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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.
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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—
synopsis: you accidentally text the dc characters, thinking you're texting someone else, that you can't stop thinking about them
including: lex, clark, jimmy, lois, michael (mr terrific), guy, kendra (hawkgirl), kara (supergirl), and bruce
a/n: first smau of a long run, lets go!!!
