zee's thoughts

black american princess hoe. 20, nerd, fuck bitches get money!

[zeedafreak]

now playing: les fleurs by minnie riperton

hola beautiful people, the name is zee or pynk, and or kunasbbymama and choso'swife, im 20, lowercase intentional, i would love ideas or requests. please keep in the mind this is still new for me and im doing my best to improve everyday🌺

i write for: jjk, hells paradise, sakamoto days, atla and dc characters such as dick grayson and others (ask)

✨any characters will have a tag associated with them such as

#sexisugu

#hustla!toji

#plug!choso

🧚🏾‍♀️for all my current works

#pynkwrites??

all drabbles and quick thots

#zeerambles

for my favorite and or most recent reads

#zeereccomends

im a black woman first and foremost so don't act crazy bc i will cuss you out and block you🩷

DNI IF minor, terfs, anti-gay, anti- immigrant, trump or israel anything.

free palestine, sudan, congo, haiti and all oppressed people.

other than that spark a blunt and catch a vibe🧚🏾‍♀️

[zeedafreak]

writing angst tonight🙏🏾

[patrochilles-or-bust]

And the bit is, you were NOT down so bad, nor felt your life so threatened, that you felt safe enough to hunt a Black child down and shoot him in the back over a BOTTLE OF WATER. Something that's worth a buck fifty. Something that shit, maybe he needed. He didn't steal anything, but even if he HAD stolen that water, it's WATER. It's not something of mass expense. If I saw someone stealing one singular bottle of water, I'm probably not stopping them, because damn it is hot and you might be in need at that point. That's how I know that shit was racially motivated. They felt like hunting a Negro due to other unaddressed rage and antiblack bias, I will not be convinced otherwise. And I hope it comes around full circle.

[daflex]

Call it whatever you want.

"You're not my boyfriend." Try telling Ryomen Sukuna that when another man gets a little too close.

A/N: you aint my boyfriend and i aint your girlfriend 🤨 if u couldnt tell, this was inspired by boyfriend by ari and social house ✌️😗 this is also an old fic i dug out 🚬 anyways exams have been fucking me raw lately and not in a fun way. i should be out here bussing it down at the club, getting lit, making questionable decisions. instead im bussing it down with textbooks and practice exams. tragic. devastating, even. it's okay though, bc i got bts tickets 😛

Art: @/pattyi.i on insta <3

Sukuna never asked for a commitment. Somehow, the arrangement just fell into place anyway. It started with small things: late night texts, showing up without warning, and a heavy black leather jacket tossed over the back of a chair like it belonged there.

Your phone buzzed softly against the counter.

you home.

No greeting, no question mark—just the absolute assumption of an open door.

yeah.

Three dots appeared instantly.

open up.

A heavy knock followed seconds later.

"Geez. No 'please' or anything" you mumbled, tossing your phone back onto the counter.

Opening the door revealed Ryomen Sukuna leaning against the frame as if he’d been waiting all night. A familiar presence filled the doorway before he even spoke, the air growing heavy with his warm, spicy cologne. Red eyes flicked down, assessing the view. “Thought you were asleep.”

“Bruh, you literally just texted me.”

He hummed, brushing past without waiting for an invitation. His hand lingered briefly on the small of your back, pressing just enough to claim the space before letting go. You shut the door behind him. “You’re going to start paying rent at this point." Sukuna stretched out on your couch, arms draped lazily across the cushions with a smirk. “You’d miss me.” An eye roll was the only response you gave him, but neither side pushed the argument.

Weeks passed in a blur of late nights and shared silences. A heavy hand would rest on your waist during trips around the kitchen, fingers brushing the curve of your hip and teasingly lingering during the morning coffee brew. On walks together, he closed the distance entirely, slipping a hand into the back pocket of your jeans. No matter how many times that hand was swatted away with a muttered, “People are going to think we’re dating” the pink haired man just shrugged, keeping his hand firmly planted against ur ass. He always stood slightly behind or beside you, a silent declaration: I’m here.

Sometimes he waited after lectures, leaning against the campus gate with a lazy, half smirk, arms crossed as the crowd filtered past. Spotting him always made your stomach twist, knowing he’d been waiting long before the dismissal bell. His gaze would lock on, serving as a quiet warning to anyone walking too close.

Nights were spent sharing the couch and stealing blankets, half tangled around his large frame while the remaining fabric barely covered your lap. Sometimes he drapes himself across you, a hand brushing lightly down your arm or against your thigh—never intrusive, but entirely claiming the space. When he relaxed completely, your fingers wander over his tattoos, tracing the sharp lines along his face and chest. Each mark felt almost magnetic under the skin. He would hum low, letting the attention slide, a thumb occasionally brushing your wrist to claim the movement. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath your fingertips, a slight smirk evident in the way he adjusted his posture to keep your hand exactly where he wanted it.

There were nights spent falling asleep in his bed after an argument left unfinished—bodies pressed tight, the quiet between you louder than any words. Other mornings started tangled in his arms, hair brushing his chest, fingers clutching his shirt before fully waking up. His hand would curl around your wrist, a thumb tracing small, slow circles. The habits became second nature to notice: how he leaned a fraction closer when a stranger got too near. The amused smirk whenever a tease was thrown back at him. The trademark "tch" or scoff of annoyance that left his lips. Pressing his forehead to yours in the early mornings, claiming the first minutes of the day. Playing the thief with a tilted head and a lazy, "Oops, that's my spot now" daring an argument.

Almost like a couple. But without labels or promises, the unresolved tension grew nearly unbearable.

Tonight, gojo's house was packed. The bass vibrated faintly through the floorboards, drowning out the roar of the crowded room. People moved in a blur of red cups and loud laughter.

Pausing near the entrance to scan the room, your eyes landed across the living room. Sukuna leaned against the back of a couch, looking entirely too comfortable. A few girls crowded his space, laughing a little too loudly at whatever he’d just muttered. One girl rested a hand on tattooed arm. Another leaned in close, fingers brushing his shoulder. He let them.

Your jaw tightened.

His eyes found yours instantly, as if he’d known the exact second you walked through the door. The crowd seemed to fade under his direct stare. Across the room, through flashing lights and shifting bodies, he just watched. A slow smirk pulled at his lips, waiting to see the reaction. The girl beside him kept talking, her fingers resting on his arm, tracing the very same tattoos you usually spent hours mapping out. Sukuna didn’t move away. He just looked on—unbothered and thoroughly amused.

Typical.

Turning away before he could read anything else on your face, you made a beeline for the kitchen. A quick adjustment was made to the hem of the mini black off shoulder dress, the fabric hugging your waist and tight at the hips. Gold open toe heels clicked softly against the floorboards, gold hoops swaying with the quick tilt of your head. The reflective surface of the fridge offered a quick glimpse—makeup intact, shoulders tense, face slightly flushed from the scene in the living room. Pulling the door open, the cool light spilled out as you grabbed a drink.

“Careful with that one” a voice warned.

Turning around revealed a guy leaning against the counter, sporting a charming smile. “Trust me. It’s stronger than it looks.”

A small laugh escaped you. “I’ll take my chances.”

The guy laughed, stepping a bit closer to be heard over the booming music. “So… what brings you here alone?”

A shrug followed. “Just needed a drink and a break from… life.”

His smirk widened. “I get that. Same here.”

The conversation began to flow more freely, a genuine laugh sparking at a joke he made. It felt easy. The guy leaned in, lowering his voice. “You know, you’ve got this energy. Makes people really want to talk to you.”

A smile crept up, a sudden flutter stirring in your chest—until a familiar scent hit the air. Warm, spicy, and impossible to ignore. The exact aroma that lingered on your clothes every time he pulled you in.

Sukuna.

A heavy pair of arms slid around your waist from behind. His broad chest pressed flush against your back, almost swallowing you as he pulled you back. One hand settled flat against your stomach while the other grazed your hip, fingers brushing the edge of your short dress to anchor you firmly against him. The fabric shifted under his grip, lifting fractionally as you instinctively braced on your heels. Sukuna wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were locked dead on the guy across the counter. Slowly, the pink haired man dipped his head, his nose brushing the side of your neck before settling into the crook of your shoulder. Warm breath ghosted over your bare skin, his fingers tightening just enough to claim you. The gentle sway of gold hoops brushed against him with every shallow inhale.

The guy stiffens. “Oh—uh. Sorry, man, I didn’t know—”

“No” you interrupted, trying to shift out of his grasp. “We’re not—”

“Yeah” Sukuna cuts in smoothly, his voice low. “You should go.”

The guy hesitated, muttered a quick, “Right… my bad” and vanished into the crowd.

You turn inside Sukuna’s arms, looking up at him. “Bruh, what's your problem?” 

Sukuna looked down as if nothing had happened.

“You’re not my boyfriend” you huffed out.

His eyes slowly searched your face before letting out a slight scoff.

Pushing lightly against his chest, you snapped, “Stop acting like you own me.”

He simply watched, absorbing the defiance. Then, with a sudden tug at your waist, he pulled you closer. The hem of your dress rode up your ass slightly before his hand reached behind to pull the fabric back into place.

“You want a boyfriend?” His thumb dragged slowly along your jawline, tilting your face up to force eye contact. "That what this is about?”

Silence was the only answer, making his eyes narrow. “Tch. Greedy.”

The music and chatter faded into background noise—the space between you grew heavy. Sukuna hummed softly, his hand sliding back down to the small of your back. His fingers settled there as if they had never left, pressing into the curve. Your heels click softly against the floor as he adjusts his hold, keeping the fit perfect. “And yet” he murmured, leaning closer, “you still let me do this.” Your breath catches when he pulls you a fraction closer. 

“Doesn’t really sound like you want a boyfriend” Sukuna said lazily. Dipping his head lower, his lips trailed light kisses along your neck—the same familiar routine he’d done a thousand times before. It made your stomach twist. A sharp inhale brought in his spicy cologne, mixing with the soft sweetness of vanilla perfume until your head spun.

“Sounds like you just want me.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, a low, teasing vibration. “Go ahead… say you’re leaving me.”

The words never came.

A slow smile spread across his face. Because he already knows you won’t.

[vhyunjinverse]

𐙚 — Fix your Attitude C.K

𐙚 plug!choso x fem!reader | divider by @/cursed-carmine | mdni | m.list | art by @/_7undeed on twt

𐙚 “The fuck is your problem?!” “YOU’RE my problem!”After not seeing your plug Choso for a week, you give him attitude that he has no problem fixing for you.

It wasn’t often that you argued with 𐙚 plug!Choso. In fact, you didn’t really argue at all. So when you came over as you usually did, you were quiet while he fixed the blunt up in the pretty pink papers he gets just for you.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, how’s school?” He coughs, eyes flickering up to your face just to see you not even looking at him. Instead you were tracing circles on your thighs. He watched you shrug, which takes him back- the fuck?

“It’s been alright. The usual.”

Even your tone was off. Choso makes a face but he stares back down at the tray. Pink, hello kitty themed. The grinder he used was one he ordered just for you, pink and also hello kitty themed. Hell- he had a whole fucking set just for you when you came to smoke with him. Everytime was fine except now.

“…Alright cool.” He murmurs, “How many you wanna smoke today?”

“None. I want my stuff to go.” Your arms folded over your chest. Choso’s tongue licks alongside the paper before rolling, and he laughs. You look over at him- finally look at him. The whole set up pink, contrasting with his grunge-like attire.“What’s funny?”

“You’re funny.” He sets the tray down, inspecting the pink joint before grabbing his lighter and lighting the end. You watch as he his tips back, arm outstretched on the back of the couch as his body relaxes into the furniture. The end of the blunt entering his pierced lips before he inhales deeply, blowing the smoke out. “…I’m not doing that.” He leans back up, eyes dead locked on yours.

He watches the watch your brow twitches with that cute pout on your lips. “Cho, I’m serious.”

“So am I, princess.”

“I want my shit to go.”

“Now she’s cursing at me.” His eyes widen, smile on his face growing. Usually you bossed Choso around, he liked it, but he could tell something was bothering you and that this wasn’t an act. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” You smack your lips before rolling your eyes and getting up.

“If you’re not gonna do your job then I’ll go see what Sukuna’s sellin-“

I’m sorry? He pauses, the smile fading from his face.

“…Sit down, princess.” It wasn’t often Choso talked to you like that either. He spoiled you too much. He was always soft and gentle with you, hurting you was something he never wanted to do. His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you froze for a second before huffing and turning away from him.

Choso took another drag of the blunt, “Not gonna tell you again.”

“Then don’t.” And you had a smart ass mouth. “Stop acting like you give a fuck.”

“The fuck is your problem?!” Choso shouts. You flinch for a second before giving him the middle finger. He’s never raised his voice at you…well, in a serious manner, only at others who really, really got on his nerves. You’ve seen every side of Choso and how he was with others, not you.

But Choso knew you well, and he knows that you don’t like being yelled at. “You’re my problem!” You grab your bag, shuffling to put on your shoes.

“Princess-“

“Shut up Choso!” You bolt for the door, slamming it shut as you left. Choso stares at it for just a second in disbelief, playing the words back in his mind before he followed you out. You haven’t even left from in front of his door before he’s grabbing you by the waist and pulling you back in (and locking it).

He presses you up against the door, bros furrowed as he stared at you- down at you. “You wanna repeat what you said?” He questions. His breath fanned over your face. His face slightly red, you could hear the panic in his heart beat. He held your hands firmly but not tightly. You could definitely break free from his grasp. If you wanted to that is.

You could also tell that he was worked up by the way he panted. “Repeat what you said to me.” A demand this time.

“…Shut u-“

“Before that.”

“I…I’m gonna go see what Sukuna’s selling.” You swallow back a whimper. You watch as his lips twitch before he lets out a breath. He looks away for a second, in disbelief. Why would you, of all people on campus? Of anyone even remotely close in what Choso sold- fucking Ryomen Sukuna?

“Yeah?” The tone in his voice made your heart thump against your chest. You hadn’t heard it in a while. Choso’s face gets closer to yours, down by your neck. You didn’t even realize how hard you were breathing, his voice deep in your ear, “You gonna go fuck him too?”

“No-“

“That what you did while I was gone? Is that why you’re acting like a damn brat right now?” And you shudder, thighs squeezing together. “I leave for a week and suddenly you wanna have an attitude with me.”

“N-No- s’nothing like that.” His lips graze your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you let out a small sigh of relief at his lips on you. He licked the spot, teeth grazing it before sucking. “Cho-“ You whine.

“Nuh uh, tell me you’re gonna go see Sukuna again.” Choso takes the skin between his teeth, humming as you squirmed. His lips felt gentle on your skin even when he teased you. He kisses the spot once more before letting your hands go, his eyes filled with annoyance, but Choso wasn’t one to dwell on things for too long, and he surely didn’t want to be upset with you.

Instead, he waves you off, turning away from you to sit back down in his spot on the couch. You watch him pick back up the neglected blunt and light it back up. You swallowed thickly, your breath heavy as you just…watched. The spot on your neck throbbed, knowing he left a hickey there that he’d usually get yelled at for.

His tired eyes drag over to you, low as he blew out smoke. “Go on, Y/N.” It’s been so long since Choso’s called you your actual name. The feeling cold in your chest as you bit your lip. You didn’t think he’d get that upset. “I’m not gonna charge you for anything since you didn’t smoke… If that’s all you can leave.”

Everyone knew that Choso and Sukuna were related in some way, but they didn’t like each other for plenty reasons, one being how they were technically in competition with each other.

You hadn’t see Choso in a week. Maybe your reaction was a bit petty over a man that wasn’t your boyfriend. A man who spoiled you with anything you asked for like it was nothing. Someone who smoked and fucked you and took you out afterwards. You talked everyday, but for a week the contact was silent.

Standing by the door, you found yourself picking at your nails. Choso was there when you got them done. He watches you before sighing, leaning back into the cushion. “Cmere.” Voice soft, gentle yet still laced with annoyance. He pats his leg, and you shuffle to take your shoes back off, walking back over to the couch, the rug soft beneath your feet.

“Take the blunt.” His hands rub over the curve of your hip. the moment you straddled him. You hold the joint between your fingers, knowing that Choso was the man you’d only ever buy from- except your services were free.

He watches your gloss covered lips take the pink blunt between them. Your eyes close instantly, the warmth clouding your lungs. Your body relaxes into his grasp like it always did. “That’s it..” He hums, scooting you up closer until he could feel the softness of your breast against his chest. His fingers graze your chin before his lips are on yours, smoke traveling from your mouth to his. You whine softly as he bites down on your lip. The kiss greedy- hungry. You missed him. He missed you. Choso lets out a grunt, his hand finding the back of your neck to pull you in deeper. The metal on his tongue flicking against the roof of your mouth.

Choso swallowed all of your whimpers, your clothed cunt rubbing against the fabric of his pants. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing until a loud smack ! has you pulling back and flinching with a yelp. “Cho-“

“You still mad at me?”

You bite down on your lip, looking down at his chest. “..Yeah.”

Without a word, Choso scoops you up into his arms, holding your legs around his waist while you held on tight- wrapping your arms should his shoulder. “What are you doing- put me down Choso!” You huff.

The man says nothing, carrying you all the way to his bedroom. You’re immediately hit with the scent of soft vanilla, the room a mixture of him and the random things you had over- a hello kitty plush on his bed (the only plush on his bed), little figurines sitting on his desk that you’d got together on various trips, your strawberry lipgloss (that you thought you’d lost) sitting right there on his nightstand. He lays you down on the bed, body hovering over you.

His fingers trail up your thighs up to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down without a word, kissing moving down your body. Your panties were soaked, and you felt shy in his arms. “…Say something.” You try to close your legs but Choso shakes his head, prying them open wider. With a soft hum he pins your arms above your head with one of his hands, the other slipping into your panties.

“Need to fix this attitude of yours.” Choso kisses your forehead. His finger circles your wet clit as you whine, gasping softly. You stare up at him, the wrinkle between his brow deepening as he flicked your pearl faster. Taking his lip between his teeth, he adds another finger. “Cho…” You whimper, your breath picking up as your back arched slightly, legs opening wider. More, you wanted more.

“Feel good?” His fingers dip down between your slick folds, dragging the slippery mess up to your clit. “Y-Yes—!” You moan, your hands twitching in his grasp. “Yeah?” He whispers, your legs twitching. Slippery fingers pressed down on your clit.

“So wet for me..” Choso groans, his fingers rubbing faster. Your breath hitches, mouth falling open as another moan passes your lips. Your hips start sputtering, rubbing into the hand for friction. “M-Mhm- fuck— fuck Cho g-gonna cum.” Your high so close you could taste it, eyes closing as your body relaxed in his grasp. His touched that you longed for and it had only been a week. The heat building into your lower stomach as you whimper, awaiting the orgasm that never came.

Your eyes opened immediately. Choso pulls his fingers out of your panties, taking them into his mouth with a small groan. “Cho.“ You frown, eyes staring wide up at him. Watching the fingers in his mouth go right back to those panties.

“Yes princess?” He traces your clit teasingly through the fabric. Down to that waiting hole of yours, leaking so much that you couldn’t help the small noises you were making. “I-I didn’t cum.”

“I know.” He grabs hold of the wet fabric, tugging them to the side until a loud riiiiiip ! of the material shouts throughout the room. “My panties!— The fuck Choso-” Your hands tugging to be freed while you glared up at him.

“Shut up, I’ll buy you some more.” He huffs.

Choso was messing with you right? Trying to scare you from going to see Sukuna. It made perfect sense. Is that why he didn’t let you cum? …It had to be….

It was torturous. The way your legs shook, his palm rubbing against your clit while three fingers thrusted deeply inside of you- so deep they touched that pretty spot inside, curling.

“F-Fuck—!” Your back arched, but Choso kept you down. His brows furrowed in concentration, the wet sound filling his ears alongside your pleasure filled cries. Your pussy squeezed around the fingers, the squelches getting louder, but Choso knew your body well.

You hiccuped, small test slipping down your cheek as your orgasm neared for the fifth time. “You wanna cum?” He asks sweetly, softly above you, as if he was going to let you. Still, you whined, “p—please!” and for a second, Choso considered letting you have your way. You always got your way with Choso.

Your chest felt heavy. You couldn’t think of anything, nothing but the man whose fingers played between your legs. Sweat beaded your forehead. You were close..so close. Sniffling softly, you hiccup, biting down on your lip.

“You look pretty so pretty princess.” Princess. You realize just how much you missed him for that one week. How badly you wanted him to call you by the name he’d whisper into your ear everytime he fucked you like you were really his.

“Cum for me.” He pulls his fingers out, quickly rubbing them against your clit. Your body jerks, “Choso—fuck I-I’m—“ Your toes curl, a broken moan falling from your lips as your orgasm finally hits you “Fuck- fuckfuck-“ You were seeing stars, vision clouding through the overstimulation.

His fingers still caressed you sensitive clit as you felt your pretty pussy gush between your legs, making the creamy mess even messier. “There we go…thats my pretty girl.” Your body clinging to Choso’s voice as he touched you until the very last drop spilled.

You felt the cool metal of his lip piercing and the softness of his lips on your forehead, working down to your nose and finally to your parted lips. “You did so good princess.”

Choso makes quick work of his shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room. “So perfect for me.” He murmurs, sliding the torn fabric of your panties down your legs. His lips kiss your thighs softly. He wipes the tears from your eyes, carefully slipping your shirt off and tossing it. “I-“ Love you, he wanted to say

He pulls your body gently into his arms as he laid on his side. The cool air of his room hitting your skin just the way you like, with his body cradling yours. He kisses your forehead, your head leaning into his chest, eyes fluttering shut.

When you woke up you were surrounded by Choso’s scent, but not the man himself. You rub your eyes, feeling around the bed. Changed sheets and covers, but your plush the same. “Cho?” You had on one of his shirts. When he didn’t answer you bit your lip, going into the living room.

“Cho?”

The smell of smoke hits your nose. You peek into the kitchen to see him leaned up against the counter, blunt hanging from his mouth with his eyes closed. On the stove was a pot with the isle on low. His eyes peel open, holding his arms open. You hug him tightly, tucking your face into his chest. “I made you something to eat. Want some rice and stew?”

“Mhm…”

“..Im sorry for earlier.” He murmurs, arm wrapping around your body, fingers running through your hair. “…Could you tell me what I did to make you mad?”

You tuck your face farther, the hand in your hair pausing. “You don’t have to-“

“Haven’t talked to you in a week.” You mumble, “I was overthinking is all.”

“Overthinking?” Choso puts out the blunt in his ashtray, pulling your body back to look down at you.

“Yeah.. I know we’re not dating, but I got really used to your company and then it just went radio silent so I figured you wanted to go back to just strictly business or you figured I started catching feelings and was pulling away and-

“Slow down, princess.” He puts the blunt out in the ashtray on the counter. “One, I asked you if I could be your boyfriend before I left. Two, I also told you I’d be in the mountains for Yuji’s birthday week without service…You don’t remember?”

You stood frozen, searching your mind for the memory of two weeks ago. The last time you hung out with Choso before he left you’d tried something new he had got a hold of. “I…fuck I have to stop smoking.”

He laughs, running a hand down his face. “Fuck, you…really had me nervous.”

“Nervous enough to edge me?” You huff, reaching behind him for a bowl, your stomach growling.

“Because why the fuck would you even mention going to Sukuna-“

“Why else?” You stick your tongue out, tapping the hickey on your neck.

[the-quasar-hero]

“Rappers only talk about their money, cars, and clothes!”

Why might someone from a group of people that historically have been denied access to wealth, now brag that they have it?

“Rappers only talk about sex!”

Why might someone from a group that have historically been denied sexual autonomy now brag about their sexual escapades on their own terms?

“Rappers only talk about drugs and crime!”

Why might someone from a group that historically have been denied the more legal means to acquire wealth and had drugs forced on their community talk about their experiences with it?

[luv4dapape]

riding kaminari after a long day. +18

↳

kaminari's a loud and outgoing man, like the fucking energizer bunny, but when he comes home and just throws his stuff on the floor without uttering nothing but a low hey babe to you, you already know that he had a long and tiring day at work, so what's better then catering to your baby?

your hands were flat against his chest as you bounced up and down his fat dick, feeling his mushroom tip kiss your cervix with every slam of your hips back to his. kaminari's hands were placed on your hips as he threw his head back into the mattress, letting out a few whimpers. you lean forward and press your soft lips against his neck, sucking and biting as you grind your hips deeper on his dick.

"fuck baby, you ride this dick s-so fucking good," he breaths out while digging his fingernails into your hips. "i got you kami’" you kiss his jawline before straightening up again, picking up the pace of your bounces, "let me take care of you"

[angelamajiki]

being chased is on the mind right now….i want to be chased and caught like prey

[honeybunnyale]

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 💋 🐇

[i-will-write]

how i sleep knowing i write shitty fiction but at least don’t use chatgpt

[sw4grr]

nutted in 3.14 seconds, call that a cream π

[kikichoo]

IM FUCKING CRYING THIS IS HILARIOUS

[sexyscintillatingsoulaan]

sexymayor!kento had a very serious campaign compared to his competitors. no funny business whatsoever!! no social media campaigns, no tv shows, no jokes, nothing! he has a city to run! however his assistant informs him it would be useful for him to do something. he can keep it serious, but if he wants to win, it’s necessary.

sexymayor!kento feeds the homeless, runs the breast cancer marathon, volunteers at the children’s ward in the hospital and helps at the toy drive. but he’s still down a few points. there’s one last thing in his way. you. the librarian. you run the biggest library in the city and you’ve been against him the whole time! tell all the parents not to vote for him because he doesn’t do anything for the libraries or their summer programs.

sexymayor!kento cannot lets this slide. his assistant swiftly scheduled him to host a huge reading to the kids moment, changing the hearts of all their stubborn parents. he’s set to win and change the beautiful city he lives in. but you still don’t like him. his perfect face and his stupid perfect eyes and his perfect hair and his stupid perfect biceps. he catches on quickly. and he personally reaches out to you to make everything between you two right. a nice dinner, if you’d like. a simple meeting, if you’d prefer. whatever your heart desires, kento will give it to you. he needs to know he can count on your vote.

sexymayor!kento takes you to a veeery nice restaurant, away from prying eyes. he holds your hands and promises to fulfill your every desire. everything you need for the library is yours. anything he can give you, it’s yours. well right now, he can give you another glass of wine. and another, and another, and maybe the whole bottle. after two bottles of wine between the two of you, tensions were eased and almost too relaxed. your foot dragged up his leg under the table as he talked. his eyes raked across your body, your dress hugging all your curves and complimenting your black skin.

that’s how you found yourself underneath sexymayor!kento and his huge, fat, throbbing cock. locked in the meanest mating press, your legs and hips ached and wanted release, your ties and neck assaulted with hickeys and your g-spot crushed after each stroke. his cock is so big, you have no idea how he walked around with this thing in his pants. his strokes were so deep and filling, and so painfully slow. he wanted you to feel him and to feel hot much he wanted you. he had cum twice. you, thrice. he didn’t pull out. you didn’t want him to. you wanted him to stay nestled inside your tight pussy, stretching you, and filling you. he wanted to keep hearing your soft whimpers and moans, hear you call him daddy and sir, feel your nails dig into his skin.

sexymayor!kento was completely hooked on your pussy. you gripped him just right, you were soooo wet and he couldn’t stop thinking of the two of you doing this every night. the smell of shea butter in his sheets, your brown skin in his arms and your perfect pink pussy wrapped around him always. kento found himself imagining a perfect white picket life with you. with every thought, his strokes got deeper, if it was even possible. his lips locked on yours, absorbing your growing moans. once again you were unraveling under him, clenching around him around as you came again. he didn’t last much longer than you, filling you up with a third load, feeling it spill out, ever so slightly. the two of you were out of breath, just staring at one another.

sexymayor!kento won the mayoral race. he was getting heat towards the end for not being married or having a family of his own. but one he assured patrons he would be married very soon, that tied the knot (no pun intended). the two of you were attached at the hip. you came to all his events and he made many activities happen at the library just to spend even more time with you. it wasn’t long before the public noticed not only a very fat diamond on your hand, but a sudden need for large coats and bags to cover your midsection.

an: not proofread i’m sawry!! anyways i luv my husband

[zeedafreak]

kento fan downnnnnn and this is very tiana x kento coded!! 10/10 100% recommend

[strawberryswirlsworld]

oh wattpad, tumblr has unfortunately taken your spot

[starg0ld]

[kamiflix]

▶︎ Luv Punnani (starring . suguru geto)

synopsis . Your boyfriend gives you a “pussy inspection” content . afab!reader, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), pussydrunk!sugu, eater activities, begging, teasing, etc. (this is a repost from kamitv — if it looks familiar, that’s why)

Your pussy inspecting boyfriend Geto who uses two thick thumbs to spread your drooling folds apart, eager to watch the mess you’re making of yourself slip down along your slit.

Quick with a smile and a low hum of, “Such a messy fuckin’ girl f’me. All wet like this for what?” He’s so mean with the way he teases you, letting his warm breath slap against your parted pussy just to watch the way you twitch.

He’ll let his thumb glide down your opening just to collect the honeyed wetness that gathers against you. Practically drooling himself, his lips part ever so softly and his eyes take in that sexy trickle of wetness slithering against his skin.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh?" He'd whisper mere inches away from your cunt before dragging his eyes upward to get a look at your expression. Yet, to his dismay, you've got your hands over your face. How rude.

Frowning, your boyfriend redirects his attention back down to your hardly touched cunt that's just gushing in sloppy wet arousal. And with a slight cock of his head, Geto lets off a scoff, "Ohhh, I see. She's embarrassed today."

You keep your head all tipped back against the pillows and your hands remain over your face, lips parting with a heavy sigh whilst he shifts one of his hands over just to push his middle finger up along your slit.

"Sugu, you know I hate when you stare." You whine, a sound of which is cut off by that same finger of his slotting deep into your greedy hole with the filthiest squelch simpering into the air.

The smirk on Geto's face widens and he watches the way your pussy leaves his single digit lathered in filth, "Yeah, 'n I hate when you don't stare. You won't even look at me." He hums casually while easing his finger right back in and biting back a groan at how pretty your cunt looks taking just his middle finger.

You whine again. It's so annoying when he teases you like this—barely giving you what you want and staring at your cunt with that starved look in his eyes but never satisfying the desperation you know lays heavily on his tongue. Then he has the nerve to remove his finger from you entirely.

Following this motion with his index holding your lips open just to swat his thumb over your clit and again watch the way your cunt sobs so desperately for further stimulation.

You finally remove your hand from your face and look down at him, "Suguru." You tried to keep your tone as commanding as you could but you can't help the airiness that your voice carries when he's circling your clit so gently with the pad of his thumb.

Those gorgeous violet eyes of his flick up to you and he lifts his head a bit, "Yes, pretty?"

"S-Stop teasing me," You breathe out.

Geto scoffs and you feel his breath fan over your cunt again, "I'm not."

You've got a pout tugging at your lips but you try your best to glare at him and stop the shakiness in your voice, "Yes you are."

His brows raise a bit and he lifts his thumb away from your clit entirely, leaving you twitching a few inches away from his touch. "Oh, so you want me to stop then?" Geto taunts.

"N-No," There goes your whine again, which is quickly followed by a cocky smile from your boyfriend and him readjusting his touch on you.

Geto moves both his hands to your legs and spreads you even wider for him, holding your body in place as he presses his hips down into the mattress a bit more to soothe the throbbing ache of his cock. "Then what do you want, princess? Tell me," He requests all too sweetly.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, he's moving one of his hands back to your cunt again and prodding your entrance with his middle and ring finger. "I—“

"Speak up," Geto cuts off rudely, easing his finger into you again and watching the way your lashes flutter in satisfaction.

"That," You gasp.

Innocently, your boyfriend tips his head to the side as if he hadn't a clue in the world, "What? You're whispering." He tells you, pretending to not have heard you at all.

You roll your eyes a little and end up moaning out your next words due to the rude upward curl of his fingers inside you, "Your fingers-, fuck."

He chuckles at your reaction, "I said speak up, not sing to me."

Then his fingertips begin to rub right against that spot inside he knows drives you insane, feeling the way you gush around him and how deeply your pussy swallows him in.

You tip your head back again and groan, "You're so annoying."

"Even when I do this?" Geto scoffs, finally starting to fuck his two fingers in and out of you, "Does this annoy you too?" He teases, smiling like an idiot in love as he glances down to watch himself work your insides to tears.

Moaning, "Shut upp," You feel him tug his fingers out with a messy wet pop ringing into the air and when you look back down at him, he's already got his own fingers shoved into his mouth—sucking your taste off his skin with his eyes lulling into the back of his skull as he groans.

After his little whorish display, Geto pulls his fingers from his mouth and swats his tongue over his lips to savor your taste. Following all this with a knowing look in his eyes, "Shut me up, c'mon."

Which is how you ended up with your fingers weaving throughout his long messy black hair, his mouth clinging and sucking on your pussy like he was stuck. Suckling your taste deep down into his throat and moaning in between your weeping folds as he held your shaky legs apart.

This was his favorite part of "inspecting" your cunt, really. Y'know, diving in tongue first to feel and maybe taste anything different.

Your nails would scrape against his scalp each time his tongue seared graciously against your gummy walls, dragging your taste all around and into his mouth with his brows frustratedly scrunched up. Geto could never fully understand how sweet you were.

Once his tongue was on you, it was hard to get him off.

And you know this. That's why you keep your hand clinging onto his hair as you moan, "You wanted t-to do this ah, anyway."

Geto's lost by this point and his mind feels as though your taste was the only thing he could fathom properly at this moment. "Mmgh.. mhm." He moans like some slut into your cunt, "Fuck," He only ever breaks his lips away to slur his words out against you, "Gimme more."

"Sugu," You cry out, feeling your legs twitch to clamp around that pretty head of his.

"Louder, pretty girl," He'd grunt, full-on humping the bed as he eats you out. Something about feeling his cock rub so deliciously against the layers of fabric below while he gurgled that honeyed slick from your pussy into his mouth was absolutely blissful.

And then you'd try to get all bossy with him, furrowing your brows and breathily talking to him, "D-Don't tell me what to do while you're—“

"Hmm?" Geto cuts you off again, humming directly into you before lifting your hips up against his face. He was second away from flipping the two of you over because god he needed your pussy dragging all over his face at this point. "While I'm what?" He pants and lifts his mouth away for a second with strings of slick dripping off of his lips, "While I'm makin' you feel good?"

Instead of responding to him, you let out the most obscene sound you think has ever left your throat. To which you slap your hand over your mouth immediately because fuck was that embarrassing.

"Huh?" Geto looks up again and his whole face droops. Eyes growing desperate and tone dripping in need, he ends up whining himself, "Ohhh, don't do that. Lemme hear you."

You just shake your head at him and that only makes a very faint noise dance at the back of his throat. If you weren't so drunk on pleasure, you probably would've been able to catch the whimper he'd let out.

"No?" Geto frowns, holding eyes with you as he presses his lips to your clit, "C-C'mon, please?" Now that was a bit unexpected. Your boyfriend rarely stutters around you. Let alone beg you like this, "Lemme hear you say my name again. Please?"

That's the last plead he lets off before latching his mouth back onto your pussy, lewdly french-kissing the depths of your cunt while keeping his eyes on you. Those violet-shaded eyes were filled with so so much need. You'd have to be a villain to say no to that look.

Hence why you, unexpectedly, end up choking out his name when he dives his whole face in deeper—the bridge of his nose rubbing sinfully against your clit and jaw falling further open just to suck every drop of your arousal into his greedy wet cavern.

"Suguru, ohmygodd," You breathe out, head falling back once more and hand clinging onto his hair for dear life.

You weren't sure if you wanted to push him away or tug him even closer at this point.

Geto groans and you can feel him smile before he pries himself away just to praise you, "Atta' girl," He purrs.

Then your boyfriend quickly shoots a fat wad of spit onto your cunt and talks to (what he likes to call) her, "Now I wanna hear you say my name," He whispers, "Can you do that f'me?" Leaning down to press a kiss into you, just to mix his spit with the overall mess, "Yeah?"

You roll your eyes at his antics, "Sugu, s-stop doing hah-, that—“

Again, your sentence is cut short, this time because Geto's greeted your pussy with a mean slap.

"Shhhh, I can't hear my girl," He scoffs, rubbing those same fingers he'd just slapped you with all over your folds, "What was that, pretty?" He coos.

You wanted to roll your eyes at him again but it was kinda hard to when he starts ogling your cunt's next wave of throbs and twitches.

Smiling now, "Yeahh? You're about to make a mess on me, aren't you?" Geto purrs again, "Go ahead then, lemme see you do it. Put on a pretty show f'me, baby."

And while he's busy talking your cunt through his needy hand motions, you're losing your mind as your orgasm approaches. Back arching up off the bed, a string of moans flying past your lips, and legs shaking against his other palm, "Fuuck."

Geto nods once he quickly readjusts his hand and starts coaxing your orgasm right out of you, diving a rude three of his fingers into you and thrusting them in deep. "Uhuh, jus' like that," He whispers hotly, watching the way you're quick to coat his fingers in that gorgeous mess he was looking for. "Fuck, you're so sexy."

You don't even get a second to recover or breathe because without warning, Geto's snatching his fingers out of you as if he were jealous of them and then planting messy kisses all over your folds. Then he's slithering his tongue out and dragging it all up and down your slit, gulping your orgasm right up and throwing you into overstimulation.

"Sugu!" You gasp, now pushing on his head instead of tugging on it like before, "O-Okay, p-please," Your whines seem to fall on deaf ears for a while because Geto doesn't budge one bit.

He's normally not such a messy eater but right now he was lapping at you like some dehydrated dog and with the third push from your hands, you hear the way he whimpers. You taste so good he could cry--not that he'd ever tell you that...

Instead, he shows you (without the crying, for now) by placing his hands back on your hips and tugging you harder against his mouth. Shaking his head into you, grunting, groaning, and moaning. Geto was a lost man almost every time he ate you out.

And unfortunately for your poor overstimulated cunt, tonight was no different.

It takes you a looong while before you manage to push him off of you and snap your legs shut so that you can breathe. The only reason you were even able to being that he lost a bit of his strength somewhere throughout cumming in his pants.

By this point, both of you are panting and sweating like you'd just ran a damn marathon. Geto's the one to break the silence right after casually wiping his mouth off with his forearm, "So mean." He mumbles, "Pushin' me away like that."

Your words are a bit slow to come out but, you manage. "...You were trying to kill me."

Geto chuckles at your dramatics, "You could've let me continue for a few more minutes."

"I would've died," You shudder a bit, still clearly being ever the drama queen he knows you to be.

With a sassy roll of his eyes, "Just say you hate me." Geto huffs.

"You're so annoying," You reply.

He snickers but leans over to kiss your leg, "I love you."

You're a bit more calm now so you manage a sigh and a smile creeps up on your face, "I love you too, Sugu."

"Right so uh," He moves to scratch the back of his neck, "Round two?"

"No."

banner art by Rororogi Mogera || perm sugu tags (1/2):

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[luv4dapape]

cw: masturbation • dirty talk

(1) new message from: plug🍃

your eyes squinted at the bright screen, it’s what? 3:47 am? plug!choso usually never texts you first unless he was hooking you up with some deal or asking if you wanted to smoke, but never this late. you’re not complaining though, i mean it’s not like you have his contact in your favorites or anything—or like you always tip him heavily whenever comes to drop off (even though he insists you wouldn’t).

so you pushed that little fluttering butterfly in your stomach all the way down because knowing choso, it was probably just a new strain text.

you press on the notification. his messages pop up and last sent is a black screen. a video. you furrow your brows before clicking on it.

it starts off black and grainy, shuffling in the background before it’s propped up—a desk or stand maybe—and you nearly drop your phone on your face.

it’s shirtless—i mean, it’s choso. and he’s shirtless. fuck. he’s sitting in a gaming chair, his usual two buns now taken down, black strands framing his face. dark tattoos trails up his arms and down his abdomen, a stark contrast against his pale skin. you knew he had ink but not this much. he’s smoking a blunt, dark eyes focused on the camera as the grey smoke escapes his lips and the blunt hangs lazily from his lips.

you’re so focused the ink that snakes around his biceps that you almost miss his free hand slowly trailing down his stomach, fingers brushing against his defined abs and past the patch of hair right before his low waistband.

you turn your phone off and flip it over. “oh my god,” you mutter.

you quickly turn it back on and click back on the video, resuming where you left off.

choso pulls himself out and you swear your heart stops. he’s thick and pulsing, veins running up and down his length. his cock twitches as he strokes his hand lazily over his fat tip, smearing pre-cum all over the ink on his hands. choso takes another pull of the blunt. his eyes are glossy and hooded as he looks down at himself before pulling his hand off his dick and spitting on it.

he takes the wet hand and wraps it around his dick again, hips bucking lightly into his palms. “fuckkk” it comes out breathy and needy. his fingers grip around his length as he starts a steady pace, flushed tip drooling over his fingers. you haven’t picked your jaw off the ground yet, your fingers grip around your phone so tight you’re sure it’ll crack.

a mix of wet sinful sounds and his breathy moans play through your phone speaker. his wrist works in a circular motion around his leaking tip and he throws his head back against the chair. a ramble of curses and whines falls from his puffy lips.

but it’s when he says your name that you swear time completely stops.

you don’t even have time to process it before he keeps going “—need you so bad pretty girl, ngh—wanna stuff you full baby, wanna bend you over in that tiny fucking skirt—hah—and fuck you till you can’t walk, please baby? i promise i’ll be good—“

you’re frozen in your bed. eyes wide as saucers as you watch—no, as you listen—as you watch and listen to the filth that the guy who never said maybe more than five words at once, was on your phone begging for you.

choso jaw falls slack, he gives another needy moan, his now sweat slicked chest falling up and down rapidly as the strokes of his hand increase. he leans over and puckers his lips, a fat glob of spit falls from his lips onto his leaking tip, mixing in with the thick pre-cum as he firmly pressed his thumb to his tip. choso hisses, then it quickly becomes a whimper as he shudders in the chair.

the sweat beading at his forehead glued his hair to his face, a deep blush loud on his neck as his breathing becomes more erratic. “fuck, fuck, fuck” the blunt that was in his other hand (now it’s gone, wonder why) completely discarded as he grips the armrest of the air, the ink on his knuckles becoming paler as he leans forward. “can i cum for you baby? can i? pl—“

the video suddenly cuts and you’re immediately snapped from the trance. you blink a few times, confused and definitely turned on. you look down at your messages and see that choso sent a few more messages.

plug🍃 unsent a message

plug🍃: wrong person

plug🍃: ignore that

you read the messages. then read them again. then read them again. your heart pounds in your chest, he doesn’t know that you seen that video, but do you even want him to know that you seen the video?

of course you do.

you bite your nails while peering down at his messages again. it’s late, you have classes in the morning, you should just end this conversation now and not possibly flirt your way into having your hot plug come over at 4 am for a hookup, something a responsible person would do.

you laugh at the thought as your fingers fly over the screen. your bottom lip pulls in between your teeth as a mischievous smile pulls as the corner of your lips. you send the message and try to ignore the fact that you’re so nervous you want to throw up.

you: you can cum for me anytime

you let out a shaky exhale, your nail beds screaming as you chew them down, watching the phone like it’s a ticking time bomb.

delivered

read

plug🍃 is typing…

[malicioussheepgirl]

*grabs you by the throat* YOU, LITTLE MISS WHITE GIRL WHO GETS EVERYTHING CATERED TO THEM BY THE MEDIA MAY BE SICK OF THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS TROPE, BUT GUESS WHAT! IM BLACK!!! WE DONT GET THAT SHIT! We're never the damsels! We always have to be ride or dies or extraordinary or the sassy black friend! The closest we've ever had is Brandy's Cinderella and the Bodyguard! WE DONT GET TO BE MOUSY! LET A BITCH HAVE SOMWTHING