#dark clark kent x black reader

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Request

Clark x reader where he meets her (perhaps saves her), becomes infatuated with her, stalks her subtly and is subtly dark but not outright obvious.

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Zionists can fuck off.

There may be grammatical errors.

You were sitting in your office one moment and the next thing you know,  you were under the rubble of your office building, your body was crushed, you were pretty sure that your limb were broken in several places, and you could taste the blood in your mouth. The weight of destroyed chunks of cement was crushing your body making it harder and harder for you to breathe, you were losing consciousness, and you reluctantly embraced the comforting blanket of death.

---

Kal-El was deserately trying to save people around him who were engulfed in the rubble of the building. He could hear several heartbeats simultaneously most them were strong enough to survive a few seconds under the rubble as he rescued people in critical conditions, but one heartbeat was slowing down, that sound was coming from the other side of the giant pile of rubble. Clark dove in head first to save the poor soul on the brink of death. He carried you out of the destruction safely in his arms. In the rush he did not hear your waning hearbeats. Maybe it was a good thing that you were rescued by a God who did not follow the laws of nature and brought you back to life with little effort. 

When you opened your eyes after being revived, you saw a hazy silhouette of something blue and red. You were covered in debris and your nose and throat were filled with crushed cement and sand. You began retching as soon as oxygen flooded your lungs. Superman flew to the nearest ambulance and deposited you in their hands. You didn't recall much of what happened or even your rescue by a God walking among mere mortals on this earth. All you remember was waking up in a hospital bed and your Mom, Dad and siblings bickering by your side. 

Doctors were marveling at the speed of your recovery despite multiple injuries and severe internal bleeding every doctor on the hospital floor was wondering how you survived but you rushed it away but to your parents, it was an act of God, not the God they were praying to but still an act of God. On the third day,  you were visited by a bespectacled journalist from Daily Planet, whatever that was.

You thought he looked astonished to see you but then you brushed off it as you seeing things that weren't there. Your doctor said you would experience something like that because of the trauma your body and brain went through. 

Clark was stunned to see you alive and thriving, he had done his best to heal you up but your life was still hanging on by a thread when he reluctantly left you with the paramedics. His curiosity was not letting him sleep at night. So, he took the initiative and scouted several hospitals using his journalist credentials. But seeing you alive and well, looking fragile like a doll being doted upon your family, he felt some warmth blooming in his chest. You looked precious and fragile like a dewdrop on a flower.

Clark wanted to interview/interrogate you alone but your older brother and sister refused to leave your side while your younger brother gave him a stink eye. He asked you some prodding questions but you were unable to answer any of that, you did not remember anything apart from some blue and red haze. Clark smiled, you remembered his silhouette even if you did not remember seeing him. Clark could feel the irritation radiating out your siblings, your brothers were itching to throw him out. He made himself scarce pretty quickly after that. While he was exiting the hospital, he cocentrated on voices coming from your room. 

"You can't stay here overnight", the nurse said.

"We don't want to leave her alone.", your sister replied.

"Ma'am, we understand but hospital policies are something that can not be changed for any patient" the nurse explained patiently.

"But, she almost died, what if she dies again?" your younger brother whined like a pre-teen. 

"She is not gonna die, she is healthy, and she will be here when you come tomorrow during visiting hours." 

"You guys need to go home and rest" you replied in raspy voice. 

"But.."

"No buts, I'm not gonna die overnight, I know I scared you all but you need to go home and rest. Also, take care of Mom and Dad,  I had to practically kick them out." you added.

"Go, I need some sleep, I can't rest without you three hovering over me like mother hen" 

They protested but your siblings left you alone  for the night.

The nurse gave you an injection for your pain and you were dead to the world.

Clark rushed home and had a quick shower before he headed out for the night. He entered your hospital room undetected, there you were sleeping blissfully, unaware of your saviour's eyes on you, scanning your body. He healed your body with his Kryptonian powers and he sat down on your bed. He did not know what came over him,  he caressed your cheek, he brushed off the strand of hair on your face which was irritating you in your sleep, you unknowingly snuggle into his warmth. Clark decided to stay with you at the  but his plans were interrupted by the night nurse making the rounds. He stayed as long as he could feeling a connection with you, something that wasn't common for him. He left you alone that night with a silent promise to return.    

[blackynsupremacy]

“why you always watching superhero stuff? ” 😐

The superheroes:

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Hallows' Eve

Masterlist

Original Posting: 02 Oct 2020

MCU/DC Cross-over AU

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

Warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, spanking, dirty talk, daddy kink, assault, non-consensual sex. Proceed with caution!

@mcudarklibrary​ entry for Dark MCU Kinktober

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.

[shotgunbunny]

═ஓ๑♡𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜♡๑ஓ═

WC:4.7k+ GIF by cavill-henry

{dark!clark kent X camgirl!reader}

{warnings!!! Age gap not specified but there is one!! Masturbation!! Exhibition?! Smut!! DUBCON/NONCON!! Dirty talk!! Breeding kink!! Stalking!! Mentions of murder!! Seems like a sweetheart but he isn't Clark!! Lois bashing!! Threats!!! Stockholm Syndrome!!!}

Clark was absolutely baffled by you. You were a puzzle that he couldn't figure out and he was absolutely obsessed with the game. You challenged him without knowing. You challenged his control, his nobility, his very will of remaining good. But he was a simple bat of eyelashes away from snapping and ruining his reputation.

You worked with him in the office. While he worked on the small sports articles you worked beside him on small fashion articles. You put your heart into every little report on the newest line of shoes coming out, and every fashion tip that was current floating around. Clark often would allow himself to stare at you typing, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth until you realised the cliché you were doing. You would blink and giggle quietly and then head back to typing after your small mental break.

Clark took in the sparkle of your eyes everytime, how they lit up over your cliché and how romance books had bled it's terribly cute habits into your actions. He was hypnotized with every giggled behind your small hands, every strand of hair that you swept out of your face. He was just entranced in you, he had been the day he first met you.

He remembers so clearly how Lois teased him and how he rolled his eyes at her. He did enjoy her company but she could not hold a firey candle to your sun light beaming on him. Clark almost considered her his muse at one point, but then he stumbled upon you and he was ignited with a vigor for humanity like never before. Lois was bitter at first from loosing his attention but when she started receiving threats and dead birds on her doorstep she soon stopped, far too consumed in her own fear to try and ruin Clarks love.

It was worth it. Everything was. Clark had everything where he wanted and soon you'd be his, but for now he would stare at you working and as he drowned in your beauty he felt himself slip into daydreams of when you first met.

Clark had been working particularly hard all night saving Metrocity from villains that seemed to linger around every corner. And when he was finally done defeating the wrong doers, he realised he had to get to work, so he bolted home and changed out of Superman and into Clark Kent. He let out a huff, feeling exhausted already, his limbs ached slightly and his body craved sleep.

He headed to work, stopping once for a bagel and a coffee before quicky paying and shooting back into the street eager to get to work on time. As he entered the elevator he let out a sigh and soon a yawn slipped past his lips. As the doors opened he slowly headed to his desk and drank his coffee, desperate to consume it so that it could provide him with energy. As he sat down he turned to his left and saw the usually empty desk, not empty. Infact it was almost as if there was someone who moved into the booth. He furrowed his brows and his answers were quickly met when he scanned the area and saw Perry leading a girl out.

"Attention everyone, this is our new employee Y/N. She'll be working on the fashion section. Treat her kindly, that's all. Get back to work." The words echoed around the area and Clark felt his heart race. You were going to sit next to him. A smile graced his lips as he saw you gracefully walk to your desk. You sat down and turned to look at Clark. He smiled, drinking in the familiarity of your eyes. They were so beautiful he was able to recognize them anywhere from in person to online. He held a steady hand out to you and you smiled, your cheeks raising and blushing over how polite the handsome co-worker was.

He couldn't help himself from trying to provoke you so he stared fully into you eyes, allowing himself to drown in your attention. "I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." He noted your heart racing before it slowed down. You stared at him, a smile still gracing your lips and you blinked slowly before turning to your computer. You glanced at him before gracing him with your voice in person, "You might have, you might not have. Who cares? We're here now." You flashed him a smile with teeth completely wiping him out. He was absolutely smitten with you. Ever since he saw you online he knew, you were utterly perfect.

He returned your toothy smile with his own before speaking, "You're absolutely correct. We are here now and I am absolutely ecstatic to have a booth partner. I hope you're ready for my to grumble over the Chiefs loosing." You giggled at him, and then began getting on with work allowing idle natter to float between you two. All the while Lois stared at you both, seeing the charm oozing off Clark and how you repaid it with your giggles and smiles. She was absolutely furious, how dare this little bimbo steal his attention, she had known Clark longer and been through more than you could ever know with him.

You smiled at him and giggled, you were accepting his flirts and you accepted them with pride. Clark knew that. He could tell with the way your eyes sparkled. Which is why he decided to shower you with his shy comments everyday at work. Commenting how pretty your eyes were, how cute your dress was all with rosy cheeks and a small stutter. It was worth his awkward stuttering to see you beam with pride just from his words.

Today was no different, he had told you how great you looked but ofcourse in his own way. "You look- stunning- I mean f-fantastic." And you did, your lips glossed and plump, your cheeks lightly blushed with pretty eyelashes that made you eyes look magnificent. You giggled bringing a hand up and hiding your giggle behind it but he heard it regardless and was swimming in adoration from the sound.

After a full day of working and using his charm on you, he had distinguished your real blush from your makeup blush and that alone filled his ego. He made you blush. As you both headed for the elevator, you pulled your phone out and began typing. All the while, Clark, you and Lois as well as a few other co workers stuffed into the small space. When you put your phone back in your pocket, Clark felt his vibrate. He pulled it out and saw your notification to the public.

'Tonight at 8 cst! Prepare yourself angels, I am dripping from work.'

Clark smirked. He made you blush and he made you wet. He knew that ofcourse, he could smell your sweet juice from where he sat, but seeing you openly say you were dripping from work made his cock stir. The elevator stopped on the last floor and opened. Everyone promptly said goodbye, Clark flashed you a wink and a smile and you looked down blushing before heading home. He watched you rush away, God you were cute.

"You know Smallville, why not make a move?" Clark turned his head, his eyes still focused on you. "The times not right. Did you get in touch with Superman yet? See if he'll help you?" Lois heaved a sigh and shook her head, "He won't even try and see me anymore, but the dead animals have finally stopped and the threats are slowly stopping too." Clark nodded. Ofcourse Superman wouldn't see her anymore, he had someone else to watch. It was true he had stopped his extreme threats but that's due to Lois calming down and accepting the fact that he was very inlove with you.

And with that Clark walked away, excitement coursing through his veins for tonight. Soon he was gonna break, and if tonight was any good, he was going to break so incredibly quick and then snap you up without a second thought.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Today had been such a good day at work. You finished your article and Perry loved it, well he loved how it was written. And Clark kept flirting with you. So much that you were sure if he called you pretty one more time your heart would have exploded from how much it was beating. You did have an enormous crush on Clark, he was such a gentleman and it definitely helped how beautiful he was. His chiseled jaw and his hypnotic blue eyes always lulled you into staring at his beautiful face. You sighed, as much as you'd love to date him, you knew some of his views were a little outdated and if you told him about your second job he would be absolutely disgusted by you.

It didn't bother you, it just annoyed you. Many men in the world watched porn yet the second their partner suggested doing it they would often grimace and grumble. But you didn't care, the extra money was amazing and the thrill of being watched by so many people was enchanting. You remember one time after you had just cum and ended your stream, you were cleaning yourself up, clad only in a dressing gown when Superman appeared on your balcony.

Your heart jumped in your throat, scared of what might happen when suddenly he furrowed his brows and stared at you concern swirling in his eyes. "Is everything okay here? I heard screams." You blushed looking down, Superman had heard you cumming! Shame filled you veins and you mumbled out to him, "Yes I'm fine. I'm so sorry it was um my um pleasured noises. I'm a cam girl." Your heart was racing after telling the literal alien your job. You peaked up from the floor and saw his eyes widen and then a soft smile coat his lips, a light blush appearing on the tips of his ears. "It's absolutely fine angel. Just as long as you're okay. I'm sorry for disturbing you." And with that he flew off.

After that you decided that you needed a job and that when you joined The Daily Planet. You didn't see Superman after that incident except for on the news and you felt relieved knowing that he didn't say anything or harass you. Infact you didn't even think he cared. You smiled, he was a good man.

You got changed out of your dress and took your soaked panties off and threw them on the wash. You changed into a lace lingerie and put a sheer dressing gown on. You had eaten dinner and done your chores, so now it was time for some fun. You pulled out your vibrator and dildo and placed them next to you on your bed. You set your laptop up in the perfect place and got ready for the stream. When you started it, you saw many fill in, but decided for the first five minutes to moisturise your legs while you waited for any sticklers to join.

After you were done you smiled at the camera. "Hi there everyone. I have been so wet all day. I woke up from a naughty dream about a certain flying superhero and then I had to go to work where a co worker got my panties soaked!" You said it all with a sultry voice making sure to purse your lips and push your tits together to look pretty in the camera while saying the naughtiest things. You looked at the comments and blushed.

s.man.kent: God what a naughty slut, both of those men deserve to ruin your tight holes.

filth.y.lover: you should sell those dirty underwear

want.to.fucck: god I am so fuckin hard for you.

dirtyyy.daddyyy: get on with it you dirty slut.

You slowly slid your gown off revealing more flesh to your watchers. You got on your knees and played with the band of your panties before you slid your hands up to your tits and squeezed them in the bra. You then pulled it off watching the tips roll in. You smiled and then pinched your nipples seeing them harden behind the fabric, you saw how desperate the men were so you unstrapped your bra and let your breasts out with a fake gasp knowing that everyone that was watching thrived on your sounds. You threw your bra on the floor and stared at the camera, slowly bringing you hands up to cup your tits letting out a moan when you rubbed your thumb over your nipples.

You then decided it was time to get into the main event, and brought your panties down showing your wet, little pussy to everyone, you moaned and slapped your cunt making sure everyone heard how wet you were. You smiled coyly at the camera, a blush coating your cheeks before you reached for your dildo and started to grind against it all while making little sighs and fluttering your eyes giving the illusion of intense pleasure when in reality it was just a tiny buzz. Once the toy was soaking you lined the head up and slowly thrusted up with a loud erotic moan. You slowly started thrusting faster watching all the tips fly in.

You reached out and grabbed your vibe placing it firmly on your clit before flicking it on and whining over the buzz. You turned the vibrations up until your thighs were shaking, you knew you were close to cumming and decided to thrust a little faster making your eyes roll back and pornographic moans to pour out of your soft lips. "I'm gonna cum-" You moaned loudly and convulsed feeling pleasure swipe over you. You layed there, sweating you vibrator laying on the bed still buzzing and your pussy still hugging onto the dildo. You pulled yourself up and turned your vibrator off, and slowly slid your toy out. You smiled, a heavy blush on your cheeks, "Thank you everyone for joining me today, I'll definitely buy some new toys." You giggled and winked before ending the stream.

You sighed and took a shower needing to clean your thighs up. After you were finished you went to check your phone and saw texts from Perry.

'Interview with Superman tomorrow at 2pm. Get something good out of him.'

Your eyebrows knitted and you stared confused. Why were you getting the interview and not Lois. Did he remember you and was finally about to shame you? Your heart skipped a beat. Oh god what if he was going to expose you. With a shaky sigh you prepared yourself for tomorrow and headed to bed.

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You left out a sigh, your nerves were acting up severely. This was going to be the biggest story ever and you were chosen. It didn't even fit you, you knew nothing about him! You worked in the fashion department for God's sake! When you asked Perry about this weird choice he said that Superman had requested you himself. You felt your heart race at what could happen and with no Clark around to help you calm down, you were melting in fear.

You made it to the rooftop where a table and 2 chairs were, you headed over to it and set up your notes and your recorder. You heard a 'whoosh'. You didn't need to turn to know who it was. Your heart raced with everyone heavy step that walked to the chair opposite you. You stared at him, taking in his muscular form in his suit and bringing your eyes up to his face as he sat down. He smiled at you. He then opened his mouth and spoke softly and you felt calm settle into your heart, "I do apologise if I have scared you, but Lois has been stalking me and I didn't want to be interviewed by someone who constantly wanted me involved in her personal life."

You felt your heart calm yet your mind started turning faster at hearing his voice. You smiled at him nodding, "I will admit I was incredibly confused as to why. I was scared you were going to say something about our last meeting." A dark look glazed over Superman's eyes and a smirk took over his face. "Oh angel, what makes you think I'm not going to?" You laughed awkwardly thinking he was joking. Yet when he stood up and shoved his chair back, you began to panic. You eyes widened as he stood straight, the power radiating off him was so intimidating that it caused fear to run into your veins.

"After our first meeting I was desperate for more of you. I heard you, and then I smelt you," He appeared before you and sniffed your hair making you shiver and let out a cry. "God your little pussy smelt divine, every part of you smelt perfect. I knew though that if I appeared to you again as Superman you'd be terrified so I did something better." You stared up at the hero, horror filling your heart as you saw the dark side of him. You stood up and took an unsteady step back. He chuckled at you, "You can't outrun me. So be a good girl and sit down and listen to me, and I'll be gentle with you. Got it?" You gulped your terror down, tears gathering in your eyes, a shaky whisper leaving your throat, "G-got it."

You sat down, soon Superman's large hands held your face, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. "Good girl. You see I thought if you were a cam girl it meant you'd have no idea who was watching and luckily for you, I was one of them. You made my cock so hard yesterday telling the stream that I made your cute little panties wet." You shook, it shouldn't have scared you. Afterall you agreed to let the word see you naked but the fact that someone who you knew was watching made your skin crawl.

He tilted your head up and stared up at him. "But the best part was interacting with you nearly every day baby. Look into my eyes, you know them." You stared into his blue orbs and slowly you felt your heard stop. "Clark?" He smiled brightly at you. "Smart girl! That's right! I've been beside you this whole time, and God hasn't it been wonderful, don't you think we'd be better together though?" You shook your head, "Clark this is crazy!"

"Crazy?! What's crazy is dealing with your fucking scent every day, thinking about you bouncing on my cock! I've gone insane just thinking about you being mine! I've done terrible things for you!". Your heart hammered as his eyes slowly glowed red in anger. "All the innocent blood on my hands is your fault. I've killed so many men just because they dared look at your naked body." You stared at him, tears trickling down your face. "Please-Clark."

He rolled his eyes and picked you up, before flying quickly to his house. He threw you on his bed. He locked all the doors and windows before heading back to you. You let out a sob, as he began stripping out of his suit. You saw his tone body be revealed inch by inch, knowing second by second your fate was sealed and you couldn't fight it. You stared as his hard cock sprang free. He stared at you with a hungry look before he quickly tore your dress off.

He eagerly started kissing you, making you hiss at how hard he pressed his lips to yours. You knew your lips would be bruised by his strength. His lips slowly descended down your body, making sure to leave his mark every step of the way. You felt his smile as he was at the valley of your breasts. Your heart raced and soon you let out a gasp as Clark took a nipple between his lips and suckled on it. You felt his tongue circle your hard bud and you arched your back. He smirked and bit your nipple gently. He then descended upon the other, making sure your breasts were drowning in pleasure.

He moved his large hand between your legs finding you soaked. He let out a groan and you soon felt his cock slide along your slit, you closed your eyes. He felt huge and that was from simply feeling the tip being dragged against your folds. Your felt him place his huge tip against your clit and he began humping, you gasped at the pleasure. Your hands flew around his shoulders and your wrapped your legs around his waist.

"God you're such a good slut. I knew this pussy was divine, it's so sensitive for me isn't it. Good. It means it will milk my cock. We want that baby, we want you to accept all my cum so you can be swollen with my child. Fuckin show everyone that you're mine."

He chuckled and gave a few more thrusts before he pulled his cock away. You opened your eyes and stared up into his. He looked amused before he leaned down and gently encased your lips in his. He soon began to push the tip of his cock into your small hole. He let out a groan while you whined, your nails digging into his bag and he slowly wedged himself into your cunt. You felt the tip pop in and then the rest of him thrusted in fast. You wailed at the size of him and he cooed down at you.

"Fuck, did so good baby. Taken my cock so well. Took every inch like a good girl. Doesn't it feel nice to be filled. Just wait your gonna be properly filled soon. Fuck your cunt is so fucking tight and warm. I'm in heaven."

He slowly started thrusting, dragging against your tight wet walls. You panted at the feeling, he lowered his forehead down onto yours whispering filthy words as he slowly adjusted you to his cock. Molding your pussy to his dick. He groaned as he felt yourself get wetter. He started to increase the speed of his thrusts.

He brought a big hand down to your button and began circling it vigorously, all while he breathed hard down on you mixed with grunts and groans. You moans egged him on and soon he began pounding your little pussy, making sure that his balls slapped against your ass and his pubes rubbed against his hand while he was playing with your clit.

"God I've always known that your moans were fake on stream, but here you are. Moaning like a fucking whore for my cock. I'm a god to you. You pussy is gonna weep for me just like how my cock weeps for you. I'm gonna treat you and this cunt so fucking good. Gonna be my prized possession!"

You dragged your nails down his broad back babbling for more, you felt yourself close to cumming. Clark was playing your body like a toy, and it didn't surprise you. Afterall he watched all your streams and knew how to play with your little pussy perfectly. You heard him pant, and he pressed his torso against yours before he kissed you and allowed for his cock to spear in and out of you.

"Fuck, I love you so much baby. I know your close. Can you feel how close we are. Isn't it perfect, your cunt was designed for me, and I was designed for you. I'll keep you safe forever. I promise."

He slowed for a moment and stared down at you, embracing this moment before he began thrusting again. His tip rubbing against your gspot every time. He let his hips guide him to an inhuman pace as he let himself drown in your essence. You whined and whimpered over how much his cock was beating your insides up.

"M-m gonna cum! Clark!" You didn't recognise your voice. Clark was right you were a slut. His cock had fucked the thoughts out of you head and turned you into his obedient cock slut. "Do it baby! Coat my cock! Mark me as yours. And then I'm gonna fucking fill you. Gonna get you pregnant! We're gonna be a perfect fucking family."

Your thighs began to shake and soon you coated his cock in your cum. He groaned deeply, his voice vibrating in your head. He felt your cunt tighten around him and he thrusted a few more times before his balls tightened up and he came in youm filling you up. He left his cock in you and collapsed, his head snuggled into the crook of your neck and his arms winded around your body.

"I love you. Did so good." He whispered before he fell into a slumber.

You couldn't escape ever. You knew it now. He had cum in you and there was no getting out of that, let alone escape a god like being. You felt tears stream down your face as your brought your hands to play with Clarks hair as he slept peacefully.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Living in Texas was quite a change but Clark wanted you at his home when you were going to give birth. You were excited. You had Martha there who would help you with your 2, one year olds who kicked up a fuss whenever daddy had to go.

You watched as Clark brought all the boxes into the house, displaying his strength. You smiled staring at your husband. You'd lost track of how long you drowned yourself in the illusion that you loved him. But you know that somewhere along the line it stopped being an illusion and that you had fallen in love with the devil incarnate.

Clark stepped into the room, he saw you staring at him, loving look in your eyes. He turned to look behind you and saw his mother feeding his twin children. He smiled, and turned to you. Adoration lighting up his face as he came up to you and placed a kiss gently on your forehead. You were so well behaved. Ever since you gave up everything was perfect.

Clark remembers the first and last time your tried to escape, you screams over the punishment you were given. The silent treatment you gave him after. How he had to implement fear into you, just to get you to love him. It was worth it. It got him his family. He looked down and saw your growing stomach and smiled.

He turned and began unpacking boxes making sure to make this house a home. He bought the neighbouring farm to his mothers house and he intended on making it perfect. You had already began nesting upstairs, letting your kids sleep with you in the big bed while Clark was gone.

Clark was so proud of you for becoming the wonderful mother that you are and amazing wife you were destined to be. You often begged for his cock which filled him with so much joy and boosted his ego. You were destined for him from the very beginning and he couldn't help but take advantage of that.

He unpacked all the photo albums, the precious memories that were kept in there were truly beautiful. From your first picture together when you were working at the Daily Planet with Clark to the newest photo of you holding a pregnancy test with a beaming smile on your face. He was so excited for child number three.

He had a son and a daughter so he was already overjoyed, but seeing you full with his child always made him ecstatic and he planned on keeping you pregnant for as long as possible. You walked into the living room staring at Clark as he gazed down at the photo album, you smiled. "Don't I look pretty in every picture?"

Clarks head shot up and he smiled at you. He stood up at full height before waking towards you. He towered you, something you adored now. Yet it was something that used to fill you with dread. He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. "You look pretty all the time, picture or not."

You blushed and smiled up at him bashfully. "I could say the same for you honey." He chuckled, "I always thought I was handsome not pretty." You giggled and leaned your head against his chest listening to his heartbeat. "Handsome, pretty, who cares when you're my husband." He wrapped his arms around you. "Damn right baby. Just like you're mine. Completely and utterly mine."

[lunasfics]

Found Family

summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.

pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 8.2k

preview

a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)

reblogs are appreciated!

“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it? 

“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back. 

“Good. Nightwing?” 

“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent. 

“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for. 

“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom. 

“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.” 

Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”

“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.” 

Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”

He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read: 

Attempt 1: G6B24 

Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)

Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown) 

Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision

‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass. 

“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did. 

Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.

His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick. 

“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind. 

“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.

Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him. 

“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you. 

The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.

You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file. 

“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.

You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.

“Batman?” 

Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.

Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.” 

You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?” 

Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised. 

"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.

He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."

You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected. 

When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.

They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”

“What’s going o-”

He hung up. 

Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’” 

Damian covered his laugh with a cough.

You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on. 

Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.” 

Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave. 

Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.

Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.

You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.

He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?” 

“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry. 

Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?” 

You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.” 

He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”

You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.

Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well. 

Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.” 

You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different. 

Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first. 

“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile. 

You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?

“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.” 

Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.” 

At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you? 

Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.

Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state. 

You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.

“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”  

Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.” 

You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile. 

“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.” 

“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.” 

Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.” 

“Wayne.” 

He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”

“Wayne.”

This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”

The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares. 

Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”

“No.” came their simultaneous response. 

Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.” 

Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…” 

Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper. 

Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”

Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”

Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”

You nodded, “I like it.” 

Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement. 

Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.” 

Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you. 

Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.” 

You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 

You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain. 

“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.” 

“They’re fine…Thank you.”

He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.” 

You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change. 

You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over. 

Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner

You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you. 

You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase. 

Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first. 

Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.” 

“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.

He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.” 

You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own. 

“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.

His eyes widened, was that why you were there? 

“How?” 

All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first. 

“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.” 

Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”

“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.” 

Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.” 

Bruce simply gave a nod. 

Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all. 

Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.

Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian. 

Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe. 

She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest. 

Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”

“Hi!”  he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.

Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”

You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”

“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.” 

Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?” 

He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”

“Sounds about right.” 

Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own. 

The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.

The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.

Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.” 

“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.  

The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her. 

“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.

“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.” 

You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey. 

Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.” 

You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.” 

Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.

Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front. 

“This better be good.” 

Tim mumbled, “Finally” 

“Miss me Timmy?” 

“Quite the contrary.”

The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away. 

His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce. 

“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.” 

Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.” 

“Holy shit, man.” 

“Jason, will you shut up?” 

“Never.” 

“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.” 

“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.” 

“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.” 

“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.” 

“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.” 

Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you. 

“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her. 

“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit. 

“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-” 

Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled. 

Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.” 

“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.” 

Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone. 

Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.” 

“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied. 

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.” 

“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.” 

Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.” 

“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do. 

“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.

“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered. 

“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.” 

“I want time with her, Bruce.” 

“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.” 

Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer. 

Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?” 

You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”

She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”

You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Clark gave you a fond smile. 

Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless. 

The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face. 

“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.” 

You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away. 

It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?” 

You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.” 

He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”

“I suppose so.” 

“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.” 

“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–” 

“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news. 

Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him. 

A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated. 

You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done. 

Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.” 

You nodded, “Yes, please.” 

Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.” 

“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”

Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”

Cass nodded in agreement. 

“We’re just buying training clothes.” 

“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.” 

You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.” 

“See?”

Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”

Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site. 

When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.

Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that. 

You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself. 

The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.

He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself. 

He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about. 

The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings. 

By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.

The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere. 

When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off. 

The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.

As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.” 

You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.” 

He nodded, walking away to change as well. 

You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill. 

“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see it.” 

You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.

Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.

Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”

He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

You nodded. Made sense. 

“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.” 

You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.

Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.” 

You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing. 

This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine. 

Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite. 

You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.

The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.

He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit. 

And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying. 

“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction. 

You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.” 

You nodded, “How are we doing that?”

He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?” 

You nodded. 

“Okay… and…. Go!”

You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds. 

“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you. 

You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner. 

They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking. 

That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case. 

They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor. 

The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother. 

Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in. 

Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there. 

You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.

Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough. 

Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.

Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled. 

You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.

Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.

Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.

True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances  where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.

Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal. 

You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.

Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it. 

You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.

Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’

Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine. 

Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.

These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.

These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.

And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.

You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow.  Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel. 

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun. 

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off. 

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end. 

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

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[funnyexel]

Can you do a Clark Kent x reader having to deal with working at the daily planet and Lois vying for him even though he only has eyes for you. He loves your brown skin and different styles you rock. I’m a black reader so thank you for sharing your writing.

imagine clark as your coworker

Swallowing thickly as you leaned your head on your fist. Huffing out a sigh, the continuous ticking of the clock, footsteps of your coworkers and the chattering from the Daily Planet News Channel are all pounding on the inside of your skull. You pushed your glasses up higher on the bridge of your nose as your eyes scanned over the rough draft for the next column. You absolutely hated proofreading, such a tedious and straining job for your eyes. All the overstimulating noises not helping.

And of course a bumbling fool had to prance his way to your desk. You heard the knock against the cubicle but you hoped your hair was big enough to drown out the noise.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

A small corporate smile is plastered on your face as you glance up at the familiar man. A soft glance hiding your underlying annoyance by the intrusion. Looking behind the man for a quick moment, you see two spectators focusing on this interaction.

"I haven't seen you around this floor before. I was thinking we could grab some coffee. I could show you the ropes."

Pupils flickering back to your coworker in front of you, your eyes drop. From a friendly and warm aura to pure annoyance. Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth, you flash a quick smile. The classic white man burden scenario.

There is truly only one way to clarify and shut down this run in. You've tried a number of different approaches but this one seems the most effective...and the most fun. "I've been working here for three years."

You don't know what was more ironic about the setting: your deadpanned voice, his rosy cheeks or his curt nod and awkward walk away. You bathe in watching the confidence drain from a mans face. The shocked look from the somewhat new information and the simultaneous switch from your corporate personality to your regular 'no bullshit' attitude.

You don't understand how a new hairstyle was an indication of being a whole new person. You still had the same face. Maybe that was all white men logic, you thought. But that was an unfair stereotype. There was one man you knew of that noticed. He noticed practically every minuscule thing about you. A tall, stereotypical, blue eyed, dark haired gentleman. He was sweet and sort of awkward but so very easy on the eyes.

"Hm? Oh, no. I'm not going home for the holidays."

The simple question, set the scene for what Clark would ask you next. He waited to get you in the break room alone to ask and clearly you thought nothing of it. But before he could follow up.

"I love going home for the holidays!"

An interruption. You gave a small smile to her but he sighed.

Lois.

Always annoying. Always showing up at the wrong time. Oh, how he hated when she'd simply...'pop up'. Clark pushed up his glasses as he still kept his gaze on you. Refraining from saying anything that would create an awkward situation for you.

"No boyfriend either? I assume."

You only chuckled at the question and he sported a calm smirk. Ignoring the ugly cackle in the background. You provided him all the correct responses. No holiday plans? No boyfriend? He had another question in mind but Lois was continuously interjecting and talking over you. So much so that he couldn't get a second to ask you directly.

Talking to Clark for one more moment, you glanced to the side and notice your other coworker come up to your desk. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you hurriedly leave the break room and met them. He watched the way you stride around your desk in that pencil skirt. Your low heels adding a particular sway to your hips as you leaned over and flipped through flies on your desk. You bent over just right, enough for him to have a peak at that scandalous bra you wore and as if on queue, she speaks.

"Finally! We're alone. So, I was wondering if we could-"

The moment she closed her eyes from immense nervousness, he bolted. Anyone could tell he had zero interest in that overzealous woman. Anyone but her.

It wasn't long until Clark found you again and you were flipping through more papers. He always admired how hard working you were. How you'd apply yourself to everything you did. It was inspiring. It makes him think of how you would be if domesticated. A terrific mother, he thinks. And probably an even better wife.

"Clark?"

Your soft voice snaps him out the thought and he perks up.

"I don't mind it. I'm just not that seasonal. Compared to you anyway."

Like he gives a damn about what you'd be wearing.

"That won't be a problem. Look as pretty as you do and that'll be seasonal enough."

He could feel his stomach flex at the smile you give him. His cock stiffening in his slacks as his eyes scan over your facial features in the sweet moment. Even though he was fully engulfed in your laugh and grin, he still had many things to take care of.

The nuisance. That passive aggressive and flirty coworker. And lastly you.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than life itself.

He needs you full of life and his seed.

He needs you to be his wife.

But he can wait one more Christmas before making that happen.

At least. He hopes he can wait. Because if he see's you with those beautiful braids, he doesn't know if he can resist the scene of fisting them while he pounds into you from behind.

a/n: I'm not going to lie you guys I'm lacking inspiration at the moment but I'm still going to do my best to get through all the asks. thanks so much for the support!

more writing

short stories here

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Henry Cavill works, arranged by character and type of work.

One-Shots

Forever And A Day - Explicit - Geralt x Black!OFC - Geralt and Lavinia share a passionate reunion.

Events

You're Mine | Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy Kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

Series

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Requests

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Reader - You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Challenges

Fifteen Minutes - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC - What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

Headcanons

Hobbies

Events

A Little Fresh Air | Walter Marshall + Female Reader + Public Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe - Explicit - Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader - Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse - Explicit - Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader - A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Don’t Kill My Vibe - Explicit - Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader - You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Requests

Happy Birthday, Cupcake - General - Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader - Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Praise You - General - Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader - Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

One-Shots

What Are You Doing, StepBro? - Explicit - Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader - You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Requests

Doing Something Unholy - Explicit - Charles Brandon x Reader - This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Series

Scrapbook (finished) - Side characters include Walter Marshall, Evan Marshall, Syverson, and Gus March-Phillipps

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Series

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

One-Shots

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl - Explicit - Napoleon Solo x Reader - Napoleon wines and dines.

Series

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Treat Me Like A Slut - Explicit - August Walker x Reader - August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Requests

Executive Temptation - Explicit - CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader - You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

One-Shots

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind - Explicit - Sherlock Holmes x Reader - As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Requests

The Paganini Problem - Mature - Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader - Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Series

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Challenges

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - Mature - Syverson x Reader - When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Requests

Shape-Up - Explicit - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Drabbles

My Little Strawberry - Mature - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach. 

Events

Say It Again | Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Nothing More Than An Animal - Explicit - Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader - After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Clark Kent (Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League)

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Gus March-Phillips (The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

Henry!Wolvie AKA The Cavillrine (Deadpool & Wolverine)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

[outercrasis]

Workplace Hero

Pairing: Clark Kent x GN!Reader ++ Word Count/Rating: 1.5k / T

Summary: There's never a dull day working at the Daily Planet.

A/N: This is pure fluff and flirting. It's also not based on a specific version of Superman/Clark, so feel free to picture your favorite one!

Some days you hate working at the Daily Planet. Most of the time it's fine – occasionally bordering on mundane – and then there are days like today. You've worked here long enough to know that if the lights go out it's time to leave the building or hide. You aren't getting paid nearly enough to face off against whatever threat has stumbled through the doors, windows, or sewers of the building.

Today you find yourself tucked in a supply closet near the reporter's bullpen. You had come in here for pens and sticky notes when you heard the telltale clunk followed by darkness and a faint scream. Knowing better than to move, you sat on the floor to wait. Thankfully you chose to wear comfortable pants this morning.

Not long ago this would have terrified you. Hyperventilating, crying, the whole nine yards. Now you just find yourself annoyed. There are so many meetings and deadlines you're going to have to move around. You'll definitely have to cancel your weekend plans.

Your biggest regret right now is leaving your phone at your desk. If you had it, you could have an idea of what's going on. Perks of working at a paper – there's always some reporter looking to have the first scoop. You could also pass the time with social media or some rounds of solitaire.

With nothing better to do, you lean into a corner and close your eyes. If you're lucky this will all be over soon one way or another.

***

“Um, hello? Are you alright?”

Bright light fills your eyes, forcing you to blink rapidly. The person who woke you slowly comes into focus. Blue and red fill your vision.

“Superman?” you ask, eyes still bleary.

The man gives an awkward and uncomfortable chuckle. As your eyes adjust, he comes into clearer focus. Black pants, blue button down, and a red tie that's slightly askew. His hand moves down from his glasses.

“No, just me,” he says.

You smile, accepting his hand to help you up. It's sure and steady around yours. “Sorry about that, Clark. Guess I wasn't fully awake yet.”

“No worries. I'm just glad you're okay. What were you doing in here?”

“Oh you know, just sleeping through another crisis at the Planet,” you joke, dusting off your pants. You miss Clark's amused expression.

You gather your things and go to leave the room, only to immediately stumble. The position you were in made your leg fall asleep, but it was still too numb for you to realize it. The pens and sticky notes fly out of your hands and just as you brace yourself for impact, it never comes.

Instead, a strong arm pulls around your middle and you find your face tucked into Clark's chest instead of the floor. His scent fills your nose – citrusy but warm and the traces of ozone. You desperately hope he can't feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat.

You stay there for a moment too long before coming to your senses and backing away. Clark keeps a steadying hand on your upper arm, making sure you don't fall again.

“You sure you're okay?” he asks, genuine concern written across his face. There's a small chance that being caught up in today's crisis would have been preferable to this burning embarrassment.

You do your best to play it off. “I'm alright, feeling is coming back to my leg now.” You give it a couple slaps and immediately cringe. Hopefully Clark doesn't form any impressions of you based on that. “Thanks for catching me. You've got fast reflexes.”

The pink flush on Clark's cheeks is adorable. “It was nothing, instincts really.”

“Lucky me then,” you say. “Lois may have Superman, but I've got Clark Kent.”

You then quickly scoot out of the supply closet and beeline back to your desk. Did you really just say that? You weren't even able to catch his reaction. Was that weird? That was probably weird and now Clark is never going to speak to you again. Great.

Back at your desk you try to quickly bury yourself in your work. Sentences and paragraphs can't sense your embarrassment, even if your deskmate Irene can. Before she asks you any questions you pop in your earbuds – blocking out the office and focusing on the words before you. While your nap was refreshing, it also put you an hour behind in your work. At least you won't have to move as many deadlines around.

Fate would only have it that the next article on your plate to edit is one of Clark's. Whatever god is running things these days has a cruel sense of humor. 

The small upside is that Clark's articles are usually easy to edit. He makes few spelling or grammar errors – most of his corrections are related to creating a more natural flow for the reader. With any luck you'll have this done and be onto the next article in 30 minutes.

The article is a heartwarming read. It's about a new dog shelter in Metropolis, focused on rescuing and caring for dogs that are displaced in the aftermath of superhero battles. They hope to reconnect as many dogs with their original owners as possible and Clark's article will give them additional publicity to do just that. It warms your heart that he's written an article on something like this when he could have easily spent that time tracking down his next big interview.

You don't really know when your crush started to develop, but it's only grown bigger since you noticed it. It's like you're a teenager again with everything he does and says making your heart race. Reading about his obvious care for animals isn't helping anything.

Sighing, you close your eyes and rub at your temples. This is getting out of hand. You can't even get through an article without imagining disgustingly domestic scenarios of going to the dog park with him.

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your swirling thoughts. You jump slightly when you see who's waiting for you.

“Clark?”

He smiles sheepishly, setting a mug down on your desk. “Sorry to scare you, I thought you might need some caffeine.”

“I- No worries. I just wasn't expecting you.”

“I hope my grammar mistakes aren't giving you too big of a headache,” Clark says, rubbing his neck. You look towards the coffee as a distraction from his criminally large bicep. He gave you his own mug emblazoned with the Smallville High logo – not one of the communal Planet breakroom ones. 

“Don't try to play modest, you know us copy editors like reviewing your articles best,” you tease. 

“I like making your job easier.” Coming from anyone else you'd consider that pure schmooze, but you can feel Clark's genuine honesty.

You're more than flustered. He didn't mean just you of course, he meant the entire editorial team. But then why did it feel that way?

You notice Clark's messenger bag is slung over his shoulder. “You heading out?”

“Yeah. I was tapped to go to a LutherCorp press conference.” He looks less than thrilled. 

You imagine the rest of the reporters in the bullpen are chomping at the bit to get this assignment. Based on his expression, you think Clark would be happier spending the rest of his career writing about dogs than covering Lex Luthor. There are plenty of reasons to dislike the man, but you do wonder why Clark's is so palpable. 

“I'm surprised Lois isn't covering that.”

“She's in Europe covering a UN meeting.”

You throw him a questioning look, curious why he wouldn't be there as well. Perry often prefers sending two reporters to events like those – Lois and Clark being his favorites, not that he'd admit it.

“It's Ma's birthday this weekend,” he says, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “I couldn't make it to both.”

God. As if you weren't completely gone on him before. Choosing his mother over a massive byline. You don't know a single other reporter in the building who would do something like that.

There's a sudden yell across the office. “Clark! Come on, we have to go now or we'll be late.” Jimmy points at his watch, reiterating their tight schedule.

“Sorry, I gotta go. I'll see you around?”

You nod. “Thank you for the coffee. I definitely needed the boost.”

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Clark opens his bag, putting something more onto your desk. “Here's your pens and sticky notes. You forgot them in the supply closet earlier.”

You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks. Clark apparently didn't hear the way that sounded as he runs off towards Jimmy with a smile and wave.

Irene gives you a pointed look that you ignore. No need to add fuel to the flames of the gossip mill. An adamant denial will only make her more steadfast in her assumption. 

You take a sip of your coffee. It's exactly the way you like it.

[skyjasper]

Don't call me crazy

Professor!Az X Student!Reader Modern AU

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has been lusting after her new British professor since the first day of class, what a perfect coincidence he also becomes her private teacher in all things war and torture.

Warnings: vulgar content, smut, 18+, age gap romance, oral (Fem and Male receiving), choking, praise, dom!az.

Word count: 4207

The first time I stepped into Mr. Singers' classroom I was expecting an old white man who thought he was funny.

What I wasn’t expecting as I took my seat in the front row was for a mid-age, tan skin, handsome man with tattoos and a thick British accent to walk out of the office. I wasn’t the only girl who sighed at his devastatingly handsome face.

“Good morning class. Let’s start with basic attendance so I can put faces to names and then we will get started.” The words rolled out of his mouth with the most sensual deep British accent.

The professor for War and Peace in Historical Perspective was not at all what I thought. Not with his crisp black button-up that had to top button undone and the sleeves rolled up. Not with the inky shadows that peaked up the collar of his shirt and down his very muscular forearm.

I was too busy daydreaming about those muscular forearms holding my waist to hear him call my name.

“Mrs. Y/N?” He asked again, which I only heard because of my seatmate elbowing me.

“Here.” I hesitantly lifted my hand, slowly sinking back into my seat out of embarrassment. His gaze fell upon me with his golden honey eyes.

“Next time, if you choose to be in the front, be more present.” He scolded me before moving on. A blush rose over my cheeks with the stern words.

~~~~

My War and Peace class hadn���t necessarily gotten better but also not worse. My work excelled and I never got below a B. So one could imagine my disappointment when my latest paper on Torture Tactics in War got a C-.

Mr. Singers' hand stayed on my desk as he whispered into my ear.

“See me after class or during office hours today.” His deep voice rolled through my body, shooting straight in between my thighs.

Was it inappropriate to have a huge sexual crush on my teacher who was 20+ my senior? Absolutely. Did it stop me? No. Goosebumps rolled down my bare legs and under my pleated white skirt. I nodded my head quickly as he moved to the next student.

After mentally going through my schedule I decided it would be best to stop by during office hours later.

~~~

My fist lightly knocked on Mr. Singers' office door.

“Come in.” He rumbled.

I opened the door before stepping into the dark space. His dark mahogany desk was neat and organized with papers and notes. The room only being illuminated by a tall lamp in one corner and a smaller salt lamp in the other corner.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask as my hands pull at the end of my navy sweater.

“Ah, yes Mrs. Y/N I wanted to discuss your last paper. Sit.” He nodded to the chair across from him. My feet moved on their own accord to sit, as if aching to obey his every word.

“Yeah I saw I got a C- and I was pretty confused. Is there any way I could revise the paper? I planned on using the topic for my dissertation.” I pulled out the printed paper from my bag.

He watched my every movement very closely. His eyes raked my body from my white headband, over my navy blue sweater and white skirt, and down my bare legs that were currently crossed.

“Yes, the topic is very good however the research is not accurate which in turn made most of your paper inaccurate. I was very disappointed to have to give you a C. You are a bright girl Y/N. I know you have a bright future in history, so I do want to work with you so you can gain better research skills and a better understanding of the topic.” He spoke, moving his dark round glasses back onto his face.

The glasses gave him a nerdy Clark Kent look. The glasses made me want to rip off his shirt and ride him. My thighs squeezed a bit tighter at the warmth that pooled in the lowest parts of me. I nodded with understanding before he continued.

“I specialized in War Torture when I was in school. I interviewed real victims and studied the methods and techniques.” He paused pushing up his sleeves and leaning back before continuing. “In the least creepy way possible, I became a master of torture and its history. When I decide I want to know something, I won’t stop until I devour all I can about it.” He finished.

I think I was delirious because I swear that last phrase was an innuendo. My toes curled in my black boots.

“I understand, and I would love your help since you’re so knowledgeable about it. I double majored in History and Journalism so I could research. How would this work? Should I stay after class or come to office hours?” I asked with a tilt of my head, I felt my hair fall off of one shoulder as I did so.

“How about it this, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you stop by at let’s say 5:30? Right after office hours so that way we don’t take time from other students.” He asked with his eyebrows raised.

“That works for me! Is there anything I should bring sir?” I asked as I gathered my things.

“Maybe a notebook and your laptop for notes. Other than that we can wing it as we go.” He finished with a small smile and a shrug of one shoulder.

We said goodbyes before I walked out of his office, my thighs now slick in anticipation.

~~~

“Today I figured we could work on the actual technical details of the methods. It is important to understand the thought behind each movement.” Azriel spoke as I walked into his office.

We have been doing this mentorship for the last two months so far. It’s been going well, both of us flirting now and again but never quite crossing the line. He asked me to call him by his first name outside of class, and what a beautiful name he had. Azriel.

I felt his eyes take over my outfit choice for the day. With the warmer weather, my skirt and sweater combo has become more rare. Today I wore a tight white skirt with a cropped white tank top with a thin dark blue cardigan over it and some platform boots. even with my platforms Azriel still stood over me.

“You-you want me to torture you?” My breath hitched with the statement. He let out a small chuckle under his breath.

“No, I’m going to see if you can handle the most basic form of torture. If we can’t understand what torture feels like how can we accurately report it?” He said while moving close to me.

“So what are you going to do to me Mr.Singer?” I asked looking up into his eyes.

“Sensory deprivation. We start with sight, sit down.” He voices as he walks behind me and gently pushes on my shoulder to sit me down.

I took deep breaths as his large hands brought a thick strip of black fabric in front of my face. I felt his presence all too well as he placed the cloth over my eyes and tied it behind my head.

“They start with sensory tactics because there is nothing quite like the paranoia of not being able to see your capturers and what they are doing.” He spoke, his voice drawing quieter as if he moved across the room.

“For example,” He whispered in my ear, easing a small jump out of me. I hadn’t heard his come back, his footsteps silent.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do to you.” He whispered in my other ear, running his fingers over my shoulder. Goosebumps appeared in his wake.

“Can I remove my cardigan? It’s warm in here.” I asked before my fingers fumbled to find the bow holding the top of my cardigan closed. I felt a pair of hands wrap around my own small hands. His fingers slide over mine, quickly pulling the strings of the bow and slowly sliding my cardigan off.

“How are you feeling?” His voice rumbled thick with an accent as he took my cardigan out of my lap.

“I’m ok, it just feels like everything is heightened. Like I can feel everything around me, every breath, every touch. How is this torture?” I whispered with a shaky breath. I know his touch could be innocent but with the massive want between us, every touch feels like he’s about to fuck me.

“It isn’t yet, the next thing they would do would be take away your hearing, they would play sounds that would drive you insane. I’m not going to subject you to that however I am going to create certain sounds and I want you to identify the sounds and objects. Knowing how to use the heightened hearing to your advantage is something that could be very useful in a situation like this.” This time I heard his steps, like he purposefully made them louder.

I gave a nod, moving my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting. The first sound I heard sounded like glass. I waited another second before responding to be sure.

“Is it a glass? Like a cup?” I tilted my head towards the sound.

“Yes very good. Would you like some water Y/N?” I felt his approach to my front. I gave another quick nod, sticking out my hands for the cup.

“Ha, knowing you if I tried to hand you this glass you would spill it all over yourself.” He chuckled under his breath.

“You’re not wrong, but how else am I supposed to drink the water?” I lifted a curious brow even though he couldn’t see it.

“Tilt your head back.”

A simple command, yet hearing it set my body alight. I felt warmth gather low in my belly as I did what he asked. As I felt his fingers grasp my chin, pulling open my mouth, I felt that warmth seep out of me. I tried to cross my legs, not realizing how close he truly was.

“Is something wrong Y/N?” He asked with what sounded like knowingness in his voice. I tried to shake my head but couldn’t because of his grip.

“Use your words.” He spoke again. More heat seeped into my panties at his command.

“Nope, nothing's wrong.” My voice came out more breathless than intended.

He hummed before touching the cold rim of the glass to my bottom lip. I felt him tip back my head some more before pouring in the water.

“Would you like to know something Y/N?” He asked as he closed my mouth, allowing me to swallow with a gulp.

“What’s that Mr.Singer?” I asked, feeling his thumb coming up to wipe a small dribble of water that escaped my lips.

“You look divine like this, I can only imagine what you would look like if I could see your eyes.” He whispered as his hand moved from my jaw into my hair.

I sucked in a harsh breath before lifting my hands to remove the blindfold that prevents me from seeing him.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I didn’t say you could take it off just yet.” His voice was light and full of amusement. Then the entire room shifted as his hand fisted my hair and brought my face closer to his.

I felt his heated gaze take over my body as his breaths gained speed. Then I heard the most torturous sound leave his lips. A groan that sounded like I hit him. Then his heat was gone, all contact broken.

“I shouldn’t do this. You’re my student.” He spoke with anguish. I stood quickly, a little too quickly by the way I swayed. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, steadying me. One hand found the tie holding together the blindfold, I quickly undid it and let it fall to the floor.

My eyes raked over his chest as I adjusted to the light. Did he get hotter while I couldn’t see? His shirt was messy like he had been raking his hands over it. And when I tilted my head to meet his eyes, a whole head and a half taller than me, the hunger I found there was insatiable. And whatever he found my eyes must have changed something for him.

“Fuck it.” He whispered before pulling my head closer to him, smashing my lips into his. I melted as he kissed me.

He kissed me like he was a man dying of starvation and I was his only food source. The hand that was holding the back of my neck moved into my hair pulling it tightly. He ripped his mouth from mine with a gasp.

“Fuck.” He muttered with a new horse and raspy voice. There was a war in his eyes, a conflicting battle.

I decided to end that battle by slipping one of my fingers over his black button-up, slowly undoing each button. When his chest was fully revealed I took a second to marvel at the gorgeous tattoo that spanned his entire muscles chest before pressing a kiss into his pecks.

“Please, Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking up at him with doe eyes and using my softest voice. I saw the battle end and that hunger take over again.

“Jesus fuck, you will be the death of me, baby.” He grunted as his hands slid under my thighs and lifted me onto his desk.

A smile overtook my face as his hands gripped my ass. I gently tugged on the open shirt, asking for him to remove it. I almost let out a cry at the loss of his heat. He pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion, stepping back in between my spread legs.

Azriel slants his mouth over mine once again, his hands grazing over my bare thighs, reaching under my skirt. I let out a small moan when his fingers gripped my thighs.

“Do you like that Y/N?” He asked with a raised eyebrow before sliding his hands under my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the desk.

“God yes, Mr. Singer.” I moaned as he continued to manhandle me. His hands roamed from my thighs to my waist pulling my chest into his.

“Fuck I love the way you say my name. But I love your beautiful tits even more.” He grunted out before pulling my tank top down.

“You have no idea how many times you’ve distracted me in class. Prancing around in these tiny skirts without any tights and your tiny tops. The number of times I’m lecturing and all I can look at are your beautiful thighs.” He ground out as he brought his mouth to my nipples.

A wave of pleasure rolled through me as his tongue swirled my nipped. A loud moan fell out of my mouth when he lightly bit it. My hips bucked forward, almost causing me to fall off the desk but his hands were there, sliding me back onto the steady table.

“Careful there baby. Tell me what you need.” His breath whispered over my nipples with a shuttering sensation.

“You. I need you Azriel.” I whined, grinding my hips into the air. He fell to his knees, his hands pushing my skirt up.

“How do you need me? Do you need my tongue?” He asked as he licked a line from the base of my core to my clit, letting his tongue linger with an audible groan.

“Do you need my fingers?” His strong fingers followed his tongue, drawing a line through my wetness and swirling around my clit, causing me to gasp. My hand reached for my nipple as he paused, leaning back to look at me. After a beat of silence and direct eye contact, he said,

“Or do you need my cock?”

I’m pretty sure I almost orgasmed from those words alone, but I still replied.

“I don’t know, just please. Touch me. Anything, please.” I begged as my hips writhed against the desk. A wicked cruel look came into his eyes.

“Please what? If you’re gonna beg you might wanna address who you’re begging too.” An eyebrow hitched as he slowly brought the finger that hand wiped my wetness to his lips. Rubbing my arousal onto his lips.

“Please, Mr.Singer. I don’t care how but I need you to fuck me.” I whined out.

“Good girl.” My body came alive at the praise and the sight of him moving forward, face into my pussy.

His tongue licked another stripe before sucking on my clit over my panties. One of my hands fell to his hair, holding him into me as he continued to eat me like his life depended on it. His fingers slid up my thighs before grabbing the waistband of my panties and tugging them down. The cold air sent shivers down my spine as he hesitated.

“Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking down at where he sat with his eyes locked on my bare core.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I haven’t stopped thinking about this since the first day of class so I’m going to enjoy it,” he whispered in a daze. His hand forced my legs open even wider, completely exposing me to him.

His thick fingers traced every part of me as one of his hands fell to his hard erection in his pants. My gaze slid down to stare at the now bulging point in his black briefs. I took a moment to truly appreciate the sight before me.

One of the hottest men sitting on his knees, palm rubbing himself, his lips glistening with my arousal, hair a tossed mess from my fingers, and those damn tattoos that moved with each of his breaths. I nearly came at the sight.

I closed my legs, nimbly sliding onto the floor in front of him. My knees hit the hard floor as his gaze dragged over my bouncing tits. One of my hands found his belt and tugged, trying my best to convey what I wanted without words.

He stood quickly, one hand unbuckling his belt and pulling it off in a fast and clean motion. He took a second to wrap up the belt and place it on his desk, not once breaking eye contact. My thin hands slid up his legs, quickly unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down.

His cock sprang free with a small bounce. A small gasp left my mouth as I beheld the sight of his long and thick cock that has barbell piercings along the shaft. I rubbed my thumb over his head, collecting the small bit of pre-cum, and sucked it into my mouth.

Azriels head fell back with a groan, one that became even louder as one of my hands wrapped around his length. I let my lips softly kiss the head of his cock before sucking it into my mouth. I took a minute to warm up to his size before looking up at him.

The second I made eye contact his hand flew to my hair and forced me down on his cock. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to take it all.

“Come on, be a good girl and take my cock, pretty girl.” He ground out as his thumb from his free hand smudged my mascara with my tears.

I moaned around his cock and I forced myself up and down him. He was too long to fit in my mouth so with what I couldn’t swallow I used my hand. I pulled off of his cock with a pop, leaning forward and spitting on it before using two hands to jerk him. I moved his cock over my chest, savoring the professor's low groans and curses.

I felt two strong arms slid under my arms, stopping my movement. He picked me up until I was face to face with him and my feet were dangling. He started at me with so much heat to anyone else it might seem like anger. He slid his arms to my waist and pulled my body against him as I kissed me. On instinct, my legs wrapped around his waist, lining me up perfectly to feel the head of his cock push against me.

We both gasped at the contact. It didn’t take him long to walk us over to the wall by the chair, pushing me against it and thrusting his cock so he slid through my folds. A loud moan leaves my mouth when he hits my clit.

“I need you. I’m clean, please fuck me Azriel.” I begged.

A long and overdrawn “Fuck” left his bruised lips. One of his hands guided his cock to line up with my hole.

“I’m gonna fuck you, it’s not gonna be sweet, and it’s not going to be slow. It’ll be hard, and dirty, but fuck will it feel good. Is that ok baby?” He tormented me by nudging the very tip of him into me.

“Yes, god yes.” I threw my head against the wall. I would do anything to just put him inside me.

“Good, I want you to ride me, I wanna see those beautiful tits bounce as you struggle to take me in your little cunt.” He whispered into my ear before moving us so he was sitting on the chair and I was sitting on his thigh. I rubbed against his thigh for any friction I could get.

“Fuck you’re killing me.” His hands ran up and down my sides, as I readjusted myself so I was hovering over his cock.

One of my hands gripped his shaft helping me to sit on his cock. I did it slowly, letting myself feel each inch, feel the stretch of him. We both moaned at the sensation, and he didn’t give me much time to adjust before his hands were moving my hips.

I moved with his hands, grinding on his cock, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt something as good as this. You are perfect.” He said as he tilted his head back. I started to move up and down on his shaft, every so often switching to grinding against him.

His head snapped back to lock me in the eye before his hands found my hips with a bruising grip, stopping my bouncing. He thrust his hips up, hard and fast.

“Oh fuck.” I screamed out as he continued to fuck me.

His arms enclosed my waist fully, holding me to his chest as my fingers raked the strong muscles.

“You’re so good, thank you sir.” I moaned and pulled my nails down so hard I left marks.

His replying hum was more than enough for me as he moved his lips to suck on the sensitive spot between my neck and ear.

I felt a tight tension run down my spine as my orgasm grew closer. He let me grab one of his hands, and I guided it around my throat, gently squeezing to signal what I wanted.

“You want me to choke you? Maybe you did pick the right field.” He muttered with a condescending laugh. But still, he obliged, squeezing the sides so I got that beautiful blood rush. His pace quickened as I tightened around him.

“Cum baby, milk my cock with your cunt. Be my good girl and cum.” He said before he licked a strip of my neck.

My orgasm shook my body with a force that I hadn’t felt before. Frat guys are notorious for not making girls cum. My cunt squeezed him as he jerked up into my cunt before pulling out. I whimper at the loss of contact before I felt ropes of his cum paint my stomach, just where it would be if he were inside me.

As I came down from my high I felt his fingers dragging up my stomach, collecting his cum onto his digits. He brought them to my mouth and pushed them into my lips. I took no time licking them clean of his cum and sucking them like they were his cock. I kept my most innocent eyes as I swirled my tongue around them and popped them out of my mouth.

“One day I want to see your mouth full of my cum. For now, I need to clean you up and get you back to my place.” He gently lifted me and sat me down on the couch before turning and getting a rag out of his office cabinet.

He sunk to his knees before me, gently wiping me clean and muttering praises. My mind was a puddle and my body was spent. He gently pulled my tank top back up and covered me with his suit jacket. We made sure the coast was clear before walking to his car and driving to his apartment where we spent the rest of the night fucking, cuddling, and getting to know each other better.

~~~

A/N: here it is!!!!!! Next up, chapt 4 of S&S!!!!!!!

Taglist: @littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

[blackynsupremacy]

get ready to get sick of me because i got one topic for the next few days….

RED K CLARK KENT.

Season 2 Episode 4, “RED” Smallville (2001-2011)

he ain’t shit, but i can match his freak.

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Holiday Interlude #2

Written: Dec 7 2020

Pairing: Clark Kent x Black Reader

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: 18+, bit-o-fluff, sprinkle of angst, flash of gray Clark Kent, smut, implied stalking, dark implications at the end. Proceed with caution!

A/N: Thank you @titty-teetee​ for beta’ing this fic and for your encouragement :*).

Why did you wear these shoes? 

Under the rumble of multiple conversations going on around you the low melodic hum of Baby Please Come Home played throughout the bar. Balling up one of your fists into your lap, hoping to disappear into the back of your stool seat, you pressed harder against it and held your phone tighter in the other. People roared with laughter occasionally. Others tried to sing in time, while every once in a while a random person would step to your side, order a drink, and leave.

You did your best to wiggle tightly bound toes within heels that hadn’t seen the light of day in more than a year. Oh well, it was the least of your worries. You were also overly dressed for a bar packed with hoodie and jean wearing locals. You sat on the stool at the bar, checkered pin skirt sucking every bit of you into a smooth shape. You should have left your jacket on. The navy blue long-sleeved top hardly helped with the chill crawling up your back. Off the shoulder was sexy, but what did it matter now that your date had not shown up. 

Instead, you stuck out, became a beacon, a cautionary tale perhaps of meeting a stranger and being left stranded.

You weren’t even from around here. Metropolis grated against your country-living hospitalities. Well, small town-lack of 24 hours shops, hospitalities. Everything had a smell, the street perfumed with the fragrance of both smog and food left you sick. And the noise, you had been here for two days and had yet to have an uninterrupted night sleep. 

A sharp bang came from behind you. The sound was low, muffled, like a car backfiring perhaps. You swiveled around, a pair of men were beating the shit out of each other, the smaller one had the larger on the top of the table, pounding the man’s face. You were about to grab for your coat when another came between the two. 

You glanced at your phone. A nervous habit really and the soul nuisance of your night as your date had never answered your text. 

The man calmed the scene and as the crowd dispersed, the noise leveled out back to the low pitch of voices, you turned back toward the bar. The man behind the counter refilled your glass of whiskey, a subtle kind smile, and left you alone once again.

“Crazy night huh?” said a man’s voice.

You peered over your glass to the man now standing at your right. The same guy from a few moments before who had broken the fight up. A city dweller from the looks of him. Blue flannel over a simple gray shirt, jeans with the curled ends of dark brown hair poking out around the edge of his cap. He pushed up the black-rimmed glasses back to the bridge of his nose. He smiled kindly. 

He put his elbow on the bar, hooked a thumb back toward the area of the previous scene.

“The holidays seem to bring it out in people.”

You placed the glass back down, smiled back at him in return, and slightly nodded. He grinned back once again through the scruff of patchy hair encircling his mouth. His eyes glanced over your body for a second, but it was long enough for you to take in him assessing you as well.

“For a bar like this, you stand out.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes and offered another nod while pulling hard on the tumbler of whiskey. 

“--No, no-” he started to stutter, cleared his throat while adjusting the brim of his cap a little higher above his eyes. “You look great. I just meant, for here,” he peered into the room just beyond you. 

You couldn’t help the crooked grin or the blaze humming across your skin.

“I was supposed to meet someone here.” you swallowed again, letting the burn linger a bit in the back of your throat before you spoke again. “They had other plans I guess.”

Suddenly he jutted out a thick hand extending it in front of you. “Well I’m Clark Kent, it’s nice to meet you,” he said.

The music switched up to a more upbeat Jingle Bell swing as you reached for his hand. You offered up your name, squeezed tight as you shook it back, with a smile.

“You want to get out of here?” His eyes landed back on the glass in your hand. “Once your drink is done? There’s a quick place down the block, great food.”

You studied him for a moment. Considering you were new in town, didn’t know your way around in this giant moving citing that seemingly never slept - but he appeared kind enough.

More than that, hopefully, it wasn’t the booze talking, he was handsome and easy to talk to. 

“Sure?” you started to laugh. “What could happen while being with a complete stranger?”

You could tell he didn’t know how to answer your sarcastic quip. Clark stood up straight, aligned his shoulders tight, tilted his chin up a bit higher.

Unfurling his size before your eyes, he stood tall next to you. “Most friends start as strangers, right?” Clark grinned back at you, relaxed his shoulders a bit, and took a small step away to allow you to slide from the barstool. 

“So let’s get some food.” 

“Okay, okay. Yes, I’ll go. I hope it’s good.”

Slightly buzzed off the three drinks, Clark walked behind you out of the bar and onto the icy sidewalk.  At once a group of giggling, bubbling with what the night had to offer, a group of people stormed right in front of you, pushing you out of the way. A couple of hands held your hips, drawing you further away from them, proactively he guided you on the outskirts of the group and further away from the bar. 

“Busy for a Thursday!” said Clark from behind you. His hand stayed on your lower back as he came around. “Must be the holidays.”

Clark seemed to realize he was still touching you when his hand dropped and jabbed into his front pant pockets. 

“It’s just down here,” He pointed with the other. And true to his word, a small line with a few people deep was close. 

“What kind of food?” you asked while trying to retain some of the warmth his hand had left under your jacket.

“A bit of everything I think.” He glanced down at you from under his cap. You tried not to stare, but damn. Out on the street, with the gentle glow of the pale street lights, you could see his face clearer. “But I like the tacos,” he added and lifted his eyes back in the direction of the restaurant. 

The line moved fast, you ordered what he ordered; two soft tacos with spicy condiments. Against your unflinching comments, Clark paid for yours along with his. And when the pleased woman behind the counter handed him the heavy bag Clark asked something you weren’t sure how to answer.

“Do you want to go back to my place?”

The two of you walked a few steps, once again you were considering. You were the type of person who went with the instinct, and your gut told you he was okay. But then again, monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Clark smiled as he turned to you with the bag in hand.

He shrugged as he continued to gaze back at you. “--Sorry that was forward. I just wanted to offer you a warm place to eat these.” 

Honestly, you had thought he was just being nice. That he saw a pathetic woman, dressed up, waiting for a date that would never happen and offered a kind hand. But you had witnessed what he had done in the bar by breaking up a fight before. Certainly, that went further to color in the shades of  his character? Also, there was no way this man wanted anything more than to have a meal and a friendly conversation. Right?

You nodded quickly and skipped the smile. And you followed Clark only another block before you were following him up the steps of his apartment building and through its door. He mumbled on about how the neighbors are quiet, though the one four doors down were loud but only on Sundays. Your heart was beating fast, you had never done anything like this before. So you tried to listen to his words, search for some grounding in the moment at hand. 

Clark appeared to pick up on your nerves. He turned back to you once off the elevator to his floor, he grabbed your hand and led you down the long brick covered hall. “Did you come here for work?” he asked. 

His voice shook you back to his warm hand within yours. “Um- yes. I could have completed it online but I like the feel of seeing the works in person. The museum has so many artifacts, I couldn’t pass it up.” 

“That’s what you do? Like some sort of cataloging?” Clark released your hand, dug in his pocket for the key as he stared at you curiously.

“Sort of. Yes, it’s cataloging, but also returning them to their rightful homes. This particular one arrived here, according to the security footage by a mysterious visitor. Nobody has been able to figure out who he is. But I secretly think it might have been him, you know, Superman.”

You pressed your small clutch closer to your chest as you stared at the doorknob. “So many of them were taken under horrible historical circumstances. In some cases, our eyes will never see them again once they are gone from the museum. A bit ghoulish I guess. But they did offer me a new position here, I’m not sure I’ll take it.”

Clark popped open the door, “‘Sounds interesting though. Like something you’re very passionate about. I’ve been having trouble finding that for me. I work at the Daily Planet, it can be boring. ” he said.

He let you walk in first. The same color of brick as the hallway, lined the wall to the windows, where it angled right creating the basic square shape. A Christmas tree stood near the couch and middle window, it was bare, darkened in shadow. But the kitchen light was on, casting light into the living room as you stepped in. A few shelves behind the grey couch were stuffed full of books stacked in whatever fashion he saw fit. It felt cozy overall.

“Home sweet home,” he chimed in as he shut the door behind you. 

Clark walked around you toward the kitchen island, where he sat the bag on the other side of the sink. He glanced back at you, “It’s not much-”

“No, I like it,” you said and joined him at the counter. 

You shed the jacket, placed it on the back of the chair. “Wow.”

“Yeah, these tacos smell great!” you said as Clark paused where he stood. And when you glanced back at him he was staring at you and not the food. 

“What?”

Clark rubbed his chin while he appeared to be considering you. “I thought you were beau-- I mean, wow you’re beautiful.”

You tried to maintain eye contact but opted out to stare back at the food. Heat rose from your chest, crept over your shoulders and down your back, the alcohol was wearing off and this feeling was completely your own. Clark shuffled off the unbuttoned flannel, his cap along with it, and ran his fingers through dark loose curls. 

A steady silence followed while he went back to unwrapping the food. “How about another drink?” you asked. “Do you have anything brown?”

“Uh,” Clark froze for a second in thought and looked over deeper into the kitchen. In the shelves, near the stove, a single bottle stood. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

He walked around you, retrieved two glasses, the bottle, and returned to stand next to you. He poured you three fingers worth about that much for himself and raised his glass.

“To new friends.”

You clinked the glass against his with a nod, swirled the liquid within, and then took a big drink. And three more glasses later you were more than happy to flirt. Well, in your own way with your sarcastic comments about the city, his eyes the color of a summer sky, how the smog was thickest in the mornings, how big his arms were under that long sleeve shirt...oh and how everybody always seemed to ignore each other, ah the city.

With every word, you grew closer to him, or did he move in? Behind the blur of booze, it didn’t really matter which. Clark leaned in toward your titled lips and kissed you anyway. You stared back at him shocked and unable to look away as he started to pull his shirt over his head. Ripples of muscles across his chest and down to his waist momentarily gave you pause. Wispy bundles and swirls of thick black hair coated his skin adding to the dips of hard flesh.

Your lower lip hung open, “Oh my god…” you whispered. 

Clark wondered back to you, his hands clasped around your forearms, then moved further up before resting on the sides of your face. 

“I--thought you were just being kind to me.” you slurred it out as your hands soon become unable to not touch his chest. “That you saw some dolled up girl and felt sorry for her.”

Clark’s smile slackened, “No, I thought you were beautiful from the second you walked in. I wanted to talk to you. But I waited, and when no one showed up --” he half grinned again. “I took a chance.”

“Going out for food was a bonus--getting you back here-” Clark kissed you again, pulled you back with him as he walked. 

“You--are you sure?” Clark doesn’t stop the cascade of kisses from your jaw, to your neck, pecking your collarbone as his hands wandered down to your ass. He hummed a deep uh-huh and began to unzip the back of your skirt. 

“It’s just--” you tried to speak again but his lips landed back on yours. In the tussle of his hands shimming your skirt down, you let out a giggle. “You look like a god.”

Clark grabbed your hand, tilted his head back, and looked at you. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Not with me.” he narrowed his eyes before he smiled. “Now come here.”

He got you naked and back first on his bed, though you still tried to hide with a well-placed hand here and there. But all thoughts of insecurity flew out the door as Clark pulled down his boxers. What sprung out had you coughing with frantic drunk giggles.  

“I’ve--” you started to speak and looked into his eyes. “I’ve never seen one bigger than that.” and your eyes dipped back down between your legs at his long, thick, uncut, cock. 

Clark’s large body bends at the waist as he crawls further up to you. He said nothing but offered a warm smile as he settled between your hips. The muscles of his arms looked wholly larger, as he laid propped up on the palms of his hands. The tip of him swept down your slit causing you to buck your hips.

“Sensitive?” he whispered and angled his hips again - this time the soft, warm end pressed into you. “And wet.” 

You settled in, spreading your legs wider, lifting your feet off the bed, and curled them near his ribs. He pushed in further, you were soaked as he inched in more. Sinking into you, the action takes him over, the warmth, the tightness has him falling on top of you. Clark raked his teeth up the column of your neck to your mouth. He kissed you hard, sucked in your bottom lip as he slid in with a powerful stroke. 

He wasn’t the quiet man that you expected him to be. Far from the unnamed person, you laid eyes on a few hours ago, Clark grabbed your wrists, wrapped his hands tight around them, and crossed them behind your head. You whimpered out his name as your head lulled desperately left and right. You arched your back the moment the roughness of his coarse hair grinds across your clit. 

Your murmurs whine out in feathered aching. He could feel clutching within to the point angled his hips to prod deeper and to quicken the pace. Eye to eye, he watches you fall apart all at once.  The sensation hit fast that you weren’t sure you were even almost there until it happened. But you did, and you tried to grab for him. But his grip tightened around your wrists, he huddled in close brushing his chest against your body as his hips filled you as deep as he wanted. 

Despite the hushed groans, the long, languid roll of his hips, he didn’t last long either. Soon after Clark sputtered to an end with his mouth on yours. “Sorry-” embarrassed he moved his head down the side of your cheek so as not to look in your eyes. 

“It’s--been more than a while,” he said quietly, panting.

Clark slumped to your side, your leg still underneath his waist. “Me too…” you huffed out, still transfixed on the last few moments. “Six years and counting. Well, not anymore,” you chuckled.

You laid there for a few more minutes with Clark slowly stroking the skin of your inner thigh. Not knowing what came next you did like the movies, or as your friends had done. You sat up, tugged your leg from under him, and looked around the room for your clothes.

“You’re leaving?” Clark propped his head in his hand and stared up at you.

You pulled at the blanket near in an attempt to clumsily cover your body. You shrugged, not meeting his eyes, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay?”

Clark lunged forward, held you around your shoulders, and body and pulled you back down into the bed at his side.

“Leave?” Clark held you close in his arms. “Do you know how hard it was to get that artifact to the museum? I had to track down a dozen shitty guys to get something that I knew would get your attention.”

Dizzy still with the liquor in your veins you blinked a few times and hoped what you were hearing was just an illusion. 

“Seems like a lot--but you’re worth it.” He sounded so sure and nuzzled his nose in near your ear. 

“What? Wait,” you tried to speak but Clark squeezed a little harder and started to peck your neck with soft kisses. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

This time the panic uncoiled from your belly as you pushed back against him. “Who are you?” 

Clark’s hold was like steel as he wrapped his arm under you. With the other, he removed his glasses. Under the dim light pouring into the room from the kitchen, you stared back at him. The eyes, the nose, and now that you couldn’t get an inch from him it all made sense. 

“Fuck..”

Clark sat up and so did you. He dragged you over his leg and sat you in between his as he flung the glasses to the other side of the bed. 

“It’s not easy meeting the love of your life.” Unrestrained and a bit desperate, Clark held your arms and forced your face in his direction. 

“You’re going to take it right? The position? Don’t disappoint me, baby.” 

He crushed his lips onto yours, dipped his tongue in a bit before he pulled back. “Say yes,” he muttered as his hands coasted down your neck and over your bare shoulders. 

Superman, Kal-El stared back at you waiting for an answer. It was most definitely a lie, “Yes.”

Clark’s lips split into a delirious grin. “Good, then we’ll look for a bigger apartment tomorrow.”

You frowned and held the side of your head as the familiar thump-thump of a headache started to form. 

“Well maybe not tomorrow.” he laughed slightly as he continued to speak, “It’s Christmas Eve. I think the two of us can spend it getting to know each other-” one of his hands slid over to your breasts.

“--a little better…” Clark leaned in toward you, thick fingers pulled your chin up so that your lips hovered over his. 

“It’ll be the best Christmas ever.” he smoothly said.

[ladylaviniya]

Lassoed In Love

|| Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: An investigation turns into a car accident rescue, a cup of coffee, an argument...and heated kisses.

Pairing: Farmer!Clark Kent X Teacher!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, No Sex in this chapter, Slowburn, descriptions of car accident, anger management issues, no sex but lots of kissing, topic of rape being mentioned.

Word Count: 8k

Author Notes: To save me from total writers block I thought I'd share this story. I will repeat. I HAVE NOT ABANDONED MY OTHER STORIES.

Inspiring Song: "Too Sweet" by Hozier

CLARK

Tossing and turning in the blankets, Clark sighed with frustration. His head turned and stared at the empty space on the mattress. He had half the mind to drive to the dump and collect the old one again. But it still smelt like her. That selfish bitch. The mother of his daughter...Lois.

His body yearned for intimacy, aroused for the warmth of a woman. He grabbed himself beneath the sheets and groaned softly. What was he to do? Porn was starting to be an issue. Some nights he felt like a teenage boy covered in acne hiding porn magazines from his mother, only now it was deleting the internet history off the computer he shared with his daughter and hoping he wouldn’t wake her up with the wet squelching.

He sighed clenching his eyes shut. The crickets outside chirped like an obnoxious symphony. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight again. Not with how his thoughts consumed him.

‘Coffee...no...I need a whiskey.’

With a heavy set groan he rose from the covers, naked and larger than life. His muscular body moved with soft cracks down his spine. The icy floor beneath his bare feet was a gracious gift, cooling down his hot blood and calming down his own erection.

Padding to the living room, he crouched low to the liquor cabinet. All the bottles were in different places than he last recalled. He didn’t dwell as he poured himself a drink and sniffed. No smell. He lifted the glass to his lips. Water.

He blinked. Sighed. Couldn’t help the tiny jerk rise to the corner of his lips.

‘Fucking kids.’

Lara and her friends were going to the newest Mission Impossible movie, or at least that’s what he was told. Clearly, they’d snuck into the cabinet at some point and helped themselves to the joyful adult treasures while sneakily topping it off with water.

‘She is grounded. That’s for sure.’

Lara was only sixteen. His sweet pride and joy. She had been through a lot in her young life, a life Clark could only sympathise and try his best to be a good father. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, so he put on the kettle, dragged on a pair of jeans and sat outside on the porch. He gazed out at the road and fields consumed by the growing frost.

The icy air cooled down his body. His nipples grew taunt. The bright white moonlight beamed across the strong lines of his features, his years of hard labour and history in the maps of his crow feet and smile lines. His voluminous black hair with hints of silver through it fell to his shoulders, he would need to start tying it back or cut it short again. His thick pink lips pursed just sitting above his jawline, he was like a blade, sharp and strong.

His veins ran with the blood of two different worlds...but there was a certainty that he would never be able to return to one.

With his strong desire for companionship, he knew himself well. Though he controlled it, there were times when he needed the physical touch of a woman. He often met with Diana Prince, a widowed woman who lived in Cottonwood Falls. Theirs was a purely physical arrangement, with neither interested in marriage. Clark tried to keep their visits infrequent, aware that her gossiping neighbours would be shocked to know she was seeing a man in the middle of the night...a man who had a criminal record, a dark past.

The next day was going to be a Saturday. He would carry out the planned chores and duties on the farm. The upkeep was falling apart and he desperately needed to fix the barn roof hole and retighten the fences and cut the firewood. And in the evening he would ride his truck out to Cotton falls, park and walk the rest of the way to Ms Princes house and extinguish all the fiery rage of his loins inside of her.

He didn’t like riding his truck on the icy roads. He chewed his lips as he glanced down at his erection rising again in his jeans. He needed a woman. God help him.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

YOU

You had your own chores and plans for the Saturday. In particular there was one plan on your list you were desperate to investigate and find a resolution.

Miss Lara Kent

The girl had left highschool prematurely three months ago, a month before you had arrived to take over the role as teacher after Ms Rampling died at the age of eighty four. You had deep shoes to fill. Smallville had quite literally a small school it would seem ranging from kindergarten all the way to year twelve with only four hundred students in total.

Not a single student or teacher had mentioned her name, it was by sheer luck you’d come across her school records. It was rather bizarre that such a successful student to drop out. A straight A student. Nothing in the file indicated a decent reason to why she had left school but it had been approved none the less....the burning passion of your life work was lit a flame.

“Oh Lara?...Lara...oh...Kent...that farmers kid...yea, best be left alone,” said Miss Lana Lang, the eighth grade teacher.

How could you though? Clearly this girls future was in jeopardy if she just left it so suddenly. You needed to understand what was the choice behind this important decision. You recalled being sixteen and feeling so ready for the world only to find even yourself so unprepared when you moved out of home.

You stood in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea as you stared out your window up at the lonely moon, naked of the wreaths of stars...how could you sleep when this poor girl was making such a bad life choice?...you couldn’t imagine what her parents were thinking.

The cold wind was spreading white fog and frost against the window panels.

You were sure it would probably snow the first day of November at this rate. You rubbed your eyes and shivered. You would need to hire a handy man to fix the heater soon or else you’d freeze to death. It was never so cold in Metropolis city where you were originally from.

You’d moved here only after a month. You felt it was a sign of luck. You were struggling to find another teaching job while juggling to afford your rent....and then one-day you received a call on the phone. Out of some miracle or curse you had a great-great aunt Gwendolyn-Lee and she had a fat inheritance and a whole house left for you, her only surviving heir.

Oh and a ginger cat named Oz. With all the movie posters you had to assume your great aunts favourite film and book was none other than the Wizard of Oz.

He sat stop the old floral print arm chair, staring out the window. He turned his head and meowed wistfully. He kept to the floor and trotted over to you, threading his body around your ankles.

You sighed, “I know Ozzie, your poor bean toes must be getting cold like mine, I might need to see if there’s a pet store in this tiny town. See if they have socks for kitties.”

His meowing reply was lighter as if he had approved of your comment. You crouched to his level and ran your fingers along his orange stripe spine. It hadn’t taken him long to warm up to you. At first, he refused to leave the space beneath the bed in the master bedroom. You wondered how he had survived so long after Gwendolyn passed. You didn’t know who was feeding him. He mewled softly as you began getting dressed.

Despite the wonderful fortune you’d gained, tragedy struck when the moving van forgot to pick up the box with all your clothes.

So naturally you borrowed your dead great aunts hand made, outdated dresses. You’d never met the woman and yet the genetics were clear to be positive considering how you were both the same size.

You went with the white shirtwaist dress with lilac astor flowers embroidered along the edge and collar. You would’ve gone out to the town and bought a new wardrobe...if the shops sold anything that wasn’t still the same style from 1970.

Who were you even trying to impress, yourself? You sighed looking at the mirror. You reached for your flat shoes. ‘No one.’ Your hands ran down the front of your dress. ‘What type of man wants a woman that dresses like a grandma?’ you rolled your eyes.

You scratched Oz behind the ear, his little golden bell jingled away as he kept up onto the mattress and stretched his lithe body.

“I guess you’re the only man in my life to impress Ozzie,” you giggled as he flopped on his side and purred, snuggling his cheek on the patchwork quilt to take a fat cat nap.

Fetching the wool cardigan and car keys off the hook you grabbed the school record file and handbag.

Outside your car waited. You knew you’d have to drive carefully along the road. You prayed the address on Lara’s record was correct.

You pulled out of your driveway and watched as the small town buildings became trees and dead orange leaves. Halloween was just around the corner. Everyone was setting up their decorations, you felt strangely naked with such a bare house. It was on your shopping list to buy candies for the kids in the neighbourhood. You didn’t feel obligated to decorate or participate when you lived in your shitty city unit. But now you lived among families and country locals.

Even though the farm lands were carpeted in brown, red and orange leaves, you were looking forward to the gossip that come spring the lands would be blooming with green lush grass and waves of flowers and forests of apple trees with rushing blue creeks soaring through the valley. Smallville wasn’t very small in the proportion of its farming lands.

As you peered over to look at the map sitting on your passenger seat, you struggled to clearly see the street names.

Above the sound of your engine, you heard the sound of a moo before glancing up back over your hood. A large beast, a black bull the size of a fridge was haphazardly trotting across the road in line of your cat. You slammed the butt of your palm against the car horn before you hit the breaks hard and instant lost control on the loose dirt road. Spinning out, you uttered a prayer the big bull would move in time. You squealed as the tires burned across the trail and fields you crashed against flying dirt smoke and dry leafy grass up. Your body was lunged slightly forward before the car fully stopped and your ass hit the seat hard. You were finally caught in a man dug gutter, the cars nose diving down and the boot hanging up half on the road.

Your chest had been strangled by the seat belt when the loud bang and buff of white slammed up into your face, knocking your head back against your car seat.

Your mouth filled with blood and your face felt like it had been soccer punched. You managed to move your face to the side, sobbing at the feeling of your throbbing nose. Eyes closed in a mixture of fear and disbelief, you felt like you could barely breath, spitting up blood and crying in pain. You were gasping for air, your lungs stung like a million cuts.

You didn’t register the sound of a man’s voice asking if you were alright, nor how he flung open your door and used a pocket blade to slice through your seat belt.

The car hood was clouded in white, billowing out steam like the smoke of a Pompeii volcano.

What you do remember about your saviour was how he had the most bluest eyes that reminded you of the cleanest ponds. His hair was jet black like a crow. You stared up at those features when he curled his arm under your knees and behind your back and shoulders and hauled you out.

Your guardian angel...or the grim reaper carried you away from destruction as your head grew heavy and your eyes rolled like heavy marbles to the back of your skull.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

CLARK

He was riding along and moving his cattle from his main property over to the Nell Potter’s who had lease out her land to him for grazing before all the frost took the sustaining grass. He had watched your car, assuming that a group of cattle with legal crossing signage would have you slowing down....but your speed never changed until Chief was last in line and taking his time to walk across the path.

By some miracle you’d managed to miss the bull but only to twist out of control and crash into the edge of his corn crop before the wheel took you back up and the car slammed into the road gully.

He leaped from his saddle, yelling out to the stranger in the car as he did. He tore the car door open, slamming the bags, struggling to click out your seat belt before succumbing to using his tool knife in his pocket to cut your trapped, weak body out. You were awake, your eyes droopy, but you weren’t responding to his questions.

“What’s your name?” no answer. He tore out the keys from the car, turning the damn thing off before it had the chance to explode or catch fire.

You weren’t answering.

“You alright darlin?”

He swore loudly, shuffling your body from one arm to the other, carrying you back hurriedly down to his house. He managed to whistle his horse back over. It had to be said you were lucky he managed to get off his horse in time before you suffocated against the airbag.

He trusted his cows to stay in the Nell property, grazing on the new grass, too stupid to leave the paddock back onto the road.

Chief had run into that yard the moment your horn blared.

Clark was a strong man yet that did little to change his worries. Racing up the steps of his porch, he kicked open his front door and planted you with care along his sofa lounge.

Clark stared at you with disbelief. How could anyone be out in the bitter cold so poorly dressed? How had you managed to not slow down for such a huge bull? He wondered how you’d almost hit the massive beast instead of slowing down and breaking in time. Thank god the car had swivelled on ice for a quick turn or else he would have a dead Kerry Bull and a female corpse he’d have to talk to the police about, again.

But his anger at your careless driving was eclipsed by his grand concern. You seemed so vulnerable; underdressed and out in the middle of the countryside, if your car flipped Jwho but him or Lara would be here to come save you?

Who the hell were you?

The moment he asked himself however, a sense of recognition flooded him as it became clear who you were. There was no mistaking that you were the new schoolteacher he’d heard so much about in the farm tool supply barn store. With the way you were dressed, it was like staring back at a significantly younger, prettier version of Ms Gwendowlyn-Lee.

That old bag died just around the same time as Ms Rampling died too. And it was to be well known the pair were...special roommates for a time in their youth, but that was just gossip and talk.

He snorted softly. Of course you were hers to replace not one But two ancient Smallville women.

Nonetheless you were severely underdressed for the climate. He hastily moved to the kitchen sink and began running a pot of hot water for you. He paused as he thumbed your front buttons. Your dress was soaked in your own blood. Did you know his history? What if you came to full awakening and saw him looking over your chest and touching that spot...would you start screaming that vile word too?

He huffed annoyed, shaking his head. He got up and returned to the warm water pot. If you didn’t wake up in the next ten minutes, he’d throw you into his truck and speed to the local hospital. Even if it meant he might risk spending a night in jail. God knows the average folk never listened to reason or logic – always jumping to conclusions.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

YOU

It felt like a split second, cut up into spliced moments. You in the car. The bull. The devilishly handsome guardian angel and then waking up on a full purple lounge.

Your eyes fluttered wide open. Your head felt like it computer weighed like a bowling ball. The sensation of nausea took hold of you as you tried sitting up. You decided to give in to your body and laid back down. The room was slightly rocking. You shut your eyes again and sighed before slowly opening them, focusing on breathing and looking around the room.

The room was covered in similar decor as the stuff at your aunt’s home. Old ornamental decorations and wallpaper from the 70s. The dated furniture and lack of television in the living room except there was a and desk in the corner.

Beside you on the coffee table was a folded out box filled with first aid kit items. Bandages, syringes, gauze and disinfection creams.

You were startled to rise a little as the sound of loud foot steps entered the room. An enormous man held a bowl of warm water and a cloth. His face was stern while his brows lifted.

“Oh fuck, he’s huge,” you thought, watching how his hard face twitched in a smirk that appeared and disappeared in a blink. You realised with horror you’d murmured that thought aloud.

He got onto his knees beside you, touching your shoulder lightly and softly guided you back down onto the soft cushions. He wet the towel and gently dabbed at a spot on your forehead. You hissed. It stung. You winced and jerked back, quickly apologising.

“Care to share why you were tryin’ to kill my prize Kerry, Miss?” you heard him mutter. Your mouth dropped at hearing how deep, rich and sensual his voice was. You never had heard such a pronoun southern drawl sound so seductive.

He washed the dirt front your face lightly, he let he droplets wash away the marks.

You warmed, feeling butterflies in your belly as you tried to mentally find your bearings, “Wh-what? Could you repeat that sir?”

His brows lifted again, this time a firm frown was on his face, “Miss, you were in an automobile accident, are your brakes broken or are you just a bad driver?”

That’s when the black bull came back to your mind once more. You swallowed, your mouth was dry.

“I didn’t-,” you stammered and shook your head, “I wasn’t trying to hit it.”

He snorted with a hint of disbelief.

You curled in your lips, your eyes skated over the home again. You were almost at the Kent property according to the map address. You would’ve gotten there if it wasn’t for his dumb stupid bull.

You licked your bottom lip timidly, “I’m Y/N Y/F/N, I’m a schooltea-.”

“I know,” he said sharply.

Your eyes widened, “You know?”

“I know,” he repeated. You felt a discomfort in his responses even when his voice sounded like deep warm honey over buttered toast. Maybe his toast was burnt black in way.

You lightly nibbled your bottom lip and dared to ask, “Are...are you Mr. Kent? Sir?”

His ocean blue eyes darkened to the pitch of the night sky, his rosy lips peeled back, showing his white teeth in a tight grimace, “I’m Clark Kent.”

Oh.

You cleared your throat, “You’re Clark Kent?”

“I’m Clark Kent,” he repeated, again.

Granting him a small tight smile you then asked, “So you’re a farmer?”

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

CLARK

When you spoke so easily to him, it caught him off guard. Had no one warned you about him? Had the rumours not gotten to your darling ears? When you raised your brows in that inquisitive manner, it only added fuel to his frustration.

“Yeah, dairy and maize,” he grunted.

The delicate curves of your face and those sweet eyes had a curious effect on him; it set his teeth on edge. He was not going to hurt you, but he could if he wanted. That primness about you irritated him to no end. His first instinct – to shock you out of your prudishness – scare you into fearing him, make you see the monster everyone but his daughter called him. Your beautiful eyes were so innocent; it was frustrating that you couldn’t see how vulnerable of a situation you were in. There was something so twisted in his mind that even he was surprised by the urge to protect you from himself.

He tore open a packet of povidone-iodine and cupped your cheek and held the curve of your jaw, “Best hold still,” he warned, his eyes bore into yours, “This goin’ sting now.”

He pinched the wipe and ran it over your forehead. Clark had been focused on cleaning the cut but his gaze flickered up at the pitched whine you made, right into your wide teary eyes. The whimper that came from your lips had the air sucking out of his lungs. What a delicious noise. Your eyes right then were his new favourite colour, he decided. Your delectable lips had turned into an ungodly knot as they quivered in pain. And they were just inches away from his and the unfortunate desire to kiss them flashed in his mind.

He ran a thumb over one of your wet cheeks,

He wondered if your skin was just as soft and sensitive all over...your breasts, your belly, your thighs...the petals between your legs. Your body trembled under him. And the brief thought of making you tremble naked made his loins stir beneath his jeans. Holy fuck.

You’d just met him and made yourself a nuisance but the thought of kissing you sent an overwhelming surge of desire through his body. It was like an electric shock to his entire system. As he drew nearer, he noticed that you smelled exquisite. Your scent was tantalizing and all he could think of was how much he wanted to taste it. The urge to kiss you was nearly unbearable. But you would probably squeal and run out the door if he lifted your dress the way he wanted to and buried his face against your silky thighs to inhale the honey of your cunt.

He launched fast up onto his feet and walked away.

“I ugh, I’m makin’ coffee,” He marched back to the kitchen and turned on the pot for some coffee. No...he needed whiskey. Fucking damn it Lara.

He splashed cold water from the sink into his face. What the fuck was wrong with him.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

You

You sat in quiet solitude as he took his time making coffee.

After five minutes of staring up at the garden wallpaper on the ceiling, you heard his foot steps return back to the living room.

You decided that Clark Kent was in fact not a social person and holding a conversation would deem a challenge. But you were stubborn. You came here for a reason and his lack of small talk would not dissuade your mission. In fact, it gave you the opportunity to study his character.

He sipped his cup and cleaned up some more scratches on your face. Very carefully he began peeling band aids apart and applying them to your face. You smiled at some still in the first aid kit. They were children’s bandaids, yellow and printed with ducklings, cute and probably many years old. You couldn’t imagine a sixteen year old girl being caught dead wearing duckling bandaids.

You had hoped to compare him to Lara and perhaps even her mother to see why and what behaviour the girl held. When he leant over you, you studied his expression, hoping to find some clue as to his thoughts. But his face was unreadable; you couldn’t discern a single emotion within his eyes. Without even the slightest word, he pinched your embroidered collar to get your attention.

You licked your lips, unaware of how your tongue movement had captured his attention. You wanted to say something, but were at a loss for words. His physical proximity had utterly paralysed your thought processes. You felt completely overwhelmed by the sensation of his presence and the sight of his face. You were struggling to find a thought or a word that could accurately describe how much he stirred your senses.

He’s so big...God...help me.

You should have maintained your composure and remembered why you had come here, instead of acting like a foolish girl because an attractive man was standing too close to you. You were frustrated with yourself for allowing yourself to be so swept away by his good looks, rough appearance, and masculine presence. You tried to remind yourself that his physicality wasn’t the point of your presence here but it failed to have any impact. Your body simply reacted with desire and longing to the nearness of his person.

You cleared your throat for the thousandth time to ask, “Ah… I have come to speak with Lara Kent, if I may?” as if you hadn’t just crashed your car and almost killed one of his cattle.

You cast your eyes over to the man in front of you. His face seemed expressionless as he stared back at you, but there was something in his eyes – a hint of suspicion, scepticism. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

“Lara ain’t here. She’s doin’ her chores out in the paddocks. Probably got her walkman on a higher volume, she didn’t hear your car destroying some of the crop or else she’d have been here by your side like you were some helpless duckling.”

A tiny smile came onto his face at those last few words before it melt back into his set frown.

“I see....sorry about the...corn,” You hummed sheepishly, “And...when might she return inside?”

He sighed, scratching lightly at the corner of his brow, he glanced over across the room at a grandfather clock beside the fireplace, “She should be back any time now....”

You looked at him disbelievingly, your eyes locked on his. You couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to this man than just being a farmer. “Are you Lara’s father?” you finally asked.

“Yes,” he replied in a clipped yet measured tone.

“And where is her mother?”

There was no denying he was a man of few words, and yet somehow, he managed to convey much more than what was spoken.

His eyes shifted to the fireplace. You followed his gaze. There was a beautiful enclosed vase on the mantle...wait, no-

“Dead.”

-an urn.

Something about that flat, solitary word jolted you, a mix of surprise and discomfort. Yet alongside the shock, there was also a faint sense of relief. Slowly you sat up and with a quick glance away, you stared out the window just beside the sofa. You focused your eyes on the dead and disfigured front garden, dotted with weeds and looking more like a barren wasteland than a place of joy and life.

Clark began packing up the first aid kit. He left to put it away.

Further out you could see your car, the front bumper crushed and totally ruined. Shit. You’d be doing a lot more walking and catching the bus.

When he returned, in his hand was a cup of water and a small bucket.

“It’s salt water, to clean your mouth of the blood.”

You gratefully accepted the water, swishing the foul liquid in your mouth. You spit into the bucket. There was still a stillness in the air that felt like a heavy weight, weighing on you as you breathed in the cool air. You faced him again, hands in your lap now, touching your feet to his floor.

You dared to ask, “And how did you feel about Lara quitting school?”

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “It was her choice.”

He was turning to go back to the kitchen.

A palpable and intense feeling of indignation and exasperation mingled together, acting as a powerful driving force, you got to your feet and started to follow him, “But she’s only sixteen! She’s just a young girl—”

You managed to follow him into his kitchen, old vinyl flooring and wooden benches with a deep copper sink. He slammed the bucket and cup into the sink and spun on his heel.

“She’s my daughter,” Clark interrupted, holding his finger up, “and she can read, write, practices arithmetic better than anyone I know in this hick-town. My Lara also knows everythin’ there is to know about livestock and runnin’ a dairy farm.”

The man’s voice held a hint of pride, though even that couldn’t mask the hint of resentment that still showed through. “This is my land, my dairy farm, my house,” he continued. “One day it will all belong to her. She decided what to do with her life, and she decided to harvest and produce milk to the entire county.”

Clark was blushing, hints of his frustration were spitting out. He wasn’t fond of sharing his or his child’s life story, considering all the prejudice they faced all these years. Except, there was something about you, this huffy, and prissy little teacher that made him answer.

You seemed oblivious to the rumours about his past; or else why would you be mouthing off so brazenly without bringing it up... you evidently knew nothing about what made him who he truly was, about the impact of his name on the town of Smallville. You didn’t know how often it was people turned away and ignored him just to avoid associating with him...you didn’t know how much it affected Lara too.

He swallowed loudly, “Now, all that bein’ said, she chose to leave that sorry excuse of a school,” he tongued his inner cheek, trying his best not to curse. He groaned, his knuckles turned white as he gripped his own flannel. It was like white smoke was pouring from his ears and shooting out his nose as he forced himself to take deep breaths.

“And, who the fu-...who are you or I to tell her what she can or can not do?” He licked his teeth, “I’d love to see your smart ass out in the dairy shed and see how much you mess it up, I’ll wager it’s like your driving.”

You bravely jerked your chin up with your hands coming to sit on your hips.

Oh Fuck, he wanted to kiss you

And unbeknownst to him, you would’ve let him. Something about how much he was pissing you off and getting heated made you excited, scared...aroused. Facing the beast in the car was not as scary as facing this beast on your feet.

“I’d like to talk to her anyway,” You said stubbornly.

His brows connected, he licked the bottom of his lip, glancing down at yours, “That’s up to Lara. She might not want to talk to you. Especially if you’re here to ask her to return to that school.”

He leant away from you briefly to turn the coffee pot on to boil.

The hands on your hips cross over your chest, You scoffed, “Right, then you won’t even try to encourage her to graduate from the highschool then?”

That was it. He paused. He smirked, he chuckled mockingly and shook his head at you, “Nope.”

“Why not?” Your foot almost stamped, “She’s a bright girl, she should at least have the option of going to college!”

Clark stepped closer, towering over you, his nose nearly touching yours as you glared up at those dark blue eyes, “You listen here,” the air from his nose was hot against your face, “She’s sixteen, don’t you understand what that means ‘round these parts?” He snorted rolling his eyes, “Hell, how can you? You’re just some uppity, conceited, self-centered upstart.” He then scoffed. “She’s not welcome in that school. That was made very clear. When she wasn’t being neglected she was being bullied. Why the fuck would she want to go back?”

You felt a chill run down your spine as he edged closer, his words sharp and venomous. You bared your teeth in a grimace, frightened by his aggressive manner. You weren’t used to men invading your personal space, shouting curses in your face. As a young girl, boys had turned a blind eye to the shy, bookish girl. Now, as a grown woman, men still showed scarce interest in you.

You were utterly unwavering in your beliefs about education and refused to let him frighten you into submission. Bigger people often used their size to intimidate smaller ones, oftentimes not even realizing the effects of their actions. However, you weren’t going to bow down simply because he was more robust than you. Your beliefs were far too important to sacrifice for someone as boorish as him.

“She was at the top of her class given her KAP results, top in the five percent in Kansas for girls in her age group.” you said briskly. “If Lara could beat that top, think of what she could accomplish with help! She could get a scholarship, become something greater than a dairy farmer, or is having a doctor for a daughter beneath a redneck like you?”

He fluttered his eyes shut. There it was. That disdain he was used to. Little did you know...he was fighting his arousal his erection and the urge to put you on your hands and knees on that kitchen floor. If you wanted to call him a redneck, he’d fuck you like one...dirty and unprotected.

The silence was beyond pregnant until his throat bobbed, “Like I said, it’s up to Lara.”

The scent of freshly-brewed coffee filled the kitchen, but neither of you spoke as the minutes ticked by and the silence stretched on. He backed away and poured two cups of coffee. He poured fresh milk into the cups, real cow cream. He leaned against the cupboards and watched you sip from your porcelain mug, taking in the delicate sight. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, thinking back on what you’d just called him after he saved you from your car.

Redneck...

How could he be so kind in the face of your rudeness?

“Sorry...I didn’t means to call you a redneck...”

He smiled, this time it was filled with cheek, “Oh, yes you did...but I ain’t no soft Lily. Trust me, I’ve been called worse. You think I can’t handle when some hoity toity teacher goes an calls me a redneck?”

You returned the smile shyly. Looking down at your chest, you pinched the fabric. The front was blazing bright red.

He stepped closer and carefully reached out, pinching your shirt, he said with a calm and steady tone, “Yea that’ll probably stain without a good soak.”

You pinched your nose, “It was my aunt’s, I think it’s vintage.”

Clark set his cup aside and jerked his head to the side.

“I reckon I got something for you to wear. You can keep it and soak the dress in the laundry. Lara can talk to you about this mess and I’ll scrub the blood out.”

For a man so stubbornly spoken, he had been remarkably hospitable to you.

As you glanced up at him, the intensity of his dark blue eyes caught your attention. Something about his gaze made you feel unsure of yourself, your heart racing and a slight feeling of unease growing within you. It was as if he were peering directly at your breasts with a hungry look in his eyes. The thought made you feel warm with embarrassment and your breath caught slightly in your throat.

“I think some of my wife’s old clothes will fit you,” he said letting go of your shirt.

His dead wife? Oh god...

“Oh, I don’t need any clothes. I mean, what I have on is perfectly—”

“Stained,” he interrupted. “You really want to be going back to town looking like that? People might think I’ve gone and bashed you....”

You looked down.

“or raped you.”

Your eyes snapped back up. You didn’t know why he jumped to such a salaciously coarse word.

He murmured, “Come with me, then.”

You followed him down through the hallway of his farm house.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“To the bedroom.”

You stopped, blinking at him, he turned to face you with a bitter smile twisted his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he said crudely. “It’s Saturday. I only rape on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

Your eyes blinked again.

“What’s wrong with Saturdays?” those words slid past your lips without any warning, leaving you dumbstruck when you realized what you’d done. You clapped your hands over your face, mortified that you’d accidentally insinuated the possibility of him committing such a heinous act and not just that but almost questioned his intentions towards you in that department. Heat surged into your cheeks as a flood of embarrassment washed over you. Your brain must have short-circuited; there was no other explanation for the idiocy.

Clark was taken aback by your words, the stunned expression on your face making it clear that you had no intention to say them. It had been ages since he’d seen anyone look so horrified, and it took him a moment to realize that you were acutely embarrassed. You were certainly something of a prude, he concluded, with your dowdy appearance and old-maidish manner. So much so that your slip of the tongue was probably the biggest entertainment he’d had in a while. He couldn’t help but grin as his irritation softened again. Yes, this was definitely a highlight for him.

“Not a damn thing Miss Y/L/N,” he chuckled.

You drew yourself up to your full height, your lips firmly pressed together in a rigid expression. “Please do not make fun of me, Mr Kent,” you stated clearly, though it took a great deal of effort to keep your tone even. His sarcastic comment only served to salt the wound you already knew existed. You knew you fell short in the seductive department, but you didn’t need sarcastic reminders to confirm it.

Clark’s straight black brows drew together over his strong nose, “Make fun of you? What? How?”

You sulked sourly, “I am fully aware of how I look. I know I am not the most stunning woman. But surely...” you paused, your eyes shut, “Am I that ugly to look at?”

The choking noise was loud. He was rather gobsmacked. Did you really just say that to him?

His heart was still pounding from when she had whimpered, a lingering throbbing in his loins reminded him that his reaction hadn’t completely subsided. He chuckled bitterly, the sound devoid of humour, his mind playing over again and again what had happened between them. Why not spice up your life a little more?

“Now, don’t play this game with me Missy,” he said

But the way you avoided his eyes.

“Shit. You’re serious? Come on now girl, you gotta know. You damn well know you’re a wet dream...you’re a real head turner. Make men like me all hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered, by what?” she asked blankly. It was impossible. She had never made a man… aroused a man in her life.

Heat had been simmering just beneath the surface for too long, and the irritation he felt in the presence of this prim woman was like a spark to a fuse. His iron control had kept him in check when dealing with the townspeople, but something about her, this prim woman, got under his skin. Frustration filled him to the point that he thought he might explode, the tension and desire rising to a pitch that was almost unbearable.

His intentions had originally been to stay far away from you, but now he found himself pulled close by a force he could not resist. Hands gripping your waist, he pulled you closer until you were pressed against him. His mouth came down on yours, covering it in a hard kiss. “Maybe you need a to be shown,” he murmured, his words coming out in deep and breathless. It made the moment even more intense, his desire for you growing with each passing second. He couldn’t keep himself from kissing you again, his lips exploring yours in a passionate, urgent way that left you feeling completely powerless.

You froze as he gently and passionately moved his lips over yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his long, thick eyelashes, how they brushed your skin. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you firmly against his muscled body, causing you to let out a deep gasp.

As soon as your lips opened, he took the opportunity to probe inside with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough. You trembled, feeling a strange heat deep inside, growing more and more intense. The pleasure became so strong and powerful that it frightened you, not knowing where this might lead. If only you’d known to buy some lingerie this morning before you left to the Kent property....

There was something powerful about the way his lips felt, their firmness bringing you to a state of ecstasy. You could taste his heady flavor, and his tongue was caressing yours with an intensity that invited you to play. But beyond this physical sensation, there was a warm and musky scent drifting from his body. Your breasts pressed up against the taut muscles of his torso, causing the tips of your nipples to tingle in an exciting yet embarrassing manner.

You opened your eyes in sharp disappointment when he pulled away from you. But his intense black gaze was unwavering, like he wasn’t finished with you yet. “Come on girl, kiss me back yes?” he breathlessly pleaded, his tone suggesting he was far from satisfied.

“I don’t know how,” You confessed, still bewildered to what he had just done to you...and you enjoying it.

His eyes fluttered, “Here, I’ll teach you,” his nose nuzzled yours.

He pressed his lips against yours again, and this time you parted your mouth to accept his education. He explored your mouth and demonstrated a pressured patterned that you began mimicking and returning to him. His kisses this became further demanding, filled with panting.

You suddenly felt a frightening excitement explode through your body, growing beyond simple pleasure and transforming into a ravenous hunger. The sensations coursing through you were no longer merely pleasant but overpowering, your heart racing wildly as it hammered against your ribs. The heat within you was unbearable, an intense blaze spreading through you, leaving you panting and aching for more.

Looking into his eyes, you realized that he had felt the same burning desire that was overtaking you now. You were stunned by the revelation, and it made you feel even hotter. You uttered a soft, unconscious sound as you moved closer to his body, unable to control the sensations he had unleashed inside of you. The yearning was unbearable, and you wanted more of him, his experienced touches making the sensations overwhelming and irresistible.

You had never believed it could be like this, such an intense and overwhelming desire. You had been told that some men could be crude and cruel, but those warnings had never prepared you for the intense sensation of burning desire. You had always made the sensible choice to avoid flirting or attempting to attract a boyfriend, yet, here you were, wanting a man to do those very things to you.

The men you had encountered during your time at college and in the workplace had appeared to be normal, not lecherous sex fiends. You felt comfortable around men, and even considered a few of them to be good friends. But you did not consider yourself attractive, or at least, not enough to attract the opposite sex’s attention.

Men had never scrambled to get dates with you or even managed to acquire your phone number. As a result, you hadn’t been exposed to the intense sensations of a man’s embrace and touches, nor the throbbing sensation of his manhood pressing against your thighs. You hadn’t realized how much more you needed, the feeling of his hands roaming your body awakening a hungry desire that grew within you with every touch.

You instinctively locked your arms around his neck and moved your body against his, feeling the waves of frustration and desire increasing within you. The desire was a blaze consuming your body, empty and aching, hungry for more. The new sensations were a flood, your mind overwhelmed by the feeling of your nerves being assaulted. You didn’t know how to control it, the tidal wave of sensation growing with each movement made against him.

Clark jerked his head back, his teeth locked as he relentlessly brought himself back under control. Black fire burned in his eyes as he looked down at you. His kisses had made your soft lips swollen. Your eyes were heavy-lidded as you opened them and slowly met his gaze.

The desire was plain on your face, a look that suggested he had done more than kiss you. You already looked dishevelled, as if he had taken you in his arms and claimed you. In his mind, he had. He wondered how pretty you would look with a ball gag between your teeth. Despite your delicate appearance, you had moved against him with a voracious hunger, your body moving and seeking more.

He knew with the state of your mind, he could take you to bed right now. You were desperate for him, hot past the point of reason. And yet...he decided that it would be best if he would wait for you to make the conscious decision to be with him. Your inexperience was clear, and he’d even had to teach you how to kiss. The thought was suddenly cut off when he realized just how inexperienced you were. You were a virgin, and it was not fair for him to take that without your full consent.

The notion left him dumbfounded. It didn’t seem possible that you could be so innocent, yet there you were, gazing up at him with eyes that were both innocent and full of desire. Your body was pressed tightly to his, your arms locked around his neck, and your legs slightly opened to let him nestle against you. You were waiting for the next move, as you did not know what else to do. Before him you had never even been kissed. No man had touched your soft breasts or your tender nipples. No man had ever shared his love with you.

He swallowed the rock in his throat that threatened to choke him, his eyes still locked with yours. “Alrighty now, missy, that almost took a dangerous turn.”

You jerked away a little, your eyes fluttered, “oh, really?...”

Slowly, because he didn’t want to drop you, feeling how much your knees might collapse under you, he let you slide down to find your feet. Your sweetness would be the death of him...figuratively and literally if you tried to accuse him of something wayward. He was a fiend, a criminal, a man charged with possibly one of the worst crimes known to man. And you were the new miss innocent school teacher coming to talk to him about Lara only for it to almost become a shit show of either moans or wailing squeals.

You should never have come her. The people of Smallville had a knack for gossiping. Lord knows you’d find out the truth eventually and then you’d never want to associate with him again...

So he released you, despite the overwhelming desire to drag you onto his bed and educate you to all there was to pleasuring a man and yourself. Still wrapped around him like a human scarf were your soft arms. Your fingers had tangled up into his dark raven mane. You almost appeared unable to let him go, drunk on new founded lust. He reached up to take your hands and move your arms away from his body entirely.

The softest sound of disappointment left your wet lips...was he rejecting you now? Had you done something wrong...

Your eyes looked up at him in a desperate plea to continue...but his eyes were staring away and over your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll come back later then?” Came a new, young and feminine voice interrupting your blood rushing thoughts.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

    HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Abstract 2

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

Warnings: noncon/rape, some violence, blood, alluded murder (for now?), grief, confusing, criminal allusions, some untagged extreme events.

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

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

Character: mob!Clark Kent

Note: Thank you all for your support on the first chapter.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :) I appreciate your comments and enthusiasm! Reblogs help and are like candy, so please, feed me.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

A mosaic of red, amber, and yellow reflects against the wall. The glass shade of the lamp glows low in the airy space, giving enough light to see yourself in the mirror, but leaves the room behind you in gloom. You place an earring on the pillow of your jewelry box, then the other.

You reach to unclasp the ehavy diamond necklace, the noose that signals your ultimate fate. The glint of the gems refracts in your reflection and stings your vision. You freeze and stare at the shell you've become. A mannequin dressed to his delight.

"Leave it," Clark demands from the doorway.

You slowly lower your hands to the edge of the vanity and say nothing. How long has he been watching? The same question you've asked over and over. The rotting guilt of how long it took you to realise the true intentions of this man. Maybe if you saw it sooner…

Maybes do nothing for the present certainty.

You stand between the velvet stool and the desk. As you do, Clark crosses the room and comes up behind you. He holds you in place, he large hands on your shoulders. You avoid his gaze in the mirror.

He hooks his fingers in the satin straps of your dress and follows them down. He feels along the top to the zipper and tugs it down with a single swipe. You brace the table to keep still against his force.

He guides the sleek sheath down your figure and unveils the black lacy ensemble beneath. You've obeyed him and for that he might have mercy. He lets out a hum a your dress heaps at your feet. He reaches around you to cup the lacy bra that does little to conceal you chest.

He leans into you, breathing you in as his hands trails down along your stomach. He purrs as he steps over the stool and perches on it. He has you crowded against the desk.

He retracts his hands as you try not to topple in the tight space. His zippers slices through the silence and he groans. You watch yourself, you see the shame in the hollow depths of your eyes, the defeat in the slant of your shoulders.

He traces the thin straps of the high-cut panties and trails down the scallop of the hem. He shoves his fingers down below your ass and feels along your folds. He wiggles them until your stand wider.

You bend slightly forward, gripping the vanity desk for balance. He teases you, toys with you as you see the subtle movement if his other arm past your reflection. You lower your chin and hide in the storm of your body's betrayal.

He urges you back. You fold to his will, as you always have. Your vision blurs and you're back in that moment. The smell of gunpowder and blood, the last gurgling breaths of the man you spend years with. 

Clark paws at you, pushing aside the lace as he angles you over him. He sits you in his lap slowly, inching into you until you quiver with fullness. You grasp his thigh as he opens you up to the mirror, the sight of him sinking deeper drawing your gaze. You turn your head, ashamed of how the scene intoxicates you.

You loathe this man to the core but he consumes you. Without your permission, he steals the pleasure once reserved only for a man you loved. A man you believed loved you, too.

Your head drops down but he catches your chin and forces it back up. He growls as he nuzzles behind your ear, "watch."

Your eyes snap wide and you see yourself. Weak and defeated in his lap. You feel perilous atop him as he keeps your bodies balanced on the narrow velvet bench. He rocks your hips as his eyes descend to the joining of your lust, the ways your unbidden desire glistens on his thick length.

He bows his head, his fingers finding your tender bud as he tilts you against him. Deliberate long strokes as he moves you to his whim. He kisses your neck, wetting the skin with his tongue before biting into it. You squeal as he snarls, moving you faster, deeper, as he stirs fire in your core.

You moan as your head lolls in his grip. You can't look away. You watch your desecration, feel it eating you from inside out. Your futility dissipates into the ecstast of his fiddling fingers and you twitch as you cum in surrender.

You pant wildly as he drags his hand up your stomach. He curls his fingers, digging his nails into your flesh. He scratches you, tearing at your flesh as he uses you. He moves out faster, and faster, until your dizzy and dumb.

He stands suddenly, jolting you against the desk. Your face hits the glass, your reflection blurred in the mirror. You slap your hand beside you, gripping the frame as he ruts into you without pause. He covers your hand with his, nipping you again, leaving tender spots down your shoulder. 

The feet of the vanity scrape and grind, the contents bouncing atop it, pearls spilling, the diamonds across your collar swinging as you cling on. You shudder and whine as he buries himself over and over, as deep as he can, until the pleasure is tamped out by the pain. 

He spreads his hand across your forehead, forcing your face up as his other hooks around your necklace. He rams against you until your toes slide on the floor, until our bracing onto the wood desperately. Until you're sure you could shatter into pieces.

This is what you wanted, right? The money, the life of an artist, free to sit in a room an paint, only for the cost of your soul.

🎨

Blackness. Silky and swirling. Deep and dull. Reaching for you, pulling you down, swathing you unbreakable bounds. 

BANG!

You wake to the dark room. The gunshot echoes in your ears. So real you swear it must have been. Yet the sonorous house is quiet and the man beside you undisturbed.

You stare up at the ceiling, then trail your gaze down the pointed post of the bed. Clark's warmth clouds around you, his arm draped around your middle. Even asleep, he must keep you in his thrall.

The blankets swoop over his hip, leaving his torso and a single leg naked. You turn your head to stare at the pits of his sockets, the way the darkness gathers in the angles of his face, a wraith at rest. You feel his breath like a desert storm as it escapes him in long blustery snores.

You're still for some time. Just until your heart calms, until Marcus' pleas fade away. You touch his forearm, feeling the bulging veins, and shift it slowly away. You sit up and replace yourself with a pillow.

Carefully, you crawl down to the foot of the bed. You dip a leg down, then the other, bringing your soles flat onto the rug. You sift through the night like wandering soul, sweeping the robe from its hook as you flee to the door. 

You coax the hinges so they don't groan. You leave the clasp uncaught and begin down the hallway. The eerie silence beckons to you.

You go into the room-made-studio. The large easel towers in the shadows, the windows gleaming as the curtains hang at the borders, the snow feeding the moonlight. 

Canvases line the wall, half-finished dreams and torn nightmares. You go to the drawing table and take the sketchbook from atop it. You snatch a pencil from the bunch and look around.

The room changes. The easel overturns and the air laces with nickel and smoke. A deep voice rolls through the lull and tears salt your eyes.

You pull the chain on the lamp and sit in its glow, legs crossed on the cold floor. The pencil moves to record the still life of your memory. The lead turns dull as you scribble, shade, and smudge, until finally it snaps. 

You bat away the gloss of your grief and look at the page. Marcus' chest gapes as his life pools beneath him, stained across your front as you hold the gun, a faceless figure behind you, holding you by a noose. Clark is little more than a humanoid cluster of zig zags and loops. A scribbled beast taunting his prey. 

You drop the pencil and flip to the page before. It’s the same. Almost. In every sketch there’s something slightly out of place. Sometimes it’s not a gun by a knife. Other times, it’s you in the chair, bleeding out, but you’re still holding the gun. You keep turning until you reach the cover and snap the book shut altogether.

Clark stole more than an apartment, a boyfriend, and a life. He stole your art. He extracted your very essence and set it to curdle.

🎨

You add a layer of foam to your mother’s cup before presenting her with your novice attempt at a latte. The overpriced machine is no good in your hands but for a simple medium roast or at best an americano. Can’t mess up espresso and water that much.

She smiles but it doesn’t go further than her lips. She’s unimpressed. It’s out of character given that every inch of the house has thus far astounded her. In a grim way, her enthusiasm echoes Marcus. The way he marveled at the elaborate mansion and fatefully, aspired to it.

“Fancy machine,” she comments as she slides her mug closer, examining the top.

“Yup,” you mutter.

“You’ve got it all, sweetheart, why so glum?”

You want to roll your eyes. It’s a coffee machine. It’s all just things. A necklace, a ring, a house. There is no life in it, no spirit, they are just items without meaning, some don’t even have a purpose. Vases without flowers and candlesticks without flames.

“I’m tired,” you say. It’s not a lie, you’re damn exhausted. You can’t remember the last night you slept without waking to the screams of your ex reverberating in your ears. “How are you doing, jetlag hitting you?”

“Not really, it’s an hour difference, hun,” she takes a sip and makes a face, “oh, bitter.”

She gives you a long look as if she isn’t just commenting on the drink. You reach for her mug as she sets it down and you carry it to the sink to dump it out.

“You’ll have to try. I can’t seem to work it,” you admit defeat.

“Oh, dear, you know I’m just very particular about my coffee,” she comes around, approaching the machine. “It’s all about the balance.”

She opens the top and empties the grounds. You stand back and lean on the counter. You sense the air shift and from the corner of your sight, you see Clark enter. You try not to show your discomfort.

“Smells like coffee,” he hums.

“Ah, well, hate to disappoint, it’s not done yet,” your mother tosses over her shoulder, “what do you take? Mocha? Latte?”

“Dark roast is fine,” he affirms as he nears and sets his hand on your shoulder. He leans in to kiss your cheek, his fingers playing with the high collar of your turtleneck, alluding to what you’re hiding beneath. He trails his hand down your arm and takes your hand, raising it only to stop short. “Where’s your ring?”

“Oh, uh, I… put it back in the box. I didn’t want to lose it–”

“In the box,” your mother says, “you should wear it proudly.”

“Um, yeah, I just thought… we’re not going anywhere.”

Clark clicks his tongue and lets you go. He inhales deeply and tucks his hands in his pockets, “does that matter? If we’re going anywhere? It’s not about showing off.”

“He’s right,” your mother agrees.

You hold back a sigh. “I didn’t mean…”

“She’s always been a bit forgetful,” your mother intones, “ah, if I found such a dashing guy, you know I’d wear a ring like that to bed even.”

“I’ll go get it,” you say.

Clark stares at you, gaze boring into you as his nostrils flare. Your mother continues to finagle the machine as you sidle away. He mouths to you, ‘hurry up’.

You bow your head and scurry out. As you reach the door, you peek back at your mother. Clark turns to watch her. There’s something sinister about how he keeps one hand on his belt, as if he’s hiding something there. You don’t hesitate any longer.

You’re almost in a full run by the time you reach the stairs. You puff up onto the landing and down the hall. You go to the vanity, still askew from the night before. You find the velvet box and wiggle the ring free.

You stop and turn it between your fingers. It feels heavier than it should. As you slide it on, it’s like a vice around you, locking you in this place forever. You shudder and you glance at yourself in the mirror.

There she is, the woman he wants. She’s not you, she just wears your face, she was born from your fear. You drop your hands and push your shoulders straight, marching out as if to the executioner.

As you reach the first floor, you hear your mother trilling. You enter the kitchen to the sight of her presenting Clark with a mug. He peers inside and gives a half-smirk.

“I was a barista in college,” she boasts, “not like my little Tweety,” she winks at you as you enter, “she worked at a pizza joint. Oh, you should’ve seen her. All that grease made her so pimply! She smelled like pepperoni.”

“Ha,” you force a laugh, “yeah, not my finest era.”

“Oh, but look at her now,” she preens, “so elegant. She’s caught herself a gentleman.”

Clark gives a bashful chuckle. She touches his arm, her thumb rubbing his sleeve.

“Take care of her for me,” she says, the allusion to the dead bites you, “better than the last one.”

“Always,” Clark turns his head to face you, “all I ever wanted was to prize her. To treat her well. Better than anyone could.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Call Your Mom｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

Music softly played through the shitty sound system in your car, providing enough noise for you to stay awake but not enough to wake your passenger. Every few minutes, your eyes would flick over to him as if to make sure that he wasn’t just some hallucination that your caffeine addled mind conjured up. But the way that the rare street lamps would cast a yellow glow onto his face and the occasional shift in his sleep meant that he was very real.

Even in the dim light of this back country road, you could see the tear tracks on his cheeks and the dark bags beneath his eyes. He looked so much smaller than you remembered him, weighed down by the world. You wondered briefly about how long he had felt this way, did it start recently or was it always there, just buried beneath a smile and those bright blue eyes that lingered in your dreams.

He drew in a shuddering breath but then settled back to sleep, the wrinkle of worry above his brow slowly disappearing with each mile you drove. You bit back the urge to push back the lone black curl that had fallen onto his forehead. Instead, you gripped the steering wheel even tighter and thought back to a few hours before, when you received a call from someone you thought you would never hear from again.

You were half paying attention to some late night television show, half awake and numb with the lateness of the hour but the relative calmness of your night was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Without looking, you fished your phone from the side table and pressed it to your ear. “Yeah?”

Expecting a telemarketer or some automated message, you were shocked as the speakers let out a pitiful sob followed by a voice you used to know so well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call- I just- Please.” 

The drive to his apartment went by quick as you forced yourself to act upon instinct and not listen to the still hurting part of your soul that told you to let him suffer just the same as he left you to do so. The achingly familiar walk up the stairs to his apartment made that little voice grow louder and louder until you could barely ignore it.

Your knuckles hovered over the painted wood of his front door, your nerves screaming at you to leave but then the door opened and you knew that you couldn’t. 

Clark Kent, Superman- always so well put together, so stupidly perfect in every way- looked like he was crumbling right before your eyes. Like a great tree wilting away, he was bowed forwards, pale and trembling. You let him pull you into a hug and he collapsed into your arms.

It had been months since the last time you had felt his touch, you were out of practice, slightly clumsy as you cradled his head in one hand and stroked his back with the other. But it was muscle memory, your instincts guiding you back to that spot on the left side of his spine halfway down his back that always had a knot in it but when you dug your fingers into the muscle, he melted, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as his sobs began to taper off.

Neither of you said a word, the discussion, the awkward conversation and the inevitable fight could wait- for a while at least. He trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you guided him down to your car. He squished himself into your small passenger seat and leaned his head against the window as soon as the door shut. 

He fell asleep less than 5 minutes after you started driving, this would have normally annoyed you but you knew he needed the rest and you didn’t need to hear the sound of his voice as your mind reminded you what used to be. 

Soon, street lights and paved roads gave way to corn fields and the gentle sway of a well-worn dirt track. The porch light was on, guiding you home through the darkness. As you pulled into the driveway that you had driven onto countless times before, the screen door opened and Martha, still dressed in her dressing gown, stepped out.

“Clark. You’re home.” You placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder, softly waking him. Those gorgeous blue eyes looked up at you, reflecting the full moon perfectly. He glanced past your body to where his mother stood then back to you. “It’s gonna be ok.”

His smile was enough to make you forget the miles driven in the dead of night, to heal the heartbreak caused by his hand, to remind you that all things can be set right once more.

[Verse 1] Oh, you're spiralin' again The moment right before it ends you're most afraid of But don't you cancel any plans 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you let it out and let it in [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom [Verse 2] Waiting room, no placе to stand Just greatest fears and wringing hands and thе loudest silence If you could see yourself like this If you could see yourself like this, you'd've never tried it [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you told me that you had to go [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom [Bridge] Medicate, meditate, swear your soul to Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? Medicate, meditate, save your soul for Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile without knowin' you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @km-ffluv

DC

@snedhdh @kobaltdragon @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8

[ellethespaceunicorn]

*WIP THURSDAY*

I was tagged by the lovely @slippinninque and I'm happy to share some sneak peeks into my WIPs 📖

I have three recent WIPs (besides my series I am still working on), and I'm excited to list them here:

1. The Siren of Baker Street - Henry Cavill!Sherlock Holmes x Black!OFC (Explicit - smut) - Sherlock is enamored with a new client.

"Before she knew it, Pearl is kneeling next to Sherlock’s armchair. Her shivering hands reaching out to warm herself by the fire. Sherlock watches quietly as the fire illuminates her face in an ethereal glow. In contrast to the warmth of the fire, Sherlock is frozen in his spot as he contemplates his next move."

2. Untitled* - Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Chubby!Black!Fem!Reader (Explicit - smut/violence) - Lloyd deals with a toxic alpha male that is bothering you.

"He was always a fan of this outfit because it hugged all of your curves. The halter top accented your full breasts with a healthy amount of cleavage. The high-waisted fitted skirt showed off your wide hips and thick thighs and stopped just under your knee. A pair of stilettos, with a little buckle that Lloyd bends down to secure, completes the ensemble."

*This story is actually based on an ask i received (nonny, I love your ideas btw).

3. Don't Kill My Vibe - Henry Cavill!Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader (Explicit - smut/weed use) - You finally agree to help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

"You were already elevated, having taken a couple puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “oh wow” every so often. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick and Clark wasn’t stupid."

I'm switching back and forth between writing all of these at the same time. Yes, that's crazy, but so is writing for free and praying for the dopamine that creative feedback gives us.

I'm open to any questions about these sneak peeks as well, I welcome it, honestly.

no pressure tags: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @blackwood4stucky @ronearoundblindly @navybrat817 @targaryenvampireslayer

@winter2112rose @hansensgirl @vellicore