t.w.: Dark-ish fic, Smut, P in V, Oral f receiving, Sex pollen Dub-con/Non-con, Voyeurism, Cucking, Breeding kink (forced pregnancy), Lactation kink (brief), LuthorCorp Secretary!Reader, Mentions of Ultraman x Reader (one-sided), Lex Luthor x Superman (also one-sided and psychotic), Cum play/eating, Reader has glasses, slight spoilers, fuck or die!, angst
a/n: Please read all warnings before interacting with my works. 18+ only!
Summary: Ultraman wasn’t as successful as he expected. Lex Luthor is hoping to breed something new to defeat his nemesis, no matter how long the process may take.
Breeding Program Masterlist
Cloning didn’t work. Ultraman was stupid. Incompetent. A failure.
But he liked you. Lex Luthor would watch as he leaned closer to you. It made you uncomfortable, clear by the way you shifted on your feet and avoided his pointed gaze.
Lex trusted you in maintaining him. You’d lead him, after hours, to his room, to the shower, to eat. You were his caretaker in a way. Reluctantly so.
The clone’s base instincts clearly indicated attraction judging by the hard ons he would openly display as he bathed with you standing by the door to ensure he wouldn’t make a mess.
It gave Luthor an idea, an idea that would ensure the next Superman “clone” would be as perfect as possible.
Luthor would pay you handsomely for the trouble. You who kept most of his secrets, you who he sends enough flowers to fill up your apartment, you who he has special meetings with while his girlfriend was off on a shopping spree.
He almost feels tenderly towards you. You were a perfect candidate.
…
You bounce on his lap, sinking onto his prick as he leaned back on his office chair. Peering at you as if you were on your knees and praying to him.
You grunt quietly, he watches as you get yourself off, as he does nothing to help.
Your fingers glide diligently over your cunt, the squelching sounds making you whimper as your clit throbs between your fingers.
He’s not good at sex, he likes having it, likes getting himself off. But he is not inept at pleasuring others.
You’re fine with it. No one has ever made you finish anyway. You only needed his dick. Like a dildo.
You grind your hips against his pelvis, his cock pushes in deep as you pulse around him, your head falling forward to rest against his shoulder in a stifled final moan.
He grips your hips as he pulses inside of you, you groan at the action. He always pulls out. You give him a look as you stand, he pulls your panties up against your cunt and pats your ass.
“Keep it in.”
You snort, he raises a brow, wondering where the joke was in his tone. Thank goodness for birth control. You’d rather die than have his demonic children. Even more spoiled brats and the world's riches would be divided within the Luthor family entirely.
“Remember what the goal is today…” he says as he points a teasing finger at you.
You nod as you straighten your pencil skirt and button up your shirt. Your hands drag against the wood of his desk to swipe your glasses teasingly.
“I’m ready.”
…
Being jostled around the air was irritating to say the least. The clone repeatedly evaded Superman’s moves, causing you to be caught midair several times. One second Ultraman, the other Superman.
It was like tug of war, except instead of rope, your body was being pulled every which way.
Another frightening possibility you didn’t think of before was that hands slip, butterfingers, people fumble.
Superman drops you. You imagine Lex having a laugh.
Superman apologizes as he recatches you, hands tight on your waist as he turns swiftly to take a hit to his back. You could see the way he grits his teeth and shut his eyes from the pain, the way his hands tightened over your body as he cocooned you.
You get it, you realize. Despite the obvious threats around him, his focus was on protecting you, the civilian. It made your chest warm. You almost coo from how selfless he was.
He flees from Ultraman, disguised as a villain of the week, in an attempt to put you down in a safe location.
“You ok?”
You grip onto his shoulders fearfully, feeling the taught muscle underneath. You get those who swoon. He was even bigger in person.
You nod slowly, eyes wide, a hand pressing your glasses to your face to keep them from flying off.
“Yea-“
It was like a train had hit him, the impact of the clone ramming into his side so strong it caused him to lose his grip on you. Again.
Jealousy you briefly wonder, you’re sure Lex didn’t tell him to do that. You’ve never seen that move before.
You each go in opposite directions. You could hear Superman scream out a sharp no as you’re free falling in the air.
The genuine concern won him points by you again.
You think about Lex. About the way he practically begged you to accept the role as victim for his latest scheme.
You’d slap him the next time you see him.
Your attempts to scream are tampered by the rush of air, you couldn’t breathe in or out, the rush of adrenaline making it hard to focus on the action as you see the pavement inch closer.
And suddenly you’re in someone’s arms again, held tightly against their chest. You take a harsh breath in, the rush of oxygen making your lungs burn.
Your eyes stayed unfocused from your lack of lenses. You look behind you to find metal armor facing right back at you. You sigh.
You’re shaking as you’re deposited to the floor of the lab, located near a small town west of the city of Metropolis.
Ultraman dropped you unceremoniously, making your knees buckle and causing you to fall.
You glare up at him, narrowing your eyes as he refuses to look your way. Unlike him. He was most definitely jealous.
Several lab techs surround you and Ultraman briefly to assess damages. They find none, they leave quickly, leaving you to reorient yourself in your lonesome.
You stand, wiping your hands down your skirt as you grumble about the lack of adequate patient care they offered you.
You try the door closest to you, it was locked. For a moment you stare at it dumbfoundedly. This was supposed to be where Luthor was entrapping Superman. There was a bed in the middle of the room, a toilet to the side. This was a prison.
Surely someone was coming to get you, or one of the doors will lock once Superman arrives.
You try the other door, locked. You knock. Your polite knock turns into a slam of your palm. You shout that you couldn’t get out. That you needed to get out. That you were starting to freak out.
You could hear metal bend. Superman was here. You shook the door knob desperately.
“Lex!”
The pounding was getting louder, you could hear his grunts as he attempted to make his way to you. To “save” you.
What would he do once he found out you planned to imprison him for testing, then undoubtedly kill him afterwards.
The sound of the panels behind you, curling in his hands like cardboard, made you think he wouldn’t be too happy.
You turn your back against the door, chest rising and falling with each breath as he breaks himself into his own doom. He takes a breath of relief at finding you unharmed. His eyes scan over your form as he jogs forward, hand gently holding your glasses out to you.
You take them shakily, placing them on to see his soft smile clearly. He puts his hand on your shoulder, your expression terrified.
“You’re going to be ok.”
Alarm bells ring, the room turns red and walls appear, layers and layers of metal sliding atop each other, just to stall him for the next part.
You swallow thickly and shake your head in denial. There must have been a mistake, you weren’t supposed to be in here, no one other than him was. You were fucked. You step away from him, he looks around the room in confusion.
The size of the room is cut in half by the strongest metal Luthor could find. Superman could easily punch his way out, but the amount of punches would be too much for him to get out in time.
A greenish fog fills up the room. He reacts quickly, tugging you from the wall and covering his mouth with his hand, as if urging you to copy the action.
“Hold your breath, I’ll get us out of here.”
You stare at his back, hands at your sides, as he turns to pull his hand back and hit the wall. What a beautiful idiot.
He didn’t realize that with each layer he destroyed more and more gas was being pumped into the room. It made you feel lightheaded.
You stay put in the middle of the room, legs turning weak and arms barely holding you up against the bed. Superman calls for you to follow him, almost desperately as he feels himself weakening.
He holds his breath, he could hold it for several minutes. But he was barely leaving a dent now.
“Don’t breathe it in!” he shouts. It didn’t matter. The smog could be absorbed through the skin anyway.
You fall to your knees. He stops and rushes to you. He could see that he wasn’t as close to breaking out as he liked.
He could only think of one thing. Kryptonite. It was making him feel almost anemic. He starts to shake. But he didn’t feel any pain. He felt a strange rush go through his body.
“Don’t-“ you wheeze out as he kneels over you, hand coming up to touch your shoulder.
The more you inhale the more you feel the effects of the gas. Your stomach clenches, your clothes feel suffocating, your skin sensitive.
Lex said it was going to debilitate him. Make him bend to his knees and writhe.
He grips your bicep, to stabilize you.
Your sharp moan made the hero freeze. It was sensual, pornographic. Not of pain or agony. His breath stutters at the sound, he feels himself start to sweat, his face heating up impossibly in embarrassment and something else.
What the hell did Lex put in this damn cell?
Your stomach cramps. You could hear the room speaker turn on with a sharp crack. Superman stands, looking around the room, attempting to find it.
“Hello, Superman.”
“Luthor,” he says as a response, sounding tired, almost bored of the other man’s voice already.
“Why don’t you or your people ever show themselves?” he asks after a moment, looking up towards the corner, knowing that a camera was pointed right at him.
“I’m closer than you think.”
Superman’s brows furrow. He turns to you and shrugs his shoulders with an incredulous look, obviously mocking Luthor’s ominous tone and words. You look away in shame, his face falls as you cower away from him.
“Oh! I didn’t introduce you to my secretary. Say hi to my secretary. Isn’t she cute? Great actor too.”
Superman’s eyes connect with yours and you pant as you drag yourself to the far wall. His eyes sharpen and his brows furrow, so deep creases formed in his perfect friendly face. The hint of a smile, gone. He was clearly upset by the setup.
“What did you do?” he asked, voice raised. He stares directly at you, eyes roaming over your body.
You’re not sure who he speaks to. Lex or you. By Lex’s snort, he assumes it was to him.
“Do you feel it?” Lex’s voice reverberated around the small enclosure, you bite your lip to hold in a whimper.
Your breath comes out in short pants. You feel your thighs slicken, each shift highlighting the fact that there was now a building dampness underneath you.
“It’ll take a while to set in for you.”
You rock your hips, Superman watches you curiously. You fight the urge to press your hand between your legs. You turn in your embarrassment, your nipples were so hard they stung and pointed out against the fabric of your shirt.
You press your face against the cool wall, it gives you brief relief. Another cramp in your lower belly hits you, you shake and groan.
“It’s already set in for her. You’ll see soon enough.”
He could smell your arousal, he exhaled shakily as he felt a warmth travel through his spine at your twitches and small noises. His eyes start to roam over your body, the way your back arches lightly, your ass curving out against the fabric of your skirt, now showing a growing spot of wetness.
He licks his lips before refocusing.
“What did you do?” he shouts with force.
“Don’t worry, it’s harmless.”
Superman looks at you, your back to him, he steps forward before stopping. His stomach tightens, his mouth salivates, and he feels his briefs tighten against his growing heavy bulge.
His eyes were intense, pupils fighting between expanding and constricting. He holds a hand up, as if to calm you, maybe even calm himself.
“You’ll be fine-“ he attempts shakily. His knees wobble.
“Oh. She will die,” Lex’s voice cuts sharply, humorously.
You moan out into the air, your skin prickles and itches. You refuse to look away from the corner, you didn’t want to give Lex the satisfaction of your tears, your panic.
“You require the dosage of an elephant. I had to make sure it worked.”
Your lower stomach tightens so much the rest of your body locks into place. You feel a rush like no other and yelp as the feeling makes your cunt’s walls constrict around nothing. Your body trembles in sweet erotic pulses, you pant openly as the rush fades into a low simmer.
Did you just have a mini orgasm?
“She needs an antidote, luckily for you Superman, you have plenty of it.”
The comm clicks as it turns off. You groan as you flop against the metal floor, facing the ceiling, body spread out like a starfish. You could feel his heated gaze, he looked furious, huffing out like a bull ready to charge.
Lex had been testing weird shit on the clone. He’d figured this chemical out a couple of months ago. It affected hormones, made the body crave another.
It wasn’t as bad as this. It wasn’t as intense.
Sure, Ultraman had humped your leg when you were trimming his hair but you’re sure he never felt as if he were dying.
Then again, Kryptonians, clone or not, wouldn’t be affected as fast as humans. You had a feeling this time would be different, you could see Superman pace back and forth, running a shaky hand through his locks almost pulling on it as his chest stutters with each gulp of air.
“Bodily fluids,” you gasp.
A kiss made it better, Lex made you kiss the clone, on the cheek, to test it out. Lex had a boner as he watched the interaction. The freak.
He kissed the clone himself afterwards, right on the lips, to see which method worked best, according to him. Tongue on tongue worked the best for pacifying the chemical.
You were used to seeing Superman’s face. You just weren’t used to him being able to speak back to you. He turns sharply towards you, he growls.
“Don’t test me.”
You roll your eyes, your body was shaking, your heart beating so fast you were starting to feel lightheaded. He could see your heart, so fast he fears you’re going to pass out at any moment now.
Worse, you might get into cardiac arrest. He sighs in frustration.
He kneels beside you, sitting you up against the wall roughly, pressing your shoulders into the metal despite your discomfort.
The touch makes you shiver, you hold back a moan. He cages you in with his arms, hands planted on either side of you.
“What can we do?”
You lick your lips, and he follows your tongue with his eyes. His stomach flexes and he grunts.
“It helps, saliva, sweat” you swallow thickly. He was so warm, your lips part lightly. You’ve never wanted anyone inside of you so badly before.
Your hands weakly lift to grip his bicep, big bulging biceps that were so hard as you squeezed. You bite your lip and suppress a giddy giggle, your hand roaming over his chest.
He shakes you from your daze. You drop your hand to the floor and swallow thickly. Focus. You take a moment, body flushing even further from humiliation.
“Ejaculate, arousal fluid, I promise,” you stutter, you adjust your glasses.
He narrows his eyes, you gush at his stare, a fresh wave of arousal almost squirting out of your cunt at his proximity.
He closes his eyes tightly, his arms flex as he resists the urge to manhandle you. He didn’t know if it was from anger or something else. Maybe it was the half-lidded gaze you gave him, eyes wandering all over his body and lingering on his very prominent bulge.
“So… what do I need to do?”
You shrug. It was obvious. Your eyes blank as you lean back against the wall.
“Just let me die, dude,” you mumble. He scoffs. Your head rolls to the side and your neck is exposed. He zeros in on the soft skin of your throat, his jaw tightens as he’s hit with your scent of fresh arousal. The musk was enveloping him, his hand cups your face.
He kisses you, face scrunched as if he hated the idea of being near you. You gasp, his tongue swipes through the roof of your mouth before swirling over yours.
You moan, fighting to keep your hands on the floor, curled into tight fists as he pulls your head closer.
“You smell good,” he mumbles offhandedly, voice low and tense, as if he could be doing anything other than this. His actions said otherwise, his tongue splays over your skin, lips pecking down your jaw. His hand grips your hips and pulls you forward.
“Thanks,” you groan out.
His head pulled away from you, his pupils were dilated. He was breathing heavier. His body twitches, neck straining. He was starting to feel the effects intensify.
“You feel better?” he asks softly, eyes roaming over your face, stalling over your lips.
In fact, you were starting to feel worse. You nod, despite the way your face twisted in pain, the cramps intensity almost debilitating.
“Liar.”
He kisses you again, the make out evolving as he pulls you to his lap. He guides your hands to touch him, sliding your fingers up his chest, over his neck. He guides your fingers to the buttons of his suit, right at the nape of his neck.
Your skirt rides up and he starts to unbutton your blouse. His mind started to cloud, almost as if he didn’t realize that you were being watched, as if you weren’t both trapped.
Lex sits in the surveillance room alone, having dismissed everyone else once the gas had been pumped into the cage.
He has cameras for every angle of the cell, he zooms in between your bodies.
He unbuttons his trousers, palming himself as he focuses in on your ruined panties grinding against the pronounced outline of Superman’s cock and balls.
Superman presses you against his chest, you tug your arms out of your dress shirt, hands going to his face as your tongue caresses his, wanting to be impossibly closer.
Luthor chortles as he hears your underwear rip, flinging to the other side of the room. Your bare cunt was spread open by thick digits. His fingers press into you, making your head fall back in delight.
Superman’s thumb rolls over your clit, you gush around him, so sensitive that a mere touch makes you fall off the edge of pleasure.
Lex jerks his cock in his hand, thumb running over the head as he spreads his spewing pre over his shaft. His cum was inside of you, Superman was playing with his cum already in your cunt.
What a sight.
…
You pant out heavily, he licks up your juices from his fingers and watches as your heart slows, only to start up again. His hand roams all over your body, pressing into your soft skin, groaning as you ground down on him.
“I’m sorry I have to…” he trails off. Eyes connecting to your breasts. He rips your bra quickly, hands coming up to squeeze the soft mounds.
His mouth hangs open, he feels himself drool at the sight of your bare body. He was delirious.
“I have to save you,” he mumbles, as if he were drunk.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, pulling you closer, his nose trailing down the middle of chest, nuzzling softly between your breasts as he breathes in deeply.
“Jes- jeez-“ he stutters. His tongue flicks out to taste your sweat, your breasts smelled like heaven, a certain musk that guided him to suck the soft flesh in his mouth.
His nose sinks into the softness, as his lips suck around your nipple. The other hand cups your breast and squeezes, his fingers holding your nipple in place as he presses the surrounding area. Almost as if urging something to drip out.
And something does. It must be an adverse effect of the gas, you see pearls of white dribble from the nipple he grasps in hand.
You instinctively attempt to push him away, but he holds you in place.
You flush in embarrassment as he groans, sucking harder, having just tasted what you’ve seen. He holds the small of your back against him, pressing you closer, his face smothered in your breasts.
You cup his head, mouth wide open as you moan out into the air freely.
You grind against his lap, tugging at his briefs. Your weak pawings towards his cock made him ache further. He stands, your limp body pliant in his hold as he makes his way to the bed in the middle of the room.
You fall harshly against the mattress. Your attempts at unbuttoning your skirt left you feeling winded and weak. You close your eyes and your breath gets caught in the back of your throat. Desperate for him.
He rips your very expensive and very vintage pencil skirt as if it were wrapping paper. In a blink his suit was gathered on the floor in a heap.
His chest rises and falls with each breath. The cool air gave him a bout of clarity.
He was still so upset. He stares down at you, almost in a scowl. He jerks himself, he can’t believe the amount of pre-cum that was coming out of him, almost like a fountain. He pulls your legs, making your back slide towards the edge of the bed.
His eyes soften as you writhe against the sheets. He palms your breasts and squeezes, he swallows thickly at the milky pearls that bead out. He tests the pliancy of your body. He could break you if he’s not careful enough. His stomach tenses and his heart quickens, almost making him keel over.
“We dont have to do this- we can-”
He stares at your cunt as you spread your legs. He swallows thickly. He feels himself fight the urge to sink into you. But his mothers words dig into the back of his skull. Do not get a girl pregnant before marrying her. He stalls.
He could put his mouth on you for hours, he’s sure he genuinely could do it for hours. He’d love to even.
But sperm was proven to be the most effective antidote. Who knows what Lex had to figure that out. You glance at his dick, so hard it looked almost painful. He was about to speak again but you cut him off quickly.
“I’m on the pill,” you whimper.
He’s on you quickly, knees digging into the soft mattress as his mouth leads a path up your body to your lips. He thrusts into you. You squeal, a mix of pain and intense pleasure.
“Holy- goodness-“ he groans, mouth wide open as his hips flex into you. Your pussy was so wet, and so tight as if it wanted to milk him for each drop.
Lex didn’t have anything to hold onto. Superman's hair was out of its usual gelled back style, pieces of his hair tickling against your skin as he places his forehead against yours.
Your fingers curl into his locks so tightly you fear if he wasn’t nearly invincible, you’d rip them from their roots.
He groans, eyelids heavy as he gazes down at you. You were such a mess, your eyes were wet, body covered in sweat, a pool of your juices staining half of the mattress. With each of his orgasms, he could feel your body calm further, as if his seed were a salve.
His arms were underneath you, lifting you lightly for more leverage. The squelch of his cock, pumping into you as he held your body below him possessively was so arousing to you.
You’ve never had an experience like this, someone so attentive and desperate for your body. Although in the back of your mind you knew that he wasn’t exactly desperate for you. You were both so unbearably horny, chemically enhanced hormonal shifts.
His mouth sucks at your nipple, he groans as you wrap your legs around his waist, your hand reaching to pull his ass onto you.
His weight was pushing you down as he changed position, pulling your legs up in the air and pressing his chest to the back of your thighs. It was obscene, his spunk spews from your pussy, your lower half seemingly covered in the milky white.
Lex Luthor watches the whole thing, it lasts hours. He’s almost impressed. It infuriates him.
Superman did everything in his power to get the chemicals out of your system, through sweat, tears, your cum. And he did everything to feel normal again, to stop craving the feel of your plump heated flesh, the tightness of your cunt, the softness of your lips.
You were pretty for a LuthorCorp goon. Especially with your glasses all slanted as he pounds you into the mattress.
By the end of the day Superman was spent, your heart has finally calmed. The last spurts of his cum pump into you weakly. He falls on his side, facing you.
You both catch your breath, staring into each other's eyes, shifting closer until his arm wraps around you to pull you to his chest.
His fingers press against the curve of your cheekbone as you lay on your side. He takes your lenses off gently, placing them on the pillow beside your head.
You stare at him, finger pressing against his chin, his lips, his brow.
“You’re so different,” you mutter. His eyes look over your features, not hiding his confusion. He imagines you mean different from Lex Luthor. You meant a lot of people. His clone was fucked up, cute, but the bridge of his nose and chin were slightly different.
“Why do you work for him?”
You shrug. Lex Luthor was a good boss. At least before today.
You had great health care, optometrist, dermatologist, endocrinologist and many more ists included. Pay was great, company products were free. Lex would get you flowers, he’d listen to your opinions, he’d take you to expensive dinners.
But it was never intimate, not like the way Superman was pressed against you now. He hums, his hand traces over every mark he left on your body.
Your expression was grim.
“You should find another job.”
You shrug again. He rolls his eyes, disappointed by your nonchalant response. He points between you both.
“This is pretty messed up.”
You nod.
“I know.”
He stands, you stare at the ceiling. He gives you one last look as he changes. He feels better, stronger now. He looks down on you. He looks at the length of his cape. He could wrap you in it, fly to his apartment or Kansas. He’d make sure you were safe.
“You should come with me…”
You shake your head, turning on your side. Back turned away from him. He could sense the sadness, the betrayal. He’s sure you’ll leave LuthorCorp on your own. He’d find you. To find out more about what happened, to maybe even take you out for coffee.
He’s hoping you would confide in Clark Kent.
You hear him tear through the metal. You cocoon yourself into a ball and finally succumb to your fatigue.
…
You wake up in a hospital bed, the heart monitor beeping loudly beside your ear, making your head thrum with a headache.
Lex was sitting next to your bed, analyzing your face as you scowled at him. He remains neutral. Your hand whips out faster than even you expected, his head whips to the side as your palm lands on his cheek.
He rubs his jaw, amusement in his eyes. He takes your hand.
“How do you feel?”
You scoff, pulling your hand away from him.
“I’m done.”
He snorts, he gives you a look, as if you were stupid. Class Lex. He always makes you feel so small. So useless sometimes.
“You’re not done,” he says, shaking his head as if he were speaking to a toddler who didn’t want to eat their vegetables.
You sit up furiously. “I am done!”
He doesn’t react to your tone. His eyes look over your body as he speaks.
“You signed the contract. You work for me for another year.”
You fume. Your hands ball into fists. He passes you your glasses but you slap the offer away.
“Unless you want to void the contract. That’ll cost you 50,000, darling.”
Tears well in your eyes. You couldn’t afford to void the contract, or the NDA. Or pay for legal fees if you want to get a lawyer. You stare up at the ceiling, the pillow is soft.
He holds your hand once again, this time tighter than before, not allowing you to pull away. He pulls in close next to you, he grips your chin to make you look up at him.
“I own you.”
He kisses your lips lightly, you face twitches in irritation.
“You did good. We got what we needed.”
His lips skim over the marks left by Superman, kissing the bruises and darkened spots so delicately it sent shivers down your spine. Your body soften against the mattress, giving in.
Your hands were planted against the cushion of the medical bed as he lowered down between your legs, pulling your hospital gown up to expose your pussy.
He groans at the sight. You let out a shaky breath and spread your legs. Your mound was swollen and as he spread your folds he could see streaky white slick drip out.
He asked them not to clean you there as medical staff crowded over you after Superman had left. They understood. It would make for a viable pregnancy if the sperm were to last longer inside of you.
He licks you, sucks your cunt, slurping Superman’s cum from your gaping hole. There was so much of it.
Your hands grip the medical bed, his head underneath your soft gown and shifting as he mouths at you.
He’s never touched you like this, fucked you like this.
He almost couldn’t believe it worked. Almost. Your pills were switched out months ago, there was no protection and judging by testing done on his clone. Superman’s sperm was potent. Statistically, way more potent than his own.
He sucks your clit, you muffle a moan with the back of your hand. He stuffs the seed back into you, you succumb to a back arching climax.
He wipes his mouth with a handkerchief and walks out of the room.
…
You sit up in Lex’s bed. It’s been a month.
He’d become more caring, in his own strange little ways. He broke up with his girlfriend, he asked you out on a date.
He apologized.
You think something was wrong with you. You stayed. You’d rather reap the benefits of a rich boyfriend than deal with the legalities of quitting your job.
He touches you as if you were a delicate thing. Precious. You moved into his penthouse. You had access to most if not all of his belongings.
It was fishy. You’ve asked him about why he did what he did. He said it was to collect more DNA, which was left all over the mattress.
He wanted to create a better clone of Superman.
You swipe through your phone, ignoring emails of this so-called Clark Kent from the Daily Planet who wants to discuss your kidnapping the month before.
He’s been trying for weeks now.
You trudge through the bedroom door to see Lex in the kitchen. You sniff and your stomach twists. You get closer and you have to stop.
Bile collects in your mouth, and you rush to the bathroom. He calls out for you in concern, rushing towards you as you keel over the toilet bowl.
“What were you making that smelled so disgusting?” you groan. His cooking skills were mediocre at best. You weren’t surprised by the horrible smell.
“Eggs.”
He could see the wheels turning in your head. You missed your period, but you’ve always had irregular months.
Your ears ring, you want to puke but not from the smell of breakfast.
Now that you thought about it. Your boobs were sore, you brushed it off as a long-term side effect of the chemicals. You were spotting for a few days. You felt off.
You slam the door on Lex’s face and scour through the drawers underneath the sink. A fresh box of pregnancy tests was almost gleaming at you.
You curse Lex. The bastard planned this.
You sit on the toilet for more than two minutes. Your legs shake, your hands smooth over your thighs anxiously.
You’re pretty sure it was Superman’s. You hoped it was just to spite Lex.
You shake your head and put your head in your hands. You hope it wasn’t anybody’s!
You pick up the test and close your eyes tightly. You open them and your heart drops. Your body goes cold.
Lex gleams with joy as you scream in a mix of frustration and pent-up anxiety. You open the door and shove the test to his chest.
He watches you pack your belongings.
It was positive.
——————————
Baby daddy needs to lock in… Lex Luthor is so freaky I fear he would make a scheme to carry the child himself if he biologically could. Anyways, I don’t feel great about this one. Idk. Let me know if y'all want more of this reader.
two can play that game. (yan! sugar daddy! lex luthor x sugar baby! gn reader x yan! superman)
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
— masterlist !
a/n: all i ask for is comments/inputs, alongside reblogs, and that's it. this is a very fun concept to write for honestly. the thought of being sandwiched between two buff guys, one rich, one a hero. both powerful... yummy.
the potential of yandere! sugar daddy lex luthor x sugar baby reader x a yandere superman with a savior complex insistent on "getting you out" of the "terrible" situation you've (willingly) put yourself in...
just imagine the bloody game of tug of war between these two.
lex doesn't understand why, superman, of all aliens, wants to save — the word angers him so much to the point you have to hold his body back with all your weight to cease him from throwing another desktop item across the already jagged floors — his sugar baby when the contract and your consent has been all set before superman even came into the picture.
you're aware of the risks of being in a relationship with lex, you've slept in his bed for nearly a year or two, you've been by his side every time he enacts another one of his evil deeds, dolled in the clothes he chose for you— you're really just in it for the bag and the easy life. and yet this monster keeps insisting you're not truly happy, that he must've done something, threatened you perhaps, to keep you obedient by lex's side.
superman claims that nobody sane should be able to stand beside lex without the fear of messing up and turning into a lab experiment. so you must not be sane, you must be under a spell or heavily drugged.
a claim which enrages him so much. not just because superman paints him out to be under such insufferable light but also because he had the audacity to believe you're incapable and crazy for choosing him?
no, lex luthor is a better choice than all the other contenders asking for your hand in marriage. superman doesn't stand a chance when you've already decided. he's just a bitter man for being too late to claim you for himself.
and even if he wasn't, you'll still choose lex because he's infinitely better.
seriously, what part of his brain can't comprehend that irrevocable fact?
out of irritation, he'd almost have built an anti-superman chamber meant to lock you inside just so he could have a day of peace with you without the annoying hero always clambering and knocking on the glass windows of his highrise penthouse, taunting the billionaire to let you out or he'll be "forced" to let himself in to "save" — once again!? — his so-called hostage.
if he thought the level of delusion was already bad enough before, then the longer you and lex have been spotted out on fancy restaurant dates, which somehow find its way conveniently plastered on the very front page of the city's newspaper every time— the more lex is inclined to actually build that chamber because superman's already been spotted the next day flying over your oblivious figure, ready to go about another session of "talking" you out of your beneficial relationship with lex.
and of course, lex knew about this for certain, because the second you find yourself alone with superman somehow, away from the security guards hired to scout the area, the advanced recorders and superman recognition devices plastered in every inch of your belongings have already picked up on the sound and presence of superman's irritating, grating voice greeting you in that condescendingly nice crescendo.
you, already used to superman's own tactics, and also bound by contract to never entertain any of the hero's questions, let alone even be near a four foot radius within him, would only shrug at his concerned questions — about your wellbeing and domestic life. if lex is treating you right. if you're not satisfied blink twice. if he's keeping you hostage, blink thrice.
to which you don't.
to which superman is dumbfounded at your calm reactions.
you keep your cool demeanor when you hear the heavy thud of his boots landing on the ground as he approaches you.
if you're being honest, you never really cared about the hero. despite your questionable standing with lex, you're quite grateful that he remains the palpable symbol of hope for your city. it's a hypocritical take, really, since you're well aware how even if you're almost always by lex's side, and he has had his fair share of secret misdeeds he's skillfully hidden from you— it wouldn't truly discredit any service superman has done for the city, for the entire world. he's kept it safe and sound from extraterrestrial force and from another one of lex's plans.
but as it stands, you're still tempted to pull out the kryptonite ring in your bag. not because you hate heroes, but because he's yet again stuck in a trance worriedly asking you if you're really safe, and willing, and content with lex's treatment while his hands have found its way on your shoulders. his gestures akin to an old friend displaying concern over a friend with a problematic relationship, akin to a 911 dispatcher asking questions to assess violence against a victim.
which you're not, you really are not.
before you can even peep another word in, a bunch of your guards (finally) have already pointed their weapons against superman. you can see some of them visibility shaking whilst they announce, with quivering voices, for superman to halt. you're aware their hesitance is not from the fear of facing the metahuman but from messing up and leaving you with superman instead.
ah, you'll have to talk lex out of punishing these poor workers once again.
(it was no wonder why every supervisor from a division would always confront lex about problems on his upcoming projects in front of you. you're the only person allowed to speak your mind and promise lex he could take his anger in a completely different way with you instead. it's corny, but it's what works. it's what makes them survive from his petty retributions).
realistically, superman could take out these people without incapacitating them— yet there you go again, pretty eyes batting towards him (you're glaring at him), begging (asking, exasperated) to let the topic go for now because you already feel bad enough for the people forced to babysit you.
your request was enough to hold him off. of course it does, every worker surrounding you two could see it's not just lex infatuated with you but the superhero too. they don't complain, though, because it at least made the job easier when superman had instead given you a small, sheepish smile and a nod, finally flying off to god knows where.
at least today was easier. the previous attempts to tell him off were... something else.
you don't have to remember that, though, because a phone is already shoved in your face with lex's name as the contact person before you could even take a step.
you can feel exhaustion settle into your bones. you could already hear his frustrated voice chatting your ear off about the dangers of kroptonian exposure.
but you're too tired for a massive sermon right now...
... guess it's time to use your pathetic card against lex again tonight.
it always works somehow.
still, you remind yourself that lex's sermons are better than whatever complex the superman feels for you. at least it doesn't feel superficial in your eyes, at least you're aware that lex is constantly tracking you while superman is a wild car. always finding himself to you even if lex locks you up in the most isolated part of the world.
but don't think that just because he relented on bothering you for today guarantees no visit within the next hours.
apparently, even a supposedly intimate night with lex — complete with hot, expensive, and scented candles already blazing through the dark, the low hum of the music from the premium speakers, and silky bedsheets topped with petals from your favorite flowers — is all ruined by superman bypassing all the locks the moment the sound of your body hitting the bed is registered through his super-hearing.
it doesn't matter wherever he is in the world, he always blitzes back to metropolis at the sign of any danger towards you.
... but is it imperative that lex fucking you silly is one of it?
if your almost naked body didn't already feel incredibly warm from the jacuzzi you'd just gotten out of, then by now it's already overheating when even in the darkness can you pinpoint the tip of superman's ears reddening from the sight of your own chest exposed to the hero.
fuck.
if you're going to be honest once more, it'd be kind of hot if superman joined in on the fun. being sandwiched between superman's big, burly chest and lex luthor's clean-shaven ones sounds like great news. include their desperation to be devour every part of you is basically double the people wanting to touch you, please you—
pleasure you.
two powerful men trying to one up each other to win the favor of your heart felt all too reminiscent of pompous peacocks flaunting their colored feathers to their future mate.
it's hilarious, but also endearing to your already far too gone imaginations.
but telling your ideas to lex would be a damage to his ego. telling that to superman, too, would make him believe you're not actually satisfied with your arrangements.
it should be losing game.
but.
if these two were always in an intellectual fight on who gets to actually claim your mind, body, and soul. if you don't want lex to throw another fit and possibly destroy the earth uprooting every piece of land just to find kryptonite to murder superman. if you want superman to stop acting all hot and bothered every time you kiss lex too deeply in front of the paparazzi cameras, just by giving him a small taste of your body, then...
it's only fair if you make them prove they deserve it.
hi, guys! ✶ this is my first kinktober! i’ll be posting 21 fics throughout october, spaced out every few days. all of these pieces will be maxed out in freakness. take care of yourselves. read the tags before diving in. 18+ only. these pieces will vary in length as your girl is extremely busy!!!
Imagine Lex crashing out because that hot Gothamite reporter he’s interested in refuses to interview him but constantly interviews Superman. They keep trending on social media and people are making edits of them and Lex is literally yelling at his staff to report all the videos and spam hate comments because THAT SHOULD BE HIM, NOT THE ALIEN—
✿ ⸺ Chapters Guide! ; Prologue ; Chapter I, Prt 1 ; Chapter I, Prt 2 ; Chapter I, Prt 3 ; Chapter II ; Chapter III ; Chapter IV, Prt 1 ;
✿ ⸺ Previous ; Next!
⸺ WARNINGS ⦂ Fem Reader ; Use of Y/N ; Suicidal themes ; Use of Weapons ; Platonic Yandere ; English is not my first language ; Suggestive themes ; Mention of suicide ; Mention of murder ; Age gap ; Angst ; Dark themes ; Yandere themes ; Drugs ; Reader smokes ; Girl x Girl.
✿ ⸺ MDNI !! I'm serious.
✿ ⸺ Words Count ⦂ 9.453
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ This chapter was mainly translated by Google Translate, so if something doesn’t make sense, you know who to blame.
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Honestly, most of this chapter didn’t turn out the way I originally planned, especially the last parts. But I think I’m pretty satisfied with how it ended, and I hope you guys like it too! <3
Gotham City, 07:03 PM – 11/13/17
Your breathing was ragged, and you were pretty sure you didn’t look your best right now. But hey, you’d like to see someone look put together after running nearly 30 kilometers.
The paranoia and exhaustion had been a constant for you over the past few hours, though you counted on Gotham’s bustling city life to make things harder for whoever was after you.
Once you blended into a crowd, you slowed your pace, moving in sync with the hurried, restless flow of pedestrians. It wasn’t until you reached the busier streets that you realized just how much you had grown unaccustomed to the city’s scorching neon lights, the motion, the noise… You weren’t sure you could keep up anymore, and honestly, you weren’t sure you wanted to. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn’t want anything at all.
You had no idea how long it took you to reach Gotham’s abandoned port district—minutes, hours? Time had slipped away, lost in the paranoia of being chased.
You let your body move on instinct, pulling yourself up to the rooftop of an abandoned building. Debris and broken objects were scattered everywhere, but you ignored them as you stepped inside.
Your fingers brushed against the hallway’s peeling wallpaper—wrinkled, rotting, and covered in mold. Ha, just like Ra’s… You chuckled to yourself, but not even a hint of a smile formed on your lips. Maybe it was too soon for jokes.
You entered the first room you found, one with a broken window, but you didn’t think much of it. Stepping closer, you sat on the edge of the frame, breathing in the salty scent of the tide and listening to the distant hum of civilization mixing with the water’s ebb and flow. And for the first time in a while, your body began to relax, the exhaustion of everything that had happened finally settling in.
With the few shards of glass still clinging to the window, you caught a glimpse of your reflection—your features now sharper, more mature with time. At seventeen, even you could admit that if you compared yourself to your ten-year-old self, you’d hardly recognize a resemblance.
Puberty had worked its magic on you, but you weren’t exactly thrilled about it. Every feature that someone else might call “beautiful” made you sick because it was just another reminder of the people who created you. A broken woman and a washed-up whore.
Where others saw beauty, you saw a reason to avoid mirrors—or anything that could reflect your image back at you. The nightmares were enough; you didn’t need reminders haunting you in the daylight too.
You tore your gaze away, letting your eyes wander around the room, once again running from the ghosts of your childhood.
Something caught your attention among the filth and heavily deteriorated objects. It didn’t take long for your eyes to settle on the gleaming gold chain of the window blinds—worn out now, no doubt.
Exhaustion took over, and the last thing you saw was that golden chain.
Gotham City, 01:25 AM – 06/06/10
Even though you were in one of Ra’s many scattered hideouts, your mind kept replaying the recent events—part of you trying to process them, while another clung to the hope that this was all just a bad dream.
They were tending to your wounds, yet you felt no sting from the alcohol, nor could you pinpoint exactly when they had wrapped the bandages around your missing arm or placed the patch over the eye you no longer had.
Of course, Ra’s had noticed your absence while they bandaged you up. He knew you needed it—knew that if you didn’t detach, you might spiral into a psychotic break. But he wouldn’t allow you to sink deep enough to fall into despair.
He started by ordering everyone else out of the room. Then, without much ceremony, he continued treating your minor cuts and scrapes, giving them little importance.
Lifting his gaze, he studied you, waiting for any sort of reaction that never came. So he spoke again.
"You are aware that they never truly loved you, aren’t you?"
His words dragged you back to the surface. When you didn’t respond, he continued.
"I’m talking about all of them. You devoted yourself to them, and in return, they gave you nothing but neglect and mistreatment—even while living their double lives."
You listened, but something in his words caught your attention.
"How long have you been watching me?"
"Very little escapes my sight," he began. "Bruce Wayne is influential, but Batman… Batman is a force. And, of course, he’s the father of my grandson. Anything concerning him concerns me." He held your gaze. "That includes you."
His answer, while somewhat reassuring, left you feeling… disappointed.
"I thought my skills had impressed you in some way…"
How foolish of you to believe that after everything, you could ever escape the shadow of your family. Your entire childhood had been defined by one label: the daughter of…
"I wasn’t finished," he cut you off. "I only told you how I first became aware of you. If you think I’d let just anyone into my ranks simply because of their bloodline, that would be—at the very least—insulting."
Your heart stirred at the recognition, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He might not have explicitly acknowledged your abilities, but you understood the implications behind his words. The fact that he had taken you in had to mean something, right?
Silence settled between you for a moment, but strangely, it wasn’t the kind of suffocating silence you were used to—the one that always loomed over conversations with your family, or even your father. With Ra’s, it felt natural… familiar.
Even his scent, somehow, made you feel nostalgic.
"Once we reach the East, we’ll begin planning your training schedule," he announced, giving you a moment to process his words.
Everything still felt so surreal. Tim’s death, the loss of your limbs, your family abandoning you, and now… Ra’s taking you in.
Hah. Just when you thought your life couldn’t get any worse.
You studied Ra’s imposing figure, and now you fully understood where Damian had inherited his lethal elegance. From the little you had seen of Talia before she left, she was no exception either. It seemed to be in their blood.
You wondered if you would take on the same presence after spending enough time with them. And as your eyes traced the intricate golden (or at least what you assumed was gold) jewelry adorning Ra’s, the thought didn’t seem all that bad…
The faint light filtering through the cracks in the window was just annoying enough to pull you out of your daze, yanking you back from your memories.
With sluggish movements, you slowly pushed yourself up, now bathed in the soft natural light that seeped into the abandoned room.
Now that you could see more clearly, you took a good look at the decaying wood around you—furniture blackened by dust and moisture. You figured the place probably had leaks everywhere.
You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Soon, you became aware of yourself again. The chase had drained you, and while exhaustion normally wouldn’t be an issue, you didn’t have much water left in your system. If this went on any longer, you’d stop photosynthesizing altogether…
Before you could dwell on whether that was for the best or not, you forced yourself to straighten up and step out of the building.
It was like something out of your hazy memories—the only time you had ventured into the city. The day you relived the worst trauma of your life…
Now that you thought about it, the thick smog covering Gotham’s sky was much more noticeable in the daylight, blocking out the sun.
And that was not a good sign for you.
Clicking your tongue, you made your way toward a shopping mall. The more people around, the easier it was to blend into the crowd and go unnoticed. Though, of course, Ra’s had always told you that a good agent isn’t seen unless they want to be seen.
But honestly? You were kind of tired of doing everything meticulously. You didn’t have the energy or patience for that right now, so to hell with it.
In the middle of the crowd, it wasn’t hard to swipe a lighter from one of the passersby without anyone noticing.
Over the years, you had honed every skill that could be useful in both combat and espionage—especially under Talia’s guidance. She had always insisted that you be aware of your charm and learn how to use it to your advantage during infiltrations.
Growing up, you became acutely aware of yourself, and you had no shame in admitting that you were beautiful in more ways than one. But that didn’t mean it made you happy.
Seeing more and more of your parents’ features staring back at you in the mirror made you sick, while everyone else seemed delighted to look at those same traits with admiration. Even Talia and Ra’s seemed pleased with your appearance, though you were sure it was for different reasons—both tied to how useful your looks could be for seduction and manipulation in missions.
They had been meticulous with every aspect of your life. Social etiquette, different personas to leave the right impression, seduction, discreetly taking someone out, discreetly taking yourself out.
You could spend entire days listing everything you had learned under their tutelage.
As you weaved through the sea of people, your feet carried you toward the nearest Walmart. A perfect middle ground—busy enough, ordinary enough to keep you unnoticed.
From the tips of your fingers, small buds began to emerge, intertwining with each other until they formed a delicate black-petaled flower. You found it amusing how it always looked wilted.
The moment you spotted an employee going about her work absentmindedly, you wasted no time approaching her, drawing her attention with your presence.
Before she could fully register what was happening, you flicked the lighter on and let the flames lick at the petals. With a soft breath, you blew them in her direction.
The petals scattered effortlessly—too effortlessly for an expert eye. But even more surprising was how they disintegrated into fine dust, inhaled by the dazed worker before she could react.
You watched patiently as her eyes took on an unusual gleam, her cheeks slowly flushing with a faint red hue.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Are you busy?" you asked, testing the waters.
"No! I mean, no…" The young woman fumbled nervously, trying to straighten herself up, completely forgetting whatever task she had been doing seconds ago. "I… You… Uhm…"
"Could you help me with some shopping? I could use a guide," you took over the conversation, already more than sure of her answer.
People occasionally paused what they were doing to glance at the two of you. You understood why—it wasn’t every day you saw a Walmart employee following a customer around, dutifully pushing their shopping cart like a loyal pet.
You were fully aware that the girl’s eager compliance was bound to attract attention, but honestly? Who cared? This was Gotham. People could witness Riddler having a lightsaber duel with Harley Quinn, and it still wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they saw that week.
You tossed whatever you liked into the cart carelessly, like some spoiled diva. At worst, people would assume you were just another rich, bratty kid. You could live with that.
It wasn’t until she finished bagging your items that you finally took a moment to memorize her features in detail—her face, her most distinct traits… The black-framed glasses and freckles gave her a somewhat cute appearance, really.
For just a second, you felt something akin to pity. But oh well, you needed some form of sustenance until you figured out what to do with your life.
As she packed the last of your items into the bags, you let a friendly, almost flirtatious smile spread across your lips—the kind you had been trained to perfect, reserved only for making yourself look like nothing more than a pretty, clueless girl.
"Oh no, I think I forgot my wallet. Would you mind paying for this?" You leaned in slightly, just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, batting your lashes expectantly.
Any lingering doubts you had disappeared the moment you caught her eyes trying (and failing) not to wander over you. Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, and she turned into a nervous, stammering mess. Cute…
"Oh, it’s no problem—"
"You’re an angel!" You threw yourself into her arms, squeezing her tight before planting a loud kiss on her cheek, leaving her completely stunned and tripping over her own words.
Grabbing your bags, you rushed toward the exit, making a quick scan to ensure none of the security cameras had caught your face.
With swift movements, you strapped the newly stolen watch onto your wrist and checked out the cigarette pack you’d lifted from her pocket—lighter included.
01:47 PM.
You had plenty of time to drop off your groceries at your new “apartment” and continue wandering around the city. Maybe swipe a few wallets, grab some ice cream, or—
Your thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a Gotham Gazette reporter. Normally, you would have ignored it. You knew firsthand how these news channels thrived on sensationalism just to boost their ratings.
During the worst period of your childhood, before the event that changed your entire life, you spent your days haunted by the thought that at any second—ever since the bullying began—reporters would start swarming your life, tearing apart what little stability you had left.
There were too many things in your family’s history they could dig up to stir up collective hatred toward you for things your mother had done…
You knew exactly how dirty and twisted these people could be when it came to lining their pockets. But to your surprise, this wasn’t some exposé smearing your mother’s name or singing praises about Mr. Wayne, as you would have expected.
You read the headline with wary eyes:
"Who is Gotham’s newest protégé charming the city? Meet Signal!"
The more you listened, the tighter the knot in your throat became.
A new protégé? A daytime vigilante? A meta?
You had never smoked a cigarette in your life, but you were pretty damn sure this situation called for one.
Nanda Parbat, 09:32 AM – 06/20/10
The shooting range was unusually empty today, but you knew the reason why.
Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter, Damian’s mother—Talia al Ghul—had returned.
You were well aware that she had been there the day of the “accident.” Ra’s and Talia had traveled to Gotham to oversee and finalize the serum deal with Bane, but ever since then, she had remained in the city to “take care of business,” as Ra’s had put it.
You weren’t supposed to have that information, just like you weren’t allowed to attend or participate in the meeting currently taking place to set a new course of action for the League of Assassins.
Your sour mood wasn’t something you could hide well—everyone you had passed on your way from your quarters to the range had noticed it far too easily.
Huh, maybe that’s why you were alone here now… Maybe they were giving you space…?
Who knows.
A part of you recognized these emotions as irrational. You didn’t blame yourself for feeling them—you knew they came hand in hand with memories of your past, of all the times your family had excluded you from things, important or not.
But still, you berated yourself for not having better control over them, for letting them show so blatantly. Like some kind of tantrum.
The whirlwind of contradictory emotions left you dazed and confused. Before you even realized it, your feet had carried you here, drowning out your thoughts with the cycle of pulling the trigger, hearing the shot, and missing the target.
It frustrated you—to feel the way you did, to act the way you did. That’s why you had come to a place where gunfire was louder than the self-critical voice in your head. But frustration only grew as your bullets kept missing the mark, precisely because you were too distracted, too caught up in your own emotions.
The click of an empty chamber was obvious when you ran out of ammo.
Sighing, you pulled off your earmuffs and let them rest around your neck for a few seconds. You focused only on that—unloading and reloading.
Maybe you focused too much. So much that not even Talia’s presence in the room was enough to snap you out of your self-critical haze.
"Remind me to give you lessons in staying aware of your surroundings."
A startled yelp escaped your throat, and the magazine slipped from your fingers, clattering loudly against the metal cart beside you.
"And also on emotional management…" she added in a tone that suggested a joke, something you honestly hadn’t expected from her.
Even without the noise-canceling earmuffs, you could hear the rapid pounding of your heart, the buzzing in your ears.
"I-I… Uhm…"
"Actually, scratch that. The lesson starts now."
Talia moved faster than you could process. In one swift motion, she slipped the earmuffs from your neck and placed the freshly loaded gun back into your hands.
"Shoot like you normally would," she instructed.
You took a breath, barely thinking before you aimed and pulled the trigger three times. All shots landed near the target, but none hit the vital points you were supposed to aim for.
"Alright, stop," she ordered.
She crouched to be at your eye level, and your mind reminded you that you were barely half her height.
"You have the same problem as Damian. Neither of you knows how to clear your mind, or at least, channel your emotions properly."
Being compared to Damian yet again didn’t do much for your already sour mood, but you decided not to comment on it.
Those thoughts were quickly shoved into the back of your mind when Talia started adjusting your posture with a level of expertise any assassin or agent would envy.
Far from being uncomfortable, as you had initially expected, it intrigued you how easy it was to let her guide you.
Was this something natural, or had she trained herself to have this effect on people?
She parted your legs, adjusted your shoulders, repositioned your arms, corrected your grip, and finally, lifted your chin.
There was something about Talia—something in her touch—that made you want to reach for more, both consciously and unconsciously. The way she guided you, firm yet considerate, authoritative yet affectionate, left you confused. The feeling seeped into you like an uninvited guest.
And as if it were muscle memory, your guard began to lower, your heartbeat settling as if it finally felt safe.
Why…? Why did something you were sure you'd never experienced before feel so familiar?
Unbeknownst to you, Talia remained behind you, failing to hide the growing smile on her lips. She had noticed it—that shift in your demeanor, the way you became more receptive to her touch without her having to do much. Your body had started to relax, surrendering completely to her guidance.
That was fine. This was the intended result.
This—this was the fruit of years of restraint.
Years in which she had held herself back from pulling you to her side.
Years in which she had no choice but to remain a mere spectator in your life, unable to be there for you when she wanted to the most.
But it was okay.
"When you shoot, hold your breath. It will steady your aim," she instructed in a low voice.
You didn’t take your eyes off the target. And she didn’t take hers off you.
All those times she stopped herself from comforting you.
From burning your school to the ground in your name.
From keeping you away from the people who hurt you.
And from the ones who made you happy.
Every single moment she chose not to intervene was a step—one that led to this very moment.
Head, throat, and heart—three targets, three shots, three perfect hits.
Excited by your success, you turned to her, eager for her reaction.
But that excitement was quickly swallowed by a different kind of daze—one brought on by the way Talia was looking at you.
And then—something clicked in your head.
She reminded you of your brothers.
She gave you the same sense of security, the same guidance, the same unconditional love that, until now, only they had been able to offer you.
But there was more.
You weren’t sure how to define muscle memory. But if you had to, this moment would be the perfect example.
You were too preoccupied, digging deep—deeper than ever—into your memories, searching for the exact moment you'd seen those eyes before.
The same color.
The same vulnerability.
The same maternal love.
The same person.
You hadn’t even realized when your hand reached for her cheek. Or when she leaned into your touch—a reflection of her own unspoken wish for you to keep it there.
"Excuse me… Have we met before?"
"Maybe..." she replied, not revealing anything at all.
"I know you're upset about not being able to participate in the inner matters, but it's precisely because of that immaturity that you're still not ready."
She took the gun from your hand and stepped back, beginning to put away all the equipment that had been left out.
"But-" you tried to reply, but Talia cut you off.
"Y/N, you're going to have to trust our decisions and reasons, whatever they may be. If you want to be part of the League of Assassins, you need to start acting like one."
The room fell silent, leaving you to process the weight of her words. You lowered your head, embarrassed, but unwilling to admit your childish actions.
"For an assassin, nothing is personal. It's a lifestyle you'll need to adopt. You don't have a choice."
Talia grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.
"Everything you are, everything you have, you will place at our disposal. You won't argue, you won't hesitate, and you will not disobey. Do you understand?"
She was looking for an affirmative answer, but you didn’t want to give it. You knew the implications of all this were much heavier than you could truly grasp at your young age. Giving up your freedom, offering your life to these people and their purposes…
"Do you understand?" Talia pressed.
But what other choice did you have? A stupid, defective girl like you, a freak even your own parents didn’t want… No one else would care for you like they did, no one else would offer you the safety of a roof over your head, food, shelter…
"Y/N..."
What good was freedom to a dead child?
"Yes, ma’am, I understand." A knot formed in your stomach as you resigned yourself to your fate. "My life is at your disposal, use it as you see fit..." But please don’t abandon me.
Talia didn’t seem fully convinced by your response, but it was enough for now.
"Pack your things. Tomorrow you and I are going on a trip."
Talia ended the conversation and made her way toward the door.
"Yes, ma’am."
Your mother lied to you about many things, that much you knew. But amidst her many lies, there was one half-truth...
You grow in the dark.
Your head went blank and your ears began to buzz. The city noise and the voices around you started to fade into the background.
You blinked once, twice, even three times, making sure the word "Meta" was really there and not just a figment of your imagination.
Roots began to sprout from the soles of your feet, effortlessly piercing through your shoes and soon, the pavement below.
Calm down, you scolded yourself. You couldn't jump to conclusions, not yet…
You forced yourself to push down the growing uncertainty in your mind. That feeling of displacement, indignation, anger, envy.
You gritted your teeth and took a breath. Your roots withdrew inside you, and you regained your composure.
You looked at yourself through the cracked window of an abandoned car, dented, its paint worn, and even missing a tire.
Your calm demeanor returned, pushing away the last traces of the disturbance.
They didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserve to be shaken by this. You weren’t the anxious little girl hoping to be recognized anymore, nor the one who desperately sought Talia or Ra's approval.
You were just you—the empty, faded you—who wouldn’t let anything related to the Batfamily disturb her life again, and wouldn’t turn a blind eye to what she saw.
You tightened your grip on your shopping bags and walked toward the public library.
Without a care or fanfare, you made your way to the back of the building, exuding confidence and authority to avoid contact with the staff.
Once inside, you quickly hacked into the computer system. It wasn’t really hard, but still.
In less than ten minutes, you searched and absorbed everything you needed to know about the latest news on the Waynes.
Duke Thomas. Signal.
A boy adopted by the Waynes after losing his parents in a Joker attack, one where you were sure his meta abilities were triggered.
Meta…
You didn’t want to admit the sinking feeling in your chest that this small detail brought with it.
For years, throughout your adolescence, you had convinced yourself that Bruce never recognized you as his daughter because you were different, because you weren’t fully human, because you had powers—the one thing that set you apart from his team of misfits.
It was common knowledge among Gothamites that Batman had a rule about no metahumans in Gotham. He had to be fair to everyone, and maybe that’s why he never got involved with you…
You forced yourself to believe that, convinced that it was for your own good.
And now...?
Now, over seven years later, with all that time between you and that family, you felt rejected once more. You had come to terms with the idea that Bruce didn’t hate you, but hated your inhuman side, because if that wasn’t the case, it would mean that the problem wasn’t your past, your mother, or the fact that you weren’t fully human like him. The problem, the reason he never acknowledged you, was simply because of you.
As simple as that, and as painful at the same time.
Why him and not me?
And now, more than seven years after the tragedy of your life, once again, you felt orphaned.
Dubai, United Arab Emirates. 09:20 PM – 12/10/17
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you adjusted the final touches of your uniform. Personally, you loved how the dark colors of the uniform highlighted your eyes, while the golden details blended perfectly, accentuating your skin tone.
But in the middle of your admiration, you couldn’t help but run the pads of your fingers over your now-healed but scarred eye. The scar had stayed on the cheekbone since the accident. It was small, and anyone not inches away from your face wouldn’t notice it.
Luckily for you, your genetics included regeneration; it was slow, but it was reliable. It allowed you to regenerate your eye and your mutilated arm, but that tiny, insignificant scar seemed to linger as a mockery, a constant reminder of that night.
A sign that maybe you could never escape your turbulent past.
“You look great in the uniform.” You tore your gaze away from yourself in the mirror and focused on Talia’s figure in the doorway, and just a few feet behind her, Ra’s was beginning to enter the room.
Talia took calculated and hurried steps until she reached your side. She placed her hands on your shoulders in a comforting, almost conspiratorial manner.
She grabbed the burgundy ribbon from your belongings and tied it around your waist, discreetly hiding a dagger within it.
“It’s true, you’re made for this.” Talia agreed, gently stroking your cheek with affection. You smiled and melted into her warmth.
Even with your past in your present, you were grateful for what you had now. The fruits of your effort would show tonight. It wasn’t your first mission, but it was the first time Ra’s and Talia had entrusted so much responsibility into your hands.
Tonight, you would be their guardian, leading a squad of your own. They were trusting you with the operation—and their lives. They were going to do business with a powerful mogul, but he couldn’t be trusted, and of course, Ra’s wasn’t going anywhere without his trusted assassins.
They trust.
“If you’re ready, let’s go.” Ra’s announced.
Like a switch, those words triggered your more professional side, and you mentally prepared yourself for what was coming.
“Yes, sir. I’m ready.”
“We’ll take the lead. You know what to do.” Talia said her goodbye, but not before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
You quickly donned your balaclava and mask before slipping out through the window with the agility of a feline. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to be in front of your squad.
They were all in position, awaiting your orders. These were veterans, having served directly under Ra’s and Talia. Professionals who had been given direct orders to prioritize you...
With just a few hand signals, they dispersed across the perimeter, keeping a considerable distance from the armored car carrying Ra’s and Talia.
Two of your teammates had sped off on motorcycles, planning to reach the meeting spot ahead of time to scout and prepare the terrain before the Al Ghuls arrived. A common tactic for them when Ra’s or Talia weren’t the hosts of the meeting.
In your right ear, you heard the voices of your teammates confirming the area was secure. Lex Luthor’s own security had already made an appearance to welcome both sides of the elite.
While Lex Luthor’s security covered the entire ground area, you blended into the shadows and heights, making it impossible for the human eye to spot you.
From a nearby building, you monitored the interaction between the three. If you wanted to, you could hear their conversation. But you decided to stay focused on the surroundings and Lex’s guards first. Once you confirmed the area’s security on your own, you shifted your attention to the exchange happening just a few meters from your position.
With binoculars in hand, you noted the displeased expression on Ra’s face and Talia’s wariness. In contrast, Lex seemed relaxed. Holding a glass of wine, with an air of arrogance and suspicion around him, things didn’t look good.
With a signal, you indicated to the others to stay alert and prepare for the worst.
“Should we prepare the firearms?” the second-in-command asked.
“Not yet.” You answered, turning toward them. “Unpack them, but don’t aim. Pass on the order.” You commanded.
Hearing the second-in-command choke on a single syllable, and noticing the way his body tensed in an instant, you couldn’t help but feel confused.
Curious, you directed your attention to the same point as him.
Oh.
Why the hell was Lex Luthor staring at you?
Putting aside the unsettling fact that he shouldn’t have been able to see you in the shadows, and considering the distance, the more chilling part was that he seemed to know that he shouldn’t even know about your presence in this city. His sly grin betrayed his arrogant feelings.
A bad feeling started to stir in your stomach.
“Y/N.” Talia’s voice calling you through the communicator snapped you back to focus. “Our host wants to meet you.”
You had to step away from the monitor because the more you dug into Duke Thomas’s information, the more you felt the rage spreading throughout your body. You gritted your teeth and your breath quickened; if you had something in your hands, you were sure it would’ve been unrecognizable.
You stood frozen, staring at the screen but not really seeing it. A big part of you just wanted to create chaos all over this place. You imagined yourself tearing through everything that had a solid form, whether living beings or objects, and soon escalating it to the destruction of this damned city. You’d do the world a favor by getting rid of it.
And especially its so-called heroes.
Those damned hypocrites…
While the initial anger was because of Batman’s new recruit, what really pushed you over the edge were the recent headlines in Gotham Gazette.
“The Y.N. Assistance help program will soon be up and running, available to children, teenagers, and young adults under 21, metahuman or not, who suffer from abandonment, bullying, or any situation that puts their development at risk…”
How dare they? How dare they do something like this?
After the contempt? After the abandonment and abuse?! How the hell do they think they have the right to create a help program in your name when you were the first one who needed that kind of help?! How the hell do they feel entitled to do something like this when they were the ones who almost pushed you to suicide more than once?!
You knew they had messed-up brains, but they crossed a line with this one...
“Mr. Wayne, it’s a pleasure to be with you again. How about you tell our viewers what this new help foundation is all about?”
“Of course. The ‘Y.N. Assistance’ plan’s main purpose is to ensure the education, protection, and prioritize the physical and mental health of all minors under 21. In collaboration with GCPD and Social Services, we guarantee a safe space for homeless youth who need our help, while offering free counseling and significant educational training.”
Your eyes watered from all the emotions welling up inside you, with anger being the dominant one. You couldn’t hear more before lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.
“Let me mention that young people with addictions like gambling, tobacco, or anything of that sort will also receive professional help. Am I right, Mr. Wayne?”
“Hey.” You ignored the person trying to get your attention.
“That’s correct.”
“Hey!” The person raised their voice and grabbed your shoulder. “It’s forbidden to smoke here.”
Oh, poor soul who dared speak to you like that.
“I’m sure smoking weed is also prohibited, but I can smell the burnt marijuana from here.” You snapped from your spot, starting to gather your things to leave.
You froze halfway through your move to leave. You opened your eyes and your heart started pounding.
Jason shifted uncomfortably, clearly not expecting anyone to notice him. Damn it, if you wrote about it in the complaint book, Babs would crucify him. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out the best escape route, not realizing you were like a deer caught in headlights.
When he opened them, a much bigger problem appeared before his eyes.
“Are you even old enough to smoke? You know what, forget it, you clearly don’t have the legal age to smoke.”
You tensed in your place, expecting a much more exaggerated reaction; you were thrown off by the fact that all you were getting was a lecture about how bad smoking was for you.
A part of you, one you’d never admit, felt disappointed for not being even remotely recognized. But what could you expect from someone who’s only paid attention to you twice in his life?
Plus, you were just confirming what you already thought—he’s a damn hypocrite. He learned to smoke before he could walk, so why the hell was he lecturing you?
You didn’t say a word, worried that he might recognize your voice. And when Jason stopped talking, you saw it as a signal to get the hell out of there.
As you passed by him, he grabbed your arm, holding you back. He looked at the screen where the report was still playing, then looked at you again.
“You should go. I can assure you, it’s a good place if you need help. In fact, if you need any other guidance, I’m here every day at this time—”
“I don’t want help from a street rat like you. You disgust me.” You cut him off immediately, feeling repulsed by his touch on you.
You pulled your arm out of his grip and left as quickly as you could.
Your anger only grew when you took the tracker from the same arm he’d grabbed. Did he think you were stupid?
You walked over to a manhole and let the sewage water carry the tracker away with it.
“Good luck tracking that, punk.”
You started heading toward the Gotham harbor.
“Why the hell does he want to talk to me?” you asked. “He wasn’t even supposed to know I’m the leader of the squad…”
“It’s not about that.” From behind, Talia helped you with your jewelry. Lex had insisted on having you join them for the evening, so you had to prepare for the occasion. “He knows that our increase in technology and biological weapons is thanks to you, and he wants to speak with the inventor behind it all.”
Talia took a deep breath, then sighed, looking visibly stressed. “Do you still remember your seduction lessons…?”
Although you nodded in confirmation, that didn’t seem to calm Talia down.
You took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze, offering her comfort. She seemed to appreciate that.
“There’s no need to worry,” she started, perhaps more for herself than for you. “It’s something that wasn’t planned, but there’s no need to panic.” She sighed and straightened herself. “You need to convince him, at any cost.”
You couldn’t help but swallow hard at the weight of those words.
From the reflection in the mirror, you inspected your new appearance.
A wine-colored dress hugged you like a glove, giving the impression that you weren’t carrying any weapons, but in reality, just above the slit of the dress, on your thigh, you had hidden pocket daggers. Though, well, you were already a weapon yourself…
Your loose hair made you appear older than you really were, and the gold jewelry couldn’t be missing. It was like a personal seal of the Al Ghul family, but you had to admit that you loved how it made your eyes stand out in contrast.
In your whole ensemble, there was no trace left of the girl you once were, but you didn’t identify with the daring woman you saw in the mirror.
Now that you thought about it, you had never reflected on the woman you wanted to be in the future. It was strange how you never projected yourself into the future, but you figured it didn’t make much sense—after all, if Talia or Ra’s asked for your life, you’d give it to them without hesitation.
What was the point of having aspirations then?
This life stopped being yours a long time ago.
You knew that other girls would kill to be in your place. To wear dresses made of the finest fabrics, wear jewelry made of the purest gold, and attend galas with extremely powerful people. You were very fortunate.
Your gaze shifted to the bracelet shackles on your wrists, confusing their radiant golden color with a coppery, rusted hue.
But you didn’t feel fortunate.
You turned to Talia, afraid that she had noticed your discomfort. Luckily, she was distracted enough with her thoughts, surely planning multiple contingencies in case something went wrong during the evening.
What was making you so unhappy?
You were lucky that someone believed in you, gave you refuge and training, gave purpose to your empty life, and love to your withered heart. Now, it made sense that you used that life for their purposes, and that your heart would stop beating when they ordered it. Without them, what was the point of your life?
In your head, that reasoning seemed logical, but there was something making you feel unsatisfied, with a bad feeling in your stomach. What was making you doubt now? Right now, when they had placed all their trust in you tonight, showing how much you mattered to them, and you were returning the gesture by doubting your loyalty to them.
Your head started to hurt, and you felt the world beneath your feet begin to spin.
With a quick excuse to Talia, you made your way to the bathroom.
You let the water run after wetting your face a little. It was a stroke of luck that you hadn’t put on makeup yet.
Makeup would probably make you look older, and in turn, make you feel worse.
When you arrived in Nanda Parbat and now in Dubai, you were impressed by all the technology flooding every corner of wherever you went. It wasn’t so much the technology that struck you, but the lack of nature that made you feel liberated. You couldn’t look at a single leaf without associating it with your mother or the constant rejection of plants.
The giant buildings, the neon and/or fluorescent signs, the rhythm of the people who didn’t stop to look at you, judge you, it was a welcome change in your monotonous life.
But right now, those stunning buildings seemed like a dark and empty cage, made to dazzle you, lure you in, and trap you. Designed to imprison you until you suffocated in their own darkness.
You raised your gaze to see your own reflection in the mirror, drawn to the glittering clink of the necklace Talia had placed on you.
And in the same way, the people gathered in that hall seemed as empty as the buildings, with lives made to lure you in and ruin you.
Your eyes lifted to meet your own, and even stranger, meeting a girl pretending to be a woman, pretending to be a soldier.
Had your face always looked so tired…? So overwhelmed?
Ah, that’s right…
With a deep exhale, you curled up against the wall.
Weren’t you wearing red rags the first time your mother tried to prostitute you…?
Sometimes, it was easier for you to be a tool without consciousness, without emotions, than to be a girl.
A girl with tears in her eyes, who didn’t want to be abandoned again, and if she had to prostitute herself to keep her caretakers happy, she’d do it.
Your feet found the path to your new, sweet, and ruined home.
You only bothered to leave your things in the room where you had resided before heading up to the rooftop.
In truth, despite how horrible it was inside, there was something comforting about being alone. There was no being who could disturb you. Or maybe it was just you trying to romanticize your life to avoid throwing yourself off the building.
Though, in your defense, you were extremely weakened, and it was winter (not good for you), so if you didn’t commit suicide soon, the cold would eventually kill you if you didn’t find a better place to hibernate.
But right now, both alternatives seemed the same to you. Even after all these years, you had never been able to project yourself into the future, probably because a part of you never stopped wanting to disappear from the face of the Earth.
Or maybe it was also because you believed you had no future at all. You never received primary education; for Ra’s and Talia, it was more convenient to keep you ignorant of the world. They focused all your attention on training, teaching you how to grab a knife before a pen.
They made you a splendid assassin, as much as possible, of course. You never got over the disgust and guilt of killing someone.
Memories of your first death replayed in your mind. The blood of the child you held in your arms, at least a decade younger than you. His skin splattered with red and white, empty eyes, and a body beginning to freeze.
He was the heir of one of Ra’s enemies. If they had let him live, that child would have grown to kill Ra’s. That’s what they told you.
But… Even knowing that, you never got over the guilt of what you did, of his death and the deaths of others who stained your hands with crimson.
Talia and Ra’s stopped assigning you those missions after you tried to take your own life.
And now here you were, an illiterate and useless girl, with no purpose, no skills, nothing. Well, who would have thought that at the end of the day, Damian would have been right?
You sat on the edge of the building, letting yourself be carried away by the distant sounds of the tide and the cool wind on your face, and with these elements to enjoy, the sunset didn’t seem as disgusting as it had before.
You enjoyed your time here while the sun began to set because once it did, you knew it was your cue to hide.
A single breath of this air could leave your mind blank, and it almost didn’t feel like you were in Gotham.
Maybe this is what people feel when they get high? Is that why it’s so addictive?
You couldn’t say for sure; although you had been drugged before, the doses were always so strong that they knocked you unconscious for days. Maybe with a smaller dose, you would at least remember what being high was like.
The topic of drugs inevitably brought the image of Jason and his smell of marijuana to your mind.
Clicking your tongue, you felt your good mood evaporate, and your peace of mind was compromised.
Knowing that the moment had already been ruined, you moved to plan B. You lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Due to your inexperience, you ended up coughing loudly, but after a couple of short, paused drags, you found the rhythm.
While it was hard for a regular person to get used to smoking, for you, the difficulty tripled. With your semi-plant condition, you were much more sensitive to gases than the average human. While for them a drag was barely irritating to the throat, for you, it felt like a full invasion and obstruction of your senses, not to mention your lungs.
In terms of destruction, this was like your cocaine.
By your calculations, with a single pack a day, you would be dead in less than two weeks.
A hollow smile spread across your lips, silently laughing at how pathetic you were. At least a seven-years-younger version of yourself would have had the guts to end it all right away, not in an indirect way like you were doing now.
Now you didn’t even have that, guts.
Another one to the list.
Another laugh escaped your lips, and you glanced down, perhaps one that lasted a long time...
Your smile vanished suddenly, and panic set in when you sensed the presence of someone else. You whipped your head around furiously, finding yourself face-to-face with the silent intruder.
"Relax, I come in peace."
With his lively, almost joking tone and the vibrant colors of his suit, you didn’t need to be Batman to recognize that it was Duke Thomas. Signal.
An unfamiliar sensation, perhaps confusion, began to spread like embers, burning stupidly slow.
Although this new (and unpleasant) visit wasn’t planned, maybe you could have a bit of fun with the new guy...
With a radiant smile and sly comments here and there, you managed to get through the evening without much trouble.
You did well blending into this world, but you could admit that if you squinted at Lex’s cynicism, he was even pleasant company.
"Have you ever played pool?" Lex asked, halfway between a question and an offer.
"In the assassin league, we don’t play much." You replied vaguely, but still grabbed one of the cues and leaned over the table, measuring your shot.
You knew more than one person was watching you right now, since you intentionally left your leg exposed, leaving little to the imagination.
With a precise strike, you sank three striped balls into the pockets.
Smiling, you turned to Lex. "But I’m a quick learner."
Lex raised an eyebrow, amused. "I can see that." On his turn, he managed to sink two in the left corner effortlessly. "So... Poison Ivy’s daughter?" He asked, testing the waters.
Although the mention of her disturbed you more than you’d like to admit, you didn’t let it show. You didn’t let your smile falter, and you struck back.
"Please, Lex, don’t tell me you want to meet my parents so soon. At least invite me for coffee." You joked, but with your suggestive tone, more than one person wouldn’t have hesitated to offer you that coffee. Meanwhile, Lex seemed entertained by your cleverness. "I don’t know how it is in Metropolis, but in Gotham, talking about parents on the first meeting is not considered... exciting."
"Let’s talk about what matters." You continued. "What can I do to convince you to choose me to carry out what you have…"
You leaned in again, but this time, much closer to Lex, your hips swaying dangerously close to his crotch, and if he noticed your play, he didn’t bother moving an inch.
One of the balls you were supposed to sink was on the edge of a pocket, just a few centimeters from two other balls. One was destined for Lex, and the other was the 8-ball. You aimed down, and measuring your strength, struck with just enough force to make the cue ball propel toward your ball, dodging the other two and sinking the target into the pocket.
Pum!
"... In mind?"
You slowly stood up, deliberately brushing your side against Lex’s chest, leaving almost no space between you. You slightly turned your head to the left, maintaining eye contact with Lex, who, whether to analyze or intimidate you, didn’t say a word and simply watched you.
He raised a hand to your neck, slipping a finger under your collar, giving it special attention as if admiring its beauty. Then, with his thumb and index finger, he gently took your chin, marking soft caresses on it with his thumb.
His eyes and attention to you said more than words, and in his head, it seemed like he was weighing the consequences of his next actions.
You didn’t want to admit that Lex seemed to rekindle some of your nerves with his actions, making your heart beat faster, and damn, is this what they call sexual tension?
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stepped away from you, leaning toward the table moments later.
"It’s not your skills that don’t convince me." He resumed speaking. "I know full well that you could accomplish anything you set your mind to…" He shot you a side glance.
"It’s them that don’t convince me." He quickly glanced at Talia and Ra’s, who seemed to be each lost in their own matters.
You almost furrowed your brow in confusion, but quickly composed yourself.
"You’re going to have to elaborate on that, dear Lex." After such close proximity, you had to distance yourself from him, a classic tactic to leave the other wanting more closeness.
You placed yourself in front of him, stopping your admiration of the view when you leaned in.
"No doubt their commitment to their work is considerable." He began.
"But…?" You encouraged.
"But... That commitment is fleeting. The same hand that helped me can be the one that stabs me a few seconds later."
"It's no mystery that I want to rid the world of Superman, and one of his main allies is Batman..." At the mention of him, your body shuddered in rage. "Ra’s' relationship with him isn’t clear, and don’t even get me started on Talia."
"The relationship they may have with him won’t be a problem at all." You assured him. "Please, Lex, we have professionalism." You leaned in once more. "Besides, the League of Assassins hasn’t had dealings with Batman in over a decade."
Lex's shoulders shook with a laugh louder than the others he’d made during the night, and something told you that it didn’t bode well.
"Are you sure about that?" He questioned. "I understand Ra’s received a great favor from the Bat in exchange for allowing him to use the Lazarus Pit. And it wasn’t as long ago as you think, dear."
Lex smiled sarcastically, clearly enjoying your bewilderment.
Business with Batman? The pit? Why...?
Step by step, he got closer to you. He leaned on the table, relishing in the clear fact that he had touched a sensitive nerve.
Pit, resurrection...
Lex's delicate fingers cleared your neck, moving your hair aside, tracing your collarbones, sternum, throat, admiring the luxurious piece of jewelry adorning you, until they reached your jaw.
His index finger caressed it with reverence, and his thumb lingered on your lips a little longer than necessary.
...
His face neared yours, placing a kiss on your cheek.
..
The next kiss was placed at the corner of your lips.
.
... Tim?
You snapped out of your trance to look at him for a moment before closing the distance between you with a kiss.
He exhaled contentedly and pulled you by the waist, bringing you into a nearly lustful closeness. His free hand covered most of the left side of your face.
You, on the other hand, let your right hand move to his chest, confirming that his heart beat regularly.
He’s not lying…
Your left hand rested on his other hand, the one that had captured your face, gently holding it between his wrist and palm, almost instinctively...
However, that didn’t stop you when he suddenly broke the kiss and pulled your face in such a way that his mouth was at your ear.
“Tell me, what do you think they get in return if I agree to let you fulfill my request?”
Funding, weapons, satellites—the list was endless. They could get everything a president could offer, but...
“It doesn’t matter what answer I give you, I’ll be wrong, won’t I?”
Oh, Lex could fall for your suspicion...
A silent laugh escaped him. “They asked me for underground architecture in Finland, at least 40 meters underground, in the middle of nowhere.”
Lex pulled back slightly from you, his thumb reverently brushing your cheekbones. The softness of your skin could almost seduce him. With his other hand, he began playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers.
“But the most striking thing is that it seems to be some sort of greenhouse.”
What?
“In the center of that underground fortress, there’s a massive bulletproof glass habitat, reinforced and equipped for either a person or a large plant, if you ask me.”
...
“And in the surrounding area’s blueprints, there are at least a hundred underground bombs with pesticide, almost like mines.”
As soon as Lex leaned closer, he completely moved away from you. He grabbed the pool cue again, preparing to strike.
“You should leave, darling. Clearly, you have more important things to attend to.” He aimed at his target, but before striking, he straightened up. “Oh, and here.” He passed you a tiny device from his pocket. “Don’t thank me.”
You quickly recognized it as one of your micro communicators, but what...?
<< From behind, Talia helped you with your jewelry. >>
<< He raised a hand to your neck, slipping a finger beneath your collar, giving it special attention as if admiring its beauty. >>
Of course...
“Find me when all your family drama is over, darling.” With prodigious accuracy, the white ball avoided several obstacles until it hit the 8 ball, ending the game in Lex's favor. “I promise that next time I won’t be so gentle.”
Something told you he wasn’t talking about pool.
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ I can't believe it's been more than two months since I last updated UnFair, to me it feels like only a week has passed. 😭.
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Anyway— Hey! How's it going? How was your Christmas? New Year? God, so much time really passed…
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ After a couple of stressful months, I can finally bring you updates for the series. I think it was delayed this much because I got stuck somewhere in the plot, but I managed to get through it.
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ As I mentioned at the beginning, most of the chapter wasn’t really planned like this in my notes, I didn’t even expect a cameo from Lex! It happened out of nowhere, and one thing led to another... In my defense, I blame Michael Rosenbaum for his amazing portrayal of Lex Luthor in Smallville (I thought of him throughout the process) and Arctic Monkeys for their incredible music.
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ As for news, if you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know the UnFair Masterlist is in the works! I’m really proud of the aesthetic it has, hehe ;w;.
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Speaking of aesthetics— If by the time I post this, my profile theme hasn’t changed, I’ll probably change it very soon. But don’t worry, my username will stay the same.
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Once I do, I’ll start answering my askbox! By the way, if you’ve sent an ask with a ‘What if…?’ scene, don’t worry, I’ll eventually get to it but only once I finish this series so that the ideas don’t get mixed up.（。＾▽＾）
✿ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Anyway, I think that’s everything. Remember that any ‘likes,’ reblogs, and/or comments are highly encouraged and appreciated! Especially the comments, I love being able to interact with you all (❁´◡`❁). And also, thank you so much to everyone who has been interacting with the story in all possible ways! I’m always paying attention to you all, I love being able to read your messages (it makes me especially happy to see returning people on my profile <3).
