Hi I’m Brax or Braxous, they/them, 24 You’ll know what my current hyperfixation is based on my pinned post XD Some 18+ will definitely be reblogged, pretty much all fanfiction here.
when is it going to become mainstream that clark kent is an alien and he should have ruts and a dick with weird shit on it? cause i think we’re a bit overdue.
thinking about clark fucking you so relentlessly because “o-oh i can’t stop baby i’m so sorry fu-frick!” and you just have to take it bc he won’t even let you go until it’s over. just round after round after round. he never runs out of energy. every time you think he might be slowing down, the sun rises again and it’s like a burst of energy just hits him.
then of course we have the topic of his dick with fucking pincers on it and knot that likes to appear every time he comes. the pincers are relatively small, soft, and smooth, more there to catch on your walls and keep him in than actually pinch you. but they make a hell of a difference anyway. dragging on your walls time and time again and getting harder as he gets closer. you’re a wild mess as you thrash and try to get away from the immense pleasure but clark’s grip is too strong.
“don’t run away from me baby, i need you. i need this so bad. i know it’s a lot, but i know you can handle it. you’re my strong girl aren’t you? yeah you are. you’re my strong girl.” saying anything and everything to calm you down as you moan out. he knows he’s about to come and his knot is even more intense than his hardening pincers.
"sweetheart, are you sure you don't want to wear a different coat?" bruce asked. he had been trailing behind you as you tore both closets apart in pursuit of warmth.
you had decided on his navy coat. the one with italian-imported cashmere, hand stitched hemming, and too many visits to the tailor for alterations. you'd sworn up and down it was "so extra" when he first commissioned it.
"no, i do not, honey." you replied, a tad bitterly.
stubbornness. that was great.
bruce tried to keep the edge out of his voice, "what about that jacket you bought in–"
"none of mine fit me." you snapped, slipping the coat on. "maybe you should have put more thought into that before getting me pregnant, bruce."
"that's..." bruce let out a long sigh as he rubbed his temple. he gave a moment's consideration to his words before he spoke again, "y/n. i love when you wear my clothes, you know this. it's just..maybe we should look for a different coat? that color doesn't really go with your outfit anyways. fault of the coat of course."
"i don't care if the coat matches my outfit or not! i'm about to have a baby in like three weeks. so long as something fits and is warm, fashion is the least of my worries."
bruce's jaw worked for a moment before he let out a small disbelieving laugh, "baby, you cared yesterday.."
"yes, well, that was yesterday." you muttered as you shoved your hands into each respective pocket of the coat.
bruce visibly winced, which you raised your eyebrows at.
"if you're hiding your burner phone in here, you should have found a better–" the words died on your tongue as your fingers closed around something small in one of the pockets. you glanced at bruce.
he stared back with a small grimace on his face, his lips pursed into a thin line.
you pulled the little object out before staring at it.
a square...box.
oh.
oh.
a ring box. in your favorite color.
you let out a gasp as you hurriedly looked back at bruce. he stared at the box for a moment more, an "oh well" expression blossoming across his features.
bruce met your eyes finally. "i was going to get a different box–"
you made haste shoving the box back into the jacket pocket before he could completely begin his tangent. "maybe we should look for another coat," you said, slipping it off and handing it off to him.
bruce smiled as he took the coat back from you, holding back a laugh, "you think?"
"yeah. this one doesn't go with my outfit."
note: bruce wayne who can't keep his soon-to-be-wife out of the loop for long, so he immediately starts spilling every thought he's had and every step he's taken during the proposing process to her the moment she finds out 🥹
“i’m sorry,” clark chokes out as his hips stutter against you slowly. “i’m so sorry.” he continues to cry on top of you as his cock plunges into your tight cunt. you can’t really figure out why your boyfriend is exactly crying; you’re dazed from clark pulling two orgasms from you. he really has nothing to be sorry for.
“i’m being selfish with you.”
“it’s okay, clark.” you coo up at your whiny boyfriend, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, letting your fingers wrap around clark’s loose, dark curls.
“you just feel really good.” he cries out, rutting his hips against you. you couldn’t help but feel dizzy at the sight of clark crying just because you feel good around him. it was intoxicating.
the thought of your strong, heavily muscular boyfriend crying and falling apart from just touching you was overwhelming. it was exciting. you never had anyone so obsessed with you the way clark was.
“you’re perfect,” he stutters out, his hips still rocking hard. your heart swells at his words; he was always so sweet to you. clark always made sure you were taken care of; he always put you first.
“i could stay here forever.” clark’s large hand wraps around your thigh, hoisting your leg up higher around his waist as he thrusts in deeper.
you blink up at clark, his face screwed up in pleasure, his body glistening in sweat, and a single dark curl falls in front of his eyes.
“baby, i need—“ he sucks in a harsh breath, moving his hips over and over, hitting the spot that always made you shiver as his fingers dig into the back of your thigh.
“you need what?” you ask, trying your hardest to actually focus on clark and his words. “what do you need, baby?”
“use your words.” you coaxed, trying to get him to repeat himself as you wipe his falling tears from his flushed cheeks.
your words pull a shudder out of clark, his words getting stuck in the back of his throat, being replaced with a groan.
“come on,” you try again, your hand gently pulling on his hair. “tell me.”
“i need to come, please.” clark whimpers, his blue eyes looking brighter than they usually are from the crying. you take pity on him, leaning up you lazily place a kiss on clark’s jaw. “go ahead, baby.” you murmur into his skin.
with your approval clark picks up his pace, trying to reach his high he’s been chasing for the past hour. with just a few sharp thrusts, he spills into you with a deep groan.
“you’re amazing, baby.” clark slurs, his head falling onto your chest, kissing you there softly. “you’re so nice to me.”
a/n: i don’t know how i feel about this one, guys
Summary - They believe that you are fighting and try to make it up to you- only to find out you aren’t fighting.
Characters - Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd
Bruce Wayne
⭐︎ You and Bruce don’t fight often, which is why it makes it such a dire situation to Bruce.
⭐︎ Your fights are usually quiet ones, a comment here or there but no yelling or shouting. Bruce isn’t an explosive man, his irritation and anger runs cold. You match his energy in a way that is both good and bad, especially when you are fighting.
⭐︎ It had started with you getting angry at him getting home late from patrol. He was irritated at first that you seemed to disregard the people who needed him. Then after a few days he calm down enough to see it from your perspective.
⭐︎ Bruce Wayne is someone who believes that actions speak louder than words so he calls up your favorite florist and sends multiple bouquets of your favorite flowers to your office.
⭐︎ He is slightly nervous to talk to you since you have been a little distant after your fight. Multiple times on the walk to your office he messing with his tie, just to give himself something to do to sieve off the anxiety.
⭐︎ You are looking at the note he told the florist to write when he knocks on your door. Your smile is radiant as you look over at him, no trace of irritation or anger on your face to be seen.
⭐︎ Bruce feels like he did a good job when you walk over to kiss him. He hasn’t had too much contact with you for a couple days since he was keeping his distance so he welcomes your touch like a man starved.
“What is this for?” You ask after pulling back from kissing him. “Did I miss something?”
Bruce blinks down at you in confusion, “You were upset with me about arriving home late, I am sorry for worrying you.”
A look of confusion crosses your face before you start laughing.
“The whole time you thought I was upset with you?” You stop laughing to give himself something a soft look. “I’m sorry Love, I was busy with work so you must have thought I was ignoring you.”
Bruce feels sheepish now that he got the situation wrong. “You don’t need to apologize for my misunderstanding-”
You kiss him mid sentence, cutting him off.
“The flowers are perfect don’t apologize.”
Dick Grayson
⭐︎ Dick would like to think that you don’t argue often and you agree except for the constant back and forth of him stretching himself too thin and putting everyone’s needs over his.
⭐︎ The fight happens when he misses a date because they needed his help in Gotham. He had left you a note and a text about it. There was a lot of apologies in both. But when he got back to his apartment all the lights were off and you were gone.
⭐︎ Your fights are usually conversations, there isn’t yelling involved unless it’s really bad. You always wanted to talk things out rather than just leaving them lie. So you leaving without talking about it made him scared.
⭐︎ Dick is a little desperate when he feels like he is being left. There’s an involuntary coil of dread that settles in his stomach every time. He always needs to make it right as soon as possible, he can’t wait because he is afraid of never seeing you again.
⭐︎ So he runs down to the 24 hour convince store a block down from his apartment to get, admittedly, a lot of your favorite candy. Then he breaks into the florist shop across the street to grab a premade bouquet of flowers, he makes sure to leave them money plus a little extra because he broke in.
⭐︎ He is stressing himself out the whole way to your apartment. The thought that you won’t have the window unlocked like usual crosses his mind. He imagines you locking him out and refusing to even see him.
⭐︎ When Dick knocks on your window at 2am you open it up with sleep still in your eyes. You look beautiful even half asleep, confused and in one of his old tee shirts. Your eyes eventually focus in on the bag and flowers.
“Dick? These are wonderful,” You take the flowers from his slightly trembling hands. “but why are you bringing me flowers at 2am?”
Dick pauses midway through climbing through your window, “You are mad at me for missing our date so I thought getting you flowers would help.”
Your expression softens as you take a deeper look at him, seeing the anxiety in his rigid posture and the desperation in his eyes as he takes off his domino mask.
“Oh baby.” You says softly and pull him into a hug. “I am so sorry my friend had to rush her pet to the vet and had no car so I drove her. In all the rush I forgot to text you that it was fine.”
Dick exhales, all the tension in his body leaving with the air. He slumps a little as the adrenaline from crime fighting and this whole debacle evaporates.
“Thank god.” He whispers as you guide him over to your bed and gently pull him down onto it.
“I will always tell you if I have an issue,” You press a kiss to his brow, “promise.”
Jason Todd
⭐︎ You and Jason try not to fight often. It reminds Jason of darker days and you just don’t enjoy the conflict.
⭐︎ But when it happens it’s loud. Jason doesn’t start out yelling, he doesn’t enjoy it. But that’s usually what it devolves into, the two of you yelling over each other over something you can’t even remember.
⭐︎ Jason always needs time to cool off after. He leaves the apartment so he can get some air, climbing up to the roof or going on patrol early depending on what time it is.
⭐︎ This time was a little different, there wasn’t yelling or raised voices, just a slow sigh and you leaving the apartment.
⭐︎ The fight started over a bookshelf. You were insistent that you could put it together yourself while Jason wanted to help. After a couple minutes of him trying to help you told him that you wanted to do it yourself. He left the room then a few seconds later you were grumbling, putting on your shoes and slamming the apartment door.
⭐︎ Jason knew that you enjoyed doing things yourself so him trying to help must have made you angry with him. He didn’t leave like usual, instead he began to clean. It was a nervous habit that stemmed from needing control over something. He left the book shelf alone because it was the source of the argument but everything thing else he could clean was.
⭐︎ You came home an hour later to a spotless apartment and dinner ready. Jason was moving around the kitchen silently when you set the bag you got from the hardware store on the counter.
“Thanks for making dinner Jay.” You walk over to wrap your arms around him.
He tenses a little and you pull back immediately.
“You are sending me mixed messages.” Jason says with a furrow between his brows.
You frown in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“You left earlier because you were angry and now you aren’t upset.” Jason points out to you.
Your eyes widen with realization then soften, “Jay, I didn’t have the right screw for the bookshelf.”
Jason feels the tension bleed out of him at your words. You hug him again and he won’t say it out loud but he holds you tighter than he has ever held anyone else.
“If I am angry at you believe me you would know.” You laugh.
“Good.” Jason breathes out in relief.
“Now,” You pull away and walk to the bag. “do you want to help me put this together? I am way past the point of having any pride to defend.”
He grins, “It would be my pleasure.”
Blue’s notes - Imagine being in a family prized for detective skills and misreading a situation lol. None of these men can have a straight forward conversation about feelings. Also Dick’s is so much more angsty then intended, it originally was just a funny misunderstanding then my brain was like ‘make him suffer’ and I succumbed to the voices.
Summary: Your missing milestones mean very little to Clark.
Word count: 3.3k
Contains: Fluff & some angst. Daily Planet, reader is an archivist & Clark is Clark. Mutual pining, idiots in love, miscommunication, awkwardness. First kiss, one-sided first love & eventual true love.
A/N: I am really happy with this one, I love writing fluff more than anything in the world !!!!! Hope it satisfies my lovely requesters (@freythecrazyfae & @lovesickreader) & the rest of you bunnies :)
—————————— ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊——————————
What is it like to be loved by a man? Like, actually loved. Real, true, unconditional love from a guy who is mature and emotionally intelligent and admirable in character. That was what you always wanted to know, because it seemed every man you have ever crossed paths with was a piece of shit or a con artist; an expert liar or an imbecile with an unfounded penchant for misogyny. Sometimes you wished you didn’t like them so much, but you couldn’t help who you are. You liked men. And unfortunately, they didn’t seem like you back.
Or, at least that’s how it felt. It wasn’t like you had zero experience. Sure, no boyfriend, but you’ve had… relationships. Guys who led you on and promised to take you out and flaked, guys who had voiced interest but lacked the guts to pursue you. Guys who flirted with no real intentions. Just because you hadn’t been kissed or worse wasn’t the only factor to consider. You preferred to consider it a matter of missing the usual milestones– of acquainting yourself with the male sex in a much more unorthodox way. Which was as frustrating as it was humiliating. It’s hard not to measure yourself up against a society that expects you to have had three boyfriends by the time you graduate high school and a pregnancy scare by twenty-one, or else you haven’t lived right. It was tough out there. And you did want those things– well, not the pregnancy scare per se, but the first times. You wanted to feel love, to know it inside and out.
What you would have liked most was to be loved by Clark. Who didn’t want that? Clark Kent, quiet and thoughtful, strong yet soft, cute as a button and incredibly smart. You have loved him all your life, but he never loved you the same way. You had to learn to just push that down and foster crushes on new guys, guys who could try but never be him, because Clark was the ideal. Plus, he loved Lana for like, ten years. So Clark Kent was out of the picture.
All that mattered was yourself. You had to consciously think it every day. Men did not define you, and your experiences (or lack thereof) did not define you, but what you did with your life and how you treated people did. Whether that was just some stupid narrative made to cushion your bruised ego, you weren’t sure, but whatever it was, you had to believe something. If you couldn’t even control your own self-image, what could you control?
It was all just so much work. You wished it would be over and done with, and you would never feel the urge to be loved by a man again, but alas, things are never so easy. What you could do was focus on your work. Where Clark also was.
That couldn’t make it any worse, right?
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
“Did you want to go to the movies tonight?”
“Hm?” You blinked, tearing your focus away from the desktop in front of you. The archives were quiet, save for Clark’s gentle voice, and being deep as you were in a masterfile of old Planet clippings from May of 1930, you barely heard him. “Sorry, Clarkie, I wasn’t listening.”
Clark’s eyes flickered around the room, seemingly everywhere but you. It was his day off today, but he promised to help you find a specific article on an old movie theater that burned down back in the day. He wasn’t helping much at all, instead choosing to sit on the floor against your desk drawers with a banker’s box of materials in his lap while he talked at you. The man swallowed and repeated his question: “Um, I was asking if you wanted to go to the movies tonight. When you get off. With me.”
You glanced down at the former farmhand and smiled with a touch of surprise. “Really? You don’t like the movies.”
“I don’t like how expensive the concessions are,” Clark corrected with a crooked grin, “I still like movies, though.”
“Was there something you wanted to see?” You asked absentmindedly, eyes drifting back toward the screen.
Clark watched you lose focus and poked your thigh. Your skirt always rode up when you sat in that office chair. He tugged the hem of it down. “Hello? Down here.”
You chuckled softly and clicked out of the file. “Sorry. I’m listening.”
“I don’t know. I thought you could use a night out.” Clark peered up into your face as he suggested it. You still had all the same features he loved as a kid– the chubby cheeks, the happy eyes, the imperfect teeth. You were taller and you wore your hair differently now, but you were still the same timeless kind of beautiful. You never lost it, like they say people can. You proved a lot of things wrong by just waking up in the morning, he thought. “A little break, y’know? I can never get you to leave this place anymore.”
You sighed softly. “I probably could. I’ll buy your popcorn if you let me pick the movie.”
“Deal.”
You reached down to ruffle his hair, admiring how the thick locks bristled your fingers. “Thanks, Clarkie. You’re a good friend.”
His cheeks tinted pink as he looked down at the box again. “Right. Sure.”
If you were smart, you would’ve asked why he seemed slightly disappointed, but you weren’t. You were very, very blind.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
“You look beautiful.”
“Oh, stop it!”
“No, I mean it, you look… it’s…” Clark floundered, lips parted in search of the right adjective. Nothing came. “Just… beautiful.”
You smoothed your palms down the skirt of your gown. It was secondhand, and you had to have Lois help you makeshift a corset around the back, since it was just a tad too tight to zip up. She was a wizard with that sort of thing. It was floor-length and red as Christmas, made of a smooth taffeta that clung to your tummy. You found a little black shawl to wear over it specifically to hide that problem area, and it looked entirely like you borrowed a grandmother’s dress from the good ol’ days, but it would work well enough. The Planet was throwing their annual summer gala, and to avoid attendance would be to suffer the consequences of your boss. Clark offered to be your company-mandated date, since seats only came in twos. His tie matched your dress, the handsome devil.
“Is it new?”
“Yes and no,” you flushed, “I got it at Goodwill. It was the only thing that remotely fit, and even that was a struggle.”
“Well, you’d never know.”
You shifted on your feet as he stared you down. You worried something was on your face, or maybe there was some awful stain somewhere, because he’d never looked at you with quite so much intensity before; it felt like he was trying to convey something without words, which was very unusual for a guy who could talk forever. “Is everything okay?” you asked, scratching your neck.
Clark cleared his throat and stepped closer, brushing some fuzz from your shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… not used to seeing you like this.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
Clark smiled softly and took a chance on brushing some loose hair from your cheek. Your skin was warm. So fucking warm. Warm enough to make him want to touch you again. “It’s good, I think.”
You glanced away nervously, because Clark smelled like the nice cologne you bought him for Christmas, and you didn’t do well when he got close. “Okay then.”
When he caught your averting eyes, his heart gave a little leap. He let his knuckles run selfishly down your arm before lacing his fingers with yours and glancing toward the ballroom doors. This was a big hotel, and that room would be full of people. He’d have to keep an eye on you. “Ready?”
You nodded meekly, thinking that his hand was quite large, and you still weren’t used to the size after all these years. “Mhm.”
Clark looked back at you, because he always looks back. “Come on.”
He had to stop himself from calling you beautiful again. If he had said it, maybe you would’ve caught on.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
“Clark, what is this?”
“What’s it look like?”
“It looks like you got my door painted!”
“Good, so your eyes do work.”
You gaped at the frosted glass of the archives office. It had been just you back there for nearly two years, working on digitizing the entire stock of the Planet while paper issues perished in the dawning era of digital news. People rarely came to visit unless they needed to do research, and you were like the dusty old resident in the dark library of the news building, waiting for their arrival. The big boss– Clark’s boss– had promised to have the door labeled with your name when he made you the sole archivist, but he had yet to fulfill the request. Now, your name was lettered in a bold title case. Anybody who walked by would know these were your archives. Your work that you perfected, day in and day out.
Clark’s stomach swirled as your sweet eyes widened with joy. You reached a careful finger out to trace the wording like a child seeing its first pony, or something equally prized. “Do you like it?’
Your throat was tight with emotion, so you just nodded eagerly.
You were always so beautiful when you got what you deserved, he thought. You were the prettiest woman in the world when you smiled, when you achieved things, when you felt worthwhile. He had strove most of his life to ensure you always looked that way– like all your passion had finally come to mean something to someone. Your menial, outdated, important, incredibly dorky passion. He wondered for a few moments about the day he might get that door repainted with another last name, and how much space five letters might take up.
You turned to him and clasped your palms under your chin, grinning with every tooth you had. “I love it, Clarkie! Thank you! How’d you manage this?”
“I just called in a favor,” he flushed, tucking his hands into his pockets. “The repair guy owed me one.”
You beamed, returning to the crisp door. “It’s my name!”
Clark felt himself melting in his shoes. “It is.”
“Seriously, thank you,” you sighed, reaching to squeeze his arm. “You always know how to surprise me.”
The man shrugged, refusing the innate urge to shiver when you wrapped yourself in a tight hug around his bicep. So fucking warm. “You’re welcome. You deserve surprises.”
He wondered when you’d get the hint, if ever. He thought that was a pretty good effort.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
“You’re on a dating website?”
You startled and looked up, catching Clark stealing a mortified peek over the top of your monitor. You didn’t even hear him come in. “I– well, it wasn’t me, it was Lois. She made me make an account.”
“I didn’t know you were looking for a new relationship,” he mumbled, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. He came around the side of the desk and stood behind you, bracing one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the tabletop, leaning in to see the screen better.
There you were– your profile picture was one he took of you on your last birthday, with confetti in your hair and a big smile. He had that same picture in his wallet, although you didn’t know it. He loved that picture. Your name, your birthday, your interests, it was all listed. Reading (obviously), history (clearly), movies (amateur stuff), iced coffee (with a sprinkle of cinnamon, but you didn’t list that). There were a lot of things you didn’t list. All the important stuff, actually. The fact that you dreamed of sightseeing the greatest empires of the past in Egypt and Greece and Rome, or that you liked to watch old network television reruns before bed, and that your favorite cookies were chocolate chip but you’d take brownies over cookies any day, or even that your favorite book used to be Little Women but recently changed to Pride and Prejudice because Darcy was a more desirable type of coward that Laurie. All the things he remembered about you, the ones he felt were most special, were nowhere to be seen. Just filler. Empty, vapid expressions of a false girl. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel angry or relieved, but overall, he was unhappy.
“I’m not really looking. Lois just thinks I need to put myself out there.”
“What does Lois know?” he snapped. When he heard the sharpness in his tone, he softened up. “She can’t even pick good guys for herself.”
His face was looming over your shoulder, and when you turned, his cheek was a nose’s brush away. His eyebrows were drawn together in some kind of silent turmoil. “Well… I don’t know. She knows more than me, at least."
Clark scoffed and stood tall. “You know plenty.”
“Not as much as I’d like to sometimes,” you murmured, clicking out of the window with embarrassment. “I wasn’t planning on really using it, anyway.”
“What do you mean, not as much as you’d like? You’ve been with plenty of guys. None of them were good enough.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never had a real relationship before! Not like a normal one, at least, with all the kissing and confessions and sleeping together stuff,” you defended, feeling your chest constrict from nerves. Why was he so angry? Clark Kent, ever temperate, was angry with you. It was enough to strike a woman down. “I guess I just thought I should try, I don’t know.”
“You have real relationships,” he frowned.
“I don’t, though. I have friends. That’s all. Can anyone blame me for wanting more than that sometimes? I– I get lonely, Clark. And I’m falling behind. At this rate, if I don’t find someone, I might just go unloved forever.”
The expression that crossed his face was very simple. You’d seen it before, and you thought you knew it well, but if you were being honest, it had never looked like this– so potent, so pure, so clear. His dark eyes fell on you, and he uncrossed his arms as if he were releasing everything inside him. It seemed like a major effort just to move.
“I get it,” he said quietly. “Sorry I asked.” Then, he stepped away from the desk and slipped out of the archives door, leaving you in the familiar blanket of darkness that was your workplace.
The expression was, without a doubt, heartbreak. If you were expecting yourself to know who it was for, you thought too highly of your intellect. And clearly, so did Clark.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
“You are so unfair, you know that?”
You yelped and spun around, jolted by the sudden statement. You thought you were alone, but clearly Clark had let himself inside and wandered between the shelves to find you wedged between box stacks labeled Aug 1945 and Sep 1945.
It had been a week since you spoke to your best friend. You two never went so long after an argument; not during a middle school dance, not during a high school football game, and not as adults in a workplace. But he had been so upset with you the other day and you had no idea why, so you figured it was best to let him settle it alone. Being Clark’s friend was already more than you ever felt worthy of, and to go pestering him enough to potentially lose even that would have been devastating. Clark didn’t see it that way, though. Clark didn’t see you at all like the way you saw yourself.
“What?”
“You’re unfair,” he repeated, stepping closer. Close enough that you felt the shelving digging into your back, and your fingers clutched the plastic-sleeved newspaper in your hands. “You don’t talk to me for a week, I don’t even see you, and still you’re all I can think about. How is that fair?”
You swallowed a lump before asking eloquently: “...Huh?”
Clark smiled at you and stepped closer again, except you had nowhere to go. His breath tickled your nose as he tilted his head down and boxed you in with two palms on the shelving behind you. “I thought you were a genius, but I guess you can’t figure everything out, can you?”
“I’m a little confused,” you winced, heart hammering against your ribs. You worried the sweat of your palms would seep through the plastic and damage the paper, and so you hurriedly tucked it onto the shelf before looking back at him. He took the quick movement to swap his hands to your waist, and that was enough to send you into near-heart failure.
Clark squeezed the skin, feeling incredibly reckless. “Delete that dating profile.”
“Delete it?”
“I love you.”
Did you hear that right?
Clark knew you were asking yourself the question. He saw it behind your eyes, that twinkle of curiosity and concern. It was sweet. And aggravating.
“I love you,” he recanted. “I grew into loving you when I realized what good love was, and maybe I’m a little late, but I’m saying it now because I don’t want you to go on a blind date with some idiot from the internet all for it to go terribly, and to have you come back to me with some story about why you’ll never be lucky and how you’re not destined to find love. I can’t do it. I want to be the idiot who takes you on a date, and I want to love you right now.”
You heard that right. You definitely heard that right. In fact, your eyes didn’t leave his mouth the whole time he confessed it. You watched the mauve pout mold around words you had dreamed of hearing but convinced yourself were a dream at best. Your body buzzed with the realization that the guy who had your heart, who was the reason your expectations were so high and your let-downs so harsh, who was the exact type of person you’d been trying to replace all your life but never could because there’s only one and its him, was telling you that he loved you.
But you were not one to believe so quickly. So you said, “You love me?”
Clark laughed, his voice so fucking warm, and reached for your face, hoisting you up into a kiss. He was cautious because he was aware it was your first one, but he did not shelter you. He caught your skin with his teeth, and he guided your head so you wouldn’t bump noses, and he made soft sounds and said your name. You tasted morsels of break room coffee cake that he hadn’t caught with a napkin, and you felt for the first time what it was like to have your hair tugged. You learned that kissing was a bit messy and entirely addictive, and that Clark was very, very good at it. When he pulled away from you, you had to clutch the shelf so your knees wouldn’t collapse.
Clark rested his forehead against yours, laying peck after peck along your jaw, and he whispered, “Please don’t leave me hanging.”
You found your voice long enough to make it work. “I have always loved you,” you promised, “always wanted you, Clarkie.”
You felt his smile bloom against your skin like magic. “Good. Now come here.”
Oh. So this was what it was like to be loved by a man. No, not just any man– Clark.
"It's not that I don't want to mate with you," Valko sulked. "It's that you're human and the bond hurts humans a lot more."
"I'm sure I can handle it." You frowned, "How bad could it-"
"Dad said that it felt like being burned." He said softly. "It goes away after a few minutes, but those few minutes are excruciating."
You both were laying in bed, he held you tightly against his chest. You could feel every deep breath he took against yourself. His face buried where your neck met your shoulder.
"Maybe I ... I could take the pain. I mean- Women generally have better tolerance and- and you know, periods, high heels, bras- We spend our entire lives being achy and uncomfortable." You tried to reason, turning to face him in his arms. "Maybe this-"
"I couldn't ever forgive myself if I hurt you," He cupped your face, thumbs running in gentle circles on your skin.
"Please." You whispered, holding his wrists. "I want this. I want you."
"You have me- You do. There's never been another- There could never be. You're my heart- My soul-" He leaned his forehead against yours.
"Just not your bonded." You asked.
You knew this was where it hurt him. His fingers tightened just a fraction around your face before loosening again.
"Valko-" You nudged his nose with yours, making him meet your eyes. "I can handle it. I promise. I want it. You." You told him again. "Don't you want to feel me? In the back of your mind? Don't you want us to be tethered forever?"
"Don't be like that-" His mouth quivered, "Of course, I do. But I- I can't. I can't be the reason you cry." He hid his face against your chest, curling up into you. You could feel the dampness of his tears against your skin. "I can't be the reason you hurt."
You rubbed his back gently, shushing him. He whined, his ears popping up and flattening. He was losing control of his emotions- They were overwhelming him. Hence, the ears and tail.
"Please- Please don't ask me to hurt you." He openly wept at this point, arms wrapped around your waist.
You let it go for now. You knew pushing him right now wouldn't help anyone.
This was a conversation that came around every moon. You'd been together for a while now and even though Valko knew that you were his mate, the moment he met you- He still refused to bond with you. You understood the toll it took on him but you felt frustrated as well. You had a ring on your finger but no bite on your neck.
It felt half-assed.
It felt as if he could just leave whenever he wanted. You knew he wouldn't but if something were to happen to him- You stopped before you spiralled to much.
Then there was the issue of his scent still being that of an unbonded wolf. You weren't the jealous type- Okay, scratch that- You were the jealous type and you wanted him to smell like you. Like he belonged to you.
Valko wasn't an idiot. He could sense you pulling away from him. He knew he was to blame but somehow this hurt more. You telling him that you were busy- You taking rain cheques for date nights- You coming to bed so late that he would already be asleep- You turning over, sleeping with your back to him and pushing him off when he tried to cuddle.
It took three and a half weeks until he was at his breaking point. The full moon was coming, his emotions were running high and he just wanted his mate with him.
"Please, come to bed." He asked, standing at the door of the study.
"I'll come in a while." You didn't look up from the book.
"It's lonely without you." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I miss you." You kept staring at the page, not reading a single word. He knew it. He saw that your eyes weren't moving. "Why are you punishing me for protecting you?"
Thats made you laugh but not in a fun, amusing way.
You snapped the book shut and he flinched. He could feel his wolf pawing for you, he could feel his body wanting to fall to his knees in forgiveness and promise to give you anything you ask for. But he couldn't. Because he knew what you'd ask for and he simply couldn't.
"Were you ever going to bond with me?" You asked pointedly and he looked like he'd been slapped.
"How could-" His voice faltered but you just shrugged.
"How can I not?" You finally look at him. Tired eyes, broken heart. "Every month, I ask. Every month, you tell me it'll hurt. It's been years. I'm tired. I want my husband."
"I'm here- Please- I'm right here-" He took quick steps towards you but you shook your head and took one step away, making him stop in his tracks.
"How long?" You asked, "How long until you actually do it or will we spend our entire lives unbonded?"
He took your name in a shaky breath. "Don't make me choose."
"You already have!" You cried out. "You chose to not bond! You chose to decide for the both of us!"
Valko stayed silent for a while. "Mama told me how badly dad screamed when she bonded him. I can't do that-"
"And then? What happened after that?" You asked.
"What?" He looked at you confused.
"What happened after the pain?" You asked slowly.
"They- They're happy. Been together 43 years. They still look at each other like they're newly bonded. They know each other's minds, souls, hearts in a way that no one can else can. Could." Valko looked down.
"You keep focusing on the pain." You reached for him, touching his cheek. He sighed in relief at your touch, his shoulders dropping. His hand wrapped around your wrist and kissed at your palm. "You need to focus on what comes after the pain."
"I can't- I can't be the reason you feel pain." He begged as always.
"What if something happens to me? You'd be fine to have never bonded with me? Your wolf would never feel my loss. It will never grieve me. It will never know what he's lost." You spoke softly. "Are you truly okay with only loving me with half of yourself?"
Valko knew the answer and he hated himself for it.
Since the first time he'd met you, all his wolf has wanted is to sink it's teeth deep in your flesh and mark you as his. Have your scent mingle with her. Have you carry a permanent mark of him always. Be connected to you in a way that transcends logic. And since the first time he'd met you, he'd done his best to keep the wolf caged and in control so to not hurt you in any way.
"This moon." He whispered. "I promise."
And true to his word, when the full moon finally came, he didn't hide himself away. He laid you down on your marital bed and towered above you.
"You can stop me at any point, okay?" He whispered between gentle kisses.
His hands holding you like you were something sacred. All the years you'd been together, it never felt like this. So... electric. So delicate.
He could smell it all. The air was thick with your arousal, your heavy heartbeat, your desperate and gasping breaths-
"Talk me through it- Please-" You whined softly and his wolf purred with satisfaction.
"Anything you want-" He hummed, kissing and nipping at your skin, slowly, torturously pushing into you.
The stretch was always so perfect. It made you feel full in a way you couldn't explain. Pleasure would start to build instantly-
"I'm going to love you first." He said against your neck, licking at your jugular. "Just like this-"
He rolled his hips so slowly, that you felt every inch, every vein, and even the mushroomy tip as he went in and out of your pussy. You moaned, eyes fluttering shut, nails digging into his biceps. The small pinch made him chuckle.
"Come on, sweetheart- You can be meaner-" He egged you on.
You knew he was trying to even out the hurt. Make you leave angry red marks on him so the guilt of giving you the mate bite was lessen on him but no matter how hard you could drag your nails against his skin- It would be useless against his healing.
"I want it- Please-" You whimpered and he nodded.
The moonlight filtered through the blinds and he felt the shift within himself. He was more beastly and all the beast wanted was to become yours. He fucked into you so carefully, as he always did. You were deliirus in pleasure by the time he asked if you were ready.
That snapped you out of the haze almost instantly. You begged him with pleases and yeses. That you wanted it, wanted him. Wanted his knot, wanted his bite- Wanted everything he had to offer and more-
He licked thick stripes at your neck, mumbling how much loved you, how sorry he was- All the while rolling his hips like it was an Olympic sport.
"Please, Valko-" You whined and finally, his fangs sunk into your skin.
The pain was immediate and searing. You gasped and his hands moved from your hips to fully wrap around your waist. You were squished underneath him as he bit harder and deeper. His knot swelled in tandem and stretching you to the brim. The sound that escaped you could've broken Valko's heart if he wasn't completely overtaken by the wolf.
He tasted the metallic blood and stilled inside you, filling you with cum and knotting you. Your nails dug into his shoulder, blood pooling at your fingertips and then suddenly, there was clarity.
You gasped, your eyes shooting open as your entire body ached with pleasure you'd never felt before. Valko licked the blood from your neck and whined as he nosed against it, feeling the scents change in real time.
Ever so slowly, Valko pulled back a little. Your lips were parted, tears streaking your face, but your eyes were so dilated.
"Are you okay?" He asked, caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears. You nodded and he sighed softly. Leaning down to kiss you everywhere he could. Showering you with praises.
Did so well for me. My pretty girl. You were so brave. You took me so well. You let my wolf be yours. I love you- I love you- I love you-
By the time his knot went down and he helped you clean up, the air was so different. You could feel him under your skin. He could feel you in the back of his mind. And as you laid in bed, staring at each other, you at his pretty face, him at the mark he'd left on your neck, his fingertips gently tracing it.
"Does it hurt?" He whispered and you smiled, shaking your head.
"No. Not at all." You assured him.
"I'm sorry for taking so long." He leaned forward and kissed the mark again. "I promise to make it up to you for the rest of my life."
.
.
.
LADS Drabble Masterlist
Author's note: infold has me feeling like a widow fr fr. i barely had him and i've already lost him. i feel like we met two nights before he was meant to be deployed for war and then died as soon as he landed on the battlefield. i was so ready for him. i promise to keep him alive on my blog.
summary: your long-time pal, simon, gets his rut set off on a mission and you were ordered to take care of him now that he was back, with your presumably passive pheromones...
word count: 830
content warning: omegaverse, ruts, simon begging to fuck you, and vulgar language. reader is also gn!
a/n: HELLOo!!1 this is my first ever fic, if you see this, please read it and give me kind feedback, bc idk what im doing!!! yay!
long term teammates, tolerable conversation, a perfectly adequate, non romantic relationship.
that's what you and Simon had.
you'd known the alpha for years at this point, you had met before the task force, both serving as young sergeants in the SAS . it was an acquaintanceship, passing comments over comms or emailing documents for superiors.
when you'd both been invited into the task force for a secret operative (that turned into multiple), it became something closer. something more subtlety intimate and tension filled. whether it was sharing MREs wordlessly or quietly smoking together behind crumbling buildings, you did it together, and no one was allowed to say a word.
meanwhile, scents and primal urges were never a real problem between you two thanks to the uniform scent blockers and his seemingly obvious un-attraction to you. not like you cared... he was hot, of course, smoking hot. but you had gotten used to alphas preferring omegas.
on your second year in the task force, hed been placed in a simple in-and-out opp in south America. once hed gotten back he started getting more agressive and territorial, even pacing outside your door at night? when price found out hed been scented by a bolivian con-woman he was banished to his quarters until he was civilised. you, being the only beta on the team, were asked to use your scent to neutralise his rut urges, a common request for betas, being the mediator and all. but seeing him in such a viscous (horny) state (even if it turned you on), upset your instincts. so you also made time to help your poor simon bathe and rest and hydrate.
a knock was placed on his door with your forehead as you carefully balanced two trays of tuck from the mess hall, his one being significantly heavier, making you wobble. "hrmph.." you heard him grumble from inside, he sounded like an agitated dog.
"don't start, I'm being so good to you." a firm acknowledgement as you carefully manoeuvred the door open whilst balancing the trays of semi-hot food. he shuffles in bed, covering his nude lower half and peevishly glaring at you from amongst the covers and sheets before sitting up to eat.
the room was moist, and the smell that lingered wasn't something you wanted to think about Simon doing, so you focused on giving him the food and cutlery. you gave him water, ran a bath, tidied up his quarters, and you ended your pottering by opening a window as he finished eating. you cleared your throat and looked at the huge miserable man, who was already piercing his eyes through your head. "you okay, si? need anything else? you look super fucked out."
"tired. horny. angry. no. thank you."
"mhm, your welcome. you're sure you dont need anything else? i can scent you to help with the pain?-"
he grumbled again, low in his chest. the sound flipped your stomach and made a heat crawl up your spin. 'ew? no? now you want to fuck him? when he's acting like a rapid dog?? you're sick.' you mentally scolded yourself as he writhed around uncomfortably in the sheets further before answering truthfully this time.
"all i can smell is you, luv. and its not neutralising shite. i feel like a horny mutt ‘round ye." he whimpered, the most embarrassed you’ve seen him look.
you froze in place awkwardly, standing stiffly at the end of his bed by the window. you hardly thought before retorting, its like your brain didn't even want to process what he'd said whilst stumbling out a petulant reprimand and avoiding the hot eye-contact he was forcing. "nah… beta scents can't make you horny, i think its just your hormones talking-"
"you’re so pretty, wish i could smell ye all the time… wish you’d let me do what i need to, i’ll be so good.." he shuttered as he mumbled, voice course from whining and growling into his pillow for days. you stood frozen in the middle of the hot, sex perfumed room. your face was flushed and your insides were tingly, you don't think you've ever been this pitiful in your life.
he was hunched over himself, still, peering at you like a predator through those midnight eyes. you'd never felt like prey before as a beta. his short, choppy, blonde hair was messy and arousing but less entertaining as your eyes trailed down his plump pecs and solid biceps. his tummy and champagne happy trail protruded slightly and the moist bedsheets were bunched at his abdomen, hardly covering his unrelenting erection.
"you’re being dramatic… you’re not into me like that anyway-" never have you been so flustered and visibly pathetic in your life. you tried to reason with yourself aloud on his behalf when he cut you off. "i am. have been for a long time. can you ‘least sit on my face?… please.. i need this.. you…” he let out a whiny please and fluttered his pretty eyelashes at you…
a/n: okayyyy... i think thats fine... depending on the reaction i get from this i might post the smut
AU where your first heat isn't inherently sexual but more like a bad flu; body temp sky rocketing, head pounding, but definitely still craving familiar Alpha scents.
Luckily, your alpha best friend is more than willing to spend your first heat with you, rationalising his actions by blaming his inner alpha for wanting to comfort you. Yeah, that's totally why he skipped school for four days to cuddle you. He spent 24h straight with you lying on top of him, your sweetening scent wafting through your room and making him go light-headed. He wouldn't have it any other way, though.
It was hard for your friend to keep his thoughts pure with the way you were constantly nuzzling against his scent gland and whining at how good his scent was, relieving your symptoms, but it was almost like his body knew it was your first heat; his body was only reacting by pouring out more of his scent.
Your first heat coulda been much worse if it wasn't for your best friend, you thanked him profusely once you were of sound mind.
AU where heats and ruts don't become sexual until much later on. As your scent matures and so do you, you notice heats becoming much harder to deal with. You notice that your friend's scented hoodie isn't enough anymore. You notice more and more slick dripping down your thighs as months go by. You notice how you can't stop thinking of the alpha, who's supposed to be your best friend, in filthy ways whenever it's that time of the month.
AU where alphas and omegas really have two first heats/ruts. Their first one when presenting, and their first sexual moon cycle. And god damn is that first sexual one intense.
You were bedridden. The room stuffy with the smell of sweat, slick, and your thick, intoxicating pheromones. Though your door was closed and locked, your desperate whines and moans as you pointlessly fingered yourself could be heard throughout the whole house. Stupidly, you didn't lock your phone away, so a very heat-brained you sent your best friend many non-sensical, horny texts and whorish voice notes. But hey, he turned up. And your heat was dealt with pretty effectively~
(;¬_¬) Alpha Tendencies - Clark Kent x Omega male reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Plot: Childhood best friends turn into something more when red kryponite forces out Clark's perverted thoughts
Featuring: Alpha (Smallville) Clark Kent x Omega male reader
Note: Presenting as A/B/O happens around 18 in this AU, not around regular puberty at 14!!!!!!
ALSO! Never watched this series(?) and I know nothing abt DC other than what I've read from fanfiction so pls excuse any continuity issues and such!
Warnings: amab m!reader / FDNI ~ Minors DNI!
Alpha!Clark who's been protective over you since childhood. The two of you had been best friends and 'neighbours' since you two learnt to walk 'n talk! You were the closest house to Clark's farm; still pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but close enough that the brunette would knock on your door every day to get you outside to play together. And even though you two hadn't even presented yet, it was like you both naturally knew to settle into that Alpha-Omega rhythm. Clark would always watch out for you, his blood pressure spiking and his little fangs baring whenever you hurt yourself whilst playing or a stranger approached.
Alpha!Clark who presented as an Alpha and literally couldn't stop thinkin' about you. During his entire first rut, his brain was consumed with thoughts of you. Thoughts of you being such a good omega and helping him with school work, thoughts of him scaring off your bullies who thought you were too flamboyant, thoughts of you beneath him, thoughts of you purring Clark's name into his ear...
It really affected Clark. He felt so full of shame once he'd come to after his rut had ended; he literally couldn't look you in the eye for a week!
Alpha!Clark who had discovered a new side of himself, a side he tried so hard to shove down and keep hidden. A side which would keep Clark up at night unless he jerked off to the thought of you, his innocent, perfect, sexy childhood best friend, in compromising positions and situations with the Alpha. A side to himself which made it so difficult for Clark to concentrate on what you were saying when you're eyes looked so pretty looking up at him, when your scent was making his brain feel fuzzy and his dick ache, oh and especially when your voice saying his name to get his attention sounded so sweet. But the superhuman kept this perverted side of himself bottled up. That was until he received a gift.
Alpha!Clark who couldn't turn down a gift from the Omega he'd been desperate to court since childhood. So, when you presented him with a silver band-like ring, how could he resist putting it on? Though both of you were unaware that the minuscule red gem encrusted into the ring, the one you thought was a plastic rhinestone, was actually one of the last tiny pieces of red kryptonite left on earth (excuse the lack of series knowledge). And you wouldn't find out for a while. After all, it was such a tiny piece that it affected Clark very minutely. Though it slowly but surely picked up speed.
Alpha!Clark who thought he just felt a bit braver recently. Maybe his brain had fully developed. Or perhaps he just stopped thinking about consequences or morals as much, but he was definitely acting differently...
Again, it started off slow and small. An out-of-pocket kinda sexual comment about you that you'd laugh off: "Your lips look good around that popsicle". Then it turned into more open courting; yeah, you and Clark had kind of been courting each other since childhood, but now the Alpha was carrying your bag around all day and giving you gifts every morning. Then came the jealousy; an alpha couldn't get a word in if Clark was around, whether the said alpha be a friend of yours or even sometimes a teacher, Clark would be on them like white on rice; holding back snarls as his arm snakes around your waist, baring his teeth, and making passive-aggressive comments.
Alpha!Clark who was still managing to put up a 'good Alpha' front despite the influence of the kryptonite. But behind closed doors, it was a very different story. The laundry basket in your room had tempted Clark many times, to the point it became routine for him to sneak a pair of your underwear and take it home with him, replacing it with a pair he'd stolen a couple of weeks past, which had lost your scent. Oh, and not to mention the way that any time you would sleep over at his house, share a bed with him, Clark would make sure you were asleep and jerk off until his dick felt like it would fall off. You just looked so fucking perfect and blissful next to (below) him, how could he resist? How could he stop?
Alpha!Clark who had reached his boiling point. It was a hot summer day, and Clark was being made to help out on his parents' farm while school was out. Of course you offered to help him out, and how could he say no? It was getting to a point that Clark could barely go a whole day without seeing you. But you were really doing the opposite of helping him. Sure, you were getting the jobs around the farm done, no complaints there. But you were rendering the young alpha practically inept with the way your skimpy summer clothes were showing off your skin, the way your body was shiny and sweaty from the hot summer air, and holy shit, the way your face was flushed along with your cute pants of exhaustion? Clark could feel the boner in his pants almost tear the seams of his briefs.
Alpha!Clark who finally submitted to the influence of the red kryptonite in his ring, meaning he finally gave into his desires, his basic Alphan needs. You don't even know how it happened, but one second you were moving around some haybales in the Kent's barn, and the next you were sitting atop said haybales with Clark standing between your legs, kissing you feverishly. His scent of mineral musk and small notes of grapefruit was all you could smell, making your head feel fuzzy as you reciprocated the kiss, the kiss from your childhood best friend. Clark, on the other hand, was greedily inhaling the sweet smell of vanilla bean and sandalwood that was leaking from your scent gland; the alpha literally huffing through his nose whilst moulding his lips against yours, you'd think Clark was addicted to your scent.
Alpha!Clark who had his (temporary) fix of your lips and started kissing down your neck, stopping to give your scent gland some attention, and all the way down to the waistline of your shorts. Before it even registered to you, mainly due to the Alpha pheremones weakening your frontal cortex to increase the chance of reproduction, Clark was on his knees below you; his strong, muscular arms holding your thighs up and his chiselled face between your asscheeks. Loud moans and desperate whines echoed throughout the barn and only worked to egg Clark on as he worked his warm, wet tongue into your hole; your gushing slick and his own spit literally flowing down his chin and perfect jawline like some lewd waterfall. Your fingers gripped the Alpha's brown locks with a force that to you felt like a lot, but to the absolute hunk of an Alpha beneath you felt like an adorable attempt. Your toes curled in the air above Clark's head as your thighs shook from the intense pleasure of an Alpha eating you out like he was starved, because after pinning for you for so many years, Clark may as well have been.
Alpha!Clark who felt his heart skip a beat and his inner alpha scream in pleasure when you came on his tongue as you moaned out Clark's name. But the Alpha fell in love with you even more (though that would be literally impossible) when, after basking in the afterglow of your earthshattering orgasm, you offered Clark the same treatment, explaining with an embarrassed blush that you didn't want him to feel left out. That's how you both ended up lying hayloft of Clark's barn; you on top of the muscular alpha in a sixty-nine position, his dick in your mouth and vice versa. To say that Clark had never felt so much pleasure before would be an understatement, 'cause the way you started to gently lap at the Alpha's musky, inhumanely large dick and then transitioned into head sloppier than Clark had seen in porno's? That shit made Clark wanna cum then and there. But don't think that just 'cause the brunnette was almost drunk on pleasure that he wasn't focusing on your pleasure too! No, no, Clark was having to wrap his muscular arms around your hips to keep them still; the top he was giving you was making you leak slick and pre like a tap left runnin'! Seriously though, Clark could fit your entire omegan prick inside his mouth with ease, and the way his tongue would rub your tip whilst his cheeks would hollow was making you see stars.
Alpha!Clark who held off his orgasm, perks of being Kryptonian, unlike you, who shot another load down the Alpha's throat and leaked so much slick that Clark could have drowned. Though Clark was more than happy to hold off his orgasm if it meant he could knot his Omega; yes, his Omega, 'cause at this point, marking and knotting you were formalities to claiming you.
By the time the aftershocks of your second orgasm had quietened down, Clark already had you in another position; kneeling behind you as your chest lay flat on the hayloft, your hips on the other hand, propped up and presenting for your Alpha. Clark gave you the grace of entering you slowly and giving you time to adjust to his ten-inch monster; though from the mewls and moans of pain and pleasure you were letting out, his soft approach barely helped.
Alpha!Clark who rocked your world the moment you gave him the green light. We're talking backshots that could be heard all the way in England; Clark's huge, masculine hands gripping your hips tight enough to move you on and off his cock but gently enough to let you know he cares. Your breathy moans loudly reverberated throughout the barn as Clark knocked the wind out of you with every thrust, and the Alpha's own groans and moans harmonised with yours so nicely. Your scents mixed in the air along with the smell of slick, spit, and sweat; the hot, humid summer air making even the open-plan barn stink of raw sex. The scene looked like it belonged in a VHR porno, and both of you couldn't get enough of it; your Omega keening and purring at the physical and emotional feeling of having an Alpha like Clark want you in this way, and Clark's alpha roaring in pleasure and pride from having his Omega beneath him and drunk on pleasure from his doing.
Alpha!Clark who checked in on you one last time before letting himself go, leaning down, his muscular chest to your arching back, and whispering in your ear 'you doin' good? Mind if I knot you, darling?'. Ugh and when you give the man a forced nod and moan out a 'yes please'? How could Clark help himself? He'd wrapping and arm around your waist and another around head, letting your head rest against his huge bicep as his hips start moving at a speed your body could barely register or handle. All you could remember other than your own lewd sounds and moans was Clark's groaned-out string of perverted, raw, Alphan comments as he knotted you.
"Fuck you're so tight" "So fuckin' good for me- the- NGH- perfect fucking Omega" "AH- Shit-! so wet and warm just for your- your alpha" "Fuck 'm gonna knot you 'n fill you with my pups, darlin' You want that, don't ya?"
That dirty talk, along with the feeling of Clark's thick knot pushing against your rim, was what sent you over the edge for a third time. You saw white, then black, then stars of white again as your vision came back in small spots. Your dick soaked the wood and hay below you with infertile Omegan cum, your breathy moans and whiny pants mixed with Clark's moans and croons as his knot kept him locked inside of you; his thick, warm, scarily fertile cum filling you to the brim. Every unconscious pulse of your walls coaxed and forced another shot of seed out of Clark; a natural push and pull from your inner Omega and Alpha. At the end of the day, no matter how much pleasure you get out of this, the end goal, whether you want it or not, is pups.
Alpha!Clark who would gently rub your hips and the side of your thighs as the intense aftershocks stop. The silence, accompanied by soft panting from both of you, was calming, and the feeling of Clark's hands rubbing your body and the marks left on it did wonders in relaxing you. Clark gently moved the two of you into a spooning position, mindful of his knot still keeping him rock hard and locked inside of you, and played with your hair as you both talked sweet nothings.
"Y'know... I think I fell for you the moment I laid eyes on you"
"Really? That quickly hmhm...? I think I fell for you when you carried me home when I scraped my knee"
"That happened quite often, you'll have to be more specific haha"
"Shut up... So... what did this mean?"
"If it were fully up to me... I'd of marked you and paraded you around the town as my Omega by now... But the deciding vote will always be yours, [name]"
"Hmhm~ I think we can take it a little slower than that... I think boyfriends is a good place to start~"
CLARK KENT’S sexual awakening never happened. His ma did enough to hide him from the more carnal parts of life, so imagine his surprise and borderline nose-wrinkle in sex-ed junior year when he found out what adults did behind closed doors.
Even when he grew up, got a job in the Planet, made his alter-ego known, he still didn’t feel the need to… have coitus. He was too scared he’d snap some poor girl in half if he tried.
The first time he ever tried, he’d barely got the tip in before he came, embarrassingly quick. Maybe it was the nerves of it all, maybe his body was eager to get it over with. Safe to say, that girl — as lovely as she was — broke up with him a week later because she felt like he was just in pursuit of his own pleasure. Not true, by the way, his ma always told him to think of the lady first.
Like every Monday, he was pushing his way through the Metropolis work crowd, against the tides of people. Not really looking where he was going, trying not to drop an iced tea — Lois forced him to try it, just to be clear — on any unsuspecting people by holding it high above possible shoulders.
That failed.
In the pursuit of not splashing anyone with peach iced tea, he forgot to look straight and collided straight into someone, sending a drink flying into a silk dress.
Oh, no.
He watched in horror as the material dampened, clung to your body, and became slightly more sheer by the second. “Golly, I’m so sorry—”
The subsequent scoff nearly tore into his self-esteem battery for the day. “Hey, watch where you’re…”
Your eyes locked. All anger faded away, replaced by the dread that you hurt this sexy behemoth of a man’s feelings and he now hated you forever. “… you know what? No worries, don’t— don’t think about it too much.”
He instantly shrugged off his blazer and held it out to you. “But your dress— great dress, by the way,” it was a… really pretty dress, golly, “it’s ruined. I ruined it. I can pay for the dry cleaning.”
You waved your hand noncommittally, but you took the blazer anyway to cover up, it was massive on you. Lord— wait, he shouldn’t take his name in vain. “Seriously, I’m fine. I was on my way to a bachelorette party, one of my friends there will definitely have a spare, she has one for everyone.”
He blinked. “Everyone?”
“Yeah.” You grinned, gosh, it was a pretty smile. “She’s like that. Weird, I know. And— don’t worry about the dry cleaning, I’ve got it. I’m sorry about your drink.”
“No, you saved me.” He laughed nervously. “My coworker forced me to try it, to tell y’the truth, I did not want to.”
“So I saved you.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his curls, messing them up even more. “And please. Please bill me for the dry cleaning, I’ll feel bad if you don’t.”
“Fine. Fine.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll bill you.” Locking eyes with him once more took the words from his lungs. Good Lord, those eyes were sexy. All of him was sexy, in a cute way, bumbling gait, pushing his glasses up his nose, the rosiness of his cheeks. You checked your watch. Fuck. “Well, I’m in a rush, so—”
“Yeah, you gotta—”
“See you.” You began walking off at a fast pace. Something jolted in his navel. He felt hot from embarrassment. His relaxed-fit trousers felt… not so relaxed anymore.
He looked down. That looked like a sexual awakening.
“Clark!” He yelled loudly, head snapping up to stare at you like a dishevelled deer in headlights. What the hay? Why did he do that? Why did he yell that? He covered his crotch with his messenger bag.
Your smile told him you noticed. With an uptick in your heart rate and an increase in your breathing’s heaviness, a sweet smell tickled his nose. It wasn’t the bakery next to him, that’s for sure. You smiled, and shouted back your name at the same volume.
He hurried to the nearest bathroom to yell at his body.
Cat slid onto his desk, setting core in front of him. Not for him, clearly. “I was at a bachelorette last week.” She started, tapping her nail on his desk to get him to look at her. Deadlines needed to be crunched, so he barely did. She accepted that.
Clark’s fingers kept flying. “Cat, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
She laughed. “I have a friend. She asked me about a dorky guy named Clark Kent who still writes his name on the tags of his clothes.” She dropped a sugar cube into her coffee, stirring it. “A habit I thought we left back in our sophomore year of high school.”
His neck turned red. His foot covered the name tag on his bag’s handle. But she laughed and dropped another sugar cube into. He sent a furtive glance of concern for her health. “Whatever.” She sighed, taking a long sip. “I told her you were single.”
He almost spluttered over no liquid. “What?”
“I told her you were single.” She repeated simply.
“Why?”
“She asked.” This time he almost choked on a gulp of straight, bitter black coffee. “I gave her your number. To bill you for the dry cleaning.” Pause for an effectively captivating sip of over-sweetened coffee. “Among other things.” She muttered under her breath, but he caught it. She smiled widely. “Toodles!” She got up and walked off.
He threw his hands up, tripping over his words. “Cat— you can’t—” But she was in her own world, singing Freak by Doja Cat.
His phone buzzed. With shaking hands, he opened it, unknown number.
Didn’t know they made clothes in your size. Underneath: Wanna come round to get it this weekend? To talk to bit.
He saved your contact first. Before typing out a clumsy agreement, which he didn’t know was possible over text. Judging by how you didn’t immediately get put off, you were into it.
He was on time, on the dot of the agreed time, which was two o’clock. After lunch, before it got too dark, but still enough time to talk.
He’d cleaned up a little more than usual. Tried to use a hair pomade to ensure his curls weren’t as wild as they usually were. Wear a slightly tighter fitting shirt than before. Brush his teeth. Pop a few breath mints. Avoid the morning coffee, put on copious amounts of hand lotion and lip balm. Everything had to be perfect. He even trimmed his happy trail for this.
You laid the plan. Took a shower so your skin was dewy. Prepped your hair. Kept the makeup minimal, because a full beat would give the plan away. You chose your best, flowiest robe.
You wanted him to unwrap you like a present.
When your doorbell rang, you dabbed on a final bit of lipstick before you chucked it onto a side table and opened the door.
You felt your thighs rub together on instinct the moment you saw him. He felt his breath leave his body when he saw you, checking his watch. “Maybe I’m early—”
“You’re on time.” It came out more breathless than expected. Nodding back into your apartment. “I… I have your jacket. I put it in the wash, the inside got stained with a little iced tea.”
“You can bill me for that too.”
“Seriously? No.” You waved your hand. “No. You’re fine.” You ushered him inside. “It was a thank you, for paying for my dry cleaning and lending me your jacket.” You waved him towards the couch. “Can I get you anything? Water?”
You.
“Um, I’m fine.” He sat on the couch, you sat opposite, picking up a glass of wine that was there before he came. You looked… stunning. He felt his collar get hot. He tugged at it. “You invited me to watch a movie.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you still want to watch a movie?”
“No.”
“Oh. Oh. I was under the impression that we’d be…” He gestured in between you two. So he had the same assumption you did.
Your lips curled up. “I was under that impression too.”
He nodded. You could see a bulge slowly growing in his trousers. “I mean, I— I have to warn you, I’m not that… experienced.”
You blinked, slightly amused. A little interested. “Oh? How so?”
“I…” He made a weird motion, he didn’t even know what it was supposed to mean. It’s likely get interpreted as something like flying a plane, “finish too quickly. Women find it off putting.”
The way you were looking at him, it seemed like you found it off putting as well. Just frozen in time, sat there, staring at him. “That’s…” You let out a whoosh of air. Then your hand gripped his jaw, “really fucking hot—”
Oh. You were into it.
Huh. You were kissing him.
Golly. He was kissing back.
His hand covered the one holding his jaw, pressing into your lips and your body instinctively like there was a magnet from him to you. You pushed back, swinging a leg over both of his till your knees knocked into his hips. This was new.
You smiled when you saw his other hand hovering awkwardly. Not knowing whether he had the right to touch beyond what was respectful. So you guided it to your thigh, fabric moving and bunching under his fingers. Allowing him to touch bare skin.
Oh, boy.
The soft whine from the bottom of his throat was a boost to your ego, a deep moan following when you pressed open mouthed kisses to his neck, rolling your hips forward. “Ohhhhh, gosh,” He breathed out slowly.
Oh, fuck. He was massive. Though you didn’t know what to expect, he was six-five.
Both his hands flew to your hips, pads of his fingers pressing into your skin, head tipping back against the sofa cushions, breathing in sharply. He could feel you gently sucking on his skin, he knew it wouldn’t leave a mark, but he whimpered quietly anyway, dragging your hips forward, so he could feel your pussy drag over his dick yet again. His head spinning as your tongue traced over his Adam’s apple.
Your hands slipped off his tie like you’d had practice, popping the buttons of his shirt slowly. You felt his warm palms burning up your waist, stopping at where your robe was tied at your front. His eyes were wide, blinking up at you through his lashes. “Can I…?”
Fuck, he was hot.
You undid the tie yourself but let him gently move the fabric off your shoulders, undoing his belt and letting you take off his trousers. His cheeks flushed as he dragged his boxers down, cock painfully hard. It was pretty, flushed at the tip, pre smeared just a little.
Oh, that was a lot bigger than you manifested.
“Oh, shit.” You grinned at the sight of him, watching his whole face turn red.
He adjusted his foggy glasses, stumbling over his syllables. “Will it…” He gulped, wondering how to say it, “fit?”
The look in your eye almost made his heart stop. Like you didn’t care. “Oh, honey.” You laughed a little. “We’ll make it.” You positioning yourself above him, ready to sink down onto his throbbing cock was not something he expected to see. He let out a strangled sound, placing a hand on your arm. “Don’t you want me to… prepare you?”
“I’ve quite literally been prepared since the first time we met.” You grabbed a condom from — wait where did you get that from? — and tore it open delicately, giving it to him to roll on. He did, safety was key, and when you finally did lower yourself onto him— holy shit.
His forehead pressed to your shoulder, before he started pressing sloppy, whining kisses, almost making out with it as he felt your pussy grip him deliciously. So this was what he’d never felt drawn to. Until now.
He was stretching you out. A lot. For a guy so shy about his own abilities his endowment was something women only experienced in their wildest dreams. The more you learned, the more turned on you were.
Huh. That usually didn’t happen with men.
You let out a deep sigh as you sank down further, feeling his size fill you in the best way. His tip nestled against your cervix, pretty vein brushing your g-spot, fuck, maybe moving would feel too good.
But you did it anyway, small, cut-short gasps and moans jumping from your throat as he kissed his way back up to your lips so he could feed his own noises of encouragement into your mouth. Holding your hips just tight enough so he wouldn’t bruise them, still guiding you firmly, still holding your hips just close to him as he clouded your brain over with every push and pull of his hands and each wet smack of his lips and yours (and skin on skin, but we don’t mention that).
His head was fuzzy. Mumbling shit he couldn’t make out himself in between every collision of your lips, tangling one hand in your hair while the other slipped down to press his thumb onto your clit.
You clenched hard; he almost came right there.
His eyes rolled back for half a second and he willed himself not to finish too early but he couldn’t stop it once you clamped down with the second roll of his thumb, your name leaving his mouth, the highest you’d heard his voice be, cracks in between syllables feeding your ego. But he kept circling your clit like he was born to do it, mumbling encouragement, his forehead glistening as his head fell back.
“C’mon, sweetie, gotta make you feel good too,” He panted, gripping your hip so he could encourage you to grind forward into his thumb. “Please, please give it to me—”
It all felt too much. The onslaught of his thumb, his tip still prodding at your cervix, seeing him fucked out from one round (that made you more horny than you’d care to admit) had you coming too, him swallowing that moan by meeting your lips in the middle, stroking your hair back from your face and rolling his hips up a little so the high wouldn’t be harsh on you. His kisses turned slower, more languid, to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, finally lifting your hand so he could kiss your palm and the back of your hand.
“You’re stunning.” He breathed, kissing your knuckles. “So beautiful, honey.”
How the fuck was he respectful after the best sex you’ve ever had? There had to be a catch.
“So… that was hot.” You smiled, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “You were being pretty modest.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t last past two minutes.”
Your tongue traced your canine as you smiled. “Well, I wanna see it again.”
꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ drunk!jason todd x fem!reader, fluff, talks of pregnancies, art by ciricearts
“Sweetheart, we’re gonna have a baby?” he mumbles, lifting your shirt to press messy kisses up your stomach. You’re not sure where he got this idea from. The two of you have never talked about kids, mostly because you’ve been afraid to bring it up.
You learned early on that the future was something you didn’t mention around him. Every time you made an offhand comment about a ring, or how cute babies were, you’d see his shoulders tense, his throat bobbing.
Now, at his words, your heart speeds up. “Uh…”
“I hope she has your eyes and your nose and your pretty smile,” he slurs.
“Jay, what are you—”
He cuts you off when his nose brushes your stomach softly. “Our baby,” he adds.
When he looks up at you, his blue eyes are glassy, cheeks dusted in pink.
You can’t bring yourself to shatter the moment. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that.
“That’s…nice, honey,” you hum, fingers threading through his black curls, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.
He sighs like a puppy. “You feel nicer.”
Your lips curve up at that. "Come on, let's get you to bed," you whisper as you try to pull him up.
But the man's too stubborn. He stays rooted and grunts in disapproval.
"Not done talkin' to her," he tells you, arms wrapping around your hips.
“her?” you repeat softly. “How do you know it’s a her?”
"Father's intuition," he says it like it should be obvious.
You laugh and he pouts when he feels your shoulders shaking. "You really want a baby?" you ask him.
He tilts his head. And he's never looked so unguarded before.
"Wanna give you everything."
Maybe in the morning you'll find the courage to ask him again. But for now, your expression softens. You don't know what to say, so you kneel with him and throw your arms around his neck. He smells like gunpowder and leather, and this time a tang of alcohol clings to him.
everyone thinking clark and his girlfriend are the most vanilla, sweet, innocent couple because of how they act around each other and present as a team — never cursing or fighting, never drinking or getting belligerent, never lying or betraying anybody including and especially to each other. they were the golden couple. they only amp up that image to everybody even more when clark buys them promise rings. everyone thinks it’s sweet, cute as a button how virginal they both are and are waiting for marriage. they’ve only ever seen him give her a kiss on her cheek or her forehead, rub her arm, hug her in a warm embrace and whisper their adorable inside jokes.
but in the private space of their bedroom, they’ve done just about everything but.
even before clark got them the rings.
every night, he whimpers her name and ‘please’ on repeat right in her neck, wearing nothing but his glasses. grinding his cock up and down the front slit of her pretty, glistening pussy like he’s a horny little bunny that couldn’t ever be sated.
“it doesn’t count, right? if I don’t put it in, mmmmuhhh— oh, god — if I don’t put it in then we’re still virgins,” he pants. still humping her up and down, their parts rutting up against one another as they both implode from the friction. she grinds her clit back, bumping it up against his head and all his throbbing veins, and nods her head up and down, agreeing.
“of course baby, just keep going, we can cum like this as much as we want. it won’t count.”
“oh, oh my, yes, yes please! I have to keep going. I’m about to cum. it’s gonna get all over your pretty little pussy.”
he learns all his dirty talk from the dirty movies they’ve watched too. apart from his instincts and his imagination, and of course all his grunts and movements were purely primal.
“it looks so big when you press it up against me. I don’t know how it’s gonna fit when we get married,” she gasps, watching him rut like a dog and how it goes past her belly button. it’s sloppy, slippery, jutting around from all the blood that’s filled up. his sac is even heavy against her too. the way it bounces against her hole, gives her another part of him to clench onto too.
“shhh, we’ll make it fit. I won’t let it hurt you. we’ll be nice and wet together, just like this, then it’ll just… it’ll just slide right in,” he gulps. losing any other words that are left to say the more he thinks about it. “we’ll feel so good. and you’re gonna be my wife.”
“keep — keep going baby, don’t stop now,” she pleads. clark nods immediately, kissing on her neck while he humps her even faster. the slick is audible, gushing in between them as they whimper and slide.
“they think I don’t even touch you,” clark hums a laugh, slobbering on her throat through a wet, lazy kiss. “mmm. they think I haven’t even seen you naked. they don’t know I can still make this pussy feel good without even putting it in.”
she sprawls out her legs even wider, mouth open as she has her toes further up in the air, letting him take over their gyrating completely as they both leak all over each other.
“let’s cum together, honey. let me make you feel good. let go for me, cum on me. I wanna make this pussy feel nice and happy.”
clark ruts harder, faster. kisses her chin and swallows up his favorite noises that leave her mouth when they both feel the electric dip in their bellies. both of them clench, clark’s tip stills and presses up right against her clit while he lets out his long, gushing first spurt. she cums just as he’s creaming all over her clit, making a mess of her mound and even up to her stomach. they both roar and hum and whine as they rub out their highs, the splatter of all the evidence of their innocent fun coated all over her as they catch up to their wild heartbeats.
he kisses her and hums all his praises right into her mouth, some of it even nonsense as he slaps his filthy, heavy wet tip back on the lips of her pussy and the hood of her clit.
“you um, felt good? jeez, it’s so wet….”
clark is in awe at her shiny center, enthralled while he plays with the mess a little more. he gets shy and ducks his head back with a laugh and says he’s sorry if she’s too overstimulated. she laughs right back at him and shook her head, wrapping one leg around his hips to trap him back in.
“you can keep playing. it’s all yours.”
“it’s ours. our mess… and gosh is it pretty,” he breathes, rolling his head and tapping the sopping wet folds. “prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“well I can’t wait to be your husband,” clark retorts, pointedly looking at her and leaning in to give her a warm, selfish kiss.
“can’t wait to feel you inside me. all the way,” she whispers. holds onto his face.
“I’ll make you feel so good. I already can’t keep my hands off you.”
“and they’ll never know.”
“nope,” clark grins.
eventually, shortly after clark proposed they graduated to ‘just the tip’ making both of them cum after only a few shallow pumps of clark tearing her open with just his crowned head. and he grazes her g-spot with the most perfect angle to drive them both crazy. but in public, with their matching shiny engagement rings gracing their fingers, they still are perceived as modest as can be.
"What if I don't want to join you?" You dare to ask the werewolf currently getting cozy in your nest.
"It's a cold night, and I'm nice and warm." His tongue lolls across his teeth, testing their sharp tips.
"C'mere," he coos, and you step forward despite your prey instincts screaming at you.
He pulls you down beside him, gripping your hand in his. "See, you're freezin', you poor thing."
It's true, you are cold. You shiver as you lie beside him, too terrified to do anything. He rubs your hands and presses his nose to your neck and lets out a soft groan as he licks the skin there.
"W-what are you doing?"
"Just grooming you a little. Hold still." He slings his arms around your midriff, pulling you firmly against his body.
You squirm a little, but the heat radiating from him is starting to lower your guard. His teeth nip gently, and you're alarmed to realize you don't mind it. In fact... You're starting to feel rather turned on.
"Wait," you protest.
"It's alright," he soothes, and his hips push against your ass, introducing the feeling of a hot shaft to your lower back.
He's already hard–probably ever since he started mouthing at your neck. He groans again, low and ragged, holding you firm enough that you can't get away.
"I caught you, little rabbit," he murmurs in your ear. "Now I get to keep you."
"But this is my den," you protest, attempting to elbow him away.
"And you need someone to protect it. There are an awful lot of villains roaming around these parts." He pushes you down and gets on top of you, burying his face in your tits.
"I can protect myself–" You squeak when he catches your nipple in his teeth and gives it a daring little nip.
His cock drips against your belly, and you whine. He pushes himself up and shoves your thighs apart, rudely staring at your pussy.
"That looks tight," he sighs dreamily. "Can't risk breaking my sweet mate now, can I?"
"Mate?!"
He isn't listening to you. His eyes gloss over, and he pants, "Need to soften you up first."
He dives down and goes straight for your clit. You shriek and squirm, but his big hands hold you down, hold you open to the merciless sweep of his tongue. For such a mean brute, he's quite sweet about the way he makes out with your pussy, purring and groaning at your taste. Your hips go from restless twitching to jerking against his face, and he laughs.
"Getting all soft for me, aren't you?"
You can only whimper in response. He shoves his tongue into your pussy, getting acquainted with how tight and slick you are as the pad of his thumb dances over your clit, stroking and playing until your legs nearly cramp and you have to force yourself to go limp. Pleasure crackles through your body in a powerful wave, and you tug on his ear until he chuffs at you and lifts his head.
"I could devour this cunt for hours," he says, wet-mouthed and grinning devilishly as his tail whips at the air. "Can't believe my luck."
"Please... I want more." You beg shamelessly, aching.
"Aw, you're melting, cottonball."
"D-don't call me that."
"No?" He flips you like a pancake and tugs you up onto your hands and knees, flicking your tail, which twitches at his touch. "Looks like a cottonball to me."
"S-shut up."
"Okay, okay. I don't want to piss off my mate," he teases.
"I'm not yours."
He grunts and drapes his body over yours, giving you just enough of his weight to feel surrounded.
"Yeah? Well, I'm going to make you mine."
The tip of his cock prods at your entrance, and you arch, hoping it'll slide in. It doesn't. With each lazy roll of his hips, his cock notches against your entrance and then slips down to nudge at your clit.
You're going to die if you don't feel him inside you soon.
"Tell me you're mine and I'll give you what you want."
"No," you whine, pushing your face into your nest of bedding.
His hips stutter, and he snarls. "Tell me, little rabbit."
You shudder at the growl in his voice and squeak when he snaps his teeth by your ear.
"I'm yours! I'm yours!"
He purrs. "Better."
You pout at your defeat, but not for long. His cock presses against your hole and pushes in, nudging you open. He's trying to ease it in but slips up now and then, his hips bunching forward and shoving more of him into your dripping cunt.
"I'll go slow," he rasps.
It's not exactly a lie because the minute he's sunk to the base, he pulls out and thrusts back in. Slow but deep, punching the air out of your lungs. You clutch at your nest, begging for something, though you can't tell what, your words too jumbled to decipher. He purrs at you anyway, like he understands what you're saying, his back curving as his hips set a punishing rhythm. He's generous enough to let you cum again before he starts trying to stuff his knot in you.
"I can't, I'm full," you whine piteously.
He huffs. "I'm going to make it fit. You're going to be the mother of my pups."
There's nothing you can do but take it, your pussy clenching hard when his knot finally pops him. A few more frantic thrusts and he's cumming inside you, his knot so thick that not even a single drop of cum leaks out. He drops on his side and pulls you in close, basking in the feeling of your walls pulsing around him.
After his knot goes down and he pulls his cock out of you, you make the mistake of announcing you don't want to have babies, much less his own. You end up flat on your back as he knots you again, telling you that's too bad because he's going to make it stick.
omg now that person has got me back in my ghost era
imagine you’re playing with yourself in front of a mirror and then suddenly something invisible grabs you. your legs are yanked apart and long story short, it makes you watch how your pussy gapes and drools around the ghost’s massive cock.
Kinky invasion
Ghost x ghost x fem!reader || free use, dub-con, size kink, sharing is caring
You know it’s not very lady-like to be playing with yourself in front of the mirror. You are pretty sure there’s some kind of sin related to this one, probably lust or gluttony or something, because you can’t stop staring at your hot center parting for the glass dildo you are using in yourself.
You know it’s filthy, but the thought of somebody watching you the way you are watching yourself makes you gush around the dildo and makes your stomach contract as you get closer and closer to the edge. You see a shadow behind you, and you think it’s a trick of the light, too focused on your pleasure to mind whatever the fuck the bright light is.
But not two seconds later, you feel a caress in the inside of your thigh, and when you look down it feels like there’s something there, as if the air is somewhat distorted around your thigh. But like the perverted girl you are, you open your legs a bit further, fucking your pussy harder as you throw your head back and moan. You feel another light touch, this time to your side. And another on your back. And another against your naked breasts.
“What the-?”
You don’t finish the question before the air around you gets electrified, hands appearing out of nowhere and holding your legs far apart. Two more hands holding yours behind your back as you watch your dildo being pulled out of you in a rush. You don’t have time to react before there’s something big pressing inside of you.
Across you, there’s nothing in the mirror, but you can’t fight against the restrains as a dick as big as you’ve ever felt, as big as your biggest dildo, gets pushed inside of you and you are fucked within an inch of your life. The pace is punishing, and the sight before you is more than obscene, is almost sinful as your pussy is fucked open over and over. You can see your pink insides as the ghostly cock destroys your pussy.
And when you open your mouth to scream, you feel the tip of another one being pushed down your throat. They aren’t careful, they aren’t soft, they fuck you with everything they have and a bit more as you sit there, completely overwhelmed by pleasure as two ghosts have their way with you.
By the time you come, they are fucking you like machines, your throat feels raw and your pussy is gushing juices out of you with each thrust. They aren’t looking for your pleasure, but that doesn’t stop you from coming either way.
You feel the air crackling with more energy, literal sparks flying around you as you feel the dick in your mouth throb as it releases in the back of your throat, his hands releasing your arms as they grab your head and push you against his invisible groin so they empty himself as far as possible. You observe how your mouth is obscenely open, your drool dripping around the edges of your lips and warm come filling your throat until you are coughing and he’s pulling back.
But they aren’t done.
The one between your legs grabs forcefully your hips. He’s so rough you can see the imprints of ghostly hands against your love-handles as they bury themselves hard enough to hit your cervix and they fill you up to the brim. You watch mesmerized how the come drips down around his dick, lining his shape before he releases you completely.
You stare into the mirror as come drips from your chin and pussy, and wonder how can you make that happen again.
Been thinking about a werewolf baby trapping you, just a poor thing so pent up that the first opportunity he gets to fuck someone, he wants to make sure they stay (by putting a litter of pups in them)
Request2 (had it writen down but can't find it): Something about a feral not quite sapient werewolf really does it for me. Can't even talk to you, doesn't think, only knows: "Pussy makes knot feel so good" so he just humps and humps and whines and keens, hoping the burning ache in his cock will end. He's an animal hunting for pleasure
Feral breeding
Werewolf x fem!reader || knotting, breeding, (lowkey) heat, overstimulation
Were you thinking you’d be getting dicked down and bred when you walked out of your house to go on a first date with a werewolf? No. Are you happy about it? Of course. Who would be idiotic enough to complain when your knees are at your ears and there’s an eager werewolf licking your pussy to get you ready for his huge monster cock? Not you. You are grateful.
The werewolf in question appeared at your house around two hours ago, and he looked very handsome, very hot. Even hotter than in the app pics, if that was even possible. His furry body and body builder frame caging you in for a hug the second he crossed the threshold. You reciprocated with a giggle, and your whole body went pliant the second his claws grabbed your hips and he growled against your neck.
The short “mine” whispered against your skin was a surprise, but everyone knew about werewolves finding their fated mate through scent alone. That’s how you discovered humans could be werewolf mates. For the rest… That’s all on him and his magical werewolf dick.
He ripped your nice clothes off your body while you gasped for air, his pheromones swimming in the air, making it dense and transforming your pussy into a waterfall. You’ve never been that wet, and the second he smelled it in the air, it’s like his whole body tensed and released a second later. Released on you.
The werewolf pushed you to the ground, opening your legs and pushing them back until he could fit between them, his tongue leveled with your pussy before he started eating you out like you were his last meal and he was about to die. You could only hold on for dear life as he kept licking and sucking and getting you wetter than the fucking ocean.
By the time he pulled back, you were almost crying in desperation to come. But he only grunted something about coming on his cock, and you were too far gone to even try to argue. Why would you? You needed him inside of you, too.
His preparations paid off the second he pressed his dick against your opening, pushing in one hard thrust that you felt from your tiptoes to the last hair of your head. It was like his dick was magic and he could fuck every cell of your body at once.
Your orgasm was ripped off you, pulled from your body by an otherworldly force that left you gasping while his dick fucked you rough and raw. Right there. On the ground.
“You want my knot? You want to be knotted like a good little pet?” He growled against your neck, his fangs threatening against your jugular while you whined a short agreement, your brain too far gone to consider anything but the pleasure he was giving you.
And that’s how you find yourself being knotted and bred to his heart’s content. “Your pussy. Fuck. Your pussy is so good. It’s strangling my knot. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He keeps chanting curses while you try to focus for a second, trying to remember what year it is, but your brain is still fried. “You feel so good. Your pussy is perfect. You are going to be so pretty when you are full of pups. You are going to look perfect. All full of me. All mine.”
You don’t have the heart to tell him you are on the pill, but his words are building something new inside of you. You’ve never come twice with a partner. It’s more likely that you don’t come at all, but right now, with the combination of his knot pressing against your G-spot and his words, you feel the telltale sign of a new orgasm approaching.
You try to reach out to touch your clit, but he bats your hand away. “You come on my knot or you don’t come at all,” he growls.
You shiver at the dominance in his tone, blinking slowly and crying out when he starts to move his hips in a circular motion. He’s rubbing your G-spot so well you can see bright spots at the corner of your vision. You are pretty sure he’s about to make you come just from that… You can feel it. It’s so close… You are so close.
“I need… I need…” You try to tell him, but your voice breaks when he pushes your legs further up, your knees to your ears.
The change of positions makes his knot feel even bigger inside of you. He’s pressing onto something much deeper than your G-spot, your whole body electrified when he ruts against your ass.
The sparks of pleasure are so high and so intense your next orgasm hits you like a train to the chest. You don’t scream. You only open your mouth and close your eyes as a wave of blinding pleasure washes over you. He groans, rutting harder, making your orgasm longer, filling you more and more until you don’t know where he ends and you’re begging. His dick is so deep it’s bruising your cervix, his come overflowing…
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