"Netflix, Chill... and Superwoman?"
It’s almost midnight when you hear the knock.
You weren’t expecting anyone. You shuffle toward the door in joggers and a T-shirt, rubbing the back of your neck—half-expecting a neighbor, maybe a delivery mistake. But when you open it—
Boom.
There she is.
Superwoman.
Standing tall in the dim hallway light, her skin-tight blue suit gleaming slightly with moisture from the clouds she just sliced through. Her full, bouncing chest rises with a light breath, barely restrained by the S on her chest. Her thick thighs and juicy hips flex naturally with her subtle stance, and you’re not sure how her ass doesn’t cause property damage when she walks.
She’s licking her lips.
“Hey,” she says casually, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. Her voice is like velvet dipped in honey. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything… important?”
You blink. Hard. “I—uh—no, just… watching reruns. You’re, uh, really here.”
She laughs, strolling past you with a hypnotic sway in her hips that makes her cape flutter a moment behind. She turns, eyeing your small couch.
“I’ve been meaning to get to know my favorite news reporter a little better,” she says, letting the words hang in the air like a warm weight. “Thought we could watch some Netflix. Maybe chill.”
You stare at her, jaw twitching like it’s forgetting how to close.
“That… sounds pretty unprofessional. For a superhero, I mean.”
“Oh?” she tilts her head, playfully biting her bottom lip—the same lips you’ve seen Clara bite when she’s nervous. You blink it away. “Maybe. But I’ve saved four people today, three cats, and stopped a fire. I think I’ve earned some off-the-clock time. Don’t you?”
She walks closer.
And now she’s right in front of you. Breasts bouncing lightly with each step, the curve of her hips almost brushing your thigh. You catch a sweet scent—like lilac and summer air.
You laugh nervously. “I mean, is it even allowed for a superhero to show up at someone’s house like this? This late? For… whatever this is?”
“I’m not just any superhero,” she purrs, eyes half-lidded now. “And I only knock on doors I want to be behind.”
You’re dizzy. You still can’t stop thinking about Clara. But Superwoman is right here, tempting you with every curve, every warm breath.
And what you don’t know is…
Inside that suit, Clara Kent is dying.
Oh God, oh God, I said Netflix and chill. Why did I say that like I was in control?! He’s looking at my thighs. Of course he’s looking at my thighs. My thighs look like they’re stuffed sausages in this suit. Oh no. Did I just lick my lips again?! Clara stop it, you’re gonna faint—
Outwardly, she’s strutting. Calm. Dominant. Superwoman incarnate.
He doesn’t know it’s me. He’s thinking about me and I’m right HERE and he’s LOOKING at me. My butt jiggled when I sat down didn’t it. He saw it. I’m going to internally combust. Where is the couch blanket—
Back on the outside, she’s sprawled on your couch now, legs crossed, suit tugging over her curvy, athletic form, one shoulder dipped slightly like it’s about to slide off.
“Well?” she purrs, patting the spot beside her. “You gonna join me or just stand there acting like you’re not thinking about kissing me?”
Your mouth goes dry.
“I wasn’t—!” She raises a brow. “Okay I was, but—wait, does that mean you want me to—?” “You ask too many questions,” she smirks. “Come sit.”
And in that moment… you forget all about Clara Kent.
You and Super Woman are sitting on YOUR couch as you’re trying not to faint