His Choice l C.K.
w.c.: 10k
t.w.: Dark fic, Smut, (P in V), Dub-con/Non-con, knotting, scenting, masturbation, A/B/O dynamics, Omegaverse AU, Alpha!Clark, Beta to Omega!Reader, Clark is sexist in omegaverse terms, Omegaverse politics, Reader is kinda mean lol, Forced designation change/physical changes (Reader), Clark uses some Kryptonian drugs to scheme, Forced relationship, Toxic Power Dynamics, some Fluff, Angst
a/n: Please read all warnings before interacting with my works! 18+ Only! I loved reading omegaverse fics back in the day (highschool). I made this verse based on what I remember!
Summary: Clark decides that you didn’t know what you were talking about. He’d show you that being an omega wasn’t as bad as you thought.
Clark fiddles with his pen, scribbling down notes every once in a while. His eyes wander to your desk, your focus directed at your screen, fingers swiftly typing away.
You were beautiful, despite the plain way you dressed and presented yourself. Most people would describe you as bitter, easily irritable, sarcastic and sharp.
Jimmy privately called you frigid. He’s attempted to woo you. Everyone succumbed to his charms. Everyone but you, the muted almost stale scented beta.
He leans against the back of his chair to peek at your screen. He almost rolls his eyes at the news footage you were watching.
Protests were erupting around the country. Omegas from around the nation gathered to demand for stricter laws that would protect them from ‘subjugating power dynamics’.
He snorts.
They were going against their biology. Passing more lenient laws for scent blockers was enough. It should be enough. Those drugs messed with people’s bodies, they weren’t natural.
Now they wanted to make it so that alphas took suppressants to repress their own bodies?
Clark knew very well about these roles. His Kryptonian biology was similar to humans, even having common hierarchical roles in his biological parents' planet.
He was what humans called, an alpha. In Krypton and on Earth they take leadership roles, they’d protect the rest. Some may say they were smarter, stronger, more confident.
It didn’t make sense how so many humans didn’t understand the necessary parts of biology.
Admittedly, betas were very common. Sure, they were helpful, certainly more useful than Omegas who rarely had control over their emotions.
They just didn’t appeal to most alphas. Most of the population were betas, more than half.
He thinks you were jealous. You weren’t that special. Not like him or Lois. Lois was one of those omegas on scent blockers. He could tell due to his sensitive nose, even if everyone else thought she was a common beta.
She smelled a little rotten, like a sweet apple that was in the sun for too long.
The way your nose flared the one day she forgot to take her blocker confirmed his suspicions.
The way you loathed talking to Catherine, a very open and proud omega, further cemented his belief of your envy.
“All alphas are evil,” you say, your eyes directed to the TV screen, the newscaster discussing the rising cases of workplace harassment between an alpha supervisor and an omega employee.
Lois snorted at your tone. He pursed his lips in a small smile at the sarcasm. At least, he thought it was sarcasm.
You get up from your seat, stretching your back and yawning before heading to the coffee machine. It was one in the afternoon.
You appealed to Clark. You were smart and witty. He’d hear the way you talked to others and was enamored with the person you were with anyone other than him.
Granted you avoided interacting with alphas in general, not just him.
He walks over to you.
You could smell him. You huff a sigh, nose scrunching. Alphas were always so pungent. Always making the room suffocate in their stench. Making a mark.
You don’t bother to turn, Clark was fine to be around with. He was nice. He pretended to get a cup and waited next to you, watching you pour a cup of coffee to your mug.
Your blouse is pretty today, he thinks in his head. He appreciated the way it was more form fitting, showing off the curve of your breasts.
“Hey,” he says quietly, his fingers brush against yours as you hand him the coffee carafe.
“Hi, Clark,” you respond back.
He smiled. He leans against the counter, not even bothering to pour himself a cup of coffee as you finish making yours, ripping sugar packets and half and half lids while avoiding his gaze.
“Were you up late?” he asks softly.
He knew you weren’t as affected by his scent like omegas were. You catch the way it tinges sweetly. He notices the puffiness underneath your eyes. You glance up at him, his face pinched with concern.
“Just keeping track of the protests.”
The hostility in the city rose quickly over the past month. Tensions between different groups were running high.
“Yeah…” he says, his voice trailing off. He sets the carafe down. His face serious. Scent stronger than it was a second before.
“I’ve been hearing all about that. It’s not safe to be out there all by yourself.”
He pauses, his eyes narrowing. You fight against your instincts to face him completely, his voice almost demanding you to look up to meet his eye.
“Especially as a beta.”
He watches you take a sip of your mug, your neck tightens, fist curling around the handle.
“I’ll be just fine, Clark,” you say sweetly, emphasizing his name. You’d rather be caught dead than calling him alpha.
Clark hums at the way you spat his name. You’re clearly not taking your safety seriously enough. He crosses his arms and leans closer.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with out there.”
“I do,” you interrupt. You turn and he steps in front of you, almost subconsciously.
“They’re making their way to city hall as we speak,” you continue. “So if you don’t mind…”
You glance over his shoulder, he stands in front of you, restricting you from getting to your desk. He blinks, realizing he had blocked you instinctively.
He usually wasn’t like this. So domineering. It wasn’t like him. Not at all. He’s sheepish as he steps to the side.
He watches as you bump your arm with his. He caught the way you rolled your eyes.
Your scent was bitter, his mouth waters as if he had sour candy in his mouth. He swallows the accumulation of saliva at the thought of possibly having a taste.
There’s something about you that makes him want to protect you even more than anyone else in the room.
“Just be careful, ok?”
You don’t even turn to look at him.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
You're dismissive as you make your way back to your desk.
…
Clark had been keeping track of the news all day, but he hadn't seen or heard from you after you had left the office.
His worry grew as the day went on. The protest was getting heated. The mere thought of you being in the midst of the chaos made him anxious. His scent was souring as the hours passed by.
Someone points you out amongst the crowd on the television, Clark sits up straighter.
Your shoulders bump against others. You apologize every other second as you make your way to the front of the protest.
The metal fence was about to topple over from the force of the crowd, others have started to notice your press badge. Some think you’re from an opposing party, some shouting at you to leave.
Clark watches the news closely from the TV right above his desk. He sees the way people hackle at you, you try to explain your motives but the voices were too loud.
You weren’t an omega like them. You understand their wariness.
You find someone willing to step aside and interview with you. Their sign demanded for legally protected heat leave. Other signs mock the phrase, ‘They’re an alpha, they can’t help it.’
You clear your throat as you see a beta visibility sign scattered in the crowd.
You could barely hear them, your recorder had to be shoved right at their mouths.
The shouts get louder, the air thickens with the scent of anxiety. Suddenly the police start to circle around the crowd, they close in on the group with shields and batons.
The scent of fear surrounds you, you’re face to face with a shield and for the first time in a long time you feel afraid of an alpha.
The adrenaline quickly shifted to anger. You're shoved forward, your hands press against a shield that pushes you back roughly.
Your recorder drops to the ground, lost amongst the stomping of feet.
The crowd roars before it quiets. The shields back away and you can finally breathe again. Many point to the sky, you look up.
He lands in front of you, facing the riot squad. The police backed away further. His red cape billows in the wind, his back straightening as he looks around.
You lock eyes for a moment, you're filled with a sense of hope and admiration. You could tell so many others felt the same as they waited for him to speak.
“That’s enough!” He shouts, his voice echoing, vibrating the buildings with authority.
The warning was felt in the crowd. You heard some whimpers. Your chest tightens and you have no choice but to stand still. Even the alphas from the police squadron back down, their shields and batons at their sides.
Your small smile falls at the force of his command. You’ve never felt one as strict as his before, as influential.
“These people have the right to protest peacefully. You have no right to get rough with them.”
Murmurs rang amongst the crowd of protestors.
“Everyone, go home now. There is no need for commotion. Please back away from the building.”
There it was. Of course Superman had to be an alpha.
Someone throws a soda can at him and he turns to catch it. He’s standing on the officer’s side, he glances at you behind the now fallen fence with the rest of the protesters.
Protests erupt once again. Alphas were always so tone deaf, so ignorant. The look of dissatisfaction on your face, the disgust, made him pause.
What did he do wrong?
Alpha abuse apologist. Pig. Superfascist.
He was being called all of these names after the failed protest intervention. You wrote a piece on it. You smeared Superman’s name, claiming he was biased because of his privilege.
He scoffed when he read the first sentence of the article.
He wanted to protect you, protect all of them. They were going to be trampled. He shakes his head as you discuss with Catherine. She was passing by your desk, asking what you really thought about Superman.
“He’s a prick,” you say confidently. She guffaws. She stays right next to your desk. She loved to argue.
“Really?”
“It’s all performative.”
She hums. She smelled sweet. Too sweet you almost gag. You inch away slowly, so slowly she didn’t even notice.
She reminded you of your mother. Is what they say in the office. You were the product of an Alpha and Omega. You turned out to be a Beta.
Clark feels bad for you. You don’t get to have such a beautiful relationship with an alpha like your mother did.
Either way, no one really knew about that part of your life. Jimmy had found out about it after you had slipped up and mentioned it when you had a family emergency.
He’d gossiped with the rest of the newsroom.
“Well the protests were against alphas. I wouldn't exactly be on their side either. He stopped the violence before it could get worse-“
“Do you not have a backbone?” you blurt out, your arms crossed. She stares at you. Her mouth opens and closes in shock.
“I’m not an alpha hater. I don’t just hate people because they’re different from me,” she argues.
You scoff. Clark looms closer. The air was tense, he was ready to calm down the situation.
“It’s not about that-“ you start.
“They would never pick you, even if all the Omegas in the world ceased to exist. You know that, right?”
You stare at Catherine incredulously. Your shoulders square and your body locks defensively. Clark knew that it hit a nerve. Your eyes gloss slightly, your lips twisting into a snarl.
“Pick me? I’m not the brainless one ass up and wagging my tail for a knobby dick.”
You were shaking. They didn’t know you. They assume so many things about betas. You hated it. You’d rather die than be subservient to a cock.
Even Lois felt the same, hence her sometimes overuse of suppressants.
Clark interjects, he blocks Catherine from your eyesight, he has his hands up to pacify you. Catherine would definitely break out into tears if you kept it up.
He gives you a disappointed look.
Clark puts a hand on Cat’s shoulders. His hands smoothing over her arms as if to calm her. Your eyes narrow at the touch and Clark feels his heart leap, mistaking your anger for jealousy.
He leads Catherine away, she leans into his touch as if she were in heat.
“The heart wants what it wants. You're no better than the people you judge,” she says matter of factly, right before being led to her cubicle.
You snort. You turn away, now facing your desk. The atmosphere was tense and you could feel the stares.
“They don’t know what they want,” you mumble under your breath.
Clark thinks about your reaction in the fortress.
He looks through files with Gary, all of the healing ointments and serums hidden in chambers. He attempts to find a solution for you.
…
It hasn’t been reported that Superman liked to visit people’s homes. You must be lucky. The alpha knocks on your tall windows leading to your balcony in the middle of the night.
He was holding up a to-go tray with two milkshakes.
They were Metropolin favorites. From a shop that got popular online, and got infested with non locals.
You haven’t had the glorious treat in months because of the long line. He must live in Metropolis, you realize.
You open the sliding door slowly, crossing your arms as he approaches with the tray pushed forward like bait.
You take it. You loved the drama, despite your morals. He sits on your couch as you sip from your milkshake. He places your missing recorder on your coffee table. He could see your eyes soften briefly before becoming hard set again.
Your eyes narrow as he makes himself comfortable on your loveseat, facing you as you sit on your couch. Your knees almost touch.
He watches you savor each gulp, your throat bobs. You lick your lips to savor the taste.
It makes him shift in his seat. He clears his throat.
“I would like to understand why you published that article,” he says calmly.
He wasn’t hostile, his tone was warm, genuine. You sit up straight, analyzing him. You shrug.
“What do you think about omega rights?”
He narrows his eyes imperceptibly. His voice shifts to a lower octave.
“I think we all have the same rights.”
You roll your eyes. He genuinely believed his own words.
“We don’t,” you clarify.
He sighs. You purse your lips.
“You’re an alpha-“
“Based on human terms, yes.”
You’re silent for a moment. You hated being interrupted. You bite your lip, taking a calming breath.
“So you think alphas should harass their employees?”
He gives you an incredulous look. No. A clear no. You lean forward, your elbows on your knees.
“They’re asking for lenient suppressant laws, so that they could work, so that they could be safer whenever they go out. They’re asking for heat leave so that they don’t worry about being fired from their jobs because of something they can’t control.”
He nods along, his jaw ticks despite his seemingly understanding gaze.
“Alphas aren’t the only ones capable for leadership roles-“
“So you want omegas to become like betas.”
You exhale sharply through your nose. He leans forward.
“Omegas are special. Alphas are too. They’re made for each other. Taking away a person's innate biological instincts, their uniqueness, would mean society would collapse.”
You glare at him, your scent was acidic, pure frustration. He leans close, eyes staring intently into yours. He had a small lopsided smile on his face. Boyish.
He pushed a sense of calm onto you. Your body responds despite your clear irritation.
“Tell me, if you could choose to present as any designation, would you really choose to be a beta? Wouldn’t you like to be something meaningful?”
Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes widen.
You put your shake down, it was halfway done. It was enough to start the process. He stands, watching you silently rage.
“It was nice to formally meet you. I hope we can talk again. You have given me a lot to think about.”
And with that he leaves you alone, sliding your balcony door closed and flying off into the night.
…
You were gaining weight. You look softer everywhere, gentler. Your cup was up two sizes, your hips one.
Must be the stress of work and of being on probation. Perry claimed you were starting to create a hostile work environment.
Lois sits on your desk after you asked for notes. She sniffs and rubs the tip of her nose. Her sense of smell was sharp, she gave you a look.
Betas rarely wore perfumes and scents, mostly to not confuse others. Some do it to make themselves appear more like omegas. Most with the hidden intention to attract.
“Nice perfume,” she mumbles, reading through your draft. You quirk a brow. You were not wearing perfume.
“Smells like chocolate and fruit. Didn’t know you were a perfume kind of girl.”
She avoids your gaze but she lifts a brow at your printed draft. You're filled with embarrassment. Did you really smell?
You hated being seen as a hypocrite.
It could just be something you ate, something you spilled on yourself or brought with you from home.
“I’m not wearing any perfume,” you say stiffly. You look over your own work on your screen. You’ve been unable to focus lately. It frustrated you.
“Whatever you say.”
She hops off of your desk and places the draft with corrections with a soft thud. She must be pissed. Pissed because she assumes you were lying to her.
You sigh. Omegas were always so emotional.
…
Clark was one of the only alphas in the newsroom. Aside from Chief Perry. But somehow Clark didn’t have a mate. He was content in his singleness.
You’re surprised he hasn’t hit it off with Lois. Their banter was almost heartwarming to see. If you had an ounce of romanticism in your heart you’d tell her to shoot her shot.
Everyone thought of him as being a gentle giant. He didn’t act like an alpha, he was shy, he hunched over himself to make himself seem smaller.
He was honest, he let other designations take the lead frequently. He took criticism like compliments. You felt more like an alpha than him most of the time.
Most of the time.
There were always moments where you’d be reminded of his status. He was stubborn as all hell.
Sure, alpha and beta relationships weren’t impossible, they were starting to become more popular. But you knew you weren’t going to work, no matter how docile he tried to make himself seem.
You hated feeling like someone had something over you. You could admit you liked not having to do everything by yourself, but knowing Clark could tell you what to do if only his voice got a little louder or his scent was pushed onto you a little harder… It terrified you. You were grateful to be a beta, his influence and status could be ignored.
He had taken your mug off your table cheekily, dodging and stumbling away as you stood and swiped a hand to get it back.
“Sit down,” he says with a lilt of humour in his voice. You sit down immediately, crossing your arms over your much plumper chest.
You sigh as you see the buttons stretch with the movement, diamonds appearing over your dress shirt.
You felt obscene. You should probably see a doctor.
He pours you a cup from the coffee machine at the back of the newsroom.
You stare at him, glaring at his broad back. He senses it. He loves it. He swallows thickly as he turns.
He places the mug down at your desk, you bite the cap of your pen as he leans against the edge, sipping from his own cup.
“Hi,” he greets, attempting to hide his smile.
You narrow your eyes briefly and peek into your mug. It was a light brown, milk swirling in the middle. You taste it. It’s sweet, milky, just how you liked it.
“Hi,” you respond back. Your voice was quieter than usual. You inwardly cringe, you almost sounded meek.
He gazes over your frame, looking you over. You feel your heart pound. You should be extremely uncomfortable, you should tell him to keep his eyes on yours. You knew he could see your cleavage from where he sat.
Your nose flares, he says something but you’re focused on the way his arms flexed and squeezed in his button down, or how his thighs were huge and shifted open to showcase his bulge.
His scent was consuming you. He smelled like honey and bread. You subconsciously lean forward, as if a cartoonish trail of his scent was pulling you forward by your chin.
It curls around your body, bringing you a deep warmth that spreads from your chest to your toes.
For some reason he smells exceptionally alluring today. Intensified and almost directed to you. It made you feel high.
Your pupils dilate, he says your name softly. He was asking you a question. You blink, he chuckles, leaning closer.
“… tonight?”
You hum and nod, eyes drowsy. Your lips curl in a smile as he smiles down at you. He has dimples. You just realized his eyes were really blue. You didn’t really look at him before.
“Great,” he says softly, taking a sip of his coffee. He stands.
You push your chair back away from the table and grip the desk to get a hold of yourself. He walks away. You had no idea what you had just agreed to.
Your anxiety rises more and more every hour. You heard people whisper behind your back, mumble whenever you walked past them. You think it was the perfume accusation, or the way Clark was always near you nowadays, or maybe the way you had suddenly filled out with curves.
Your trousers were tight around your ass, you’re sure many could see the imprint of your tight underwear underneath.
You had gained some on your stomach, softer than usual. You felt like a marshmallow, wrapped in plastic wrap and bulging to escape.
So many liked it, it was an omega characteristic. The softness, delicate curves and gentle swoops of fluff. Almost everyone in the room got distracted by you now. The catcallers out on the street found new content to yell at you for.
You felt like complete shit. You were sweaty and your stomach twisted in knots. You touch your forehead lightly and you're met with a scalding heat.
By the end of the day you felt like your immune system was attempting to kill you. You had the jitters, your body was covered in a sheen of sweat, your legs bouncing in your seat. You were full of energy, your mind scatters easily from one subject to the next.
The clock hit three and you thought Perry wouldn’t really care if you head home early. You think you had the flu.
You pack up quickly, feeling as if you could crawl out of your skin. You felt like a drug addict. Maybe someone slipped something into your drink.
You’re not sure Catherine was capable of spiking your food but maybe someone else in the office you might have offended wanted to get back at you for your less than savory comments.
Clark jogs up to you quickly, stopping you mid step as you attempt to leave. He looks you over, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he takes in your scent.
It was like you doused yourself in chocolate covered strawberries.
It was intense. Like when the girls from his high school first started presenting. He pushes you into an empty meeting room, closing the doors and shutting the blinds.
“Where are you going?”
You narrow your eyes at his question. You lift a brow. Who was he to ask you such personal questions?
He places a hand to the back of his neck, he steps closer and touches your forearm. It makes your skin rise in goosebumps. Your body shivers at the contact.
His fingers wrap around your arm. You let him lean close to you.
“I thought…” he sighs, looking off into the distance. His fingers tighten over your skin, pressing into your muscle. He looks timid, embarrassed.
He looks into your eyes as you attempt to figure out the problem.
“I thought we were going to have dinner tonight?”
You stare up at him as if he grew a second head. He realizes you didn’t really pay attention to him that morning. His smell turns bitter, you inch closer instinctively.
Did you agree to a date?
You place a hand on his bicep, he flexes it as he pulls away and you feel something curl in your lower belly at the action. He steps back, incredibly embarrassed by the miscommunication.
“Clark-“
He shakes his head, he steps away and your hand drags down to his forearm. You feel so bad, you feel his embarrassment deeply. As if it were your own. Why do you want to cry?
You want to make him feel better. He chuckles awkwardly, waving a dismissive hand. Your eyes water, you made him feel bad. You felt so anxious.
“Clark, I didn’t realize, I-“
You grip his hand tightly as he tries to step further away. Your neck throbs, your breathing deepens into pants.
“Not tonight,” you clarify.
Comfort. Comfort. Comfort. You were pleading with him to stay close, to let you comfort him, take his sadness away.
“Maybe another night?” you blurt out quickly.
He looks at you, his fingers intertwine slowly with yours and your heart starts to slow again. The room was filled with a neutral scent, bitterness now gone. The nasty taste of his sadness dissolving in your mouth with a thick swallow.
He inches closer, cautiously.
“Really? You sure?”
You nod. You pull him closer. He towers over you, your head tilts up to take in his scent, your nose skims over his chest. You felt like you could breathe again.
“I’m sure,” you exhale shakily.
You look up at him, he cups the back of your neck. Any other day you would have kicked him in the balls for such an intimate touch.
You were susceptible. You reacted to him. You swallow thickly. The back of your throat vibrates, you lean your head to the side. A soft sound comes out of you, a tittering pleased hum.
Clark sighs blissfully, his eyes widening at the noise before softening. His thumb rubs at your neck. He coos.
You pause. You blink up at him. You just purred. Omegas are the only ones able to purr. It was instinct for an omega to purr when an alpha was in distress nearby. Or when they felt happy.
You inhale sharply and open your eyes as if you had been dunked in water. You pull away from him. Your neck throbs.
“I gotta- I have to go.”
He watches you leave without a word.
…
You thanked whatever higher being existed in the world for making it a Friday night. Clark left you discombobulated. Fucking Clark and his big alpha body always taking up space. Now he was present in your mind.
You were so horny. You venture into your local sex shop and look through the dildos. You bite your lip as you decide. The options were far from limited. Vibrators, bunnies, rose toys. You liked the ones that sucked, but you were looking for something different and not in your collection.
It was simple, the color was a nice translucent purple. The head was bulbous, the sides were lined with thick veins.
“We have a deal, y’know,” the woman over the counter says slyly. She gives you a look as she wraps the box up in tissue paper and puts it in a bag.
You look up from the counter and pay screen, slightly embarrassed for having her know exactly what you were buying and for what purpose.
“Buy one get one free. Anything from behind the counter. Omega special.”
You open your mouth to refuse. You weren’t an omega. But she looks at you with soft understanding eyes. Omega heats were so hard to deal with, so you’ve heard. You’d feel like an asshole for correcting her.
All of the behind the counter boxes were specially made for heats. Some had inflatable knots, others were dildos so thick you almost wince at imagining it going into someone.
You purse your lips. You get one with a thick knot at the bottom, maybe then you might be able to use the tip. You didn’t want to embarrass her for her confusion. You felt your body heat up as she presented you with the box. The cock was long, girthy. You’re sure it wouldn’t fit even if you tried.
You come home with two dildos. You clean and boil them. Then you're in bed, only in your underwear. Your cunt sucks in the first dildo you got, a meager 5 inches. It’s enough to fill you up. Your past ones always were.
Your fingers pinch your nipple, legs spreading as you push the purple silicone head against your slit, tapping it against your clit.
You push in and expect resistance, your palm meets your cunt. You blink up at your ceiling, mouth open in a sharp moan as it grinds against your cervix. You lose the initial electric feeling after a while, you sit up, confused.
Were you looser?
That can’t be possible. You eye the gigantic monster cock right on your bedside table. You bite your lip.
You weren’t an omega. You place it on the middle of your mattress.
Lots of betas were in the porn industry. Omegas were more precious, it was taboo to see them being treated like sex objects, despite their inherent sexual nature.
Lots of actresses pretended to be omegas. They’d adjust to alpha cocks, real, fake, a mix of both. Some like to pretend to submit, to mate, to get marked.
Your face leans against the pillow, your ass lifts up in the air and jiggles as you sway from side to side. Maybe just for the night, you imagine yourself as an omega, ready to be bred.
Your body heats up terribly, your pussy pulsing, lips winking as you arch your back. You spread your pussy with your fingers, feeling the cool air sweep past your folds.
You imagine big hands, strong palms massaging your ass cheeks, jiggling them, pulling them apart to watch your cunt drip onto the sheets.
You moan into the pillow, biting into the fabric. You tease yourself open with your fingers. Your clit throbs.
You prop yourself on your knees, positioning pillows as a makeshift chest. The dildo slides slowly inside of you, you wince. A sense of exhilaration zaps through your spine.
Like a dirty secret, you push yourself to take more and more, every inch making you gasp out at the intrusion.
Your folds caress over the knot. You briefly think of what real knots felt like. Were they as hard as silicone, soft and pliable?
You think of Clark. Your hands go to your breasts and your fingers caress over the fatty tissue.
You knew he was blessed. Even when he was soft you could still see him through his pants. You wonder how big his knot was.
You moan, your cunt throbs around the plastic cock.
It wasn’t going to fit. You bounce on the knot lightly, your hole bumping against it. You push further each time. It was physically impossible for the protrusion to fit inside of you, not without more training.
But it felt so good, you place your hands on the mattress and thrust harshly.
It pops inside of you and your mind blanks, your ass meets your mattress and your cunt tightens impossibly in orgasm. You're all the way into the base of it, your hands fist into the sheets below, allowing your hips to grind hard into the dildo.
Your mouth falls open, moans coming out of you as your body is locked in climax. Fuck, it felt so good. You had a big fucking knot inside of you and it felt so good you gripped your sheets until it tore.
“Fuck, Clark!”
You imagine him and his stupid glasses. His stupid scent. His stupid big shoulders and big hands and his probably big cock and knot.
“Give it to me,” you moan. Your hips grinding down against your mattress harder, the squelch of the silicone covered in your slick so dirty as it reverberated in your room.
“Give me your cum, Clark- ah-“
You lift your hips up, your hand awkwardly reaching behind you to press the dildo further into you, the fake balls slap against your clit.
“Your knot is so- oh- give me your knot, Clark.”
You mumble into the mattress. You fuck yourself all night, mumbling his name to the point he was all you could think about.
…
It was Tuesday.
Lois immediately noticed something was wrong. You stayed home for the past two days. A day she’d understand, two was just lazy of you.
She called. Clark glances in her direction. She stood watching the news, hoping you would pop up in the crowd of protesters.
Her face brightened when she heard the croak of your voice.
“Where have you been?” she asks accusingly. She checks her watch, maybe you were late. She stiffens when she hears a needy mewl.
“Where are you…?”
She walks over to a quiet corner. You groan into the phone. Maybe you were in a brothel. That was so unlike you.
“Was that an Omega?” Lois whispers harshly.
She hears the low mewl again, a distinct distress signal that Omegas emit when they feel unsafe or uncomfortable. Clark pauses his work and listens in. He feels his pants tighten at the sounds you make.
You were calling for someone to tend to you.
“I’m just feeling a bit sick, Lo.”
Your words were slurred, she could hear sheets shift. Lois attempts to piece it together. Maybe you hooked up with an omega in heat.
“You with someone?”
Clark stands, he feels his chest cave at the thought of someone other than him helping you through your first heat.
He packs things up, he says something about wanting to catch a scoop as he passes by Jimmy's desk. Cheesy.
He could hear your mewls and whines from across the city. You were calling for him, begging him to tend to you.
…
You lazily pump your fingers in your cunt, head lolling from side to side as you imagined being touched by someone else, an alpha, Superman, Clark.
Your body shakes in an orgasm, the pain recedes from your lower belly, your fingers slip out of you along with a flood of your juices.
Something was wrong with you. You thought to call Lois but you could barely form a solid sentence.
It comes in waves. The worst of it was last night. You were afraid that the neighbors could hear your squeals and moans.
Luckily most buildings were soundproofed, the doors designed to keep in scents during ruts and heats. You couldn’t be having a heat you repeat over and over again, letting the cold water droplets from your shower bite into the skin of your back.
Your wrists were sensitive, you rub a thumb over your pulse point. A fresh wave of slick covers your inner thighs, you almost fall if you hadn’t leaned against the shower wall.
Something was very wrong. Very, very, very, wrong.
You stand in front of your sink mirror, you wipe the condensation off with your forearm. Craning your neck to the side, you see it. A textured patch of your skin you could maybe pass off as an allergic reaction, a rash.
You feel yourself start to hyperventilate. You grab your phone, your anxiety pushing the growing arousal to the back of your mind as you search for answers.
Chances of a late presentation were low, less than .0001% of the world's population experience late presentation, even then, you’re in your early thirties, most cases were in their mid twenties.
You put on a loose t-shirt hastily. Your eyes wander to your bed as you research. You find nothing. You were a beta. Betas can’t just change their designation. Your body can’t just change out of nowhere. Chemically, psychologically.
You slam your phone against the bedside table. Your hand drags down your face as you sit on the edge of your bed.
You sniff the air, it smelled humid, like raw passionate sex. Your stomach clenches.
You needed new sheets. The ones you’ve used for the past three days were damp with your- you cringe as you think of the word- slick.
You didn’t notice picking the fluffiest comforter, the softest sheets. You also didn’t realize you had gone to the living room and had gotten all of the throw pillows to add to your collection of softness gathered into a pile on your bed.
You lift each item, inspecting it, thinking a piece of grime or lint was stuck on the fabric. You subconsciously rub your wrists against your pillows. You squeeze them against your chest to feel their plushness, the mark on your neck sweeping past the cotton.
You made a nest. You’ve been making a nest for the past weekend but have barely gotten enough energy to pull out your best, comfiest household items.
You stare at the ceiling as you finish organizing, body coccooned in softness. You start to sweat profusely again, another wave of arousal attacking you, making your body shake and hands wander.
It was debilitating. Humiliating in how you couldn’t do anything to stop it.
There’s a knock at your door. You sit up quickly, hands having already grazed over your slickened cunt to rub over your clit.
They knock again, you put on sweatpants quickly. They feel so uncomfortable as you stride over to the door. You’re just about ready to start an apology, you must be too loud, your smell must be spreading across the apartment complex.
You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to curl into a ball as a cramp hits your pelvis. You open the door when the pain passes.
He’s enveloped by your scent, so much so he almost steps back. Your eyes flutter and you take a deep breath in. His scent hits you like a punch in the gut. Literally. You feel a cramp tighten.
“Clark?” You say his name in a garble of shock.
He drops his bag and sweeps you into his arms. It was like being held by a giant. Your chin meets the top of his head, his arms holding you up against his chest as his hands press underneath your ass.
You’re forced to grip his shoulders as he twirls you around, the door closes as his foot pushes it, He walks over to the couch, sitting you down next to him, holding your hands. The sudden confusion of his intrusion passes and you narrow your eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here, I’m not doing well-“
“It worked,” he interrupts, voice filled with joy.
He had a wide smile on his face, his dimples were pronounced. His thumbs press against your wrist and your jaw slackens. The pressure makes your cunt contract.
What the hell was he talking about?
“How are you feeling?”
He scoots closer to you, your eyelids droop and your mouth parts at the proximity. You pull your hands away from him. It felt like you were contaminated with something, like whatever you had was contagious.
His fingers grip his knees, smoothing his palm up and down his thighs as if to distract them from moving to any part of your exposed skin.
Your hips shift, he could hear the wet squelch of your arousal from underneath your sweats. He could see your walls clench as you speak.
“Something’s wrong with me…” You bite your lip to suppress a moan, he inches closer to you, his hands wrap around your biceps, your neck extends and your head tips to the side instinctively. A wave of embarrassment makes your stomach twist. You gave into your submissive state so quickly.
It made you feel vulnerable. You hated the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
You stand up quickly at the pull you feel toward him. Your crotch was wet, a developing damp spot spreading to your inner thighs. You mumble nos under your breath. Clark was making you feel worse. A wave of heat hits you as you grip his forearm and attempt to lead him to the door.
“Stupid alpha…” you say under your breath. He snorts and stands still after a couple steps. No matter how hard you pull he doesn’t move an inch, not a shake in sight.
“Please leave. I-I’m not feeling well.”
He arches a brow and smiles, as if seeing the wet spot in your sweats, the way you twitch in need and whimper at his touch was completely normal.
His solid frame makes you shiver, you groan out, your nipples pebble and press tightly against your shirt. The thin, grey, over-washed fabric highlighted them. The nubs sting from the sudden arousal coursing through your spine.
“I can help you,” he says softly, he pulls you close, your face is smothered in his chest, the chest that smells like warm sweet bread. It was comforting. He pulls his jacket off and your scents start to combine.
“Let me help you, love.”
You wrapped your arms around his torso tightly, inhaling his scent as if it were oxygen. He bends down slightly to cup your ass and lift you onto him. You felt weak willed, weak minded. The throbbing bulge rubbing against your core made your brain melt into mush.
He slips his oxford shoes off in a trail leading to your bedroom. He adjusts you as you curl around his body, legs spreading to link your feet at the small of his back. You were weightless in his hold.
His fingers press and massage against the back of your neck as he enters the bedroom. He chuckles. Your nest was mediocre at best. Clearly this was your first time making one, the structure was flimsy. As he puts you down, your back meeting the sheets, he could see some of your stiff throw pillows fall off the edge.
He makes a mental note to get you better cushions, different sheets, maybe a mattress topper judging by the stiffness of the mattress as he leans on it, either side of his hands near your waist. His head dips to nip at your neck, a firm lick at your scent gland makes you stutter a breath and roll your eyes to the back of your head.
He takes off his glasses as you chirp, pleasant sounds reverberating around the room, making his chest rumble in satisfaction. Your sweats and underwear are placed down against the floor softly, he kneels on the ground and between your legs.
The room was so beta of you. Barely any decor, sharp angles in furniture and no room for anyone other than you. Your bed was small, a full size. Maybe big enough for two betas, certainly not enough room for you and an alpha like him.
His knees nudge against something on the floor, he stands as he picks it up, hearing your thick swallow. The silicone cock was heavy, the bulging knot at the base was average at best. His was bigger, he tosses it to the other side of the room and directs his gaze towards you.
“Present for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, a hint of a question in his tone because he didn’t want to seem demanding. His cock strains against his trouser, he pushes back his hair, swiping away the sweat that was starting to build above his brow.
He’s never felt like this. Not when he popped his first knot in an omega or when he first went into his first rut.
It was different this time, he felt weak in the knees for you.
He sees you shake, you force yourself to stay still, you writhe against your sheets, refusing to meet his eye and cooperate.
His voice lowers, his command was louder than before.
“Present.”
He hears you whimper, the force of his voice making you melt. He didn’t mean to be so harsh, but his patience was wearing thin. He unbuttons his trousers and pushes his boxers down enough to grip his cock free.
You get on your knees, bending down to rest your elbows against the mattress. You’ve clearly never done this before, it was cute watching you move so unsurely.
His palm smooths down your back, you arch it. He'll guide you, if you just let him. He gets up on the bed to nudge your knees further apart, you bury your face in your pillows.
His hands spread you open, thumb brushing over your folds and nudging at your clit. You drip onto his palm. His thumb pumps in and out against the rim of your hole.
Your slick was creamy, producing a wet popping sound as you started to thrust back against his hand. He pushes up your shirt and grips your hip, his cock head slides against the seam of your pussy, slick dribbles down his shaft and coats him.
His was warm and heavy, his skin soft against yours. Squeezing your waist, your body shudders, your ass jiggles, against his pelvis invitingly.
“Clark,” you mutter, hips rolling onto him, feeling his fat tip nudge against your clit. Your back arches further, to the point you were on the verge of cramping up. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging for him.
He watches you struggle, your mind simultaneously urging you to give in and screaming at you to push him away. You were a proud woman, stubborn. He wanted to show you that he could protect you just as well as you could protect yourself.
“Look at this pussy, you’re dripping,”
He lines himself up against you, his cockhead opening you up impossibly. You were tight, untrained, your sopping wet cunt couldn’t stop the invasion of his fat cock, stretching you so wide it felt like your hips were going to split in two.
“You’re so perfect, doing so well,” he mumbles, as if enamored with you.
“S-shut u-up-” you grit out,
You lift your head, he pushes it back down. He growls, you moan as he pushes an inch further into you harshly. Like a punishment.
“Be good,” he commands. His hands smooth over your hips, a small apology. He continues to slowly open you up until he bottoms out. Your legs shake, your cunt drips so much slick his pelvis is covered in it. You push back against him, moaning out at the feel of his tip pushing against your cervix.
The bulge at the base of his cock swells up quickly, he could feel his balls start to tighten. You were so tight. He holds your hips in place, even as you whimper for more.
“What does a good omega say when they want more?”
His hand smooths over the globes of your ass, he hears your breath hitch, you contain your whimpers and moans. He snarls at your lack of response, his hand connects with your asscheek in a swift slap.
You squeal from the contact.
“Fuck- please.”
His chest presses against your back. He tilts your head to look at him, he raises a brow, his knot slots between your folds, just about ready to push into you. Your body thrums, the need is too much. You wanted it. Wanted him.
“Please, alpha.”
His chest lets out a deep rumble at your submission, it puffs out in pride. You let out what seems to be a squeal or shout as he pulls out completely and drives deep into you again. A thick slurp could be heard from the action.
His movements were a mix of grinds and thrusts, his head pulses against the rim of your hole, his shaft leaking with your warm juices before thrusting into you again. You hated this, you felt so weak, so humiliated.
Your upper half is pounded into the mattress, breasts exposed as he kneads the fat of your chest and pinches your nipples. His hips snap against yours, his thrusts slowing down before picking up speed again, to tease you.
He pulls out of you suddenly. He grips his cock and lets go of your body, letting you fall on the bed. You couldn’t move, your skin was humming, cunt fluttering in the absence of his thick cock. You whine, tears gathering in your eyes at the lack of his warmth.
He coos lowly, fisting his cock at the pretty sight of your tears running down your face. Accumulating because of need, the desire to be filled up again.
“You need a knot in you don’t you?”
You nod slowly, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and biting it to prevent from babbling a series of desperate yes- yes - yesses.
He was anything but sadistic. Any other time he saw you upset he wanted to comfort you. But you always brushed him aside, pushed him away just because of who he was. Seeing you be so vulnerable with him now brought a satisfaction to his chest he doesn’t think he would have with any other omega.
He twists your body, positioning you to lay on your back and look up at him as he crawls on top of you. He presses his forehead between the valley of your breasts. His hot wet breath on your skin makes it pucker.
“I’m going to fill you up so well you're gonna feel me for days. Do you want my cum, honey?”
You stare at the ceiling, his hair tickles against your collarbones. His weight traps you beneath him, his hand tight around your legs as he slots his pelvis against yours. You nod frantically as you pant.
“Y-yes.”
His cock slides back into you. You moan out and close your eyes tightly. Your hands go to his shoulders and your nails press onto his broad back, hooking into his muscle to pull him closer.
“To think you didn’t want this. It feels so good letting your body tell you what to do, telling you what's right, doesn’t it sweetheart?”
He pumps into you, his arms wound behind your back, his face pressing against your chest and sucking your soft breasts. He spreads his knees to spread your thighs open, his cock digging into you, hitting your cervix repeatedly.
His knot swells, it kisses your folds, pushing them wider to finally press inside of you. He stops, lifting his head to look at your face, your cockdrunk eyes half lidded and hazy. He sucks your mating gland, your body locks and pulses against his cock.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he mumbles. He nips at the textured patch of skin. “Tell me you’re mine, omega. Tell me how much you want your alpha.”
You bite your lip, his knot pulses against you, waiting agonizingly to be inside of you, to connect you, keep you against his chest. Your breath stutters in fear, you didn’t want to be mated with him, much less in this moment. You move your neck away from him, he keeps you still.
“Tell me,” he snarls as an alpha command. Pressing his pelvis harshly against your mound, your clit grinding on his skin and making you lose your mind.
“Yes! I want you, alpha, I’m yours.”
He pulls back to thrust into you full force, his knot finally popping into you and expanding to prevent him from pulling out.
His cock pulses harshly inside of you, his cum filling you up and warming you up like molten hot lava. You’ve never felt this before, it was so much, almost too much. His mouth was open in a long groan, hips and ass twitching and flexing as he gave you his thick load.
You shake, legs locking on his sides and head thrown back against the pillow as you cum. He continues to thrust into you, grinding his hips into your pelvis as he continues to release his seed into you, feeling your cunt grip him tightly.
You let out a sob. Overstimulated, your mating gland pulsing terribly and releasing an overload of your scent into the air, as if urging him to bite down. He presses his head to your forehead, eyes wandering over your face as you both come down.
“D’you feel me? I’m filling you up so much. Looks like you have a baby in your belly already.”
His hand smooths over your lower belly, it was bulging with his cum. You wince as he presses down at the pressure. You clit pulses again, you whine from the back of your throat and he shuts you up by kissing you softly.
“One more time, I want to feel you come apart on my knot.”
You whimper, his fingers swirl over your clit, your slick escapes from your connected bodies. You shake your head. He was all you felt. His body is on top of you. His scent. His lips. His knot and cock.
“I can’t- Clark- please don’t-”
He shushes you, he grinds his hips into you, your cervix strains as the head of his cock presses into you.
“Give me one more, make your alpha proud.”
He pecks your jaw.
“Be good, yeah? Don’t you want to be good for your alpha? Don’t you want to cum on this dick, omega?”
Your mouth parts and you nod frantically. He kisses you, teeth gnashing together as he pinches your clit and your hips thrust up into his.
“Say it for me.”
You pussy tightens over his knot, he feels your back arch underneath his.
“I wanna be good-” you mewl, “I wanna be good for you, Clark- mmh- alpha.”
You moan into his mouth, body going limp at the feeling of his cock twitching in your cunt, your bones turning to jelly as pleasure pulses throughout your nervous system.
…
You reach a drowsy hand over your bedside table, you disconnect the charger and click on your phone. Your face lifts from the pillow, it was so early. Almost seven thirty in the morning. You press the phone face down on the pillow.
“You think you can handle eggs again?”
Your mating mark pulses and you turn to see him by the doorway, eyes roaming over your form. You sit up and stand, pressing a hand to your back and underneath the swell of your stomach as you yawn. His old loose shirt rides up your bare thighs.
Your gut pulses with need, his need.
“We can try,” you respond softly.
You brush past him, bumping his arm, not even looking back even as he chuckled at your ‘sass’. Clark’s hand swats your ass softly, pressing a kiss to your head as he rushes past you to quickly take the toast out of your mini oven.
You feel your cheeks pinch with heat as he feeds you himself, leaning against the kitchen tabletop to see your reaction. You chew slowly, your nose scrunches and he snorts.
You were hard to please. He realized this quickly. But it was admirable. Adorable when you didn’t get your way and you made a fuss.
You stood up to cook your own eggs, frying a layer of red onion on the pan of oil before marbling your egg into the perfect texture.
You claim he burns the eggs and leaves a choquía smell. They made you nauseous for a long while, especially at the start of your pregnancy.
You were the most headstrong omega in the world, he thinks.
You walk into the rotating doors of the Daily Planet, you adjust his tie as you make it to the other side of the bustling building.
You slap his chest when he swipes a thumb over your chin teasingly. You were embarrassed by his coddling, his public affection.
Especially with the almost judgmental looks from Lois and Catherine. It was a surprise for everyone to hear that you had suddenly presented as an omega.
Lois thought you were a liar. That you hid the fact you were an omega from her even when she had confided in you. Catherine thought you were a hypocrite, a self hating omega that hid as a beta.
It got much worse when it was revealed, by Clark marking you a month after your heat, that you were mated to an alpha even after claiming to want nothing to do with them.
You barely made up with Lo, she still didn’t quite believe you but she brushed off the drama quickly. You were still you, despite your sudden changes.
You sit on Lois’s desk, arms crossed as you watch the TV screen. She watches with you.
“We should go,” she says softly. She pokes your ass with her pen, making you yelp and stand up from her workspace.
You give her a look and your eyes trail over your bump. Having a six months pregnant omega in a crowded protest was not something you considered that safe.
Lois rolls her eyes.
“I’ll go with you, we’ll stay along the edge, we’ll be fine.”
You scoff. You say her name lowly, a warning to not convince you further. Because you will do it.
“Superman’s around. What’s the worst that could happen?” she shrugs, rising from her chair and nudging your shoulder. She gives you a look as she walks past to fill up her thermos for the road. Think about it.
You make your way to your desk, the surrounding area bare of coworkers, feeling excitement fill your chest. You grab a digital camera and recorder, packing your bag to the brim as you prepare to leave.
Your spine prickles, you stand up straighter as you hear someone clear their throat behind you.
“I don’t want you to go.”
You turn, you hold the strap of your bag tightly. Clark steps closer, towering over you. He stands up straight, his jacket draped over his forearm. He had his sleeves up, showcasing the thick muscles of his arms.
His brows were set harshly, no hint of a smile in sight.
“Clark-“
“You’re not going, omega.”
Your eyes round out in shock. He was using that voice. You feel tears well up, blurring your vision. You couldn’t move, just thinking about going with Lois made your chest pump with anxiety.
He drops his jacket on your desk, you step back and are cornered against the edges, the wood digs into the backs of your thighs.
He shushes you and swipes his thumbs along your cheeks, flicking your tears away.
“You’ve become so much more emotional, honey.”
You couldn’t pull away from his hold. He leans down to press you against his chest, his chin rests against the top of your head.
“I’m keeping you safe. It’s not healthy to be around all that stress. Omegas can’t handle that. You know this.”
You sigh. He tightens his hold on your shoulders.
“You understand right?”
His chest rumbles at your lack of response.
“Right?”
You nod, his hands rub your arms softly, stepping back to peck your cheek. He extends an arm to your lower back, picking up his jacket and leading you to the door.
“Let’s get lunch. Your favorite spot.”
You nod, mumbling a short ‘ok’ in response. He rubs your shoulder and pulls you to his side as you make your way outside.
Lois watches you leave from where she was leaning against her car, you give her a tight lipped smile as you pass her by.
She shakes her head in pity as you walk past, seeing your passion dwindle with each passing day.
——————————
I think when it comes to omega rights, reader is also ignorant like Clark. They both share stereotypes that they believe to be true and I think that kind of bites Reader in the ass in a karmic sense by the end of the story. Obviously, Reader was/is an activist but she still behaved in a bigoted way, like how some white liberal men direct their misogyny towards conservative women/women they don’t like.
At least that is what I wanted to portray in my writing. :P
Let me know your thoughts!
-Alejandra 💋 🐇
