warnings: titty fucking, whiny sam, reader has large tits
Sam’s lower lip was in a pout, and he’s been like this all day. If you’re being honest he’s starting to frustrate you. All he’s been is pouting all day. Normally he’s just whining and being annoyingly needy when he wants something but this. This is different.
You are currently sitting on the old creaky motel bed, and he is pouting while he sits on the foot of the bed. He lets out a loud sigh, and you roll your eyes at him.
He is clearly trying to get your attention, and normally you will give him the attention he wants. But this time you want him to use his words.
He looks over at you above his shoulder and pouts at you, and lets out anther loud sigh.
“What Sam?” you finally huff out, and he still doesn’t answer so you roll your eyes and start to get reader for bed.
“No” he says quietly it’s almost so quiet you don’t quite catch it.
“What do you want?”
“You”
“What exactly do you want from me” You ask crossing your arms under your chest making your boobs pop out more.
His eyes flicker to your chest briefly then back you your face.
“Oh” you say realizing what he wants this time he just nods sheepishly with a faint blush on his cheeks.
You roll your eyes but get up and lay down on the bed above the covers.
You motion for him to come closer to you and he quickly takes his pants, and underwear off in one quick motion. His cock springs free large and angry. His tip is already beaded with pre-come fr being so needy ealier.
He positions himself so he is straddling your chest. He quickly takes off your pink tank top and throws it somewhere too horny to care where it goes.
He spits directly onto your tits, and rubs it in with his large hands his movements are quick and impatient. As soon as your tits are all covered with his spit he spits on his own hand and starts to rub his cock.
He lets out a satisfied whimper. You love how whiny Sam is because most men are embarrassed with being whiny, but not Sam.
He quickly starts to thrust his cock in between your tits, and he squeezes them together while he thrusts. He lets out out so many little whimpers.
You get wet just hearing him making noise as he fucks your tits.
He quickens his pace as he fucks your tits harder, and the faster his pace is the louder and more needy his sounds get. It is like music to your ears.
“S-so Big” he whines and squeezes your tits harder than before almost painful.
You can tell he is close by the way his hips are stuttering and jerking without the same rhythm as before.
“You close” He can’t talk he just lets out a loud whimper, and nods quickly.
He suddenly pulls his cock from between your tits and slaps it onto your tits. You moan at the sight of it. He starts to jerk off onto your tits. His voice becomes quicker and comes out in pants.
He starts to come all over your tits, and let’s put a string of whimpers and whines as he comes all over your tits.
he finally finishes riding out his orgasm, and get off of you. But not before he admires how your large tits look with his cum all over them.
You hear the door knob start to turn, and sam runs to the bathroom while grabbing his clothes. You quickly get under the covers with sam’s cum still on your tits.
The door opens reveling dean Dean who has a big as smile and an even bigger piece of pie, and most importantly completely oblivious on what just happened moments before he walked in.
Someone needs to write a Mr marathon x reader fic where reader are at one of his parties or with solider boy looking for v1 and reader and Mr marathon are high, drunk, whatever before they end up fucking, bonus points if he uses his powers during sex
ik mr. marathon and malchemical barely got like ten minutes of screen time but i am eagerly expecting some fics of them. they were hot as hell and lowkey good guys who just liked drugs, sex, and being lazy
summary ﹏ you have been bratty all fucking day long, whining about being hungry, your feet hurting even though ben told you to change shoes, asking him to carry you. when you both get back to the house, he makes sure to teach you a lesson or two.
cw ﹏ ( +18 ) mdni / no plot smut. afab!reader. reader & ben have bushes!!!! fauxcest (ben calling himself & making reader call him dad). petnames (kid & doll). brat / brat-tamer dynamic. dirty-talking. praise / degrading. mocking. orgasm denial & control. humiliation. unprotected piv. she / her pronouns for reader's genitalia. slight hair pulling. messy fluids focus (saliva, wetness, cum). oral fixation. rough sex. squirting. creampie / internal ejaculation. overstimulation. light impact play (spanking). drug use (weed / ben smoking). lack of aftercare.
reblog is a creator’s best-friend, thank you!!
“See? That’s what happens when you’re now fucking listening to your dad.” A whine escapes from your mouth at the words coming from Ben.
You want to tell him how icky and disgusting he is for calling himself that when he has his fat cock buried all the way inside of your sloppy, throbbing cunt. You want to tell him how much of a pervert he is, how he should shut up and keep fucking you—but that wouldn’t work at all, and so, you just shut up.
You had been bratty all day long, Ben’s words, obviously. You had asked for things when out shopping, had pleaded with him to buy you food, whined when your feet hurt just after one hour of walking even though he had told you to put on some more comfortable shoes. But no, you had to go and do what you wanted, pissing him off with whines and, “When can we get home?”, “I want to sit down now!” or “Beeeen, carry me, please!”
And Soldier Boy just had to show you how annoying you had been as soon as you both got home. He had dragged you to the couch, not even taking the time to get to the bedroom you both shared. Your clothes had been torn off, your favorite panties thrown away in the room before Ben had spit a fat glob of saliva on your cunt, making it glisten even more. He had been cruel—rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb, smearing both wetness and saliva into the hair of your pussy.
It had never bothered him; how you preferred to keep your bush on (not that he had a say in it), on the contrary, it excited him if anything else.
He liked to burn of hair against his pelvis, the feeling of you wet and messy with juice and come mixing together. That’s why he now had you sit on his muscled legs, thighs on each side of his hips as he just watched you whine and try to rub yourself on him.
“Little fuckin’ pussy, all wet and tight around my cock. Y’think I should give her attention, doll?” He asked, his hazel eyes lifting up to the expression of your face like he wanted to see and hear you beg. Your thighs were shaking, two orgasms denied already and juice leaking from your entrance to drip down to the fat of your ass and into the crack just to stop at his balls. Ben’s hands were strong and firm as they kept holding your hips so you wouldn’t move and give yourself pleasure. One of your hands curled through his hair, tugging on the strands as if to push him closer, trying to kiss him. He clicked his tongue on his palate, shaking his head.
“What do you think you’re doing, kid? Want dad to make you feel good again? After you have been so bratty all day long?” He said, and your eyebrows furrowed at his words. “Ben—Don’t call yourself that, it’s so disgusting.” The words leaving your mouth only made him smirk because he truly could care less, and he knew the title made your right hole clench anyway. Like your body couldn’t deny the fact that it liked it. It liked Ben being disgusting and icky. “Your pussy loves it, doll.”
Your back arched as if to melt your body against his own, hips trying to rub and jiggle just to feel his throbbing cock deeper inside your hole.
He indulged you, strong hands shifting your hips just to lean his head toward your glistening pussy, spitting another fat glob of saliva right against your sensitive clit. The drool dripped to the hair resting at your puffy folds and around, adding wetness for you to rub your bundle of nerves against his own bush. “Ah! Yes, please, Ben…” He chuckled at the words, shaking his head. “It’s dad to you.” You whined, closing your eyes before rolling your hips once more. “Dad—Please…”
Ben then hummed, his fingers burying themselves in the fat of your hips just to help you rub down. Your gummy walls clenched around the girth of his fat cock, you swear to feel the veins running all the way to the length throb inside you, pre-cum mixing with your essence.
Your bush created a friction against his skin as you rolled your hips to find pleasure. All Ben did was watch you whine like you wanted his help, but his head only rolled against the leather of the couch. What an asshole, you thought to yourself; letting you do all the work like he couldn’t just grab you and fuck you.
You ignored him, well, did your best to. It was hard when your clit rubbed against the patch of hair above his cock, harder when you felt warmth coursing through your lower belly again and gasped, thighs burning and shaking from the effort. Only then did Ben speak up. “Want to cum? Want to cum around dad’s cock like some sort of icky girl?” He asked, voice loud enough for you to hear it and have your dripping hole clench around him.
His hands tightened their grip on the fat of your hips and you nodded. “Yes, I—I want to come, now… Please!” Sweat rolled down from your neck to the dimples at your lower back, your muscles contracted as you felt the orgasm trying to course through you. You only fastened the grinding of your hips then, mentally begging Ben to let you come finally. But a loud curse escaped you when he suddenly grabbed your thighs, stopping you from moving anymore, denying your orgasm for the third time now. “Ben, no! Please, fuck!” You whined loudly, upper body folding toward his chest as he shushed you quietly.
“Now, doll, that’s not how you ask for what you want. I fuckin’ taught you about being polite, didn’t I? Your fuckin’ generation and saying please, swear to God.” he groaned as he watched you, your eyes becoming all teary from being denied once more. Your walls clenched around his fat cock, you swore to feel his pre-cum ooze out of his tip to mix with your juices at the feeling of your sloppy pussy gripping him tight.
Both your hands moved to his shoulders to stabilize yourself as he groped the fat of your ass, suddenly. His strong hands spread your asscheeks apart, his cock sliding deeper inside your hole.
You could feel his mushroom head kiss gently the skin of your cervix, bringing both pain and pleasure through your body. Ben’s hazel eyes lowered to the state of your pussy; glistening bush pressed against his own pubic hair, messy, puffy and wet folds gripping his cock to keep him inside you like you didn’t want him anywhere else. “Lean back. Let me see that mess of a cunt.” He groaned, hands shifting your hips to angle them forward just so he could see himself inside your cunt, how your hole was stretching around his girth, the wetness creating threads to connect your bodies. Saliva and juice pooled at your clit, making the view more perverted.
Ben groaned at the view, licking his lips before looking back up at you. “All that for dad’s cock, fuckin’ icky girl. Look at your pretty pussy and that pretty bush. S’fucking making me throb. Want me to fuck you full, don’t you?” You immediately nodded at him, but remembered all too well how he had treated impoliteness before. “Yes, please… I want you to fuck me, dad.”
He groaned at the words leaving your mouth before nodding and his hands moved to your thighs to pull you back correctly on his cock, making you feel him all the way inside. A gasp left your mouth, making him smirk and he only replied by thrusting his hips up to slot against yours. “Ah! Mh, fuck, please…” You whined at him, not caring about how embarrassing you must look at that moment, truly needing him to fuck you.
Ben didn’t stop at that, his hips immediately taking a fast pace as they thrusted up against yours. His cock rubbed and hit the spongy spots inside your sloppy cunt, creating squelching noises that echoed inside the empty room. Your juice smeared around, wetting your bush and his own, creating a friction that almost burned. His groans and grunts hit your ears, making your walls clench, and his pace faltered for a second.
“Fuck, keep clenching that pussy ‘round dad’s cock, yeah? Show me how much you love when I fuck you.” He spoke, but you could only nod your head in answer.
Your hands moved, grabbing at his shoulders and down to his biceps as if it could help you stay up. His mushroom head kept hitting the spot at the entrance of your hole, making you moan out each time. Your body was begging for a release, the muscles of your thighs were burning and aching for a new position but Ben kept going, nuzzling his fat cock inside your cunt. His ballsack kept hitting the skin of your ass, creating slapping noises that sounded so perverted. You could feel your wetness running all the way down to his base, making your skin sticky against his own.
Ben’s head rolled against the leather of the couch once more before he moved it just so his eyes could lower to your hairy pussy; watching his fat cock disappear inside your hole. A creamy white ring of come had been created at the base of his cock, smeared into his pubic hair and yours.
He didn’t say anything, too busy focusing on fucking you, his hands moving to your hips and his digits tightened their grip on the fat there. He kept pulling you back down onto his cock each time he thrusted up, not letting you do any work, using you like his personal fleshlight. Your body bounced, his balls sticking to your ass, his pubic hair brushing against your very sensitive clit as you started to roll your hips to add pleasure. One of his hands lifted up to the back of your head just to tug on your hair, making you wince in pain.
Your eyes looked up at his face just to see him already watching you; his lips parted and eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck—Let me see that pretty face when I make you come, doll. Need to see how much y’like it.” He said, and your own lips parted just for your tongue to stick out, for saliva to drip from the tip of your tongue in a fat glob, hitting the skin at the valley of your breasts.
Ben groaned at the view, nodding his head. “You disgusting girl, what d’you want? You want dad’s cock? His finger?” A nod of your head was enough for Ben to let go of your hair, just to shove his finger inside your mouth.
His digit pushed against your wet tongue and you immediately closed your lips around his thumb. His other hand kept helping you down on his cock as his strong hips thrusted up, cock rubbing at your sweet spot. “That’s it, good girl, taking dad’s cock and finger so well. You were made for that, aren’t you?” He spoke as you sucked on his thumb eagerly, moaning his name as he slotted his cock inside you, making your pussy gush and leak down his shaft. One of your hands moved to hold his wrist so he wouldn’t put his digit away, your tongue rolling around the warm skin. The view of you like that made Ben fasten his thrusts, making you bounce harder.
You cried out around his thumb, tears forming at the corner of your eyes, drool dripping down your chin as you sucked on his thumb. Ben hissed as he watched tears slowly roll down your cheeks, his strong hand shifting your hips and angling them toward his body. The new position made his fat mushroom tip hit directly onto your g-spot, making you gasp loud. Your free hand moved to hold onto his shoulder like you had done before, and you tried to push his hand away from your face, but he clicked his tongue on his palate. “Keep suckin’ on that, kiddo. Let me see how you’d like to have my cock in your mouth next.”
You had no other choice but keep his digit inside your mouth as he thrusted back to slot his cock deep inside your dripping pussy. Louder squelching noises echoed around the room, your wet pussy clenching around his cock as he kept rutting his hips up. Ben groaned, eyes lowering to the clearer creamy white ring at the base of his shaft that your pussy had created, both of your bushes glistening with come and wetness.
Suddenly, Ben pulled his thumb out of your mouth and you were able to moan his name back, crying for release as big tears rolled down your cheeks to mix with saliva. You were a mess; muscles aching even more than before, sweat covering your face, breathing labored from the efforts.
Your walls clenched tightly around Ben’s cock when he pressed his wet and warm thumb against your slick clit. Your body squirmed at the feeling, an overstimulating sensation coursing through you; you gasped. “Mhpfhhpf, Ben! Ah, too much!” Ben only started to rub and circle your bundle of nerves after your reaction. “Too much? I thought you wanted to come? Want me to stop?” He groaned, mocking you through his actions and tone. You shook your head, lips parted wide and head becoming dizzy. “No, I—I want to come!” You replied to him, rolling your hips to feel both his cock and digit.
“Then be a good fuckin’ girl and take it, I know you can. Y’can be good for me, yeah? For dad?” He asked, making you cry out as his tip rubbed against your g-spot once more. He started to thrust up toward this spot specifically, making you gasp non-stop, and more tears rolled down your cheeks; you felt his fat cock throb inside your cunt at the view he had of you.
“Yes, yes, yes! I can be good!” You replied with a shaky voice, both hands lifting to the back of his head, fingers running through his strands and tugging on them. The tug was so sharp that Ben hissed and his thumb rubbed harder against your slick clit, his cock slotting itself deep inside your dripping pussy, kissing all the nooks and crannies of your gummy walls.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as his hazel eyes lifted up to your face. “About to come, aren’t ya’?”, he asked before looking down at the mess you were creating on his cock.
“Fuck, if only you could see your little cunt squeezing me up. Bet she wants me to stay all the way inside.” He grunted, words perverted and disgusting as they hit your ears, but only made you clench harder. A warmth started to spread around your belly, your muscles burning as you felt your orgasm showing the tip of its nose. “Ben—Dad! Going to come, please!” You said, rectifying yourself before he denied your orgasm again.
His hand on your hip tightened, his thumb on your clit rubbed faster as your walls clenched once again. “That’s my fuckin’ girl. So polite, aren’t you, baby? Go on, come on dad’s cock, make a mess for me.” He hissed and it sufficed you. Your lips parted wider, pupils blown out as you looked at him. He never stopped the stimulation of your clit as you came down his cock; the orgasm was strong and violent. Your whole body squirmed and twitched, and you tried to push yourself away from him. “God, god! Too much, please!” You cried, but Ben only groaned, his hips thrusting up harder for his cock to hit your g-spot. Your upper body folded against his chest as you drooled.
Your brain was empty of thoughts as he kept fucking you, pace relentless, overstimulating you. The muscles of your thighs contracted, your pussy clenched hard. “Fuck, that’s it, sweet little cunt… M’going to fill her up, yeah?” You were unable to reply, saliva dampening the fabric of his suit that he hadn’t bothered taking off. His bulbous tip rubbed against your clenched gummy walls, hitting your sweet spot on purpose. Ben was completely overstimulating you now, his thumb never stopping the circles around your clit, keeping pleasure course through your body.
You felt another type of warmth course through your body as Ben cursed, his eyes focused on your cunt—and suddenly, you were squirting all over his cock. He didn’t even seem surprised as he kept thrusting up, juices flowing out of you to drench his hairy cock, balls, hips and the leather of the couch. Loud squelching noises were created his cock thrusting in and out of your sloppy, dripping pussy. The essence coated your thighs, your bush and made it glisten, as Ben finally stilled inside your hole. “Here is it, baby, dad’s cum. All warm and ready for you.” He groaned at you.
His hips stopped moving, cock slotted all the way inside you as his thick, warm cum filled you up. His balls tightened, the muscles of his thighs clenching and you gasped; your body convulsing slightly as you felt his semen against your slick gummy walls, dripping back down to the base of Ben’s cock just to pool there after kissing your cervix.
Neither of you moved afterward, just breathing loudly before you watched the made-up soldier extend one arm to the side, grabbing a blunt from the side table, putting it between his lips. You’re about to move off of his lap but he looks up at you, shaking his head while lighting up the joint.
“Stay here. Your pussy’s warm, I like it. Want to watch my cum make a mess in your bush.” He just says, and you cough when he exhales the smoke toward your face, smirking. You can smell the weed from it, making you scrunch your nose.
“That felt good, uh? Bet ya’ liked calling me dad while I fucked you.” His words bring shame and embarrassment to you, but your sensitive walls clench around his cock without you realizing, feeling his semen slowly drip out of your hole. Ben hum then, smoking lazily on his blunt, looking at you with half-lidded eyes and a sweat-covered face. “You made a fuckin’ mess.”
You can only roll your eyes at his words, making his strong hand slap on the skin of your ass, the fat bouncing from his action. A gasp leaves your mouth at the sharp sting his hand leaves on your skin. “Hey, that’s so mean!” You voice at him but Ben only exhales more marijuana smoke toward you, making you cough.
“Don’t be fucking impolite, doll, or I’ll fold you in two on this couch and fuck your cunt until you beg me to stop.”
so i’ve seen that people have been requesting omni mark but could i request more fluffy head-cannons 😛
❤︎ gift giver who pays way too much attention to the things your eyes linger on. you think you’re being slick when we you glance at the fragrance isle, one of the displays catching your eye before looking forward once more. a simple glance was all mark needed, he returned to the same store only a week later during his free time, buying the display fragrance before he headed over to your house for a regular hangout.
❤︎ some part inside him struggles to understand what is means to be normal. mark sees the way you effortlessly order his food at restaurants, talk to employees at checkout lines, or receive a compliment from others about your shirt. he’s envious, wishing he could say more then “is that so.” in the most monotone voice ever, rather when he tries to be more energetic it appears to be off putting. mark doesn’t consider himself a sulker, you did however when you saw how he floated his other his arms crossed. his eyes were furrowed as his nose scrunched up, staring into the living room walls while he was lost in his own little world. you bring him back to reality with a hug from behind, however your hug is just you snuggling against his legs as he was too high up i. the air. mark floats down as he allows you to give him a real hug, even then you can feel the struggle of him attempting to hug you back. mark makes progress every day when it comes to social and physical interactions.
❤︎ strategically makes your lunch, he grew up having to cook often for himself. he couldn’t depend on his parents like other children, their jobs seemed like the top priority the older he grew. mark does enjoy the requests you give him, he’ll make anything you want. alfredo pasta with broccoli but you want the pasta directly from italy? he’ll be back in two hours, all he asks is before he leaves are there anymore ingredients you’d want while he’s out there? mark can stop by france, germany or spain if you’re interested.
❤︎ extremely sentimental whenever you gift him things, show any interest in a topic hes ranting about, or “i saw this and it made me think of you!” type of conversations. once you’ve brought him to the zoo, claiming the polar bears were just like him. he eyed you, confused on how he was like the very cold animal as you continued with a smile. “they’re super independent, massively big and tall, plus they have an incredible sense of smell just like you.” mark stared at you, he tried hard not to show the way his face softened and he held back a smile. he coughed and looked back at the tank, with the one polar bear swimming in front of you too as he spoke—“ you read the last bit off the fun facts sheet on the wall.”
❤︎ absolutely hates going grocery shopping without you, he can’t handle talking to the cashiers who won’t stop judging or asking whag he’s buying. the amount of self control he must have while standing there and waiting for the employee to finish scanning his items. he returns home in silence, setting down the bags full of food on top of the dinner table as he let out a sigh of relief. he confronted you about the incident later that night after the two of you had gotten ready for bed. mark laid on his side, hands folded respectfully as you to pulled the sheets over your body, he speaks with an annoyed tone and expression—“i don’t enjoy going out shopping for groceries without your presence.” you smile and gently rubbed his chest before cuddling up to his side, mark arms wrapping around your body as he stared up to the ceiling. ‘that went very well’ he thinks to himself as sleep began to consume his mind and body.
❤︎ the times were mark is confident enough to touch and return your physical affection, do not take these moments lightly. he reaches over and leaves gentle kisses up against your body, his hands caress your calves. his cheek leans up against your thigh, the warmth gave him comfort as you snuck pictures of the moment on your phones camera.
can you write something about reader having the softest, bounciest, longest dtrongest curls (I'm talking about so strong and bouncy that they can't tie their hair at all because the hair tie snaps every time, and they can't wear hats or headphones at all because it just doesn't work 😭) and Castiel being COMPLETELY SMITTEN by them? like, he can't stop touching (respectfully of course), feeling the curls, tugging them only to watch them bounce right back in place. can't take his eyes off reader when they walk because every step makes their whole hair jump and move. and he just loves those hair so so much sometimes he even thinks about just drowning with his whole head in them😭
(maybe you can add Dean and Sam teasing him abt that too👀)
⋆｡ ˚ gravity doesn’t apply to you
summary ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ your curls defy physics, which in cas’s eyes means they might also be divine
pairing ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ castiel x reader ( gn ) ft. sam and dean
wordcount ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ 655 genre ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ silly fluff
warnings ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ light teasing, touchy castiel (consensual and respectfully), hair-focused affection
notes ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ִ❀໋ consider supporting my work .ᐟ
Your hair has always been… a problem. Not in a bad way. Just—in a this is ridiculous, why does it do that kind of way.
Hair ties snap. Not loosen—snap. Hats sit on top of your head for half a second before giving up entirely. Headphones? Forget it. They hover uselessly, never quite making contact, like your curls have formed their own protective barrier against the world.
And the bouncing—God, the bouncing.
Every step you take sends your curls springing with you, soft and stubborn and completely untamable, moving with a life of their own no matter what you do to try and control them.
You’ve learned to live with it.
Castiel, however, has not.
He’s standing behind you in the bunker library, far too quiet for someone who usually announces his presence without meaning to, his gaze fixed on the back of your head with an intensity that should probably concern you more than it does.
You don’t even have to turn around to know.
“…Cas,” you say slowly. “Why are you staring at me.”
“I’m not staring,” he replies immediately.
You raise a brow, turning slightly. “You absolutely are.”
There’s a pause. Then, with complete sincerity, “Your hair is… fascinating.”
You snort softly, shaking your head—which, unfortunately, only makes it worse, your curls shifting and bouncing with the motion.
Castiel’s eyes track every movement. “…can I?” he asks, already halfway reaching.
You hesitate for about half a second before sighing. “Fine. But if you get stuck, that’s on you.”
“I won’t get stuck.”
He does not sound convinced.
His fingers slip carefully into your curls, slow and cautious at first, like he’s expecting resistance, like he thinks they might fight back. They don’t. They give, soft and warm, coiling around his touch in a way that makes his breath catch just slightly.
“Oh,” he murmurs.
You try not to laugh. “Yeah. That’s usually the reaction.”
He tugs one, just a little.
It stretches.
Then snaps right back into place.
Castiel goes completely still.
“…that shouldn’t be possible,” he says, voice low with quiet awe.
You grin. “Tell that to my hair ties.”
Behind you, there’s a familiar scoff.
Dean leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with a smirk. “Buddy, you look like you just discovered fire.”
Sam, standing next to him, is trying—and failing—not to laugh. “He’s been like this for ten minutes.”
“That is inaccurate,” Castiel replies, distracted, already reaching for another curl.
“You have,” Dean insists. “You zoned out watching their hair bounce when they walked in. It was creepy.”
“It was not creepy,” Cas says, though he doesn’t sound particularly concerned about defending himself. His attention is still entirely on you, fingers gently combing through your curls again, slower this time, more deliberate in his curiosity. “It was… captivating.”
You feel your face warm slightly, even as you try to play it off. “It’s just hair.”
“No,” he says softly, almost to himself. “It isn’t.”
He leans closer—not enough to invade, just enough that you can feel the shift in the air, his hand still buried carefully in your curls like he’s afraid they might disappear if he lets go.
Dean groans. “Oh my God, he’s in love with your hair.”
Sam laughs under his breath. “Can you blame him?”
Castiel doesn’t respond. He just watches as you move again, your curls bouncing effortlessly with every step—and if he shifts a little closer, like he’s tempted to follow, no one points it out.
Except Dean. “Dude,” he mutters. “You gonna stick your whole head in there or what?”
Castiel pauses. Considers it.
You turn, eyes widening. “Don’t you dare—”
“I would ask first,” he says, completely serious.
Dean loses it.
Sam actually has to sit down.
And you’re trying very hard not to laugh as Castiel gently, carefully, reaches for your hair again, like it’s something rare he’s still not entirely convinced he’s allowed to touch.
ꔛ. all works ; writing guidelines ; writing schedule.
I just saw your sinister mark head cannons and seeing the way u described omni mark makes me wanna wanna know some omni mark head cannons of yours🌝🌝
ಇ the perfect example of ‘husband material’ in his eyes, but in reality his courting could use some work. when mark acknowledged your existence, for the very first time since he’s gotten his way powers, he messed up landing on the ground. rather, he crash landed into his mothers tomato garden, covered in the barely ripe juices. heavily frustrated and landing a mean glare at you, his eyes couldn’t help but soften at the way you were so effortlessly pleasing to the eye.
ಇ has softly pinched your hip or gives you a ‘really?’ look whenever you curse around him. even being from afar mark will be able to hear the loud ‘fuck!’ you let out after dropping your cup of water. you don’t need to call out for mark, he’s already there and quickly finished the task he was doing beforehand. he’ll pick up the cup and set it down into the sink before turning to you with his arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, “i thought we established no more swearing?” he’ll accept your apology, for now at least.
ಇ mark didn’t have the joys of being allowed to have a normal childhood, his father was cruel and shamed mark for his powers not arriving sooner then later. despite this, mark grew up still idolizing his father because he was one of the worlds sole protectors, he wanted to be just like his when his powers would come. he hated going back to his home, the cold house never felt an ounce of warmth since they’ve been there. his mother wasn’t even at the house often either, consuming herself in her work, and the times she is home she’s always drinking her wine. marks had to clean up some of the wine spills debbie’s left, while shes passed out on the white couch. he never felt so much warmth before in his life until he met you, mark will never let you go.
ಇ pet was a term his father used on his mother in front of mark, he never understood growing up why his mother would never say anything in regards. she would stand there and listen, that would unease him. you weren’t a pet, mark didn’t view you as one either. you were way beyond those standards, and mark knew that he doesn’t want the same relationship his parents have. he’ll marry you one day, where the two of you stand and eat your ridiculously enormous cake and laugh together, that’ll be the day mark has the biggest smile on his face. 
ಇ the thought of producing children together has crossed his mind more then once, at least a few times a day he’ll think about the children running in and out of the house while you sit on the couch and watch them. mark knew he didn’t want one child, growing up alone with no siblings or cousins didn’t socialize him enough. in a dream, he imagined you both having three little girls and two boys. he’d regularly ditch being a hero to come and stay home, helping you raise the little village you both created, making memories as a family. this will happen later in the future, regardless if you can bare children or not mark won’t hesitate to kidnap a few GDA members and kindly asking them to create a copy using both your DNA.
ಇ affection wasn’t something that he was used to, a simple pat on the back from his father was all he’d get for completing a task without mistakes. his mother used to be tender and kind when he was way younger, but she lost her touch the older he got, especially after his powers. your gentle nature was entirely different from his life, you’d effortlessly would show him how to love and mark would try not to mess it up. the lingering touches, holding hands in public, kissing him every where, mark felt like he was a sinner whenever you’d show an ounce of love to him. the late nights of you wrapping yourself around his body, his arm over your shoulder as he stares up at the ceiling. he shouldn’t be allowed to feel so relaxed and calm, yet you bring a feeling of euphoria.
…
“the purest form inside of a human, who’d knew.”
a/n: i slept until one sorry guys.. anyways more head canons coming up soon! i pushed this one before mohawk mark cuz i got like 5 different rq for omni mark lol
summary: mark teaches his viltrumite girlfriend about oral sex
cw: nsfw, cunnilingus, hair pulling, face fucking, mark is down bad, etc.
Mark likes kissing—meeting your mouths together again and again until his inexperienced lungs are burning for air and he’s forced to pull away. Even then, he touches your noses together, cradling your face in his warm hands and kissing the corners of your lips.
“Let me,” he babbles, breath hot and damp against your mouth, “let me eat you out. Please.”
You pause, briefly trying to decipher what he could possibly mean this time. Humans have so many different names for things. They also have that especially annoying habit of using metaphors instead of actually saying what they mean. Could this be one of those?
Though he does kiss you like he’s trying to eat you alive—hungry and deep, biting at your lips and sucking your tongue into his mouth with soft, satisfied sounds in the back of his throat that make your skin prickle and grow hot.
You frown, frustrated, “Is that not what you’re doing?”
“No, it’s,” his throat bobs as he swallows, then licks his lips. He tugs at the waistband of your borrowed sweatpants (wonderful human clothing, in your opinion), runs a finger over the hair between your legs and ventures further down to feel the warm wetness gathered there.
Mark lets out one of those soft little whimpers that makes it feel like your blood is on fire. You watch him silently, tilting your head when he tugs the sweatpants down and goes along with them on his knees. His hands nudge your thighs, and you widen your stance to give him space. He plants a kiss on your clit, then takes it between his lips and sucks. Pleasure crackles up your spine and sizzles down your limbs.
You experimentally rock forwards, releasing an admittedly shaky sigh through your mouth, and slip a hand into his soft, windswept hair. He opens his eyes, looks up at you through his lashes with those sweet brown eyes he inherited from his human mother. Mark’s hands go around, greedily groping at your ass, encouraging you to keep moving. He drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, dips it into your hole with a hungry groan.
You tighten your hand into a fist, give his hair a sharp tug, and he whines against you. The vibrations make your hips stutter in their rhythm, and you make a little disgruntled noise at the loss of control.
Mark’s nails dig into your skin, hard enough to gravely harm someone more fragile—weaker. You, however, will have bruises at most. His pupils are blown wide, the color of his eyes gone black. The look he gives you is so pathetic that it makes you shiver in delight. Were it anyone else, their skull would be crushed under your heel.
His mouth is smeared with your arousal, and it drips down his chin in thick, glossy rivulets when he pulls back. “S’okay. Just—just use me,” his voice is raw, his words slurred with a need you’ve only heard when he’s inside you. “Keep going. Fuck my face.”
He’s giving you the green light—again, one of those human idioms, not yours. You grasp the sides of his skull (gently, you don’t want to hurt him) and guide him back between your legs.
Soft, whiny moans are muffled against you, uttered between obscene sounding slurps and greedy gulps. Your breathing quickens, hips rolling and bucking into his hungry mouth—swiping your swollen clit against that cute, slightly upturned nose of his—while your hands hold him however you please. Like always, he’s more than eager to let you take control, pliant under your touch and gripping your legs like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.
Eventually, you feel your release come with a wave of wetness, which he desperately laps up and nuzzles his nose against your clit to coax more out of you until the tension bleeds from your body. You sigh in satisfaction, then slowly release him to let him catch his breath. He rests his head against your thigh, nuzzles against your skin with a drunken smile. You thoughtfully pet his head, softly scratching at his scalp.
“You have to let me do that again,” he nearly begs, lower face and neck drenched in your juices.
“Sure.” You say without hesitation, fascinated with human creativity. His breath catches in his throat when your foot brushes against the wet, bulging shape of his cock through his pants. “What else can you show me?”
A fuzzy feeling rushed through your entire body. Like an explosion had gone off, all you could hear was a faint buzzing and the movement of air. And bells. Bells rang faster and faster as Pennywise rocked his hips more and more. Coming towards your climax, all you knew was the ringing sound and the piercing pressure blowing into you. Bells sang an intense song until suddenly, they stopped. They stopped and everything was so warm. Pennywise laid on your chest, his large arms wrapping you up and holding you tight against him as he'd purr.
He's a monster. ofc he'd purr and growl and snarl and hiss. I like to think Pennywise also shows some very possessive behavior with his victims like holding them close and/or scratching and nipping his captive when they're bad.
I don't see a reality where Pennywise would fall in love with a human. I do think he'd keep a person as a pet or love them as if they were a favorite toy. This means that Pennywise would tease them; possibly with their worst fears as a way of feeding off of a passive source. (Think like a cheat meal which he doesn't have to hunt down)
Moreover, Pennywise wouldn't be able to feed off of his captive's embarrassment, however he would definitely find it entertaining. Things like their private thoughts, their hidden secrets, or methods of physical humiliation would really humor him. Your discomfort brings his enjoyment.
As a result, I think Pennywise would be incredibly degrading towards you. He'd also have a humiliation kink for his victims.
Pennywise wouldn't be overtly sexual since he's a clown. Doesn't even swear. However, he would possibly make inappropriate innuendos– things that aren't obvious but still suggestive enough to make himself laugh. He also seems like he would give any captive he is particularly fond of a fairly possessive nickname.
“And how is my little baby over here?” He'd mock, “Is my baby girl enjoying their new home?”
“Hello, would you like a balloon? I've got red ones, or blue ones, and long ones, and thick ones. I'd offer my special balloon, but I think it's broken. It won't inflate. Could you help me blow my special balloon?”
During sex with Pennywise, he would sometimes alter himself just slightly the further and further you went with him. Being curious on the limitations of your mortal body, (maybe even intentionally trying to cause you a little pain) Pennywise would shapeshift his dick to grow slightly larger inside of you as you'd bounce on him– seeing how far he could stretch you out.
“Hehehe..,” Pennywise growled. You felt a tightness inside you, feeling a new sting as you dropped back down on his shaft. It was a maddening sensation. You felt like you were being stuffed full. Like every drop reached deeper. Like your walls were being pushed further apart. The sensation just kept growing and growing until…
“I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” You cried, “you're too big.” Tears started hastily falling down your cheeks as you looked into his dark eyes. That crooked smile only taunted you.
“Awe, no fun! I wanted to see you pop! Like a balloon.”
And when you'd get your period, there's no stopping him. He'll eat you out like he's starving for it. His hands grip both thighs- prying them apart- and he digs his face in there. And when he would be done, Pennywise would lift his head to reveal his mouth bloodied and smeared.
However, he isn't only interested in keeping you captive for his own enjoyment. Pennywise initially brought you down to the sewers of Darry to feed on your flesh. He was ravenous when he met you. As soon as he was just about to sink his teeth into your hand, you had surprised him. Your scent. He realized that you weren't terrified of him– in fact, the opposite– but he couldn't let you go. Something in his head stopped him.
During his hibernation, Pennywise would spend a long time sleeping in intervals. Between that, he’d slug out of his bloody pool, pushing past severed limbs and scattered entrails in order to reach you. You’d hear him from the drains in your household- from the gutters on your morning walk. He’d beckon to you to visit.
You'd sit in his carriage listening to him showcase his latest songs on the tuba. He would make you play games with him– some less innocent than others. Additionally, he'd even just sit there eagerly and listen to you talk.
“So I uh.. went on a run and saw this bird and-”
“Ooh hoo hoo! How fun.” He'd clap.
During his active periods, Pennywise would keep you captive underground where it would be cold and wet and bloody. Keeping you trapped in his domain watching you.
Initially, you were scared. Terrified even. You were trapped in the caves beneath Derry, forced to watch this psychotic clown devour children whole. He'd torment you‐ scaring you mercilessly and chasing you back and forth. He knew wasn't going to kill you. He just wanted to be mean.
I think this would've eventually formed into a Stockholm dynamic where you two would eventually grow closer as you desensitized yourself to his violence (maybe it was fast, or slow- idk how fucked up you already are)
Pennywise is the type of guy who wouldn't know how to act when you cry. He'd just stand there and scrunch up his face waiting for you to stop. He's quite emotionally unavailable and at points presently not there (a dissociative baddie).
Moreover, more often than not, Pennywise speaks in a childish or belittling tone because the deadlights find it their most comfortable tone because they've been a clown for so long.
“I know a secret,” he'd giggle, “You have been thinking naughty, NAUGHTY things!” Pennywise would say as he'd step closer towards you, trapping you between the sewer gate and his large, towering frame…
In moments you've spent with Pennywise, he's immature and spontaneous yet on occasion you see the darkness that festers within him. In brief moments you see him. He'd be angry and spiteful, using crafted insults that exposed buried secrets. You once witnessed him destroy 8 soldiers in 2 minutes flat.
He could be so sweet and cheeky, but you knew you'd avoided something much more sinister behind the facade.
synopsis: After a failed rebellion, Superman spares your life. Alone in his frozen home, you realize he not only owns Metropolis, but he also owns you, too.
warnings: noncon, pet play dynamics, power imbalance, size difference, clark but if he actually listened to the message his parents sent him with, hurt/comfort, breeding, kidnapping
word count: 3.8k
clark kent masterlist
The moment you feel like you’ve finally gained the upper hand is short-lived. It’s brief, but the excitement of it truly fills your heart. Your rebel cell had finally perfected the design of a weapon made from Kryptonian tech – a bomb. It was crude and unstable, but it offered a chance of defeating the supreme leader of Metropolis, better known as Superman. You’ve worked for weeks on its calibration. Now, it was only a matter of time before the strike would occur. It could very much tear a hole in the dimensional fabric, but after three long years of living under his rule, you were very much willing to take that chance.
Your walkie-talkie chirps from your pocket, and you bring it to your ears quickly. You glance around the room with the intention of giving the other ten members of your cell the go-ahead. You expected to receive word that you were all clear to move the device. You expected that the time and location of its detonation had been set. Instead, a shaky voice on the other end shouted, “Code Red! Code Red! He’s – he’s fucking here–”
Instead, full of raw determination, you looked at the men around you and sharply relayed the message. “Code Red,” you bark, voice cutting through the stunned silence. “Get ready!” You readied your own weapon as everyone did the same. You also secured the detonation pad. Superman was coming to you this time. It certainly wasn’t plan A, B, or C, but you wouldn’t squander the opportunity.
You feel the metal roof shaking from the force of the wind that he brings with him. The next sound is not a crash. It’s much worse. The entire warehouse shakes, and suddenly, the rusted metal of the roof is torn through like paper. A shockwave ripples through the concrete as he slams down. He’s faster than all the debris that begins to fall, landing before it even makes it to the ground.
You’ve already been thrown to the ground, your body sliding against the ground, before your back collides roughly with a metal support beam. You don’t scream from the pain. For a moment, you’re deathly still. You blink over and over until you can see through the dust. Superman stands in the crater he’s made, red cape moving behind him in slow waves.
You’d never been in the same room as a God. A realization hits you like a second impact. The impossibility of the task set before you.
He doesn’t speak when the shooting starts, metal bullets bouncing off his suit. He stands unmoving until his eyes connect with yours. You would swear they were glowing. It’s less than a second, but it feels like five minutes.
The shooting ceases as your men realize they’ve run out of ammo. Then Superman is moving through the warehouse like a flash of light. You hear bones breaking. The squelching of torn limbs. Wet, choked gaps. The burning of flesh seared by his heat vision. And then nothing.
It’s your turn now. He’s feet away from you, stalking closer, and you reach down to your side for the detonator. Your hands scramble across the concrete, fingers grazing against dust and blood. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel much of anything but panic.
With shaking hands, you grab the gun at your waist and aim it at his face.
“You looking for something, sweetheart?”
A smile tugs at his lips as he takes in your figure. He’s holding the detonator between two fingers, like it weighs nothing, like everything you’d worked for was worth nothing. He was almost amused. Like the idea that you were willing to blow yourself up and take him with you must’ve been a quirky part of your personality.
You get one shot off before he roughly snatches the gun from your hands. You grit your teeth as you watch him crush both metal objects in his hands. He throws the debris to the side as he kneels before you.
“Now what’s a cute little thing like you doing in a place like this?”
Your face scrunches in disgust, and Clark’s eyebrows raise curiously, “Just kill me!” You groan as you push your back further against the metal beam. He’s close now, much too close for comfort, as if he wants a close look. You feel his body heat and a fraction of the power that radiates from him.
“Kill you?” Clark questions, “No, I don’t think so. You’re precious.”
His hair is dark and thick, and a precise curl falls forward against his forehead. He is strong. His sharp jaw and his straight nose. His face is carved into confident lines.
“Fuck you,” You spit at him, and that confidence doesn’t waver.
“That might be exactly what you need.”
Your instinct is to slap him, and that urge takes over before logic can kick in. It doesn’t faze him, of course; it only makes your hand ache, but something flickers in his eyes. Not anger or surprise. Hunger. Interest.
He’s delighted by the action.
The floor of the warehouse disappears beneath you, and Clark’s hands grab onto both of your arms as he lifts you into the air. As you find yourself exposed to the cold, night air, you hear yourself screaming. You can’t look down. Your eyes sting, and your ears ring thanks to the rush of air, “L-let me go!” You’re moving further and further into the atmosphere.
“This would be a very bad time to let you go, sweetheart.” His voice is calm and teasing.
“You can’t …p-put me down!”
His lips press into a thin line, his expression unreadable.
“Have it your way,” He says before suddenly you’re falling backwards. Free-falling. You really scream then, your body twisting, limbs falling. You see glimpses of lights, the city below, and the large figure in red and blue getting further and further away. It’s too much. Your nervous system, in an attempt to protect you, allows your world to go black.
You don’t ever feel the impact.
You don’t expect to wake up at all, let alone in a warm bedroom. The heat is pumping through a vent right above the soft bed your body has sunken into. It hurts to open your eyes. Your face feels bruised. As your body awakens, you feel soreness all over. The room is flooded with light, which reflects off tall, white walls.
You turn your body until your legs are falling off the bed. Knees weak, you collapse onto the carpet as soon as you attempt to walk. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out.
Looking down at your bare knees, you realize that your black clothing is gone. The combat boots and your gun holsters are gone. The tight bun on top of your head had been undone, your unruly curls now falling against your shoulders.
Someone had undressed you. Completely.
“Rough landing,” A deep voice rumbled across your bare skin. Your heart stopped as heavy footsteps approached from across the room. You looked up to find Superman himself staring down at your naked figure. Not in his suit. He’s dressed almost cozily – gray sweatpants and a navy blue crewneck.
“You took me?” Your words are covered in disbelief. You reach up towards the bed to grab a pillow, and you fumble as you try to cover your naked body with it.
He crouches down as he takes a step closer, regarding you like a skittish animal.
“I made a last-minute decision,” He admits, the normalcy in his tone making your heart beat quicken, “You have no idea how draining it is protecting Metropolis from evil-doers like your friends. Killing people I don’t want to kill. I just thought that when I saw you, I could make sure that something good came from the situation.”
He looks for understanding in your eyes but you remain bewildered.
“I tried to kill you and you … you decided to take me?”
“It was a sad attempt, really. I think we’ll be able to call it even soon.”
It’s difficult to attach the mercilessness to him without the suit but he conveys his superiority in every form.
You try to crawl away.
It’s instinct. Your knees scrape against the carpet, and you barely make it three feet before strong hands are on your waist, lifting you from the ground. You fight harder this time, although you have half your strength, and Clark is an immovable force. He’s not rough as he sets you back onto the bed. “Just kill me!” You try to sound aggressive. Threatening. But even you can feel how close your tone sounds to begging.
He settles his weight against you, his thick thighs against yours, his hand against your stomach. Heavy as a chain. He shushes you as if you’re an unruly child having a temper tantrum. “Hey, hey, I already told you I wouldn’t. That’s out of the question,” He speaks calmly, and as he starts to part your legs with his knees, your chest starts to heave as the panic settles over you. A strong hand grips the back of your thighs. Your eyes widen at him, fear settling over your features, and he smiles, “You really didn’t realize this was an option. You thought the worst I could do to you was kill you.”
He was right. You knew he was sick, but you didn’t know he made a habit out of assaulting young women.
“You’re disgusting, you can’t—” You don’t recognize your own voice as it leaves your lips. You’d felt helpless before, but nothing like this.
Clark clicks his teeth as he looks you over. His eyes wander lower to your exposed breasts. Undoubtedly, he’d already gotten a good look at them, but something in his eyes darkened. “You’re really beautiful, you know that? Gosh. And you’re mine now.”
You shake your head, and he presses himself harder into your hips. Leaning down, he nuzzles his face into your neck. “Don’t, don’t–”
“Call me Clark, please,” His voice rumbles against your neck. His kisses are teasing at first, as if he’s testing your reaction, before his lips move more aggressively. Up your neck and then your jaw. His mouth finds you even as you try to turn your head away.
Clark? Big, bad Superman had a human name. You couldn’t dwell on that for long. You felt him reaching down towards his hips, lowering his sweatpants. “Please don’t!” You’re begging hard now, “Please stop! I’m sorry … I’m sorry for what I did.”
He keeps his lips on you, and he’s so entranced that you’re not sure if he’s even registering the words on your lips, “Say my name.” He pulls away to stare down at you. You want to say the right thing to disarm him, but you slowly realize your words won’t matter. He’s already decided what he wants. He decided at the warehouse. “Say it and I’ll be gentle.”
You groan, your head tilting back in frustration, “Please don’t do this,” He keeps you pinned as he easily uses one hand to free himself from his shirt. His bare chest, hairy and sculpted presses against yours. Your begging continues, and he continues the assault against your neck. Your body squirms as much as you physically can underneath him, but your worst fears are confirmed when you feel him hard against your thigh, “Please!”
“You’re not listening,” He chided you. You can feel how thick he is even without looking. He presses himself against your entrance. You’re not ready, and he knows it. He promised not to kill you, but the alternative is painful. Every survival instinct tells you to give in, to tell him what he wants to hear, but it’s too hard.
He pushes inside of you, and you whimper with each inch. He lets out a shaky breath, and you see him unravelling. Your warm, unwilling body feels good to him. So good that he has to keep going, pushing deeper inside of you, pinning your hands above your head. “Say it, pet.” He commands. You feel good, but he needs more. You haven’t submitted, not fully.
When you stare back at him, lips parted in a mix of painful pleasure, his face contorts in frustration. His movements quicken, although the force behind each thrust stays the same. He’s already pressing against your cervix, and he raises his hips to deepen the angle. Your body warms to him, your center becoming wetter and more accepting.
Minutes pass, and your body begins to feel foreign. You aren’t used to sex lasting this long. He uses his stamina to his advantage. Wrapping his arms around your back, he lifts you off the mattress until you're upright, sitting on top of him as he continues to thrust inside of you. It reminds you of when he lifted you into the air yesterday, although he seems to have no intentions of letting you go now.
You hold onto him, as if you’re afraid of falling, and he moves your hips down onto his length. You’re shaking now. The position offers more friction against your clit, and Clark slowly coaxes your body into an intense orgasm. “Ah, ah, ah,” You groan, nails digging into his shoulders, “I can’t–please stop.”
“I’m not done with you, sweetheart,” He groans. As your body convulses against him, strong arms lift you again. He lies his back against the bed, leaving your smaller body to tremble on top of his. He holds your hips tightly, making you ride him fully, and allowing him to take in your every feature. You’re mewling, hands pressed against his chest, your own chest bouncing as Clark thrusts beneath you. Normally, a position that would offer you a sense of control, but you felt anything but control in that moment.
It feels like you’re in that position for hours. You orgasm two more times before it even feels like Clark is ready to finish. He savors you completely, until your sweaty, babbling mess. You gasp as he thrusts slowly, and he cums deep inside of you.
You watch Clark’s head tilt back, a guttural sound in his throat, his hands still guiding your hips on top of him. Intentionally, he makes you sit there, his cum slowly sliding out of you. When he finally lifts your waist, freeing you from his length, tears start to well in your eyes.
“You know what?” Clark releases a heavy breath, “I think I will keep you.”
You’re not sure where your next surge of energy comes from, as you’re sure that Superman had just fucked it all out of you, but you attempt futilely to pound at his chest. He grabs ahold of your wrists quickly, smiling lazily up at you.
“Are you hungry, pet?”
Mustering all the politeness you possibly could for the monster in front of you, you asked for clothes. He declined just as politely. You’d muttered something about that being inhumane. He didn’t need to respond; you could read it on his face. He was Kryptonian, and you were nothing in comparison.
You never said that you were hungry, although your growling stomach told another story. Swiftly, he carried you from the large room upstairs towards the stairs. You could describe the interior of Superman’s home as cabin-like, but there were too many smooth, sharp edges and luxury finishes. A mix of human design and Kryptonian tech. Doors that opened as you approached. Lights that flickered on as you passed them. Plush carpets and dark, wood floors that were so clean they sparkled.
He finally set you down in what you could tell was the living room. Huge, L-shaped white coaches created a cozy nook in front of huge, floor-to-ceiling windows. You’d panicked before when you realized Clark had taken you, but your heart sank further at the sight before you. Rolling hills of snow and impossibly tall mountains covered in white stood in contrast to your naked figure.
“Where are we?” You ask him, feeling smaller than before. You felt changed although the way Clark looked at you stayed the same. Wouldn’t he get tired of you at some point?
You’d never seen anything so …beautiful. It felt wrong. Although you were sure you were still on Earth, this was a place of dreams. Freshly made. Untouched by humans.
“We’re pretty far North,” Clark replies with a non-answer and you scoff. He likes that you’re a lost little girl in comparison to him. He wants you to need him.
“This is … insane.” You can’t take your eyes off the view. The clouds touch the peaks of the mountain range. That’s how far up they are … that’s how far up you are. You sink to the carpet, your heart outside of your chest.
“You get comfy, and I’ll find us some lunch,” Clark said from somewhere above you, although you’re fixated on how small you are and the infiniteness of the universe. You’d never felt more bare. Exposed.
Moments passed, and you looked in the direction Clark had left. Undoubtedly, the kitchen was that way. You heard the soft open and close of a fridge and took it as your cue to move in the other direction.
The smart thing would be to map this place out, to understand exactly where he was keeping you, right? It might take some time, but you could formulate a plan. Your life as you knew it didn’t have to be over. You could stay strong. You could keep yourself from completely crumbling.
You move towards the arched doorway that leads into the living room, but just as you approach it, two black doors appear and slide shut in front of you. You yelp in frustration as your palms press against the metal. You turn quickly and find Clark standing across the room, a bowl of fruit in one hand and a plate of food in the other.
“The house is not quite used to you yet,” He says as he walks towards the couch closest to the kitchen, speaking as if his home were a living being, “Come, you should eat something.”
“I don’t want your food.” Clark slowly sits down, eyes fixed intently on you, spreading his legs to make himself comfortable. You press yourself into the cold door.
“You’ve been through a lot, and you’re running on empty. It might be easier to plot your escape on a full stomach,” He teases. You hate how he speaks as if he’s an all-knowing being. He pops a grape into his mouth and sighs. You cover your chest with your hands as you realize exactly where he’s staring. He looks hungry, and the grapes seem to be satiating him, but only temporarily.
“What is actually wrong with you?”
Clark’s face twists and this time when he smiles at you, it’s forced.
“Fine, I don’t wanna burst your bubble, little one, but the only way you’re getting out of here is with me. If you did manage to make it outside, and you won’t, you’d be hypothermic in half an hour. That’s if you found something substantial to wear, and that won’t happen either.”
You pause for a long moment and Clark waits patiently, “So what do I have to do for you to take me away from here?”
He shrugs casually, “I wouldn’t dwell on that. You look good here. I like you here, so this is where you’ll stay.”
“How many girls have you done this to?” You ask incredulously.
“How many other little human girls have I commandeered? None. Geez, I know you think I’m a supervillain —“
“What exactly would you call taking over the free world and killing anyone who opposes you?”
“I call it my purpose. We all have one. Mine just happens to be greater than yours.” Again, his tone implies that this is a normal situation and an ordinary conversation. It’s as if he’s playing devil’s advocate. As if human rights are something to be debated. “You’ll thank me later for showing you your true purpose.”
Trembling, you find yourself maintaining eye contact just to maintain a sense of control. The blood beneath your skin is boiling. You’d never felt so angry, although another emotion began to cloud your thinking. Failure. You thought of all the work that had gone to waste. All the efforts of thousands of humans just to have a small chance at defeating him, and you were the one left alive. It had all meant nothing.
All your friends were dead. He’d killed them without a second thought. He could kill you just as easily but you’re more frightened of living at this point.
“M-My purpose?” Your voice is weak. Shaking.
“You’re exhausted. Please, c’mere,” He waves you closer. The “please” he offers is a peace offering. It’s the only reason you can convince yourself to move. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Again,” You added for good measure.
“I won’t hurt you again,” He concedes, and you stalk closer. You know it’s wrong, that your mind is playing tricks on you, but in this warm house in the middle of a frozen kingdom, he’s the closest thing to human. He reaches out to take your hand, and you let it fall limply in his grasp, “Kneel, little one.”
You swallow. Hard. He looks at you expectantly for a long moment.
It’s a punch in the gut. The large room offers many places to sit, but he intends for your place to be at his feet. It’s intentional.
He squeezes your hand, more gently than you thought he was capable of. Before now, he was a flying speck in the sky. Up close, in his normal clothes, he really does look human.
Sinking slowly, you maintain your expression. Empty. Unimpressed. At least, that’s what you hope you’re conveying. Your knees brush the carpet as you settle in the space between his legs. He’s quiet as he leans forward and brings one of the grapes to your lips.
It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Better than the rations and dehydrated food at the rebel camp. You hadn’t realized how much you missed real, fresh food.
You eat each one from his fingers. In between each bite, he lets his hands wander. Brushing curls from your face and tucking strands behind your ear.
“Good girl,” Clark hums. He’s a God, but he gazes at you as if you’re worth something. “My parents saw little to no value in humans. They didn’t get the chance to live among them, obviously, so maybe that would have changed their opinion. But I think if they were alive today, they’d think I was soft.”
Your eyebrows raise curiously, and Clark appears amused at your reaction. “No, really. They wanted me to rebuild the Kryptonian empire. To take as many lovers as possible,” He adds, and you hang onto his every word. “To be honest, I think the most human thing about me is that I want a real family.”
The implication is there. He doesn’t need to verbalize it. Something twists in your stomach as you realize he may have already gotten his wish.
reblog with your thoughts to be added to my clark taglist :)
I feel like Waterboy cums an abnormal amount. Most of it is water and it lasts a long time, nonstop. He would be constantly apologizing; stuttering about that he can't control it.
I want that man to fill me up like a water balloon.
