#yandere clark kent imagine

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Love and Care.

Pairing: Yandere!Clark Kent x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 4.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @distortedhumor.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Prolonged Captivity + Kidnapping, Spanking, Psychological/Physical Abuse, Slight Infantilization, and Delusional Behavior.

You were going to freeze to death.

That was – if you didn’t die of dehydration, first. You really weren’t sure which was supposed to work faster; thirst or exposure, the acidic dryness crawling up the back of your throat or the slow, numbing chill spreading up from your toes, your fingertips. You didn’t have to worry about hunger – even if you could feel something sharp and hollow gnawing at the pit of your stomach. You remembered reading somewhere that it took longer than a month for someone to starve to death, even if it was hard to believe that when it felt like you were on the verge of collapsing into yourself.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been prepared. Admittedly, it’d been an impulsive thing to do, the half-baked result of a door left unlocked and the daunting awareness that you had at least twelve hours before you so much as heard from Clark again, if not the full twenty-four. You didn’t have shoes more durable than house-slippers and the delicate, lovingly polished, Mary Jane heels he liked to see you in, but you’d put on your thickest dress, stuffed a bottle of water and a few slices of homemade bread into knapsack, and started walking into the lifeless, rolling plains that surrounded the rustic farmhouse he kept you in. You didn’t run – he always seemed to know if your heart rate spiked– but you had all day to walk until you found a road, or a phone booth, or anything else that could at least remind you that other people existed. You figured you’d come across something eventually, even if you couldn’t find the help you were looking for.

Except, you’d underestimated just how cold the countryside could get in autumn, and you hadn’t thought to ration your meager supplies until after they’d already run out, and as far as you could tell, he’d found the most vacant, lifeless, desolate corner of the world to trap you within. The hem of your skirt was caked with mud and dust, your knapsack had been left behind entirely after you realized there was no point in carrying and empty bag, and one of your heels had broken off about two miles back – leaving you reduced to a slow, hobbling limp. Your body was exhausted beyond exhaustion, but you couldn’t imagine a world where you stopped walking. The only thing worse than knowing you were going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere would be knowing that you’d just laid down and accepted it, and if you’d been willing to do that, you wouldn’t have run away at—

Your foot caught on a dense patch of undergrowth, and too tired to catch yourself, you crumpled – your knees hitting the earth with enough force to make you whimper. The last of your perseverance crashed and shattered as soon as you hit the ground, and before you could so much as try to stand up, you fell apart completely. You felt the tears before you realized you were crying – just one, at first, then another, then more than you could ever hope to count. You threw your head forward, sniffling miserably as you collapsed onto your side. You were going to die out here, but…

But, that was probably for the best, wasn’t it? It was either die out here, or die in that lonely farmhouse when Clark finally lost his temper or the roof collapsed or the ‘villains’ he was also so worried about finally did their job and put you out of your fucking misery. With a full-fledged sob, you curled into yourself and clenched your eyes shut, and—

And of course, less than a full second later, you felt a pair of muscle-bound arms your crumpled form, sweeping you off the ground and dragging you into a broad chest. You were too weak to meaningfully resist, but still, you tried to writhe and nudge yourself out of his iron-clad hold to little success. He was already talking, too. Great. On the ranked list of things you might’ve wanted to hear immediately after accepting your own mortality, your kidnapper’s nervous babbling didn’t crack the top hundred.

As if that had ever stopped him before.

“—and I thought you’d gotten hurt, and your pulse sounded so far away, and— and I don’t know what I would’ve done if it’d taken me any longer to find you.” You tuned in mid-rambling, trying to swallow your agitation. He was bent over you, his face buried in your hair, giving his voice an unsteady, muffled quality. For the world’s strongest man, he was quick to fall apart whenever he thought you so much as might be in danger. You couldn’t really judge him for that, though. You fell apart whenever he wasn’t around, too, and you didn’t care about him at all. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? There’s a hospital about fifty miles away, I can—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, your hands shoving at his forearm where it was barred over your waist. With an airy sigh, he repositioned you – letting you fall into a proper bridal-carry rather a fully-body tackle. You noticed, for the first time, that his feet weren’t touching the ground. He was levitating, a nervous habit that that back into too often to keep track of. He must’ve genuinely thought you were in danger. More importantly, he must’ve known there was no one around to see him doing something so obviously superhuman. “Just a little cold. I‘m sorry for worrying you.”

Another sigh, this one more genuine than the last. For the first time, he drew back, and you were able to see him properly. He must’ve come straight from Metropolis; he was still wearing the suit you’d seen him in that morning, his hair slightly disheveled and his glasses shoved haphazardly into his shirt pocket. You tried to breathe, not to be thankful for how quickly his inhuman warmth was ebbing away the harsher edges of your hypothermia, and for the most part, you succeeded. You felt his lips brush against your cheek, then the corner of your jaw – Clark as affectionate as he was paranoid. “Poor thing,” he muttered, haphazardly shrugging off the jacket of his suit and draping it over your shoulders. “We’ll have to get you warmed up once we get home.”

Despite yourself, you stiffened. It was over - you knew that. He caught you, and even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to go on much longer. You knew that.

And yet, you held yourself that much tighter as you asked, “…do we have to go home right away?”

Clark’s smile softened; his expression slackening is a patronizingly sympathetic sort of way. He didn’t need to answer, not really, but you still cringed when he inevitably did. “Of course, dear.” And then, with another kiss to your forehead. “How else can I keep you safe?”

You might’ve been nicer than him, after all. Rather than respond, you bowed your head and tucked yourself against his chest, shutting your eyes and blocking him out entirely. Clark only hummed in acknowledgement, flying that much higher and taking you home.

~

It took an embarrassingly short time to reach the farmhouse – less than a full minute, if that. It wasn’t what you deserved, but it was what you needed: a reminder that you were trying to run away from someone who didn’t have to run at all to keep up with you. Trying to escape on your own was pointless. You’d either have to find another way to get away from him or give up entirely.

Despite your constant squirming, Clark only put you down once you were inside (meaning, once the front door was locked and deadbolted with you securely trapped behind it), and you stumbled to your feet, still on the verge of collapsing. He let you struggle through all of two steps before taking you by the hand and, with that award-winning smile, guiding you through the farmhouse. “A warm bath should do the trick. Some tea, too – or coffee, to keep your blood flowing.” His eyes flickered down to the mud-caked hem of your dress, your ruined shoes. “It’s a pity. I know that’s one of your favorites.” He paused, squeezed your hand. “We’ll have to pick out another together. Maybe tomorrow, before I leave for work.”

You bit the side of your tongue, nodding along absently and letting him ramble. When you passed the staircase leading to the second floor, to your bedroom, you started to move towards it, but Clark only continued further into the house.

“Uh, Clark?” You dragged your feet as he pulled you into the kitchen. “I— Um, tea sounds nice, but I’d really like to change, first, and—”

“In a few minutes.” Another infuriating smile, another squeeze to your hand. “Do you remember what happens when you break one of our rules?”

You felt something in your throat tighten. You’d managed to forget, but it came back quickly enough. “I do, but— I was out there for a few hours, and I can’t really feel my—”

“We’ll take care of that in a few minutes, love.” He was already moving towards the kitchen table, your hand still trapped in his. “We should get this over with now.”

Trying to argue would’ve been useless. You did your best to grit your teeth, to brace yourself, but your vision still blurred as he finally released you, settling into one of the simple wooden chairs. You crossed your arms over your chest, but it did little to put a barrier between you and his prying gaze. “Do you want to undress yourself? Or, do you need my help?”

Shaking your head, you fumbled with the buttons lining the back of your dress. Usually, you could manage on your own, but your hands were still numb, and you were fighting back tears, and Clark only watched you struggle for a few seconds before motioning for you to come closer. Soon enough, cotton and lace pooled uselessly at your feet, leaving you all-but entirely exposed in front of him. You didn’t need to be told to take off your shoes, kicking them into the depressing pile of fabric that used to be your favorite dress, but when it came to your panties, you hesitated, glancing toward Clark with a pleading look. “All of it,” he confirmed, with a tone bordering on apologetic. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

As if that would make you feel any better.

You sucked in a deep breath, then eased your panties down to your ankles. You’d been wearing one of your nicer pairs – white and silken, with a lace trim around the edges and a ribbon bow that was just slightly too big to be entirely inconspicuous. They were one of Clark’s favorites, even if you doubted you’d ever hear him admit something crude out loud. You could only hope you’d never see them again.

You kept your eyes on the floor as he took you by the waist and with as much effort as it might’ve taken to move a doll from one shelf to another, lifted you up and laid you over his lap. His thighs bit into your stomach as a hand found its way to the small of your back, rubbing slow circles into the base of your spine. “We’re only going to do fifteen, alright?” It wasn’t really a question, so you didn’t bother pretending you were going to answer. Clark didn’t seem to need you to. “And you know I’m doing this because I love you, right?”

That, you couldn’t get out of so easily.

“I know,” you mumbled, because that was what would upset him the least. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

He didn’t make a sound. You wondered if he’d heard you at all, at least until the flat of his palm came down on the plush of your ass and immediately, it was impossible to think about anything at all.

It was a small mercy that he didn’t make you count. It was something he’d tried early on, the first couple of times you‘d thrown a chair through a window or stolen his phone or hoarded weapons underneath the mattress of your shared bed, but you’d never really been able to hold yourself together long enough for anything like that. You broke down too quickly, too easily – fuck, you were breaking down right now and he’d only hit you once. You could already feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a knot welling up in the back of your throat that only seemed to let little, pitiful whimpers and miserable sobs slip by. You tried to steel yourself, to bite back any signs of weakness, but that only meant you’d forgotten to brace yourself for the second strike – just as bad as the first, centered more towards the back of your thigh than your ass. He was trying to spread the pain, to make sure any marks he left wouldn’t be permanent. He was trying to be gentle.

It was scarier than it should’ve been – knowing that he really did care about you. You couldn’t call it ‘love’, not really, not if you still wanted to be able to live with yourself, but he had to care about you, at least enough to pay some amount of mind to your well-being, at least enough for you to be sure he didn’t hate you (although, some days, you could still be convinced otherwise). He didn’t love you, but he thought he did, and the fact that he could earnestly believe he loved you and still treat you like this made you very, very afraid of what could happen if he ever changed his mind.

By the third strike, you were crying unabashedly, and by the sixth, your hands were clamped around his thigh, your nails biting into his skin in less of an attempt to hurt him and more of a desperate scramble for any kind of stability he had to offer. It was all force, no friction – a bruising, throbbing type of pain quickly spreading outward from every part of your body unfortunate enough to be under his palm. You couldn’t seem to talk, but Clark didn’t have an issue, pausing after every blow to rub circles into your bruised skin and mutter to himself. You couldn’t imagine he still thought he was talking to you. “I just worry about how you’d manage things, out there, all on your own,” he explained, his tone cloyingly sweet. Like he was talking to a child, too naïve to know any better. Like he could still expect you to believe there was anything in the world more dangerous than him. “You know I’ll always keep you safe, but I can’t be everywhere at once. It’s easier for both of us if you just—” A pause, an airy chuckle. “—if you just stay out of trouble.”

You’d lived in the city for years and never gotten into trouble, not before meeting him. Saying that felt pointless, though, especially when he was already moving onto the seventh.

Fifteen was a terrible number. If there’d been twenty or more, you might’ve been able to go numb by the time he finished, and ten or less would’ve given you a chance to preserve at least some of your dignity. At fifteen, though, the pain was still intense enough to be blistering, and you couldn’t seem to choke down your own keening sobs as Clark brought down his hand for the final blow – using just a little more force than he really had to, making sure the lesson would stick for the next couple of days, if not the next couple of weeks. He was strict, like that, despite how tender-hearted he pretended to be. If he wasn’t, you would’ve acted out more often.

You had to believe you’d act out more often.

You were still limp and crying when his arm wrapped around your waist and with a raspy, adoring sound, he sat you up – letting you straddle one of his thighs. Whatever relief you might’ve felt at the end of your punishment was immediately overshadowed by the pale, reddish tint spread visibly across his face, the feeling of something too large and too stiff pressing into your leg where it fell between his. Clark didn’t acknowledge it, though, and you were happy to follow his lead, melting into his hands as he cupped your face, basking in his happily provided comfort. There was a shallow exhale as he tilted your head back, pressing another lingering kiss into your forehead, before dipping lower – falling immediately to your neck. You let his lips make contact with your throat before sniffling and shifting in his lap. “Hurts, Clark,” you murmured, doing your best to make your voice that of something small and in need. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but… can we go upstairs, first?”

That was enough to snap him out of it. “Right. Of course.” There was one last peck to your collarbone before he pulled you into his arms, any thought of letting you walk on your own prematurely dismissed. You tried to go blank as he trailed through the farmhouse, not to focus on anything but the pain and your exhaustion, but your gaze seemed to catch on everything you didn’t want to see – the bowl of dough still rising on the kitchen counter, the torn dress-shirt you’d planned on mending today, a dozen tiny things that all drove their own little needles into the pit of your stomach. In Clark’s defense, the housewife shtick hadn’t been his idea, but you couldn’t say he was entirely blameless, either. When you were left trapped and alone, given nothing to do and no way to occupy your time, there was only so long you could last before resorting to household chores. It was just a happy coincidence that the byproducts of your captivity were practically identical to the kind of sugar-sweet, domestic behavior that’d always seemed to melt his heart, back when your relationship wasn’t so insidious.

At least the bathroom was warm. Still too unsteady to be trusted to walk on your own, you sat on the vanity while Clark ran a bath, staring at your hands absentmindedly as the steam started to ebb at the chill. When the tub was nearly full, he helped you into it, more than happy to make it seem like you couldn’t so much as move without his help – which, in his defense, you really couldn’t. As you sunk into the scorching water, you made a mental note not to let him touch you at all tomorrow. You doubted it would be enough to fix the damage tonight had done, but it’d be better than letting him coddle you half-to-death.

Surprisingly, Clark didn’t hover over you for very long. “I think I promised you something to drink,” he explained as he moved to the doorway, his smile suddenly sheepish. Like he had any right to be shy about what he’d done to you. “I’ll be back in a second – unless you think you’ll need a hand?”

You hesitated, but shook your head. “’m fine. I just need some time to think.”

“Not too long.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes prying into you for a second, then another before he turned away. “I think we should be careful about what gets into your pretty little head, for the next few days.”

And just like that, you were left alone. For the first time since he’d brought you home, you let yourself relax. The hot water momentarily dulled the pain, but without the agony to distract you, humiliation quickly took its place. You shouldn’t have let Clark take you back so easily – that only gave him more leeway to treat you like some naïve, fragile object he’d been tasked with looking after. You shouldn’t have taken your punishment so quietly, even if you doubted clawing at his legs and thrashing would’ve actually accomplished anything beyond salvaging your pride. You shouldn’t have run away at all, not if it meant triggering Clark’s paranoia, not if it reminded Clark that you’d still take any chance you saw to get away from him. You’d have to be smarter about it, if you ever to escape tried again.

(You did your best to ignore that, a few months about, the same sentiment would’ve been followed by ‘when you inevitably tried again’. You weren’t superhuman. You didn’t always have the strength to be so delusionaly optimistic.)

When Clark did return, he was blissfully quiet and careful to keep his distance, sitting on the edge of the tub while you haphazardly washed the dust out of your hair and scrubbed the mud from your skin. Even after the water had gone cold and you’d managed to struggle to your feet, his touch remained fleeting, ginger as he bundled you in a towel and lifted you into his arms – his sudden distance no excuse to treat you like a living, breathing, capable person, apparently.

You didn’t have the energy to be frustrated. Exhausted and beaten down, you closed your eyes and rested your head against his chest, only stirring slightly when you felt Clark lower you onto a quilt-padded bed. You started to sit up, but the feeling of a hand laying over your hip was enough to stop you. When you opened your eyes, you found Clark, still standing, still staring down at you with that dazed, lovesick smile. “It’s really amazing, how someone like me could ever end up with someone like you.” He dipped lower, his lips finding the side of your throat. There was no pretense of innocent affection, this time, just his mouth on the side of your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin. His voice was stifled by proximity, but mournfully audible. “I love you. I’m always going to love you. You know that, right?”

“I... I do.” You sounded hoarse, weak – more so than you would’ve liked. Clark nipped playfully at your collarbone, nearly breaking the skin. “I know you’ve been waiting, but—”

“Guess I’m just that impatient, when it comes to you.” There was an airy chuckle, a glint to his smile, but neither were very comforting. Again, you made an attempt to flee, and again, he found a way to keep you where you were – his hands curling around your thighs as he eased your legs apart. There was a hollow thud of body against floorboardas he fell to his knees, as he pressed yet another open-mouthed kiss into the inside of your thigh. “I just can’t help it. You make it hard for me to think straight.”

Not that he was trying to. You opened your mouth, trying to think of something that could distract him, that could convince him you just couldn’t do this, but he’d latch onto your cunt before you could spit anything out – the flat of his tongue running over your entrance while his nose ground into your clit. With your ass still blistered from your punishment and your nerves still on-edge from the cold, that was all it took for you to bolt upward – your hands automatically finding their way to his hair in a desperate attempt to pry him off of you. Of course, he didn’t budge, and of course, when he did glance up, he did it with that lovestruck expression that you’d never been able to stand. That you never wanted to see again.

That you just couldn’t seem to wipe off of his fucking face.

“Clark,” you whined, his name fractured and mangled on your tongue. “Please, I— It hurts, and I’m so tired, and I just—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly and trying to catch your breath. “Please, don’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your heart skipped a beat, hope swelling in your chest. He melted into your palm, grinning like an idiot. “You can relax. I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

And just like that, you felt something deep in your chest crack open and shatter.

The next time he bowed his head, burying himself between your thighs, you didn’t bother trying to stop him.

You didn’t do anything at all.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Superfam - Happy Father's Day!

It was Father's day semi recently, so I wrote this. Note: it is very important to me that every one who reads this understands that I didn't actually write this on Father's Day. I swear!

Oh, and I updated the soul animal au Taglist again, so hopefully I got everyone!

----

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" A voice sung to you, dragging you from the depths of oblivion you found solace in. The sound of opening curtains cut into you like a knife.

"Mmmghhh..." You attempted, keeping your eyes firmly closed against the rising sun blaring into your eyeballs. Couldn't he just go away? You stared blearily. Clark Kent, or rather, Superman was smiling, a beaming ray that burnt into you.

"Come on now, Sunshine. It's Father's Day! Aren't you excited to spend it with your dad?"

No, is what you wanted to say. But you bit the comment down as you often did. It never helped, not with Bruce, not with Clark. How unfair.

"You couldn't have let me sleep for a little longer?" You tried, almost whining. First they use ‘medicine’ to get you to sleep, then they force you to wake up early.

"Sorry but that won't be happening. We only have limited time with you today! We have to enjoy as much time together as we can before you go to Bruce's." He looked apologetic, but you doubted it. He never truly was.

Your life with Superman was an endless spiral of apologies, a litany of white lies hidden by a brilliant smile. A sun that shone so brightly, you almost forgot the burns.

You gave a little sigh, but acknowledged the futility of your actions. A few years of this and you let go of resisting the little things. It made things easier.

You got out of your bed, doing your best to ignore the fervent eyes that traced your every movement. You reached under your bed, pulling out his present from under your bed. It wasn't much of a hiding space, given that it was known by every person that lived in the house, but you appreciated that they let you have little things like this. Or pretended to, anyways.

“Here you go.” You thrust the present towards him, wanting to get it over with.

“That’s Bruce’s present.” He replied, with a slight smirk.

“Eh.. how?” You mumbled, looking down. “You peaked, didn't you!”

“No I didn't not. I just know the difference between your wrapping, and Alfred’s wrapping.”

You glanced down, noticing the immaculately decorated and wrapped present in your grasp. Whoops.

With a swift movement, you reached under your bed and grasped the other present, exchanging the two with a quick action. There was a visible difference in the two, Clark’s being much more shoddily wrapped.

“Forget about that.” You demanded. Trying to get him to ignore it, you pushed his actual present in his direction.

“Woah, hold on there.” He smiled. “Jon’s been waiting downstairs to give me his present too, you two have to do it together, remember.” He patted you on the back. “Come on!”

With your frustrated affirmation, the two of you went downstairs, immediately meeting the excited gazes of both Lois and Jon. Jon in particular was bouncing in his seat, clutching onto a bunch of gifts.

“Happy Father’s day!” He shouted, a beaming smile on his face. Clark chucked, patting Jon’s hair.

“Thank you Jon.” The two began a conversation about Jon’s gifts, and you swiftly became bored. Your eyes strayed away from the table, until you accidentally locked eyes with Lois. She smiled at you, a soft image of happiness. She was definitely the most subtle of the family. It even took you a few escape attempts before you realised she wasn't your ally. After that it became difficult to see her the same way.

“And what about you, sunshine?” A hand ruffled your hair, Clark interrupting your musings with a single gesture. You bit back a flinch.

“Ah yeah, this is my present… Dad.” You attempted to sound jovial. Judging by the smile on his face it had worked, but you weren't entirely sure if that was a result of your actions skills or his delusions.

“Thank you! Let’s see what you've made this year.” Clark took no time in unwrapping the gift. “Ah, another mug, and just look at this drawing, you get more creative every time.” He beamed. You felt like living in this household half the time entitled you to sunglasses.

Your gift wasn't anything fancy, just a simple mug with a terribly drawn face on it. The words ‘happy dad’ were written under the face, in sloppy handwriting.

Clark walked over to a cabinet, opening it up. In the cabinet lay another mug, this one lacking any drawing at all. Instead, it had the name Clark written on and drawn out, and the word Dad swiftly smudged on instead.

That mug was actually one of Clark’s old mugs, you had just stolen it upon learning that they had actually expected a gift from you on Father’s Day. You originally wrote Clark down, but soon realised that would be a mistake, crossing it out and writing Dad. Somehow, he loved it.

In all honesty, you couldn't complain. If you set the bar this low, you could easily up it the next year without having to put in much effort. As long as you were ‘creative’ Clark accepted anything, if it was from you. Maybe next year your mug drawing would be two drawings, instead of one. You dreaded the time when you'd eventually have to put actual effort into gifts. Surely, you'd have escaped before then.

“Come on kids!” Clark called out, drawing your attention back to him. “Let’s enjoy today as much as we can, before Sunshine has to go to Wayne Manor later.”

Jon pouted. “Do they really have to go? They went last year too. They already spent half their time at Wayne Manor as is.” He grumbled. Jon was more obvious in his possessiveness, something that occasionally ruffled the feathers of the Batfam. The tug of war between Jon and Damian was far too frequent, the memory of it making your shoulders ache a little.

“Now now Jon. Bruce is Sunshine’s father just as much as I am.”

Considering neither of them were your father, his statement was a little infuriating.

“What game are we going to play this time?” Your question was both an act of masochism and genuine interest. Feigning injuries never worked against two superhumans who could look into your very bone structure. Instead, you had come to find some enjoyment in watching Clark and Jon bumble about, trying to play fair in a competitive game wherein they viewed you as both weaker and fragile. It was actually a great method for venting your anger, as long as you weren't too overt about it.

If you accidentally hit them with a hockey stick a few times, or aimed a basketball to their face a little too much, it wasn't your fault! It's not like they could feel it anyway.

“It'll be tennis today.” Clark declared, receiving an excited Ooh in response from Jon.

Ah, tennis. A little harder to use, but very much still workable. If it was golf you'd be screwed.

Oh, wait but..

“How are we playing tennis with three people?” You questioned. Lois tended to stay out of your games, preferring to watch.

“I'll play against you and Jon. If any of Bruce’s family show up early again, then one of them can join in too.” Clark spoke cheerfully, but you knew it always bothered him a bit when they arrived too soon.

Clark and Bruce’s ‘shared custody’ of you wasn't always so amicable. At one point it was downright violent. Honestly if it weren't for the effects their efforts were having on you they'd have probably escalated into a war. They had come to an agreement since, but it always bothered them whenever it was infringed on in some form.

“Time to get going Sunshine! Jon’s already waiting for you!” An abrupt push to your back jolted you forward, giving you a small jump of shock. Ugh. You glared at Superman as he responded to your surprise with good natured laughter.

You slowly walked out into the field, Jon handing you a tennis racket, his smile gleaming like the sun.

You could only hope that Batman was a little calmer on Father’s Day.

[funnyexel]

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

imagine clark as your coworker

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

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

"Yes? Do you need something?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love going home for the holidays!"

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

Lois.

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

"No boyfriend either? I assume."

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

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

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

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

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

"Clark?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than life itself.

He needs you full of life and his seed.

He needs you to be his wife.

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

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

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

more writing

short stories here

[yandereworlds]

Heey, sorry for the lack of activity, was taking a bit of a hiatus, BUT I come with new content! I've been doing a lot of OC content, so I thought I'd provide some canon stuff for those who enjoy it. Lately I've been thinking about the concept of a yandere super family after making one of my more popular bots, the bat family!

For those looking to interact with my new super family bot, you can find it linked below! I may consider adding it on CAI, but for now it will accessible on JanitorAI. Do consider leaving a review and letting me know your thoughts! JanitorAI is 18+ only!

Also, I was looking for a pfp for the bot and since I couldn't really find one, I decided to make my own. Hope you like it! //Mun Kiki

𖦹 Join our Discord server to get early access to art, polls, headcanons and more! 𖦹

LINKS!

Super Family Bot, Bat Family Bot, Bat Family Bot (CAI), Janitorai profile

[targaryenluvs]

SUPERHERO MASTERLIST

a/n: our fav superheroes & supes <3 (i cry at the lack of smallville!clark kent content floating around so why not make my own?) if written for a different version of a character it will be specified. (eg - henry cavill superman = hc) ps i love jensen ackles

CLARK KENT

— real love baby!

summary: to make your ex jealous, your best friend suggests the two of you work together. but it’s not like you knew, he was never planning on letting you go.

SOLDIER BOY (BEN)

— coming soon

JASON TEAGUE

— coming soon

BRUCE WAYNE

— coming soon

DICK GRAYSON

— coming soon

JASON TODD

— coming soon

[gatorbites-imagines]

 DC characters and what kind of yandere I think they would be

Let me know what other characters you want me to add.

Some of my headcanons probably wont fit other well-known ones in the dc fandom, but it is what it is.

Ill be basing the different kinds of yanderes off this post.

Bruce Wayne: Overprotective, manipulative. delusional, depending on the situation.

Dick Grayson: Obsessive and possessive.

Jason Todd: Clingy and obsessive.

Tim Drake: Delusional and obsessive.

Damian Wayne: Possessive and clingy.

 Clark Kent: Overprotective and clingy.

Conner Kent/Kon-El: Impulsive and obsessive.

Jonathan “Jon” Kent: Clingy and impulsive.

 Hal Jordan: Delusional and obsessive.

Kyle Rayner: Obsessive and clingy.

Guy Gardner: Impulsive and possessive.

 Barry Allen: Delusional and overprotective.

Wally West: Obsessive and possessive.

Bart Allen: Impulsive and delusional.

 Oliver Queen: Overprotective and manipulative.

Roy Harper: Possessive and overprotective.

 Michael Jon Carter: Delusional and obsessive.

Ted Kord: Overprotective and clingy.

 Slade Wilson: Impulsive and sadistic.

Eobard Thawne: Sadistic and self-indulgent.

Harvey Dent: Obsessive and overprotective.

Killer Croc/Waylon Jones: Possessive and impulsive.

[yukiyee-akian]

¿Qué carajos habías hecho para merecer esto?

Mirabas de el techo de tu habitación mientras dos hombres que en su momento habrías considerado tus amigos, estaban acurrucados a tu lado, abrazandote casi posesivamente, sin siquiera sentir una pizca de remordimiento incluso minutos después de haberte enterado de todas las atrocidades que tuvieron que hacer para tenerte y haberlos enfrentado. Te sentías horrible de tan solo sentir su presencia, ellos no habían siquiera parpadeado y admitían todo e incluso peor, lo justificaban diciendo que era necesario para protegerte y cuidarte.

La peor parte de todo es que ni si quiera podías tratar escapar, te superaban en fuerza, agilidad, resistencia... Perfectamente podrían quebrarte una pierna sin problema si quisieran asegurarse de que no te escaparías...

Lágrimas cristalinas se escaparon de tus ojos ante la sola idea...

Este trabajo no está corregido, es solo un escrito rápido.

Porfavor, nunca tomar el tipo de comportamiento yandere como un ideal. Yandere en la vida real es una persona tóxica y es necesario alejarla cuanto antes. En situaciones extremas, contactar con las autoridades correspondientes.

Porfavor, al lector: Cuidarse y tener autoestima es importante para poder detectar comportamientos nocivos y peligrosos en la etapa temprana de una relación ya sea amorosa, de amistad, etc. Si cuenta con problemas de autoestima y confianza, favor de considerar asistir a terapia.

Con mucho cariño

—Akian Yukiyee.

[weebsinstash]

Alright bestie I’m on that shit again

So yandere Superman, right? Like obviously your fucked. The only other yandere in existence that might just be able to keep you from him is Batman, but even then he’d probably sooner work together just to ensure your safety- but that’s a prompt for another day.

Back to yan Superman, imagine you’re his darling and he is “keeping you safe”. But one day, you get snatched up by some organization that wants to use you as leverage or some shit, but you are just sobbing in relief at maybe being free- only to have Superman show up and do some not so super things to everyone who “stole” you

There are just so many casually horrifying things about Superman that people don't realize until you start like digging into his lore. "Oh he's super strong and a super fast flyer" actually he can do basically anything at those super speeds to the point he can literally even PROCESS THOUGHTS at near light-speed which means he has Absolutely Terrifying reaction times and can make plans and schemes on a dime, which, you know, can be even better utilized by him being intelligent. He has natural invulnerability so if you throw a punch at him too hard you could literally shatter the bones in your hand and he can't even control that, like you could literally hurt yourself with him on accident! He can see across INSANE DISTANCES and his x-ray vision doesn't have like a set range so he could do anything from, peep inside buildings to spy on you, to looking under your clothing for any bruises or injuries or even self harm marks, to peeking behind your hero disguise to learn your true identity, to seeing if there's anything inside your stomach and seeing if you're eating properly. Like jesus christ he literally found out Lois was pregnant from waking up one morning and suddenly hearing the heartbeat of the FETUS, there's literally nothing from him pulling that stereotypical "I know you're nervous or lying or afraid because I can literally hear your heartbeat increase" scary bullshit

And let's talk about Lois for a sec because my god her death was literally what kicked off the Injustice timeline? And there are other forms of Superman media where she just straight up dies naturally of cancer! Sure we could take the easy way and say "in this au Lois never existed or was just Clark's friend and he loved YOU" (which is my preferred default tbh bc, no competition for Reader lol) but I mean if you're going for that angst, that real whump, a yandere Clark Kent that just lost his wife/unborn child to either the Injustice incident or cancer, now overcome with grief? And in those cancer timelines they usually already have a son, Jonathan, and sometimes Jordan, and here's Clark thinking, well, his boy needs a mother, and he's got these weird feelings for you, and lil Jonny clearly has affection for you, maybe bring a bit of a platonic yan himself who sees you as either a big sister or even a secondary mom, so... be his wife maybe?

Like my god if Reader somehow helped him through the grief of losing Lois and managed to avoid "fully activating" Superman's anime villain arc, like he's going full fascist in the Injustice 2 Bad Ending, then some shit DEFINITELY goes down when Reader gets taken away. It just reactivates all his trauma. No! He can't lose anyone else! Jonathan can't lose anyone else! You're not just someone he loves, you're his FRIEND!

You're just huddled in whatever cell you've been kept in with your black eyes and bruises and knuckles bloodied from trying to fight back when you hear Clark's voice and you look up with excitement that just falls immediately off your face because holy shit did he just unlock that thumbprint scanner with a severed arm, and suddenly you're realizing there are other shades of red on his costume and dripping from his fingers

I can only imagine like, ngl I considered a sequel to my fic Doubt where Reader escapes the manor and runs into Supernan as the only other person who can protect you, so here we would have the inverse: you're the only one who knows about Clark's increasing instability and, while you still have your own freedom and autonomy, try to speak to Bruce about it, and now you have Batman Vs Superman: Competing For Your Heart Edition. I can only imagine what sort of unhinged reactions there would be if you think you've got Batman alone and you're beginning to cry all "Bruce I'm really worried about Clark, he isn't acting like himself, there's something wrong with him" and. Clark is like literally using his x-ray vision to read lips through the walls if he can't use his super hearing to outright eavesdrop.

Of course as you suggested, I'm always a slut for ideas with"oh shit I ran to this guy to help me and he's ALSO crazy, now they're teaming up and I'm in some weird shared/poly situation with TWO nutjobs". Lmao you go to Bruce concerned about Kal and Bruce goes to confront him and Clark just drops "did you know Y/N has been hiding self harm cuts under their hero suit also wow they smoke HELLA weed and im worried about their lungs and all the stuff they do when they're alone that no one else knows about 🥺" and suddenly here's Bruce " thanks i hate this actually :)" and there's a scheme concted to spy on you or move you elsewhere.

I've even thought of "Reader oh nooOoooOo, that, giant monster or villain attack or whatever also coincidentally destroyed your shitty little apartment complex? You mean Clark 'accidently' got sent flying into your building or smacked some giant creature into it and now you don't have a place to live? And you're broke too? Oh no 🥺 Well, BATMAN has this nice big house with lots of room in for you to stay toooootally 'temporarily', we PROMISE uwu"

Batman is the one who can put a tracking chip injected into your skin or even disguised as a filling in one of your teeth, and Superman is the one who can zoom off to rescue you/retrieve you "faster than a speeding bullet". I think one of the only people who could bring them down together at that point would be like. Fucking DARKSEID and, Jesus no, you definitely don't want HIM treating you as a pet 😭 the evil Batman that was brainwashed by him in the Apokolips War movie was scary enough (and scary HOT, lmao, let him keep me as some sort of prize and the only luxury Darkseid will allow him as a reward for his obedience. Lord Batman goes from having a meeting talking about like enslaving people to returning to his quarters and railing tf outta you because he's still holding onto some slim vestiges of humanity where he cares about you but also using you as his personal anti stress fuck toy)

[your-regular-toast-enjoyer]

hey! can i ask for yandere jon kent in a soulmate au setting, where he finds his soulmate in a normal civilian, who seems to be easily charmed by his boyish charm, at least at first

Soulmate! Yandere! Jon Kent x Reader

Jon Kent x reader or Jon Kent/reader

Yandere!Jon Kent x reader or Yandere Jon Kent x Reader

Word count: 4719 words

TW: GN reader, Yandere, stalking, imprisonment, adult Jon Kent, obsession. Other than that, there's no s*x or anything of the like.

Let us say that it’s one of those soulmate AUs where you have your soulmate’s name written somewhere on your body. You would have “Jonathan Samuel Kent” wrapped around your wrists like a natural and skin-deep bracelet. Your name is stapled up Jon’s arms, boxy and impersonal letters pressed under his skin, yet he has traced each letter with a sense of reverence ever since he was a little kid, dreaming of when he would finally get to meet you.

Clark was probably a yandere for Lois as well, (he seems like the type), and she was more than happy to indulge him, likely having some of the tendencies too. I can imagine them being attached at the hip whenever they’re at home, never being found alone in a room. Jon probably once wondered if they actually were tied together by an invincible ribbon. It seemed improbable that the two of them were never separated except when Clark was out as Superman. They were together all the time, even at work, both working at The Daily Planet. This was probably how Jon developed his unhealthy love tendencies. He has always adored both of his parents, finding their relationship flawless. The idea of having something like that himself was a thought that he would fall asleep at night dreaming about. His parents’ unhealthy tendencies sowed the seed of disturbing obsession within him.

As a kid, Jon loved writing your name in his school books, every page filled with his rounded letters spelling out “Y/n”. Some of his teachers had been concerned about his seeming obsession with your name and existence; It was normal for kids to be intrigued by the letters stretching out somewhere on their skin, but not to the overly passionate extent of Jon. When this was brought up to Jon’s parents, they simply waved it off. Jon was a good kid, so what if he was a bit obsessed with the name on his arms? They saw nothing wrong with it. As a matter of fact, Clark had been the exact same, and Lois too, although to a lesser degree than her husband. Thus Jon was allowed to let his fixation run wild.

As Jon got older, joined high school and started working together with Damian, he kept looking for you. He had Googled your full name at least a million times without luck. It stung every time, but he refused to stop.

Every time he saved someone around his age, while out patrolling the streets as Superboy, he’d carefully ask their name, hoping for yours to slip from their tongue… it never did. Damian teased him, finding his desperate attempts at finding you pathetic. “I just don’t wanna miss ‘em!” The blue-eyed teen would argue back, frustrated by your elusiveness. 

If Jon was honest with himself, he had hoped for a high school-sweetheart type of romance, but as he became eighteen and left secondary education, that dream was dashed. Jon’s next dream was that the two of you would attend the same university. He even took a year off under the guise of helping his father at the farm, in reality, it was so he could search for you and attempt to see if you went to any of the nearby universities. He wanted to up your chances of meeting each other. 

After high school, Jon was slowly dragged down by the idea that the two of you would never cross paths and that he’d forever have to resign his fate to someone else. There were those whose soulmates died before they ever met or those who didn’t meet their soulmates until they had already fallen in love and made a family with someone else. It was rare, most preferring to wait for the one whose name was written on their skin… but “rare” did not mean impossible. Clark tried his best to cheer up Jon, but no matter what he said, the young man couldn’t help the feeling that he was doomed.

It was ironically when he stopped looking for you, and started his education at Metropolis university, that you appeared in his life. Damian was the one to introduce the two of you. The green-eyed man had met you at Gotham university where you shared a class. The two of you had gotten along surprisingly well, to the point that Damian considered you a close friend. You were neither from Gotham nor Metropolis, as a matter of fact, you might’ve even been from a completely different country. This explained why Jon had never been able to find you, he had always assumed that you only lived a few streets away from him, when in reality you had lived your entire life in a completely different city, never even being near him, until the day Damian invited both of you to the manor. 

When Jon had first shaken hands with you, he had thought nothing special of you. He was impressed that Damian was able to keep you around, and he thought that you seemed pretty cool but other than that you were simply one of Damian’s civilian friends. It wasn’t until he ended up introducing himself and asking for your name that he was rendered frozen. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jon had to excuse himself, it was almost comical how he had waited for this moment his entire life, yet when it finally arrived, he ran away from it. 

It didn’t take him long to return, his demeanour entirely changed. What had previously been charming, albeit shy, smile on his lips had now turned into an almost scarily fixed mien. Had you not known better, you’d have thought that Jon had gotten a Glasgow smile carved into his round cheeks by the Joker himself. As the hangout progressed and the day turned to evening, you started to distance yourself from Jon, almost clambering to be close to Damian at all times. The way Jon stared into your eyes reminded you of the way a predator gazed at its prey. He seemed ready to pounce at any moment, and you didn’t want to be in his line of sight when it happened.

Jon was oblivious to the discomfort he was causing you, instead staring enviously at how you practically hung off Damian’s arm. It made him consider whether the two of you were really “just friends”, or whether the two of you were engaging in, (what was to him), dissident behaviour. “Cheating” on your soulmates by being in an intimate relationship with each other. You weren’t. But the more Jon scared you, the closer you kept to Damian, and the closer you kept to Damian, the more intense Jon’s staring became. It was a vicious cycle and by the time you were meant to go home, you were deadly afraid that Jon would follow. 

Damian had, of course, picked up on both Jon’s unusual behaviour and your poorly hidden fright. So, when it was time that both you and Jon had to leave, Damian offered to walk you home, an offer you were relieved to accept. Jon didn’t like it though, offering to walk you home himself, since he was going anyways, but both you and Damian shot down the idea with obvious hostility. Jon was convinced something was going on, entirely unaware of how bizarre he had been since he heard your name.

Damian more or less ordered Jon to go home before you, Jon was aware that he couldn’t outright challenge Damian’s command, it was his home, after all. However, he refused to just let you leave with Damian…Alone. No! What if you guys did something while he wasn’t there, like holding hands or…or… Kissing! NO! Jon refused! So, as soon as he had said goodbye to both of you, he floated, (as quietly as he could), up to the roof of the manor, avoiding the sensors that Damian had once shown him and then he settled into a crouch, the soles of his converse being held to the slippery tiles with the help of his super-human levitation.

It didn’t take long for you and Damian to exit the manor, slowly making your way to the Wayne garage. At first, Jon was confused, weren’t you guys going to your place? It made him nervous about what you two could be planning on doing when no one else was there, yet his fears seemed unfounded as Damian’s expensive black car soon rolled out. Oh! He was driving you! Now it all made sense in Jon’s mind! Jon didn’t have a car! …There really was no need when he could fly… But, of course, Damian couldn’t risk Jon showing his powers either by flying you or if he had to protect the two of you if you’d get mugged… which was almost a certainty in Gotham, if you were stupid enough to walk at night. Obviously! Why hadn’t Jon thought of that! …Well because that really hadn’t been on the top of Damian’s mind either when he refused to let the Kryptonian walk you home, but Jon didn’t even begin to suspect any other motive.

Following the car, Jon was able to learn where you lived and, oh boy… He wasn’t happy. You lived in an average Gotham university dorm, which was, to put it mildly…lacking. Jon considered it once, letting his baby blue eyes scan the building, and he already found no less than five fire hazards and was sure that if he blew a little too hard on it, all the windows would explode. How could Damian have let you live like this?! Jon sure as heck wouldn’t, at least not for long.

Jon knew that he couldn’t just kidnap you, or “Bring you home”, as he put it. That’d be unusually cruel, and he was lucid enough to realise that you didn’t know him well enough to just accept your destined love outright, but that was okay, he had waited his entire life for you, he could wait a little more. So, he drew up a plan on how to get you to love him. He would watch over you and occasionally strike when the time was right, bumping into you on the street, seeing you in the library etc. Even better, by watching over you he would be able to find out all the topics you were interested in and research them, it would be perfect, he surmised. You two would have so much to talk about!

You would officially meet for the second time one day when you were walking home from the supermarket, clutching a heavy plastic bag filled with the cheap food that most college students buy. You were in your own world, maybe you were listening to music or maybe you were just enjoying the rare Gotham sun, what exactly you were doing doesn’t really matter. Suddenly, the arm of a stranger was slung around your shoulders, dragging you closer to their body. You almost screamed, but then Jon announced his presence with a loud, “Hey! Haven’t seen you since we were at Damian’s!”... An effortless lie.

At first, his sudden appearance frightened you and with your last meeting going horrendously, you were on edge. Still, as Jon started to talk more it became hard for you to keep up your guard. He wasn’t smiling like a creep anymore, rather his face had become the epitome of friendliness, you had no idea what had changed. But Jon did… After your last meeting, Damian confronted Jon about his behaviour and while the blue-eyed man had ignored his friend for the most part, internally accusing him of just wanting to steal Jon’s soulmate for himself, he did catch on to one thing. “Your psycho smile creeped them out!”... So his smile had been the problem, Jon considered. 

As the two of you walked together towards wherever you were headed, you started to warm up to the alien. His southern drawl was cute and quite honestly, his deep interest in you was a refreshing departure from Damian’s tendency to only speak of himself. When the two of you parted you almost wished he would’ve continued staying with you. Still, you held your reserve up, he had been super weird the last time you met…

While you were still sceptical of Jon, that scepticism slowly melted like an iceberg on a hot summer day, drop by drop, as the two of you began to bump into each other more and more. You never considered why Jon was in Gotham so much when he lived near Metropolis, (a fairly long journey to take daily), yet you did find it rather odd that your paths always crossed, even when you changed up your regular schedule. The thought of him following you never crossed your mind, that’s a ludicrous thing to accuse someone of, let alone think about just based on stumbling into a guy pretty often. 

It didn’t take too long for Jon to win you over with his bright smile, deep interest in you and boyish charm. That was a good thing too because Jon had started to miss out on quite a few college classes of his own, to the point where Clark had noticed and sat him down to talk about it. Now, while many other parents…Most parents… would tell their child to kindly stop stalking their soulmate, Clark and ostensibly Lois were not, in fact, normal parents. Rather than discouraging their son’s creepy and downright illegal behaviour, they were understanding of his obsession with you, and even ecstatic that their son had finally found his soulmate. You were technically their soulmate-in-law, so maybe the two of them would develop an obsession as well, less so than Jon, of course, they were more focused on each other, but enough to let their son explain all your likes and dislikes down to the most minuscule of details and let him do what he needed to do, just to get you into their metaphorical and literal arms.   

Jon would do everything to build up a friendship with you, likely keeping it a secret from Damian, and excusing his previously creepy behaviour as him just having an off day. Damian would be none the wiser of his devious plans, and even if you told the green-eyed man that you had met his friend many…many… times, it would rouse very little suspicion. Jon was Damian’s dearest friend, he trusted him with his life! He didn’t even suspect the darkness that Jon harboured for his soulmate.

Maybe as your friendship with Jon progressed, he’d invite you to stay at his family’s home for a few days, and meet his parents and grandparents, it’s a long travel for non-flying people, but he was more than happy to take it with you. You would probably be good enough friends with him at this point to not feel threatened as the two of you boarded the bullet train running between Gotham and the Metropolis area. Jon wasn’t planning on kidnapping you on this trip, no, this was meant to get you used to the place, to his family and the cows and chickens. Like a frog in a bowl of water with ever-increasing temperatures. “Slow and steady wins the race”, that’s what his grandfather, Johnathan Kent, his namesake, had told him many times as a kid and he took it to heart.

You would have had an absolutely lovely time at the Kents’ home, everyone, especially Jon and his parents, were borderline obsessed with making you feel welcome. Martha would bake your favourite treats, (probably write your name on them in icing, as well). Jonathan senior would tell you about all of Jon’s embarrassing moments as a child, especially relating to how he used to pretend-spar with the cows, only to fall in the hay…or manure, when he couldn't keep his balance. Lois and Clark were always excited to talk to you… about you. Talking to them felt like talking to a twin-headed Jon, sweet, energetic…yet as the days passed and they still managed to find new questions about the most niche of subjects pertaining to you, you started to feel like you were being interrogated for an autobiography. Jon, himself, would've probably taught you how to handle farm animals, and taken you to whatever local attractions there might've been.

Now, Jon had originally been surprised when you didn’t recognise his name the first time you met, even more so the many following times. He was concerned, scared even, that you might not be the right Y/N, but one day as he was stalking watching over you, he spotted his own name right at the end of your sweater sleeve, but you didn’t even pay attention to it… Not like him, not in the way he almost got goosebumps the moment his fingers grazed the tattoo-like letters of your name. Could it be…No! He refused to believe it! Were you one of those people who simply didn’t care for soul mates?! No! No! No! That couldn’t be! That was so unfair!  

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Jon decided that you two had been away from each other for too long, that, really, the universe meant for you two to end up together sooner or later, and you were already on the later part. He refused to be without his other half any longer, especially if there was a threat that you’d find another.

Your stay at the Kents’ solidified Jon’s belief that you had to move in with him as fast as possible, preferably on the family farm, where it would be harder for you to get hurt… or escape. There is just one thorn in his side that he can’t account for, Damian.  

Damian was tricky for Jon to account for. You were, as much as Jon dreaded it, also Damian’s friend, and the green-eyed man was known for being fiercely protective and loyal to all of his friends. Ready to lay down his head for them. He could take up a physical fight with Damian, sure, but as his father and Batman had proven time and time again, a little Kryptonium was all that it’d take for a Super to fall in a heap of aching limbs. No, he had to play it smart, problem was that no matter how hard Jon could stretch his intelligence, Damian would always be more intelligent than him. The only way to get you for himself would be to make Damian agree that you’d be better off with Jon than on your own…But how?

Well, Jon could only really come up with one answer to that question… By making you live in a constant state of danger… And if he had to put you in danger himself, so be it. His “master plan” was to reveal his hero identity to you, not just that, but further reveal your connection to Superboy. Now, that might sound like a stupid idea at first, but its simplicity yet effectiveness was brilliant. By revealing your connection to the vigilante world, you would basically be walking around with a target on your back. He would know! That was how his mother had lived ever since his father revealed his secret identity as Superman. Being a civilian openly affiliated with a hero was one of, if not the, most dangerous thing that could happen to someone. The only reason his mother could feel safe was that Clark rarely left her side, but if Jon wasn’t with you to protect you most of the time… you’d be in monumental danger. 

So, he set his plan in motion. First, he invited both you and Damian to his home one weekend, stressing how “This is really important”. Both you and Damian showed up, concerned for Jon’s well-being and entirely blank on what might’ve been going on. “Maybe he’s coming out of the closet? Or he named two cows after us? Maybe his dog ran away? last time that happened we were thirty people out looking for it” Damian joked, a thing he only ever did when he felt the need to calm someone else down, you, in this case. 

But no matter what you and Damian could’ve guessed Jon’s intentions to be, neither of you expected him to come floating down from his roof, fully dressed as Superboy, arms on either side of his hips as he landed close enough for the tip of his nose to touch yours briefly. “I’m Superboy”. 

When Damian saw this theatrical and obviously pre-planned reveal, he did not only want to facepalm at the second-hand embarrassment he felt from it, but he also wanted to strangle Jon. Didn’t he know how dangerous revealing their secret identities could be?! Not just to them, but also to you! … Well, of course, he did, that was the whole point, but Damian couldn’t have known that. 

The green-eyed man was seething, face red in a fiery rage, while you stood gelid. Jon was Superboy? No way… Right? But he did just fly down from his roof, so clearly he wasn’t lying. Your brain couldn’t quite compute what was happening, and Jon took this opportunity to stare Damian down, implying that he too should reveal his identity. The more of them you knew, the higher the danger. But if Damian asked for Jon’s intentions, he would claim a moral obligation to not lie-by-omission to his friends.

Damian did end up fessing up as well about his secret identity as Robin and you were thrown for yet another loop. You might’ve been the type to get angry that they didn’t tell you sooner, offended that they clearly didn’t trust you enough. Or you could be the type to ask questions, interested in their secret life. You could also be a sceptic, not so much doubting if they were telling the truth, Jon floating a head’s-width off the ground pretty much proved that part, but rather interrogating them on why they felt the need to tell you and why now.

Whichever reaction you had, you would be driven home that evening by Damian, in silence. He didn’t feel the need to explain why he wasn’t planning on revealing that he was Robin to you, rather, he was afraid of your safety being jeopardised if Jon wasn’t careful… Jon wasn’t planning to be.

It would be less than a week after that Jon sought you out as Superboy, maybe he tackled you into a hug while you were walking the streets, or he’d float into your university cafeteria with lunch, freshly made by Grandma Martha… Really, he was not subtle and Damian could’ve ripped his throat out the first time Jon pulled one of his stunts.

When Batman caught wind of Superboy being openly linked to a civilian, he first went to Clark, who shrugged Bruce’s criticism of Jon off. “So what! I’m open with my affections towards Lois as well!” Bruce would correctly point out that that’s why Lois was constantly getting kidnapped, tied up and having various other misdeeds done to her. Clark would tell Bruce to get off his case, but in true Bruce fashion, he’d refuse. “Y/n is in Gotham, that is my city. Whatever happens to them is my problem, either they move to the larger Metropolis area and become your responsibility or Superboy will have to stop his mindless chasing of them.”

Armed with Batman’s orders, Jon divulged to you that you’re no longer safe in Gotham and that Batman wanted you out. That was quite a verdict, even more so since you were not a native Gothamite. You might have felt inclined to cry or even just felt frustrated, but Jon was there with another offer, “Why don’t you move to Metropolis university! They have comparable programs and you can live with my family for free!”

… It’s not that you wanted to accept Jon’s offer, but what other choice did you have. You questioned Damian about his opinion and he agreed that it’d be safer for you in Metropolis, no matter how much it pained him to see you go. With your friend’s verdict, there really was no other option than moving. Bruce and Damian might’ve helped you transfer to Metropolis University, not only were they well respected in all academic circles, but they were also paying the costs, calling it a charity case, they might’ve even used it to write off some taxes. 

With the finalisation of your moving process, Jon finally had you in his claws. That’s when he pulled out the fact that he was your soulmate. He practically shoved his arm in your face one morning, demanding that you love him. Tears were on full display, tumbling down his round cheeks when you didn’t immediately respond. “Why won’t you love me?! I’ve done so much for you!”... Ah yes! Emotional manipulation at its finest.

If you already knew that you were soulmates, but simply ignored it… Oh boy… Jon was livid! How dare you?! After all this time of him pinning and loving you! You just discarded his emotional need for your affection like it was a shite beneath your boot! How selfish could you be?! He only had one soulmate, why would you try to deprive him of the experience of true love! He would be delirious, and somehow manage to convince himself that you had in fact loved him all along, but been unsure if he’d love you back… yes! That had to be it! He’d toss you into his bedroom and lock the door, you weren’t getting out until you accepted his love… By “accepting his love”, he obviously meant, “agree to marry him”. Yeah, if you had just ignored you guys’ soulmate status, the rest of your life will be a living h*ll.

On the other hand, if you didn’t know or had been unsure whether or not it truly was him. He’d be understanding, that’s what happens! The most important thing was that you’re together now! You’d love him forever, right? That was all that ever mattered! It was your duty as soulmates, after all, to love and cherish the other one for years to come! If you don’t accept your love, may I refer you to the previous section, however, if you do accept it, he’d kiss you, deeply, and offer to fly you around Metropolis? Don’t worry if you’re afraid of heights, he’d hold onto you and never let go.

Whether you love him or not, it would be best to at least pretend to do so. Jon is sensitive and he doesn’t take well to rejection. His emotions are volatile and what might’ve earned you a plunging pouty face one day, might result in you getting locked in his room on another one. He’d get married as fast as possible, mostly to ensure that no one else would attempt to get with you… especially Damian. He’s jealous, and as soon as you’re both done with university, he’d beg you to stay at home at the farm and just wait until he gets home, you don’t even have to clean or cook, he’ll do that if you don’t want to, just stay home, that’s where you’re the safest, especially when Clark and Lois retire. Jon would love for you four to all live together, that way he’s extra sure that you’ll be safe.

So in conclusion… Jon as a yandere in a soulmate setting? Absolutely a health hazard. He’s horrifying, suffocating, delirious, clingy, emotional and worst of all: Absolutely. Bloody. Obsessed. He will never let you leave him, and if you’re willing and able to, he’ll make sure that you’ll have at least one biological kid, if not he’ll adopt one, with or without your permission. Just because he values family above all others. (In his mind, you were part of his family the second your name stapled its way up his arm). Clark and Lois would also aid in the absolute suffocation of obsessive love and almost worshipping of your very being which Jon participates in. Their love is like tar, you’ll slowly get dragged under and suffocated, no matter how much you try to get out. Their devotion, (and arms), stick to you like the viscous black droplets of tarmac, and you’ll have no escape. Not even Damian could drag you out once you’re submerged.

A/N: Yes, you can just ignore this, it's mostly for the user who sent in the request.

Thank you for this idea! I hope you like what I did with it! I'm SO sorry that it took so long to get out! But I've been dealing with a bunch of exams and important papers, (to all the IB students out there...IAs! Am I right?!)... No, but in all seriousness, I'm not dead nor did I quit writing, but I have my finals in less than 3 months, and I need to study, so I can't promise that my upload schedule will be particularly consistent or frequent in that period of time, but I'll be back up and running as soon as those bloody exams are over... Wish me luck! Anyways! I hope you like this!

[yanderismo]

I just came here to leave my absurd desire to read a Yandere platonic Clark Kent from the Smallville series😭😭😭😭😭😭. Bruh, I haven't even watched the series, but I dream about this man. Just imagine being his sister or best friend that he wants to protect. He won't let you go, you're both family. And that little face of his kills me😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Chauvinism.

Commissioned by the very lovely @meri47.

Pairing: Yandere!Clark Kent | Superman x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Plans for Prolonged Imprisonment, Nonconsensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, and Slight Codependency.

You woke up to the feeling of something burning into the back of your head.

Again, true to the most literal definition of the word, burning. You bolted upward, bringing one had to the back of your scalp as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes with the other. Exhaustion weighed you down, made it difficult to think about anything but the searing pain burrowing into your, the stiffness of your joints, the static numbness pricking at your fingertips, but luckily, you didn’t find an injury, didn’t smell burning hair, didn’t feel flesh melting off of bone or blisters forming across delicate skin – even if you were uncomfortably warm in that familiar, ‘held your hands too close to an open bonfire’ way. Still, you had to force yourself to calm down, to tear your attention away from your own startled distress and turn your focus outward.

You weren’t on fire, which was good. That was good.

But, you were in a strange room with strange crystalline walls, which was bad.

Very, very bad.

You swallowed down something thick and dry that’d lodged itself in your throat. The scenery was as blank as it was alien – all featureless, all bizarre, little more than a series of hexagonal pedestals that erupted from the ground without pattern or intention and four chrome walls so well polished, your own distorted reflections were able to corner you on all sides, and so tall, you weren’t able to make out the ceiling that had to be looming somewhere far above your head. The only actual piece of furniture seemed to be the bed you were sitting on; a remarkably normal mattress swamped with remarkably normal sheets, blankets, quilts - all doting cutesy, sappy patterns, all things you’d find in the bedding aisle of a particularly folksy home-goods store.

Partially out of curiosity and partially out of hope that you’d be able to dispel the knot of dread coiling in your stomach, you turned over the corner of the nearest quilt, finding a paper tag still on the end of its plastic toggle. That, for as thankful as you were not to be lying on a bare stone floor, was almost the most concerning thing you'd seen so far. It meant that someone had found the time to prepare this, to get ready for you. It meant that someone had decided to bring you here, and had given your abduction enough forethought to buy a fucking blanket.

You were almost tempted to curl back into yourself, to cover yourself in a stranger’s blankets and pretend you’d never woken up, but any delusions you might’ve had of being able to sleep this off like a bad dream were dispelled by the sound of a man clearing his throat, a new weight coming to rest on the other side of your bed. You jerked around the face the new presence, your eyes instantly landing on the monster who’d—

— on your coworker, Clark Kent, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

Your coworker, Clark Kent, who was inexplicably dressed like Superman.

For a second, all your panic and all your fear seemed to disappear in favor of making more room for complete and utter confusion. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and admittedly, his get-up looked a step above what you’d find on the clearance rack of some out-of-season costume store. You couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten it. He was smiling, too – that gentle smile, the same one he wore as he slipped a mug of freshly brewed coffee onto your desk an hour before either of you were supposed to be so much as thinking about getting to work, as he rubbed the back of his neck and admitted that he got too caught up while he was writing his last article and pulled his third all-nighter that week. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but relax. Clark was here, which meant that wherever ‘here’ was, it couldn’t be that bad. You couldn’t be in that much danger if Daily Planet’s resident sweetheart had managed to make it out unscathed.

“Clark!” You scrambled toward him, already grinning. “Oh my god, thank fuck you’re here – I’m don’t know where we are, and my head really hurts, but I don’t think we’re—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You were out for a while – try to remember to breathe.” His tone was like his expression – light, soothing, comforting enough to have you nodding along in an instant, to have you doing your best to inhale and exhale without cutting yourself off with more half-formed fears. He moved toward you, his fingertips brushing against your bicep before he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You melted against him, and with an airy chuckle, he went on, keeping up a tenor that could’ve lulled you to sleep in any other circumstance. “You said that your head hurts? If you feel dehydrated, I get you something to drink.”

“No, that’s aright, I’m alright. I just—” You glanced towards the crystal walls, towards the nonexistent ceiling. “Do you know where we are?”

There was a slight lilt to his smile, a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder. “If that’s what’s got your heart beating out of your chest, you can let your guard down. We’re in the Fortress of Solitude. Unless a supervillain found a way to terrorize the North Pole, you’re perfectly safe.”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. “The Fortress of Solitude? I’m not an idiot, Clark. What do you want me to think – that Superman needs a house sitter?”

He was quiet, for a second.

Then, empathy practically dripping from his tongue, he said, “Honey, I am Superman.”

He’d hesitated, but you didn’t. Your reaction was instantaneous, automatic; a swell of bubbling laughter and a playful elbow driven into his side. You loved Clark, but he wasn’t a superhero. He kept a running list of the names of his coworkers’ pets, to make sure he never mistook Rebecca’s dog for Max’s rabbit. Whenever he stubbed his toe on a doorframe, he’d apologize to the doorframe. When aliens rained down from the sky or monsters erupted from the ground, Clark was always the first to run, and while you couldn’t blame him, you couldn’t say his tendency to make himself scarce as soon as the villain of the week reared its ugly head was very heroic, either. “That’s not funny,” you managed, eventually, in spite of your nervous smile. “We could be in danger. If you want to put on a Halloween costume and pretend to be a superhero, at least wait until we’ve gotten back to Metropolis.”

To his credit, he kept a straight face. “I wouldn’t lie to you, (Y/n).”

“At least try to make it plausible, then. I mean, he’s an alien, for fuck’s sake, and you’re from southern Kansas. He can fly, and you get stuck in traffic every morning. I’ve been to your flat, and everybody knows Superman lives in the Fortress of—”

Your voice died in your throat. Your mouth fell shut, and you went limp against his side.

After several seconds of stubborn silence, you forced yourself to spit out a soft “Prove it.”

His grin broadened. With a single hand, he took up the scruff of your blouse and lifted you off of the mattress without a hint of strain or trepidation. You were tossed, cursing and thrashing against his hold, into the air and caught in his lap, every step of the process just as effortless as the one that’d come before it. On reflex, you clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and cursing under your breath. He only laughed, glazing over your distress, your confusion in favor of paying more mind to your amazement. “The laser eyes can get a little out of hand, and flying indoors is…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Is inhume strength enough, or are you going to make me break out the x-ray vision?”

“No, that’s not— I think you’ve done enough.” You felt breathless, like you’d just run a marathon. You felt drained, and exhausted, and frail, but you forced yourself to smile up at him, to remember that he was still your coworker, still your friend, still Clark Kent.

And if you knew anything, you knew that Clark Kent couldn’t hurt a fly.

(You also knew that Superman would’ve been able to break your neck with a flick of his wrist, but you tried not to think about that.)

“This is great,” you kept your tone bright, cheerful, burying your anxiety beneath a heavy layer of brimming enthusiasm. “You have to tell me everything! As soon as we get back to Metropolis, you’re going to—”

“About that,” he cut in, only somewhat apologetic. “Metropolis might have to wait. This can be a sensitive time, and I thought it might be better for you to stay here, with me, just until you’ve adjusted to…” There was another pause, another sympathetic smile. The heel of his palm pressed into the small of your back, and against your will, you were reminded of just how easily he could crush your windpipe, or break your spine, or rip your heart out of your chest before your body had time to give out. “To this. To us.”

You didn’t have his resilience. Your expression immediately dropped. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t waste time, didn’t pretend to believe it was a genuine question. “Think of it as a precaution. You’re just going to stay somewhere safe and quiet for a few weeks, let some new information soak in, and when you’re ready, we can go home together.” He bowed his head, his lips ghosting over the curve of your shoulder. You tried to let go of him, to put a little distance between yourself and Clark, but his hand rose the back of your neck, keeping you pinned against his chest as he went on. “I tried to think of a way to do this at home, but it wouldn’t have worked out. You’re going to be in danger, and this—” He nodded toward the crystal walls. “—is one of the only places where I know you’ll be safe. From the people who want to hurt me, and from yourself, while you’re still learning.”

“Learning what? Clark, I might be a reporter, but I’m not going to sell your secret identity to the first paper that makes a bid.” Another half-hearted shove to his chest, another attempt to give yourself space to breathe. He only held you tighter, his smile pressing into the side of your neck. “I-It’s not like you can keep me here, either. I mean, it’s not like heroes hold civilians hostage.”

“Heroes do what they have to do,” he muttered, his voice stifled by proximity, his breath warm against your skin. “’specially if it means keeping the people they love safe.”

It felt like a stupid thing to ask, given your situation, your position. It felt like a waste of breath, considering you were in his lap, in the heart of his secret lair, with his mouth pressed against your skin and his hands drifting toward your waist, and yet, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “You love me?”

There was a throaty laugh, a squeeze to your side. “With all my heart.” There was no hesitation, no reluctance. If you’d been standing, your legs might’ve given out. “I wish it didn’t have to be so complicated. I really did try to find a workaround, but if I tried to approach you as Clark, you’d never be fully protected from everyone who’s after Superman, and if I tried to love you as Superman – well, then you’d never pay Clark a second glance. I didn’t want you to only know half of who I am.” A kiss, this time, shallow and fleeting, pressed into the corner of your jaw. “This was the only way I could show you who I was without putting you in harm's way. You’ll learn the ropes here, and when you’re ready, we can go back to Metropolis and get you moved into my place—”

A waste of time, a waste of breath, a waste of hope. Still, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from making bad decisions, today. “What would you do if I didn’t feel the same way?”

This time, it was a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. He didn’t try to kiss you – to actually kiss you, thank God – but it was a small mercy, further dampened by the fact that he was still holding you, still keeping you as close as you could possibly be. After long, agonizing seconds, he raised his head. If he was worried, if he noticed the tension in your shoulders, how stiffly you held yourself, you couldn’t tell from his easy smile, the levity in his tone. If anything, he seemed excited, eager to plan out your future together with or without your cooperation.

“If you didn’t love me…” He tried to laugh, but the air hitched in his throat and he settled for a wistful sigh. “Why are you asking? Have something you want to tell me?”

“It’s a hypothetical.” Your tongue felt swollen, your head heavier than it should’ve been. “Just… indulge me, alright? I’m curious.”

“Like I said, you don’t have anything to worry about. If you took a little time to come around to me, I wouldn’t mind – it wouldn’t change anything, either.” It was a corrupted type of reassurance. Rather than soothing your anxiety, it only seemed to make you feel more sick. “I’d just have to work a little harder, keep a closer eye on you. I mean, I already plan on keep you as close as I can, but—” He clicked his tongue, brushed a few stray hairs away from your face. “—I guess I’d have to hold you a little tighter. Until I could trust you to come around on your own, at least.”

He'd already taken you to an impenetrable fortress in the middle of a frozen wasteland, hundreds of thousands of miles away from the nearest person. You weren’t sure how much more tightly he could hold you.

Dread welled in the cavity of your chest, something sweet and sickly rising into the back of your throat, but you managed to nod, to lean against him. He welcomed your cooperation, rewarded it with a low, throaty sound of approval. “I should show you around. There isn’t much to see, but, y’know, common courtesy and all that.”

“I’m… actually still pretty tired.” It wasn’t a lie. You were exhausted, and you wanted more than anything to crawl into the nearest hole and wait until this had all blown over. But, there weren’t any holes you could crawl into – just a bed, a few mirrored walls, and a man you had formerly thought of as Clark Kent. “I think I might need to take it easy for a couple hours, just to give my brain time to process all this. Would… would that be okay?”

That, that was what made him falter – earning a slight lapse, a new quirk to his smile – but he held himself steady, only nodding as you shifted off of his lap. Hesitantly, with no small amount of apprehension, you edged away from him, daring to put just an arm’s length worth of distance between yourself and him and letting out an ounce of tension drain out of your rigid form when he didn’t immediately decide you weren’t worth the effort, when you didn’t find yourself reduced to little more than ash or pulverized viscera. “Of course. Give me a few minutes, I’ll get you something more comfortable to—“

“This is fine.” Your voice cracked, but you tried to pretend you didn’t notice. “I mean, I’m fine. I just— I think I need a little time to myself. To take this all in.”

His disappointment was visible, but he didn’t argue. You waited until he’d left your room, until he was out of sight and out of earshot, to slip back under your mound of blankets and shrink into yourself. You were exhausted, and yet, you’d never been more awake in your life. Sleep seemed like a distant dream, leaving yourself helpless and unaware like a lurking nightmare.

It was all you could do to lie there, small and vulnerable, and try to ignore the eyes burning into the back of your neck.

[lady-ashfade]

★~*･ﾟFade’s Collab Event Masterlist

This is the masterlist for the collab of wonderful writers. The post is here. But this is where you will everything posted.

*warnings are displayed*

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Fantasy Tropes

Royalty Au by @breakdawn-avenue

Characters: Shoto Todoroki/mha characters

WARNING: none

Summary: It was your sister’s dream to become a knight. However, due to circumstances, she couldn’t. So you decided to step up for her and do everything to succeed. A little surprise awaited you the evening before your accolade. These awaken deeply hidden memories. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Fantasy Bounty hunter au

*unclaimed*

Space Bounty hunter au

*unclaimed*

Pirate Au

*unclaimed*

Masquerade @hopelesswritergall with Aemond Targaryen

WARNINGS: *unknown*

Romantic

Enemies to lovers

*unclaimed*

Fake dating by @targaryenluvs

Character: Clark Kent

WARNINGS: Fake Dating Trope, Obsession, Jealousy, Dark themes, Cursing, Non-Consensual Kissing/Touching, Implied Sex, Baby Trapping

One Bed by @aphroditelovesu

Character: Benedict Bridgerton

WARNING: *unknown*

Vacation Confession

*unclaimed*

Random

Murder mystery

*unclaimed*

Found family by @olympus-library

Character: Rhaenrya Targaryen

WARNINGS: full angst, mention of death, slight!yandere, short dabble/imagine

Alien crashes into background

*unclaimed*

Friday the 13th

*unclaimed*

Hybrid/Creatures

Adopted Hybrid

*unclaimed*

Found hybrids

*unclaimed*

Mermaids by @serxinns

Characters: yandere class 1A

WARNINGS: *yandere is all so far*

Werewolfs

*unclaimed*

*anyone is allowed to join! Just message me*

[blue-sadie]

.DC.Universe

.Request Page.

Platonic = 🌼 Fluff = 🌺 Smut =🌹 Lime =⚘️ Angst = 🥀 Yandere =🍁

Imagines

Cold Stares - Jason 🌹

Combos

It Was An Accident - Lo'ak Sully, Jason 🌹

Incorrect Quotes

Drabbles

Oneshots

Series

Modern Day Au Medieval/Fantasy Au Omegaverse

Crossovers

Preferences

Flashing Light - Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen 🌺

Kiss The Cook - Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barry Allen, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan 🌹

Movie Marathon - Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne 🌹

Beach Sun - Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Oliver Queen, Barry Allen 🌹

NSFW and SFW Alphabet

Headcanons

[vadersassistant]

Requests Info

Slots Left: 2/4

Rules

When submitting a request be sure to be specific unless you want me to write it how I interpret it.

I only write reader x characters at the moment.

I don't write smut.

You are welcome to submit as many requests as you like. I will try my best to meet expectations. DMS are always open.

I can write headcanons, imagines, and one shots.

I will try my best to meet expectations. I will choose the requests that most interest me.

Characters I Write For:

Clark Kent/Superman (My Adventures With Superman)

Clark Kent/Superman (Man of Steel aka Henry Cavill Verse)

What I Will Write:

Yandere

Fluff

Angst

Gore

ADHD (Will be written from experience in having it myself)

Anxiety (Will be written from experience in having it myself)

Female/Male/Gender Neutral Reader

What I Wont Write:

Breakups

Incest

Underage

Illegal Age Gap

Cheating

Smut

[gatorbites-imagines]

Nsfw headcannons for yandere Clark Kent (Superman)?

Yandere Clark Kent nsfw alphabet

How did you know Clark is one of my faves anon? :3c This might be kinda similar to normal Clark’s alphabet though, so be warned.

This probably doesnt show as much yandere stuff as you had hoped, but i hope you still like it.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Like normal when he isn’t a yandere, Clark is super cuddly after sex. Though now he wont let you out of his arms at all, convinced the two of you are so deeply in love and your coupling has just deepened your connection even more. If you try to get free from his grip, he just tightens it until you can’t move at all, so better just put up with it.

 B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Clarks favorite part of himself is his chest, his thighs or his arms. He loves every part of his partner, he thinks they are so so perfect, though he does like their legs quite a lot.

 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Because hes kryptonian Clark cums a lot, and when I say a lot, I mean a lot. Its just part of his nature. Because of his obsession with you he will want to cum inside you and on you, he’s the kind to rub it into your skin and make sure he’s got it covering all of you until you smell like nothing but him. Seeing you covered in his cum always gets him hard again, so its gonna be a long night.

 D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don’t know if it’s a dirty secret, it depends on if you know he’s a yandere. But he’s most definitely killed a lot of people for you or because he’s seen them as a threat for your relationship. Clark fantasies about taking you on the corpses of his enemies or those that try to get between the two of you, or riding you as you lay on top of the corpses.

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Clark doesn’t have an insane amount of experience, but he sees it as a good thing because that means hes not tainted by other people when all he needs is you.

 F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where he can wrap his arms around you and see your face. He especially loves riding you, so he can be on top of you incase he needs to hold you down or choke you, just in case.

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Clark isn’t the goofiest during sex, but he might crack a few jokes or chuckle every now and then.

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Kryptonians in general don’t have a lot of body hair, so he only has a really nice happy trail and pubes and some chest hair. Though if you prefer a shaved partner he will shave it off to be more attractive for you.

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Clark is very intimate, even outside of sex. He’s always all over you and in your business. When he isn’t with you, he will listen to your heartbeat at all times and listen in on your conversations, just to make sure its not something he doesn’t like. His love can be very overbearing though, as he doesn’t seem to care much for your boundaries, convinced that since you are perfect for each other, there’s no such thing as privacy.

 J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Clark jerks off a lot more than you’d expect. Because of his kryptonian biology his sex drive is extremely high, and because he is with you its even higher. Because of this its not unusual for him to jerk off multiple times a day. He will regularly follow you around or watch you with his x-ray vision and jerk himself off through his suit to the sight of you doing whatever it its your doing.

 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding

Marking

Biting hard enough to draw blood

Cum and anything involving it in general

Musk/sweat

Oral fixation

Kryptonite usage (though this is a secret)

Body and muscle worship

Spit and drool

Ripping clothes

Claiming and asserting dominance.

 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Clark will do it just about anywhere, if he wasn’t a yandere he would keep it somewhere alteast mostly away from people, but yandere Clark could not care less. He wants to show everyone you are his and he is yours, if that means riding your cock in the middle of the league gym, or fucking you in the air over metropolis he will do it.

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It is extremely easy to turn Clark on, especially when its you. He’s paying attention to you at all times, so he will immediately notice the way your heartbeat changes as you get hard or turned on, and that immediately has Clark ready to go. He pays attention to your scent, so if he smells the pheromones that tell him you’re turned on, he easily starts dripping.

 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing. There is no way Clark would ever share you with anybody, and if anybody even suggests it, he might actually kill them right then and there. If you are the one to suggest it, he cant decide if he’s mad at you for even thinking about someone else, or if he should break down in tears for not being enough for you.

 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Clark loves both giving and receiving. He has no gag reflex, and because he’s kryptonian he has a slightly longer tongue and some different throat muscles that makes it feel even better. He always swallows and it looks almost orgasmic for him, because he feels so close to you with your cum in his stomach and mouth.

 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This depends on the situation and mood I think, though for the most part he’s very slow and careful with you because of his super strength. He’s very quick and rough with himself through when he’s jerking off.

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Clark is all for quickies, because of his extreme sex drive and especially when its with you. Its probably one of the best ways to stop him for killing or hurting someone for getting a little to friendly with you. Just pull him off to a coat closet or the bathroom and jerk him off, he rubs up against you like an affectionate cat afterwards, purring at a low frequency only other kryptonians can hear.

 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)’

Clark is very happy to try new things, especially if its you asking. Anything you want to do, he will do it because he wants to please you and bring you pleasure.

 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Because he’s kryptonian his stamina is out of this world, it’s much more likely you’ll pass out of exhaustion than it is for Clark to become tired. He always jerks off a few extra times after you fall asleep just to tire himself out some more. He’s likely to jump you the moment you wake up though, wanting to fill you or be filled by you and get his scent and ownership all over you.

 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Clark owns more toys than people expect and they’re mainly to help him jerk off, but he has a few dildos and other toys as well. He will also have toys you enjoy if there Is anything specific.

 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Clark wouldn’t teaste a whole lot, but he might do it every now and then when he’s feeling frisky. It would be more of you teasing him though, being sure to use his extremely high senses against him, like his sense of smell, taste or his hearing.

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Clark isn’t the loudest person, but I think he gets extremely loud when the two of you do it because he’s just so euphoric about being with you, the one whos perfect for him.

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kryptonians purr and growl, but it’s a low enough frequency that mostly only other kryptonians can hear. Kryptonians also use scent a lot without realizing, whether it be rubbing their scent on people they care about or using it to mark their area. Kryptonians reach sexual maturity in their later 30s and typically only after they’ve met someone that they are compatible with.

 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Clark is huge, like jaw droppingly big. Both in length and thickness. This stems from him being kryptonian as most kryptonians have larger bits than humans. Veiny though not too much and uncut.

 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Clark has an extremely high sex drive, like only other kryptonians could keep up at this point. This is why he jerks off every day or even multiple times a day. He doesn’t have to get off every day, but he can get pretty uncomfortable if he doesn’t.

 Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like I stated earlier he has a lot more stamina than you if you aren’t another kryptonian or some kind of superhuman. He will spend time cuddling and kissing you until you fall asleep, and he could just go about his day or stay with you, or jerk off by himself until he gets somewhat tired.