⚘ warnings › dom/sub dynamics, handjob, pheromones/mind control, verbal teasing, sexual restraint by plant tendrils, verbal degradation + praise, whining/pleading, mild violence, bank heist, swearing.
poisonivy!reader who sneaks into the daily planet late afternoon hours, plants crawling through the cracks of windows. you see him at his desk, even at this time of night, sleeves rolled up and tie all loose. clark thinks he’s tired, he straightens his back and takes swigs from his black coffee every time he slouches. even for a second. he’s gotta stay up.
his hands tremble softly at first, then he can’t ignore it anymore. he starts to notice you now. his hearing, his instincts. how couldn’t he notice sooner?
“you shouldn’t be here,” he says, his voice was low but steady. he’s clearly fighting back against your pheromones. his palms sweat against his desk, poor guy’s just realizing your perfume isn’t really just perfume. you lean over his desk, so close your lips almost touching his ear, “good boy. i like it when you notice.”
clark tries to stand, your vines wrap around his thighs and chair and tug him back down. you don’t hurt him, just reminding him he’s letting it happen.
his breath is uneven, and you feel the heat emanating from his body. “look at you… strongest man alive, but a whiff of me and you’re trembling,” you chuckle into his ear. he doesn’t fight it, though. hands balled into fists and he swallows real hard.
you straddle his lap in the chair, long nails dragging against the buttons of his dress shirt, a layer of sweat lies atop. he whispers your name so desperately, and you hush him with a finger to his lips. “shh. let mommy take care of you,” he nods lazily, eyelids dropping before your hand cradles his chin. “can’t be alone like this, clark. not when i’m around. you know that,” you tutted. this, surprisingly, isn’t your first run in.
you undo his buttons one by one, whispering disgusting things to him with each pop! of a button.
“knew you missed me,”
“so warm,”
“there we go, hm?”
your vines wrap around his exposed torso, squeezing and pulling at his nipples and waist. “mommy loves touching you, clark. you know this,” you explained. it’s truly not your fault he couldn’t keep himself safe. he clearly needed this.
“mama… i…” he’s already so fucked out and you’ve barely touched him. his thighs tense each time your tendrils grazed them, inching closer to that throbbing mess of a cock. he whimpered pathetically as you ground yourself onto his bulge perversely. “mmmfgh—” he could barely get the words out each time you pulled back and forth on his lap.
“say you want it. say you want me.” you snaked your hand to his neck, feeling his pulse quicken underneath your grasp boosted your ego in ways that can’t be described. he’s a whimpering mess under you, curls sticking to his sweat-slick forehead, hands forcibly wrapped around the arms of his chair by your green appendages.
your tendrils wrapped around his legs, chest, feet, shoulders, hair, caressing each part of him generously. he cried underneath your touch, its too delicate yet so fuckin’ mean. the way he has to look up at your beautiful face and take what you’re giving to him. how his cock strains against his slacks, a wet spot forming right against your cunt thats been getting him closer and closer.
“i can feel you, can you feel me?” you joked cruelly, knowing full well he couldn’t take this. he’d burst without you even making real contact with his cock. he’d cum in his tight slacks from you talking to him. grinding on his cock. dumb tendrils running all over his body. “so helpless, aren’t you, clarkie?” you tucked his hair behind his ear as you kept softly rubbing your cunt against him. he didn’t respond. at least not sufficiently. “use your words, baby,” your eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t get a reply.
your tendrils crept up his leg before stopping just at his thigh and squeezing. his body shot up as he grosned out, “s-so helpless, mommy,” he grinded up against you now, desperate for any kind of stimulation for his poor, poor cock.
you let go of him and retract your tendrils before standing again. he looks up at you with those pretty, blue eyes. “p-please—oh!” he bucked his hips up into nothing, his pants providing the smallest sense of relief possible for his full balls. your tendrils shot forward toward his lap and managed to zip down his slacks, notably wet right where his cock lie. you don’t even mind his underwear and pull those down immediately. his cock sits up against his stomach, it’s monstrous.
no wonder the poor guys all pent-up. nowhere to dump his cum comfortably. no woman would ever be willing to let him cum inside, they thought it’d spill out of their noses! he gasped when the cold air hit the wet tip of his cock.
“breathe, sweetheart. mommy’s got you,” you whispered. you walked back to him and let your tendrils jerk his cock, figuring he doesn’t deserve to see your hands and mouth wrapped around him just yet.
they milked him good, one fondling his balls while the other pumps up and down until he’s finally about to cum. then, you let go just like that. he sighs and looks fucking pathetic. tears prickling at his waterline as he realizes you won’t let him feel good. “tell me what you need from me,” your voice was almost at a whisper now, you stood before him, hands on your hips as you watch.
“p-please… i… i can’t hold it… just take me…” his thighs tremble as he just barely squeaks the pathetic words out.
he said please! try to reason with him. he’s been so good, holding back long enough for you to get him off. “good boy. good boys get what they want, clark,” you walk closer to him, tendrils stretching once more to wrap around his arms again. he doesn’t even struggle this time, he just bucks his hips into nothing again and again to no avail. “y-yeah. i’m a—i am a good boy,” a faint smile crept onto his face when he said that. it’s like he knows you’ll let him cum. that you’ll help him.
and thats when you drop to your knees in front of him. his knees just under your chin before you wrap your hands around his meaty cock. it throbs in your grip, and you squeeze back, earning a pained moan from clark. “good boys, mmmngh, get what they want, mr. kent.” one of your hands find the base of his cock while the other strokes his pink, puffy tip. you cooed those disgusting words as his head, thrown back, is pounding with so much force.
he’s too far gone now. your words were just too much for him. they clouded his brain, each phrase echoed throughout his head. the first thing you ever said to him:
“don’t move… unless you want to end up like them.”
you’d said it with that calm confidence. during a robbery, you stopped violent henchmen from getting away with thousands of dollars. vines creeping up the walls behind you. even then, clark had felt it, that pull, that magnetic danger, and he knew: he was never going to forget you. how courageous?
and your thumb ran over his cock, hitting that real sensitive vein just before his hot, warm, cum built up deep in his balls. your other hand squeezed and fondled with them, almost begging him to cum without saying it. you don’t need to.
his cock erupts with cum as he fucks up into your hand, he throbs and thrashes as your vines keep him restrained. “ah… n-no… can’t hold it… thank you…” his glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, who’s still pumping his poor cock, overstimulating the pathetic nerd you love coming back to.
“that’s mommy’s good boy… give it all to me,” you’re practically salivating. “and you—thought you could resist me.” you finished him off, using his cum as a lubricant to keep pumping him.
then, just like that, you stood and fixed your hair, reapplying lipstick and smoothing your outfit. clark gets all dizzy from your pheromones again. this time he slumps in chair, eyelids dropping as he snores softly. he whispers something about poison ivy wrapped around him. he whimpers.
you fix him up, zipping his pants up and buttoning his shirt before turning him back toward his desk. your lips meet his forehead, placing a soft kiss on it with your plump lips. “goodbye, clark.”
he wakes up a few hours later, red marks running along his chest, legs and arms remind him of some green woman. with poison ivy tendrils that poked and prodded at him.
the next week you see an article in the daily planet, Unexpected Heroism in Downtown: A New, Green Force in the City?
