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Summary: well, you certainly believe in deities now.
warnings: Graphic Smut, Dom!Thor. Filthy Smut, Sex in a Church, Blasphemy, Masturbation/Mutual Orgasm
WC: 287
Read on ao3! Tag List
Tugging at your ponytail, he yanks your head back, resting on his shoulder as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “say it again,” he purrs, causing a whimper to slide out between your teeth.
“I need you,” a beg ripples through your tongue. He’s the only god you need. Fuck the holy Spirit. “Please, Thor, please,”
A rough grunt spills from his lips, snagging his hand away from your cunt to glide up your midriff before tweaking at your breast, pinching a nipple. You could feel the smirk gloss his mouth as his head falls against your spine with each thrust of his hips. Your vision blurs as he whispers against your skin, “you want me to fuck you harder, saint?”
WIth vigor, you nod, an inviting moan falls past the back of your throat, causing his cock to twitch inside of you.
“Oh, precious little girl,” he coos, leaning his head next to your ear, “how does it feel to seee a God for all he’s worth, hmm? Oh, the sinner sins, hmm?”
A boistroius whine escapes your lips once more, lip quivering at the soft voice next to you as you allow your head to fall forward, his thrusts rocking your body on the cold stone steps of the church. Thank the heavens for he cover of hte night.
“Oh, my gods,” a stutter climbs its way pass the moans from your chest as you clench his cock so tightly inside you, causing him to erupt moments later.
“That’s right, my girl,” he hums in pleasure as he feels you tighten around his body, ending in a moan himself as he thrusts harder inside you before meeting your end. “You belong to me.”
Summary: You realize the nice guy in the office knows more about you than you'd ever though possible. [WC 1.1K] [Ao3]
Warnings: Dark! Clark Kent, Stalker!Clark Kent, angst, stalking
Request @clarkswhore-jpeg Hi lovely!! For your 3k celebration, would you happen to be okay with writing DCU Clark Kent? If so, then what about this prompt: [#8] "You looked happiest last October. Blue sweater. Coffee in your left hand. I was right there."?? Absolutely adore your writing. P.s. still thinking about that Thor x Nurse!Avenger fic you wrote... Lord Almighty he is so FOINE.
3K Writing Challenge
The first time he says it, you think he’s joking. Because it’s Clark Kent. Sweet, awkward, Kansas-farm-boy Clark Kent with the gentle smile and the careful way he moves through crowded rooms like he’s worried about bumping into people. The one who brings extra pastries to the office because someone mentioned liking blueberry once.
So when he’s standing in the doorway of your apartment, shoulders nearly filling the frame, glasses slightly crooked on his nose, and he says—
“You looked happiest last October.”
—you blink at him. “…What?”
Clark’s gaze softens like he’s remembering something fond. “Blue sweater,” he says quietly. “Coffee in your left hand. It was raining. You were standing outside that little café on 8th. I couldn’t stop watching as you waited for the bus.”
Your stomach tightens. You’ve been to that café. A lot.
“…Clark,” you say slowly, “that was months ago.”
His head tilts slightly. “I know.”
The way he says it makes your skin prickle. Because he doesn’t sound embarrassed. He sounds certain.
You give a small, uneasy laugh, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You’ve got a really good memory.”
Clark steps inside your apartment. You don’t remember inviting him in. The door clicks shut behind him. “It isn’t memory,” he says gently.
Your fingers tighten around the mug in your hands. “…Then what is it?”
Clark’s eyes flicker over you. Not casually. Not politely. Slowly. Carefully. Like he’s comparing you to something. “Observation.”
Your pulse jumps. “You… observed me drinking coffee last year?”
“Yes.” His answer comes too quickly. Too simply. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
You set your mug down. “…Why?”
Clark is quiet for a moment. Then he takes a step closer. The floor barely creaks under his weight. “You smiled that day,” he says.
Your chest tightens. “I smile a lot.”
“Not like that.”
Another step closer. “You had just read something on your phone. A message, I think. Your shoulders relaxed at whoever was texting you.” He lifts a hand slightly, like he’s tracing the memory in the air. “You tucked your hair behind your ear and looked up at the rain.” Your breath catches. “You closed your eyes for a second.”
The room suddenly feels too small. Too quiet.
Clark’s voice lowers. “You looked peaceful.”
You stare at him. “How do you know that?”
Clark doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies your face like he’s reading something only he can see. “You don’t look like that much anymore.”
Your heart thumps. “That’s… a weird thing to say.”
Another step. Now he’s only a few feet away. “You work too much,” he says softly. “You sleep less than five hours most nights. Your heart rate spikes when your phone buzzes.”
Your mouth goes dry. “…Clark.”
“You skipped lunch today.” The air leaves your lungs. “And yesterday.”
Your brain scrambles. “How would you—”
“I hear it.” Your voice cracks. “…Hear what?”
Clark finally lifts his eyes fully to yours. And for the first time since you’ve known him— there is nothing shy in them. “I hear everything.” The words land heavy between you. The refrigerator hums. A car passes outside. Clark takes another slow step closer. “You were happiest last October,” he repeats quietly.
Your back presses against the counter now. “…Why are you telling me this?”
Clark studies you for a long moment. Then his hand lifts. Your heart stops when his fingers brush the sleeve of your sweater. “You wore this one today,” he murmurs.
Your throat tightens.
“It looked good on you then, too.”
You swallow hard. “Clark… this is starting to feel a little—”
“I was right there.”
Your breath stutters. “You… what?”
Clark’s voice is calm. Matter-of-fact. “Across the street.”
Your skin goes cold. “You were standing under the café awning,” he continues. “You almost spilled your coffee when someone bumped into you.” You remember that. You do. “And I caught the cup before it hit the ground.”
Your mind scrambles through the memory. You remember the cup tilting. You remember it not falling. You thought— You thought you’d caught it. “…That was you?”
Clark smiles faintly. “Yes.”
Your pulse pounds in your ears. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His gaze darkens slightly. “I wasn’t ready yet.”
A long silence fills the apartment. “…Ready for what?”
Clark finally steps close enough that you can feel the warmth coming off him. His voice drops. “To introduce myself.”
Your stomach flips. “That’s… not normal, Clark.”
“I know.” He says it so easily. Like he’s already accepted that part.
Your fingers grip the counter behind you. “So what—you’ve just been watching me for a year?”
Clark’s eyes soften. “Longer.”
Your breath catches. “…What?”
“You moved into this apartment two years ago,” he says gently. “You cried the first few nights because you felt lonely. Because you’d just wished thigns had goen differently with your ex.”
Your heart slams against your ribs. “How—”
“You dropped a box in the hallway.” Your chest tightens. “Your neighbor helped you pick it up.”
Clark’s voice lowers. “You thanked him three times.”
Your legs feel weak. “You remember… all of that?”
Clark looks at you like the answer should be obvious. “Of course I do.” The room feels suddenly very, very small.
“Clark,” you whisper, “that’s not normal.”
His expression softens almost sadly. “I know.” His hand finally settles against the counter beside yours. Not touching. Just there. “You looked happiest last October,” he repeats quietly.
Your heart pounds. “Why does that matter so much to you?”
Clark watches you like you’re the only thing in the world. “Because I decided something that day.”
Your throat tightens. “…What?”
Clark’s voice drops to something deep. Certain. “That it’s my job to make sure you look like that again.”
Your breath catches. “That’s not your—”
“I can fix it.” The calm confidence in his voice is terrifying. “You’re tired because people keep hurting you. Stressing you. Taking things from you.”
Your pulse spikes. “Clark…”
“I can stop that.” He leans down slightly so his voice is softer. Closer, his mouth is barely inches from your ear.. “They don’t have to be a problem anymore.”
Your heart stutters. “…What does that mean?”
Clark studies your face. Then he smiles. Not shy. Not awkward. Something far more dangerous. “It means,” he says gently, “I’ve been paying attention.”
And suddenly you realize something that makes your stomach drop. Clark Kent didn’t start watching you last October. That’s just the day you happened to accept the fact that your life would be a lot better alone. He’d already been there long before that.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Started this blog to get a handle on my fics. I realised I've been quite messy with reblogging all of my fics on my main @castielscaplan and i wanted to clean it up a bit. This space is solely for my own fics.
updated June 14 2026. Going through some of the lists sporadically and placing dialogue prompts in their respective sections. My focus this time around is enemies/lovers prompts.
PLEASE reblog if you use any of these/wanna share with your writer friends!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
updated June 14 2026. Going through some of the lists sporadically and placing dialogue prompts in their respective sections. My focus this time around is enemies/lovers prompts.
PLEASE reblog if you use any of these/wanna share with your writer friends!!
No credit is necessary, just have fun!
Hello Boys @castielscaplan - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
