gonna make you see it
18+ MDNI
Corenswet!Clark Kent x Chubby!Black!Reader Warnings: 18+ only, wc: 1.8k, no use of y/n, established relationship, SoftDom!Clark Kent, very light dubcon, spanking, praise, affirmations, slight condescension, aftercare, insecurity, mention of suicide ideation, confession, invasion of privacy, spicy but no p in v (sorry), (dm me if there's more)
Summary: Clark Kent can be a bit of a Soft!Dom working to help his partner heal from past trauma and insecurities. A/N: It's been almost a decade since I've written fic, pls be kind. 💗 I hope you enjoy! (un-beta'd sorry)
"You can't fix me, Clark! You can't just love this away! I'm not worth it—I'm not worth you! Why don't you see that?"
Your voice broke into a sob, your chest tight as you backed away from him, "I'm not enough. I'll never be enough!"
The room seemed to shrink. For a moment he was silent. The echo of your pain slowly disappearing. Clark's heart twisted, but his resolve hardened.
You didn't know it, but he'd read your journal. He felt pangs of guilt but, he'd seen the depths of your self-hatred and it hurt him.
He knew words alone weren't enough tonight. You needed more. Maybe more than him, but he was willing to give you his all.
He gulped, momentarily unsure, but his eyes narrowed. He let out a deep breath slowly and grabbed your hand. He knew you needed him to take control, to push you through this tantrum until you could see yourself the way he did.
He crossed what seemed like the entirety of your apartment in two large strides. His fingers wrapped around your wrist quickly, but firmly. He sank his head down to press a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist next to his thumb while maintaining eye contact through lidded eyes.
For a moment he took a second just to breathe you in. He pulled back, straightening up and allowing you to feel the gravity of his size.
"That's. Enough." he said in a low growl. Not threatening, but your heart jumped. You hadn't seen that part of Clark before and you weren't scared, but you were caught off guard. You felt your chest go tight and a tingle low in your belly.
Your heart beat fast, not knowing what he was going to do next.
"You don't get to talk about yourself like that. Not in front of me," he said with his finger slowly wagging in your face. It wasn't an ask. It was a rule. Sparking both your anger that he'd waste so much time being upset at your self-hatred and feeling like he had no right to make rules about how you felt.
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Half arousal, half pout. You already felt like shit, but now, because of him, you couldn't talk about how you felt like shit?
You were standing in the doorway, now defiant with your brows furrowed, looking up at the massive man as if you had heat vision. If you did, his face would've melted.
Unlike in your past, you knew Clark would never really hurt you. In your absolute darkest moments you wished he would. Not because you wanted to feel more pain, just because it could all be over without you taking the blame for how it happened. And with his laser eyes you could look into the eyes of the man you loved and not even feel the pain of death take you.
You wanted so badly to trust that it was real. That his subdued firmness was love. But it just couldn't be in your mind.
"Let me go, Clark! I can't-"
But Clark didn't let go. Instead, he tightened his grip just enough to keep you present, his other hand pushed your hips gently, so your back was against the wall of your apartment hallway, halfway between the kitchen and bedroom. He shifted the hand on your hip to pin your arms above your head, both wrists in one hand.
"You're not running from this," he said, his tone unyielding. "You're gonna stay right here, and you're gonna listen."
You felt angry at getting called out.
So what if you ran away from your problems?
What did that have to do with him?
Your eyes widened as he sank his face down to your level and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek. Then a tiny peck on the tip of your nose. Then the corner of your mouth.
You reached up for a proper kiss, but he moved on to where your jaw met your throat, planting a firm kiss followed by a tiny bite there. You exhaled sharply and leaned your head back as much as you could giving him access to your throat. For a moment, you just let yourself feel.
His free hand was planted at the base of your neck, thumb slowly drawing circles in the spot that made you melt when he kissed it.
He ran the tip of his nose up your neck to smell your hair at the nape of your neck before kissing your temple softly.
"I have a confession to make," he said kissing your ear. "I read your journal. I know how you see yourself and gosh all I want to is for you to see yourself the way I see you." He let the newfound persona slip. He did feel guilty.
You turn to face him, looking a little hurt. It was easy, a habit for you to devalue what he was really saying. He meant to tell you that you were amazing, but you just interpreted betrayal. You opened your mouth to speak when he cut you off.
"You think you're not enough...and look babe, that's absolute crap." he said. "You think this beautiful hair—" he grabbed a handful of pillow-soft coarse hair in twists, "—this gorgeous skin—" his fingers trailed along your collarbone, "— and this perfect body—" a hand slid to your thick thighs, squeezing gently, "—are reasons to hate yourself? You're wrong. And I'm gonna make you see it differently."
Your heart hammered in your chest. He knew. Now he really knew what you thought of yourself. Despite his loving touches your stomach twisted in your core. Being seen was never a good thing. That's why you chose the least visible job at the Daily Planet, data analyst. Your name wasn't on the bylines and you didn't have to be in the bullpen. You worked from home half the time so you could get some sort of reprieve from people-ing all the time.
You turned your cheek to look down the hallway so you didn't have to face him. You trembled. You hadn't told anyone how deep your self-loathing ran. You felt exposed and vulnerable and started to push him away like it was second nature.
You shook your head, "You're lying....you're just saying this because you feel sorry for me."
That was the last straw. The air was warmer and Clark's eyes darkened, "Honey, I don't feel sorry for you. I want you. I need you. You're gonna learn to be a good girl and accept that."
In an instant your stomach was pressed to the wall. Your high school Drama Queen Theater award inches to the side of you. You stared at the details of the uneven white paint until you noticed his hard chest pressed at your back.
Clark's hand rested on your ass, warm and possessive. He pulled your t-shirt up to grab the waistband of your shorts and yanked them down easily. You gasped and stilled under his touch. With his free hand he rubbed sweet circles into one cheek before his hand came down in a firm, controlled spank, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
You gasped, your body jerking back, unable to move him an inch. It sounded like a moan and Clark growled in response. He was needy, but he could push the feeling of precum leaking his hard tip aside for you.
Clark's other hand pressed gently against your wrists, keeping you in place. His firm bulge pressed entirely against your back sent a jolt of electricity between your legs.
"Fuck, Jesus Clark, what're you-"
"That's for saying you're not enough," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
"You can't just-"
Another spank, lighter but deliberate, landed on your other cheek.
"Clark—" you choked out, before another spank came down on you. This time he soothed your flesh with gentle rubs over where he'd left your ass blooming as the blood rose closer to the surface of your rich skin.
Clark had noticed how much it turned you on, and worked to not get carried away. That wasn't the point, for now. He did bookmark it in his brain for later. He filed away how you reacted: your reactions a mix of moans and bratty defiance, but you didn't fight him.
"Oh.. was that a lot honey?" he cooed, voice dripping with condescension. It was so unlike him it took you a moment to process the darkness or the kink he'd just dipped his toe in.
"You're gonna love yourself. You're gonna say it, out loud, because I won't let you hide anymore."
Your body was electric with a nervous fire as you struggled against his hard, unmovable body. "I… I'm…" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm enough."
"Louder..." he whispered, his hand treating your ass to a soft rub, celebrating the small win, his voice a velvety command. "Say it like you mean it."
"I'm enough," you said, your voice stronger but still trembling. "I'm… I'm beautiful."
Clark's smile was fierce and triumphant even though you couldn't see it. As he turned you gently to face him, his hands cupping your tear-streaked face. "That's my good girl," he murmured, his lips enveloping yours in a soft, possessive kiss.
He let your wrists down, but brought each to his lips. His large fingers intertwined with yours, warm and steady. "You're still with me, sweetheart. You're okay." You nodded leaning up to kiss him.
He smiled into the kiss before pulling away and kissing each knuckle in between his fingers. You trembled, opening your mouth to speak, unsure of where to go after everything, but he saw it was a struggle.
"I know you're scared. I know it feels like too much. But you're stronger than you think" he said between sweet, soft kisses against your neck and cheek.
He caressed your cheek gently, "I know it feels like I'm tearing you apart. But you've been tearing yourself apart for years, haven't you? Every time you look in the mirror and hate what you see. Every time you tell yourself you're not enough."
His thumb brushed a fresh tear from your cheek, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'm not gonna let you keep doing that. I'm gonna keep saying it, keep showing you, until you can't hide from the truth anymore. You. Are. Phenomenal. And I'm gonna make you see it."
He held you through another wave of tears, his affirmations soft but relentless, his touch a mix of tenderness and strength. No matter how weak or inadequate you felt, he was unwavering in his love and desire.
Each word was a step towards self-realization, and he'd keep walking that path, no matter how many tears it took, until you believed it too.
xx
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