”

“This is bullshit! I’ve done nothing but be kind to her and she’s ruined my reputation!”

“Your quarrel, legitimate or otherwise, has no bearing here, Mr. Kent. She is a guest, she is under my protection.”

“Oh fuck you,” Clark snaps before throwing a punch at Mr. Pine. Mr. Pine easily dodges, grabs Clark’s arm and maneuvers him into a wristlock, causing Clark to let out a bark of pain.

“Miranda,” Mr. Pine addresses the hotel clerk. “Please escort the Lady to the Cleopatra Suite while I call the police.”

Miranda nods and gestures for you to follow her.

+++++++++

You spend the next hour pacing the hotel room you were brought to. It’s a smaller, windowless suite that makes you think it’s specifically set aside for emergencies. There’s a mini-bar but you have no stomach for food or drink. You’re all nerves and keep pacing as much as you can. You wish Nick were here. It wouldn’t be enough for someone to tell you he’s okay, you need to actually see him, feel him, know he’s still alive. 

The past few weeks have been a tumultuous mess and Nick quickly became your safety net, your safe haven, your reliable partner. You’d started craving his reassuring touch, his comforting whispers in your ear. You swear to yourself that if Nick makes it through this you’re gonna tell him about your feelings. About how you want it to be real. Hopefully he’ll let you down gently. 

A tone from your phone gets you to stop pacing. You find a text from Nick, “about to knock on the door.” Sure enough, there’s a knock. You still make sure to check that it’s him through the peephole, just to be safe. You almost start crying when you see him on the other side of the door.

Flinging the door open you pull Nick inside with you, slam the door shut and pull him in for a kiss. Initially thrown off, he softens into the kiss and holds you tight. When you pull away for a breath you whisper, “you’re okay. I’m so glad you’re okay. Didn’t realize how much I needed you to be okay.”

“Yeah, sweet Lady, I’m okay,” he assures. 

When you pull away again you gasp at how beaten up he looks. He quickly tells you he’s had worse, that he’ll be okay in a few days, but you barely hear him. 

“Have you seen a doctor? Nick, you might have a concussion, or broken bones, or something worse!”

“I needed to make sure you were okay first,” he confesses as he kisses you again. “Couldn’t stand the thought of you being caught.” Another kiss. “Needed to hold you again, just to be sure.” You welcome the kisses and return them with a fervor that encourages Nick to keep going. “Couldn’t go to a doctor until I heard your voice again.”

“I felt the same,” you admit between kisses. “I never want to go through that again. I need you, Nick.”

“Need me?” He gently pulls away from you, eyes searching your face. 

“Yes, Nick,” you breathe. “I’ve always felt safe with you, enjoyed your company and the past few weeks have just cemented that. I want you around. I need your touch, your comforting words and presence. Please.”

“I’ll happily be yours,” he affirms. “And if I wasn’t worried about getting blood on your gorgeous body I’d take you here and now.”

You can’t hold back a small moan at the thought of Nick’s expert lips on other parts of your body and he smiles before wincing at the pain it causes in his split lip. That elicits a small chuckle from you, “we really should get you to a hospital, Nick.”

“Will you hold my hand while they patch me up,” he asks, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “I’m not a fan of hospitals and could use the comfort of your touch to help keep me calm.”

“Gladly, Nick.”

He kisses the back of your hand, “thank you, my gracious Lady.”

Part 7 -- Epilogue

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