#Beta OMC

[oceansssblue]

For the requests,,, Alpha male x Omega Hunter? 👀 mayyyybee heat?

Yes siiiiir 🫡

Wasn't sure if you wanted them in a relationship or for them to be strangers, if you wanted full smut or tease or fluffy... Just decided to go with my gut. Not checked for errors, so sorry! Hope you like it!

"Bite me"

ALPHA OMC / OMEGA HUNTER

WARNINGS: just the classic omegaverse shit; heats, bite marks, dynamics blablabla. You know what you're here for. Smut, establied relationship, fluff 💖🔥

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Hunter was used to taking care of things. Of his squad, of Omega, of strategies and plans... It was just how it had always been. With no shortage of supressants, and considering they distributed them to all the clones periodically, the kaminoans hadn't paid much attention to the fact that the sargeant was –a surprise for many– an omega; but without their endless resources, and their new life on the run from the Empire, it had been Hunter's time to face a truth he had been long ignoring. Sometimes he wanted someone to take care of him.

It had taken a long time for him to come to terms with that. He wasn't used to it, always the leader of his squad; needing someone, feeling that deep-soul desperation tugging at him... It had made him feel weak. On top of that, his sense of smell had all but intensified; migraines worsening as well. And oh, let's not even start with the heats... His body burned, and his conscious mind always went on a vacation trip. Hunter hadn't done drugs; though he imagine it would feel something like it.

The clone had always had a fair share of silent admirors. Woman were usually attracted to his toned muscles and tattoos, his overall misteriousness; men liked his long hair and narrow waist. The attention had nothing but increased with the release of his feromones; but he had promised himself he wasn't going to grow distracted by any pretentious alpha, and... Well, he technically hadn't. Because Einarr wasn't pretentious.

Einarr Barkla had been a mandalorian bounty hunter they had crossed paths with for one of Cid's chaotic missions. Between his knowledge of Mando'a, his precision with a blaster, and his calm and soothing personality, Hunter had jumped from simple genuine admiration to a hopeless crush in a blink of an eye. While Hunter fought against his natural instincts, trying to shove everything down, Einarr had continued adressing him with unwavering politeness; not making a single comment about his very obvious feelings, noticing the omega's trouble.

After two months of torture, it was Hunter who had finally confronted him; perhaps not in the best of ways. He had all but pushed Einarr against a wall; asking him to stop playing mindgames in an angry snarl. When a frowning, confused Einarr had questioned him about it, Hunter had hissed that he knew exactly what he meant; that he was using his feromones to call him, that he smelled him everywhere, from miles away, and that he was fucking tired of it. After hearing the rest of his synthoms, Einarr's expresion had switched from irritation and confusion to amusement; and for once, Hunter knew what cheekiness looked like in the mandalorian.

"I don't know, Hunter. Sounds like your omega side likes me" he had smirked at him.

Hunter's eyes had widened in a mix of surprise and realisation.

"Why does this come to you as a surprise?" Einarr had asked, confusion making a come back. "Surely you've experienced this before..."

Hunter had still been too out of place to have the mind to lie about it.

"No. I haven't... I've been on surpresants all my life. I've just recently come off".

Surprise and understanding had mixed on the bounty hunter's face. Einar had placed a warm hand on his shoulder in a comforting way.

"Oh. It's alright, Hunter. You'll learn to get used to it and filter things with time, then".

The sergeant liked his emotional intelligence oh so much... Hearing those soothing words did things to his insides.

He had tilted his head up –Einarr was fucking tall–; and the man must had seen something on his eyes, for he had smiled softly but sensually.

"Do you want something from me, mesh'la?" He had asked; and Hunter had almost whined.

The rest was history. They had been together for a whole year now; a year that started with exciting –and sometimes scary– exploration and ended in wonderfull, safe understanding. By now, Hunter knew every inch of his body; his omega side, his want and needs, his limits... And all of Einarr's. He really was an excellent alpha; he was lucky to have him.

<< Have him... Yeah... Cock inside me, please... >>

In the present time, Hunter's mind was already spinning. He had started his heat half an hour ago; retired to Einarr's apartment as soon as he had detected the synthoms starting. He went through his mental list; lock all windows and doors, send Einarr a mesage, place the water bottle besides the bed, lubricant, and get completely naked. He knew his alpha would come home as soon as he could. His alpha...

Hunter moaned, inevitable humping against the matress at the thought of his boyfriend coming home to help him.

"Alpha, alpha, alpha..." he chanted in a whisper, almost in automatic. Then, a key was introduced in the front door, sending an electric shock through Hunter's bent spine. "Alpha!"

This time he called for him out loud, and he received an answer back.

"Hey, handsome" his voice was low and gentle. His figure inmediately stepping into the bedroom and taking the scene in. "Mm. As ready and good as always".

Hunter whimpered; back bending so that his ass was stuck up in the air and forehead almost resting against the matress. He had been extremely selfconscious of this position in the past; but a lot of time and love had happened since then.

"Please..." he could do little more than beg. "Einarr..."

"Shh" the alpha soothed him, undressing as quick as he could and kneeling in the bed behind him. "I got you, baby. I'm here".

Einarr brushed a kiss on a hip, hands coming up to caress his shoulders and spine; and Hunter sighed, turning into a puddle at the reverent attention. His mind swimmed in happiness.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous" the mandalorian whispered. One big hand travelled down between his legs, teasing the wetness he found there. "Did you play with yourself while I was away?"

Hunter moaned and squirmed. His cheeks warmed.

"Just a bit" he confessed. "I... It was too... I tried waiting..."

Einarr smiled.

"Mm. It's okay, darling, no need to get your mind in a twist. You know I don't care if you give yourself an orgasm to try to relax a little. I know I'll be able to pull a few more from you afterwards..." Einarr sinked a finger into Hunter's hole, and the omega clenched around the please t intrusion.

"F-fuck" he panted. "Y-yes, Nar, please..."

"More?" The alpha asked with a smile, eyes darkened and voice slightly raspy.

Hunter nodded at least four times.

"Yes, please..."

"Mm" he answered, and gave him what he asked for.

Soon, Einarr had three fingers inside of Hunter; and the beautiful man started to beg for his cock.

"Please, please. Your cock... Please, give me your cock..."

The alpha groaned. He slipped his fingers off; then lined up his hard on over Hunter's entrance, teasing with just the tip.

"More" the omega whined, own hips moving back and trying to impale himself impatiently.

"Here you go, baby" the man answered, holding himself and firmly and slowly pushing in.

Hunter's breathing hitched; voice quietening while he adjust and then breaking in a pleased whine.

"F-fuck, a-alpha...".

"Too much?" Einarr asked, waiting patiently, worried.

"No" the omega answered, releasing a happy sigh. "So, so big, so good..."

Hunter clenched; and the alpha moaned. His hands seized both sides of the smaller man's pretty waist.

"You feel incredible too, baby" he praised, and Hunter turned to smile at him, head still resting on the matress.

"Fuck me, please?" He asked, and the mandalorian could do nothing but obligue.

It was slow, sweet and gentle at first; though it was soon consumed by Hunter's heat and need and turned to a rough pounding. Hunter got reduced to endless whimpers and moans; fingers clenching around the bedsheets and eyes closed in bliss, half-bent half-slumped under his alpha's powerfull form.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes..." he chanted in tiny whispers, voice almost muffled against the matress of the bed.

One of Einarr's hand grabbed a handfull of his hair and tugged.

"F-fuck!" Hunter whined, voice forced into a proper deeper V, the spot his boyfriend was ramming slightly shifting inside of him.

"Wanna' hear you" the other man panted, still pouding inside of him. "Wanna' hear your pretty voice cry for me..."

"Alpha" Hunter all but cried to him, stimulation almost too much to handle for him. His body felt on fire, his wetness travelled down his thighs, his alpha was fucking him so good and deep and... "Please knot me. Please knot me, alpha, alpha..."

Einarr moaned at his lost babling. He loved when Hunter reached this state. Fuck, he was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

"Yeah?" He grunted with effort, tugging Hunter's hips back onto his cock. "Want me to knot you, little omega? Pump my cum deep into you?"

"Yes. Yes, please..." he really was a mess by now, but he didn't care. He felt loved and safe. "Alpha, please, put a pup in me..."

"F-fuck" Einarr's pacing stuttered. "Kriff, yes, gonna' fucking breed you, love, pretty, dirty little omega..."

"I'm gonna' cum" Hunter whined, one hand flying back to claw at Einarr's forearm. "I'm gonna' cum, gonna' cum, gonna' cum..."

Einarr groaned and sinked his teeth into Hunter's neck; hard enough to leave a temporary mark, but not enough to draw blood.

The omega cried and clenched around his cock, cumming in long, warm ropes onto the bedsheets. The beautiful sight of Hunter succumbing to the highest of his pleasure was more than enough to pull the alpha's own orgasm out of him; Einarr groaning one last time before pushing his hips flush with the omega's one and knotting him, pumping him full of his seed.

Strength abandoned him, and he more or less dropped on top of Hunter; trying to homd himself up to not crash him completely. The omega didn't look at all bothered by it; Hunter lowered both of them down slowly onto the matress, knot still connecting them, humming happily.

"You okay, handsome?" asked the alpha, kissing the back of his neck affectionately, breathing finally slowing.

Hunter hummed again, body relaxed and mind completely void of worries.

"Mm. Yeah" he turned his face to the side to smile softly at his boyfriend. "Love you, Nar. Thank you".

The alpha grinned. He really was the luckiest man on the galaxy. At least on Ord Mantell.

"Love you too, mesh'la".

THE END.

(Accepting omegaverse requests!)

Omegaverse masterlist here:

[aurorawritestoescape]

PERFORMANCE REVIEW

Max Phillips x OMC || 840 words

Summary: Max conducts a performance review in a non-conventional way.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, mlm, dub-con due to power imbalance but everyone’s on board, Max is his own warning, handjob, semi public, cum eating, allusion to anal. No specific description of omc except for his cock, so you can imagine anyone bb

A/n: smooches and hugs to Gideon @sp00kymulderr for the delicious inspo pic😘 this is my first m/m story so be kind, y’all. Happy Pride🌈

Beta-ed by my love @milla-frenchy ❤️‍🔥 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“Are you happy with your performance, Johnson?”

Max fixes his crimson tie and slowly walks to his employee, stopping behind the man, their bodies inches apart. Johnson swallows loudly and shifts on his feet, staring at the papers scattered on his boss’s desk.

“No, Mr Pillips. I can do better. But this month’s been hard…”

“Up-up-up..,” Max interrupts his employee and places his cold hands on his shoulders. ”I don’t wanna hear your excuses! your dog died, you got dumped, you’re depressed, blah-blah.. I don’t give a fuck!”

Max’s eyes travel down the expanse of the man’s back to his perky ass and his cock twitches.

“But you’re right.. You can do better.”

“Yes, sir..,” the employee agrees eagerly but gets cut off when Max slowly slides his cold hand over the man’s chest down to his stomach. Max growls when his bulge pokes the tensed asscheek of the man in front. Then he sighs and puts his chin on Johnson’s shoulder.

”You need to unleash your potential. And…” Max shamelessly brings his hand down to the man’s crotch and grazes his bulge with the knuckles. “—I’m sure it’s big.”

“Sir..,” Johnson mumbles, but doesn’t step aside. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, his pulse skyrockets when his boss cups his cock over the black slacks.

“Yeah… really big.” Max’s curved lips brush over the man’s neck and he feels the heartbeat on his skin. A shiver runs down his body when he imagines his sharp teeth sinking into the soft flesh. But he stops himself, it’s not the time yet.

Instead Max presses his body flush to Johnson’s and hums with pleasure. His tongue darts out as he’s looking down at the prominent hard-on of his slacking employee. He applies a slight pressure on Johnson’s cock, drawing a needy moan from the man.

“Let me lead you,” Max whispers against the man’s cheek, gently palming his warm lump. “We’re on the same team, Johnson. I can help you grow... to your full potential.”

The man whispers a quiet ‘yeah’ and with confident hands Max starts unbuckling the man’s belt. His employee keeps still, his back pressed to Max’s chest.

The vampire fishes a semi hard member out and groans at the sight. Johnson’s cock is long and thick, not as long as Max’s, but girthier for sure. His asshole clenches when he imagines taking all of that.

“Look at this big juicy cock, Johnson. Can a man who carries this be subpar at his job?”

Johnson shakes his head and chokes on his saliva when his boss gives his length a few strokes.

”Here we go,” Max sneers, seeing the dick fatten even more in his hand, a vein running along the shaft bulging harder with every touch. Max slightly bends his knees, and letting the cock bob freely, cups the man’s heavy balls. The vampire gasps and tuts,

“Aaaand we found a reason for your poor performance. You need to have these bad boys drained regularly. All this cum is poisoning your brain.”

Max tugs at the man’s sack and Johnson whimpers. With his eyes dark as night, Max spits on his palm and wraps it around the hot rod of his employee.

“Let’s get to work.”

He starts pumping it, slowly and sensually at first, not touching the crown yet, relishing the sounds of pleasure falling from Johnson’s mouth, fanning the man’s neck with his heavy breaths.

Max’s other hand snakes around Johnson’s torso, moves up his chest and finds a hardened nipple under the dress shirt. He starts rubbing it with his thumb and the man whimpers, driving his boss mad with lust. He picks up the pace, fisting the cock eagerly, the whole length of it, swipes his palm over the mushroom head again and again, smearing the pre cum over the stiff shaft. His own bulge is rubbing against the employee’s ass, leaking cock ready to spring into action.

Fully under his boss’s control, Johnson moans with need and then pants,

“Oh, fuck… gonna come…”

A second later he starts shooting his pearly load all over the papers, rope after rope, painting the performance review. He jerks with every discharge and Max holds him close, watching him explode on his desk with triumph in his gaze.

“Yessss, like that, squirt it out, give it all you’ve got.”

When Johnson relaxes, Max lets go of his cock and brings his hand to his lips. He licks the cum off his skin and hums at the taste.

When Johnson turns to him, Max shoots him a wink and starts unbuckling his own belt.

“Clean up my desk off your delicious jizz and bend over. Time for your disciplinary action.“

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @thedilfdiaries @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots @cosmickid-inmotion

[weheartdracofest]

We 💚 Draco Fest Day Twelve

Today we have two fics for your reading pleasure. An exciting Drarry courtroom drama, if you stand for nothing, what will you fall for? explores a muggle AU in which Lawyer!Draco comes to the aid of Activist!Harry.  

Everything is Clearer Now (in Hindsight) is a charming tale rich with detail of pureblood marriage traditions, where we find Draco exploring the minefield of pureblood dating and bumping into Harry Potter with alarming regularity!

💚💚💚

Title: if you stand for nothing, what will you fall for?

Rating: Teen

Word count: 6173

Warnings/Tags: Courtroom Drama, Muggle AU, Lawyer!Draco, Activist!Harry

Summary: After getting arrested for breaking into Voldemort, Inc., property, Harry is reluctant to let Draco Malfoy, of all people, represent him in court. But Draco just might be more than the snooty schoolboy he remembers from their Hogwarts days, and Harry just might be exactly what Draco never knew he needed.

Author's note: to contextualize this, I am a law student, but not in England, so there was a lot of Google involved and any inaccuracies on that front are wholly my fault! but I absolutely loved the prompt so I had to give it a go. hope you enjoy, and all love and gratitude to my friend C for beta-ing :)

💚💚💚

Title: Everything is Clearer Now (in Hindsight)

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 16,453

Warnings/Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Friends to Lovers, Coworkers to lovers, Lawyer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Getting Together, First Time, brief mention Harry Potter/OMC, Bisexual Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy's queer awakening, honestly he's a bit of an idiot, Good Parent Narcissa Black Malfoy, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, mentions of recreational drinking, you can fit so many tropes inside this bad boy!

Summary:

After years of avoiding it, Draco’s mother decides it’s high time for him to marry. She orchestrates a "matchmaking" dinner. With Harry in attendance, much to Draco’s dismay. But as the evening progresses, Draco starts to wonder if his mother’s plan might not be as ridiculous as it seems, especially when Harry begins to act... suspiciously charming?

dear cat, I obviously took this prompt in a bit of a different direction, but I'm very much hoping the vibes work for you! Thank you for the inspiration, I haven't written in ages and this was so much fun!!

Author's note:

I am so grateful for this fest, for the mods (and their patience with me!!). I've had a really really hard year, and I haven't been able to write in the way that I've wanted to, and this is the first slightly longer thing I've been able to finish in a long time. Thank you so much for creating this space and letting me come place!

Thank you so much to my incredible beta - I'll reveal you when I am revealed, but you know how much I adore you, how lucky I am to have you in my life.

Prompter: @thisbloodycat

[wolfpants]

wolfpants kinkuary 25: age gap | harry/scorpius

Business Administration | Harry/Scorpius | E, 1.6k

Tags: age gap, boss/employee, horny Harry, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, past NottPott, Harry/omc, watching porn, office sex, curse-breaker Harry, menswear, enthusiastic consent, blow jobs, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex

Harry's new intern is proving to be a bit of a distraction.

“What’s the youngest you’d go?” Harry asked, his voice cracking over the thumping bass. He pressed the words to Ron’s ear. Shots were being knocked back all around them. The bartenders were dancing along to the music. Ron only agreed to come here because Harry practically begged him, falling into Wheezes after a long day at work approving travel expenses, tying up the paperwork from his last case, and categorically not staring at Scorpius Malfoy’s full mouth while he chewed the end of his quill in the boardroom.

read business administration on ao3

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So excited to be doing @kinkuary again! The aim is to complete 20+ prompts this year. Wish me luck! I'm having so much fun 😈 Thank you endlessly to @maesterchill for the beta and @hoko-onchi-writes for the cheers!

[suzukiblu]

this is a question that is not meant to come off as judgemental, and if it does i apologise and you don’t have to answer

for you, or anyone out there in the world if they see this,

What is the appeal of (the?) Omegaverse?

Ive never quite gotten it? And it might be the big bold orange, blue and white letters spelling out aroace, or being european, younger than most people who are knowledgeable about that particular genre of content (still 18+) and while I did get on the internet at 11, I didn’t start reading fanfic until 14-15

this is a long and rambly ask so I just want to clarify, this is a genuine question I would like an answer to, no matter how short and sweet, or long and convoluted it may be

It's all good, I don't mind getting questions! And, like, I've written a LOT of omegaverse, so it's a thoroughly relevant question to this blog, haha.

. . . and this definitely wound up long and convoluted. So like, yeah, we are SO gonna need a read-more here, friend. 😅

Obviously everyone's gonna have their own reasons for liking the genre, but as another (much older, I'm assuming) aroace, for me the appeal is the opportunity to use the tag "Fantasy Gender Roles". Like, there's other stuff there, def, but "Fantasy Gender Roles" is my favorite part. Omegaverse is a game where the rules are made-up and the points don't matter, and you can interpret and re-interpret the involved sexes and genders however the heck you wanna, and in fact are ENCOURAGED to. I also really like certain tropes that are common to the genre, like pack dynamics and breeding kink and having babies and feral behavior and courting/courting rituals, I just really enjoy playing with and reading about all of those.

Also, the worldbuilding. I get to do ✨GENDER-BASED WORLDBUILDING✨.

And obvi, like, some people are just into omegaverse for the kink/porn factor, which is totally fair, but personally I am here for ✨GENDER-BASED WORLDBUILDING✨. And then also the kink/porn. Generally speaking a recurring comment I've gotten from a lot of readers is "I literally hate omegaverse but I love yours", so a lot of my stuff is allegedly a decent jumping-on point for the genre if you're looking for that. Like, I'm not the only person who writes omegaverse the way I do, obviously, just I'm a pretty accessible one who's written a LOT of it.

( and in the event you DO want any jumping-on omegaverse recs from my stuff, I'mma just pop a few of them from various fandoms here. no DC-related ones 'cuz I don't have any of those currently on AO3, only scattered in my WIP tags, but hopefully something helpful will be in here. )

original fic

to the victor go the spoils - human omega OMC/dragon [ GENDER NOT FOUND ] OMC; 16.7k; explicit Fantasy AU. This one includes porn but honestly the heart of it is just one of those fairy tales where the protagonist is somehow both incredibly genre-savvy in their story and yet still a total fucking idiot about other people's feelings, and especially considering it's original fic, it is honestly one of the most popular things I've ever posted, hah.

The dragon arrived early in the morning, and by noon the entire village was in a panic in the town hall. No one in the village knew anything about dragons, aside from what they’d heard in fairy tales and stories, and the plans for dealing with it were about that level of sophisticated.

“We’re not sacrificing a virgin to the dragon,” Viktor said in exasperation.

“Well what would YOU do?!” the mayor demanded.

“I’m going to go talk to it,” Viktor said reasonably, and got up from his seat and went to do just that.

.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

does the pain feel better when I'm around? - beta!Sokka/omega!Zuko, beta!Sokka/beta!Suki, past alpha!Mai/omega!Zuko, polyamory; 3k; teen Societal dynamics-focused fic. Zuko goes into heat at the Western Air Temple immediately after the Boiling Rock happens and goes off to den down alone and stay out of everyone's way without realizing that the local betas are gonna lose their ever-lovin' MINDS about that.

“Cool,” he says. “You realize we’ve been looking for you for, like, two HOURS, right?”

“Why?” Zuko asks, sounding confused, which is kind of sad.

“Because the world is full of people who wanna kill you and you didn’t bother telling anyone where you were going?” Sokka says. “Obviously?”

“Oh.” Zuko falls silent. Sokka glances moonwards in supplication. Yue save him from dumb, dumb firebenders.

every act of communication is a miracle of translation - alpha!Mai/omega!Zuko; 5.7k; teen Post-series fic where Mai and Zuko are about to spend their first cycle together and they're both really awkward about working out how it should go. Not actually a sequel to "does the pain feel better when I'm around?", but you could definitely draw a relationship between 'em.

They leave the office, Mai pretending that all her senses aren’t full of Zuko’s warm, spicy scent, and he keeps looking worried. She wonders if it’s THIS he’s worried about, now that she’s thinking about it. They agreed they’d share their next cycles together, but again, they haven’t really talked about it.

They can talk about it now, Mai thinks.

Unfortunately, that means now they actually have to talk about it.

.

Overwatch

even if I do I don't, even if I could I won't - omega!Genji/beta!the-character-who-was-at-the-time-I-wrote-this-fic-known-as-McCree; 5.1k; explicit Blackwatch-era fic where Genji did not fill out his heat partner designation forms and "Fuck or Suffer Unspecified Health Consequences" is gonna make that a problem. Worldbuilding, assisted negotiation, a touch of workplace-influenced pack dynamics, and porn.

“Yeah, you’re hilarious, kid,” Gabe says. “Get back to work. And Shimada, call your heat partner and we’ll see you next week.”

Shimada’s shoulders tense. Gabe . . . pauses.

“Shimada,” he says slowly. “PLEASE tell me you have a heat partner on base.”

“I have a heat partner on base,” Shimada lies. Gabe and Jesse both stare at him, then Gabe calls up his file, takes one look at it, and starts cursing.

don't, don't, don't let's start (I've got a weak heart) - alpha!Genji/omega!the-character-who-was-at-the-time-I-wrote-this-fic-known-as-McCree; 17.3k; explicit Blackwatch-era fic about Genji and the character formerly known as McCree dealing with their complicated feelings about each other and also the cybernetics and trauma and physical disabilities that are fucking up their sex life, including ED.

“You busy?” he asks. Genji stares at him in bemusement, which is fair. Genji’s only ever busy when they’re on a mission or he’s in the middle of an upgrade. “Dumb question. My heat’s coming on, wanna do me a favor?”

“What favor?” Genji asks, still looking mystified. Jesse tries not to laugh at him.

“The obvious one,” he says meaningfully, tipping his hat back and raising his eyebrows at him. Genji looks no less mystified for a moment, then startles. “THERE we go."

.

Marvel Cinematic Universe

come hang (let's go out with a bang) - omega!Darcy Lewis/omega!Johnny Storm; 5k; teen Darcy almost dies again, tries to figure out which omega buys the courting gifts in an omega/omega relationship, and has her first date with a super-hot superhero.

“Was there traffic?” Jane asks.

“I have a date with Johnny Storm,” Darcy says.

“What?” Jane says.

“Oh, and I almost died again,” Darcy says, pulling out Jane’s papers for her. “But that’s kind of secondary.”

“WHAT?!”

pack up, don't stray (oh say say say) - alpha!Natasha + polyamory; 3.4k; teen Natasha collects a harem pack and Captain America is fucking difficult about it.

Natasha is an alpha on a mission, and that mission is simple and clear.

I said you're holding back, she said shut up and dance with me - alpha!Peggy/omega!Steve/omega!Bucky; 10.3k; mature Alternate timeline where Steve and Bucky don't "die" and they all run away from the States to get married and start a family. Illegal adoption and biokids and lowkey pack dynamics involving figuring out how to fold pups into their lives, oh my!! And also, they all get to dance.

“One alpha mating two omegas? Really, Steve?” Peggy asks, mouth quirking wryly. “What WOULD the newsreels say?”

“We’ll go to France,” Steve says. “No one will care in France.”

“I do love France,” she muses.

oh don't you dare hold back, just keep your eyes on me - alpha!Darcy/omega!Bucky, polyamory; 187.4k; explicit MY MAGNUM OPUS, MY WHITE WHALE, THE LITERAL REASON OMEGAVERSE TOOK OVER HALF MY BLOG FOR HALF MY STINT IN MCU FANDOM. I wanted a goddamn female alpha and I wanted that female alpha to be Darcy Lewis, and Bucky was my fave blorbo at the time so the inevitable happened. The inevitable happened for three and a half years and 187,430 words, to be more precise.

Darcy is thirty feet out of Stark-cum-Avengers Tower when she starts craving cinnamon rolls--the sticky-sweet iced-up old-fashioned kind, yummy and messy and dripping gooshy icing all over your mouth and hands and down your yuuuup, yup, that is a super, super fertile omega that she is smelling, holy SHIT is it ever.

“Jesus Christ,” she groans in frustration, then follows her alpha instincts (and, more easily and importantly, her NOSE) to go track them down. They’re in the middle of New York City; middle of the day or not, not checking on somebody who smells like THAT is, like, the ultimate dick move.

.

OKAY SELF THAT'S ENOUGH LINKS, WE MOVE ON NOW, haha.

I will also say, if you're interested in, like, gender-exploratory AU concepts, apiary genders might be more your thing and more easily accessible for you? It's a MUCH newer thing than omegaverse and really only has a few fics around, some of which are linked in the "inspired by" of that AO3 primer linked above, but the concept is a bit more strongly "hive"-based than a lot of omegaverse is "pack"-based, and also there's no physical differences from baseline. I've got a WIP or two going about apiary myself, actually, but I haven't gotten too far into them yet, alas. The only one I've posted anything from is this one Superbat one.

[steddieunderdogfics]

why don't you use it; try not to bruise it by bittersweetfool

@arkenstoned

Rating: Explicit

12,061 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Knotting, Dirty Talk, Spit Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, misappropriating yoga for sexy purposes, Tattoo Artist Eddie Munson, oh theres some eddie/omc in here, it's brief but explicit, Light Dom/sub, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, the vaguest suggestion of pregnancy kink, like a sentence, Roommates

Summary:

“Oh,” Eddie says, voice strained and pitched an octave higher than it’s meant to be. “You’re not normally home.” Astute observation. Steve looks over at Eddie from over his shoulder, not moving from his position on the mat. “Oh hey! Yeah, the gym's closed for refurbs for the next month. Figured I could just do some workouts from home,” Steve says, easy as anything, barely any strain in his voice. As if he isn’t in their living room, legs spread and ass in the air. As if he hasn’t sent the blood meant for Eddie's brain rushing to his poor dick, leaving him entirely unable to think about anything other than what’s under those shorts. Wondering if his cunt is as pink as his lips, what it might smell like, might taste like— Steve straightens up, levels a concerned look at Eddie. Because he hasn’t said anything for a solid thirty seconds, has he? All of a sudden he’s glad he remembered to put blockers on this morning, or else the room would reek of horny alpha, and then Steve would know exactly what has him so distracted. “That’s not gonna be a problem or anything, is it?” and, fuck, he sounds a little unsure, which is the last thing Eddie wants. Yes. Yes it’s a fucking problem.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Tattoo Artist AU.

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[loganlostitall]

It’s here lovelies 🖤

From The Ashes- Chapter 12

Note: Sorry for the lateness. This is a bit more of an intense chapter, you get to see the full picture of Pheonyx's scars and also how it affects Daryl to see them. The after effects of Pheonyx's encounter with Shane are also intense. Both of our boys are dealing with a lot.

Spotify (Songs that remind me of Pheonyx, Pheonyx/Daryl, or just songs that I listen to while I'm writing.) Song: Coal by Dylan Gossett(If you're a fan of Noah Kahan I recommend checking out Dylan's music!)

Dividers: @firefly-graphics and @omiyours Banners: @liminal-creations

Chapter CW/TW: PTSD, Past rape/noncon, past child abuse/neglect, anxiety attack, physical description of abuse scars, intense transphobic internal monologue, vomiting

Prev / Masterlist

The first time Pheonyx had an anxiety attack was the second week after he woke up in the hospital. It would have happened sooner but–up until that point–he was drugged to oblivion and catatonic between bouts of medication-induced slumber. When the doctors started weaning him off the pain meds, he became more aware of what was happening around him and it seemed like every emotion was multiplied to a thousand. He spent a week feeling numb and tired to suddenly being surrounded by lights and sounds that set every synapse in his brain on fire. 

Overall, he was able to keep his calm when feelings were flooding his system, but he broke down when he woke up on the 9th morning and Aaron wasn't there.  Despite the fact that Pheonyx spent the majority of the first week sleeping and staring at a wall, Aaron had stuck by his bedside faithfully. The only times he left were when Pheonyx was unconscious. Even then, it was only to go home, shower, and eat. The curly haired man even slept on the uncomfortable recliner in the corner of the hospital room. Pheonyx was still unsure why the man had chosen to stick by him. Aaron’s duty to him ended the second the ambulance had taken him away. But, according to his nurse, within ten minutes of arriving at the hospital’s ER, Aaron was in the waiting room using all the charm he had to try to get information on how Pheonyx was doing. 

So, when the presence of the man who saved Pheonyx's life–who protected him while he was at his weakest–was nowhere to be seen after a night full of nightmares, his strength shattered. Darkness pooled in the corners of his vision and suddenly every breath was like fighting a dragon that took up residence on his chest. The feeling only got worse when the heart monitor attached to him began to beep incessantly and a small alarm went off above his head. Within a few minutes, the room was suddenly filled with medical personnel. The nurses tried to calm him, talk him through the attack and it started to work, the deep breathing, but when the doctor grabbed his arm to try to administer a sedative, he found himself screaming. The hands, rough even under the rubbery feel of the gloves, felt too familiar. His skin crawled and he had to get away, trying desperately to stop history from repeating itself so soon. Aaron had probably heard his screaming from down the hall, because he ran into the room, face red and eyes frantically scanning the enclosed space. Still trying to avoid the syringe in the doctor's hand, Pheonyx's heart immediately slowed when he saw Aaron pushing past the nurses to get to his side. All that fear and pain finally came to a head and he cried for the first time since he was hurt. Aaron advocated for him when the doctor was insisting on pushing more drugs into his system, chewing them out for being so rough with someone who had been abused so badly only 9 days prior. 

The whole time, Pheonyx held Aaron's hand like it was a lifeline. Like he was floating out at sea, the anxiety and panic, a kraken trying to drag him by his legs under the surface, and the only thing holding his head above water was the warmth coming from the other man's smooth hands. He spent the next 2 hours gripping Aaron's fingers until the feeling of impending pain finally eased. 

Later, his therapist would call it codependency, the fact that he couldn't cope without the other man's presence as a buffer, but to Pheonyx it was comfort. He'd been hurt so many times in his life, and no one had stopped to help him. Not even his own mother. But this complete stranger had taken it upon himself to not only rescue Pheonyx physically from death, but also emotionally from the darkest depths of his mind. 

As time went on, Pheonyx managed to find his comfort in other things. Music, cooking, getting tattoos, reading. And when he found Kismet starving behind the dumpster of Zombie Ink, he found himself being the strength for something suffering from similar abuses. He still had flares of anxiety and panic when he was in large groups, especially around strangers, or when cis men pushed in a little too close to him. But it had been over 2 years since he had a full blown attack. All the progress was ripped open like a scarred wound when Shane had grabbed his arm. It brought up so many antique sorrows from the dusty depths of his mind. That lack of bodily autonomy and those memories of being broken were like a rattlesnake wrapping tight around his brain. Constantly slithering around his mind and coiling up, ready to strike at any moment. Ready to inject its venom of self hatred and consternation. It took 6 years of therapy to bash the snake to death but the ghost of the creature still ruled his thoughts sometimes.

Pheonyx used to have a rhythm for pulling himself out of that dark dimension. But it had been so long that he nearly hyperventilated before he was able to calm his breathing and work through the mental exercises his therapist recommended for him. The sun had completely disappeared from the sky by the time he felt his feet hit the ground again. The moon wasn't even over the trees yet though, so he hadn't been lost for long. By some miracle, no one had come out the front door, or looked over from their campfires on the other side of the main property. He loathed the idea of worrying his family, or having to explain his moment of weakness to one of Rick's group. 

Despite the evening of his heart rate, his stomach rebelled at the abuse his mind threw at him and bile slithered up his throat. Clutching his stomach, Pheonyx only had a moment to get to the side of the house, out of sight, before the meager contents of his stomach came out of his mouth. Having only eaten jerky and some toast earlier in the day, it was mostly acid. Pheonyx grimaced at the taste in his mouth and the burn in his throat. 

He wiped sweat from his forehead and used his booted foot to sweep some dirt over the small amount of vomit on the ground. He didn't want to waste water, or draw attention to himself, by turning on the hose to clean it up.  The grass crunched under his feet as he made his way to the stables, breaking through the sound of crickets and cicadas that rang through the evening air. Though he knew he would benefit from a shower, the water would be heaven on his tired muscles, and the stench of sweat, dirt, and walker blood emanating from his skin was probably horrible. But he knew he needed to go out tonight, taking a shower before getting dirty again just seemed wasteful. The traps needed to be refreshed with fresh offal, and he needed to make sure to burn any bodies that had wandered into the spikes. 

The sound of the porch door being pushed open made Pheonyx glance over his shoulder. Like a spotted ghost, Kismet shoved his way through the flimsy door and  tumbled down the wooden steps towards his owner. A large bully smile was wide on his face as he ran to catch up with Pheonyx. He almost tripped 3 times, his brain unable to fully control the massive paws underneath him. Pheonyx braced himself for impact, as he knew Kismet wouldn't be able to fully stop himself in time, and he was glad he did. The thick skull of his fur baby rammed into his knee and nearly toppled him over. 

"Jesus Christ!", Pheonyx grunted and placed his hand on the dog to settle him. "How have you not killed yourself yet? Or someone else for that matter?", he muttered under his breath. "Come on, bud. Let's feed the horses."

The duo made it to the stables in less than a minute. Kismet immediately left Pheonyx's side, while the man went to turn on the lanterns scattered around the barn, to greet all of the horses. Koda and Nellie, both chestnut quarter horses, stuck their noses down to nuzzle against the enthusiastic dog. Baker was an older roan quarter horse. His fur was based black with a dusting of white across, making him look like he'd rolled in flour. Even more gray covered his nose, indicating his age. Hershel had acquired him before Pheonyx was even born. 

Just like most old men, Baker was craggy and refused to give Kismet the time of day. He snorted and tossed his head when the pup made his way over. Kismet didn't let it phase him though, he hopped up and stole a kiss from the grumpy horse, who let out a whinny in protest. But he left him alone after that, moving to the last horse housed in the stables, Beauty. The beautiful quarter horse was entirely black aside from a white star on his forehead, just like his namesake, Black Beauty. 

Pheonyx watched as the stoic horse tossed his head in delight, his lips rolling up in a ridiculous smile at seeing Kismet making his way over. While Koda and Nellie simply put up with the over enthusiastic dog, and Baker hated the furry beast, Beauty enjoyed the pup's company. 

Turning his attention to the buckets in each stall, Pheonyx sent a thank you to the earth when he noticed the fresh water, hay, and the remains of feed in their individual buckets. Maggie must have taken care of the animals, knowing that he would be gone most of the day. He had no issues feeding the animals, it was pretty much routine after two months, but he was tired. And the idea of measuring feed and vitamins just made his brain feel like mush. Glancing at the analog clock (whose batteries had just been replaced recently) on the wall outside the tack room, Pheonyx sighed when he realized it was close to 10. He had to go out tonight but it was still too early to make his way to the woods. He could see some lights in the house from the stable door, and he didn't want to risk anyone finding out about his nightly routine. Not yet. Running a hand through his thick hair, Pheonyx contemplated the best move. He knew if he fell asleep now, he would be dead to the world for the next 8 hours. 

Deciding to kill some time, Pheonyx unclipped his weapons from his belt, taking care to place them on his cot, and stripped off his dirty tank top. He tossed it into the corner of the stall, making a mental note to wash it later. He grabbed some baby wipes from the same stall and began to wipe away some of the sweat and dirt from the day, grimacing at the black dirt streaked on the soft cloth. It would have to suffice until he was able to take a shower later. After discarding the wipes, he took a moment to run a hand over his flat chest, admiring the feeling that he dreamed of for so long. Underneath the raven wings spread across his collarbone and sternum, two mirrored crimson lines ran under his pectoral muscles, breaking for about an inch in between.  The scars from the surgery were still red and stark even against the tan of his skin. They were a bit raised, mostly from moving too much after surgery and not stretching the skin properly. But he couldn’t help the fact that the world ended while he was in recovery. He couldn’t exactly adhere to his surgeon’s post-surgery care instructions while battling dead people. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have worse scars on his body. At least these scars were ones he felt he could be proud of. Pheonyx ran his hands over the bumpy skin, massaging the tissue a bit, trying to help the nerves reconnect and soften the area like he read about. He did this for a few minutes before going to the tack room to grab some protein bars. His stomach was still rolling from throwing up earlier, but he knew he needed the energy. So, he scarfed down two bars that were labeled as chocolate peanut butter flavored but tasted like neither chocolate nor peanut butter. The burning in his belly calmed a bit, thankfully. Enjoying the air on his exposed chest, the burst of euphoria giving him some extra energy, Pheonyx pulled a haybale to the center of the stable aisle and laid a horse blanket on top to protect his butt from the itchy straw. 

Pheonyx went to the stall with his cot and opted to kick his shoes off, allowing his feet to breathe for a short while, the cool air feeling like heaven on his tired toes. He grabbed his guitar case from the corner and opened it up, pulling out the off brand acoustic that he had gotten at a garage sale for 5 bucks. Despite its nameless brand, the instrument was inlaid with beautiful flowers and dark wood that made it look expensive, almost hand made. Beth had been the one to pick up guitar first, at age 6, learning from an older lady at their church. In her excitement after each lesson, she would walk Pheonyx through everything she learned. With the 12 year difference between them, Pheonyx had always had a hard time connecting with the vivacious blonde. But music allowed him to bridge the gap that their age had brought between them. Video calls had given him the chance to keep up with her progress even when states separated them. He wouldn’t consider himself a guitar prodigy, he couldn’t read sheet music for shit, but he learned chords quickly and had an ear for replicating songs that he heard a few times. Overall, singing and playing were a distraction. Another piece in the complicated puzzle of his recovery. 

Pulling the strap over his shoulders, he relished in the cool feeling of the wood against his bare skin. Kismet got to his feet from his spot that he claimed in front of Beauty’s stall, stretching like a cat, and trotted over to plop himself down in front of the hay bale that Pheonyx was going to sit on. 

Pheonyx maneuvered himself onto the hay bale, tucking his legs in a criss cross pattern and placing the guitar in his lap. He strummed the strings experimentally, sending a thanks to the earth when the notes came out in-tune. The Georgia heat had a tendency to fuck with the wood but his case seemed to be doing a good job of stopping expansion despite the violent temperatures. 

Fingers moving in a practiced pattern against the frets, he tested out some chords, trying to think of what to play. 

“Any suggestions?,” he asked, looking around the stable at each of the animals. The only answers he received from the horses was a glare from Baker and a snort from Nellie. 

“You can request it as much as you want, Nell, but I’m not playing Wonderwall. I’m not that much of a douche.”

Kismet lifted his head from its spot on the cool concrete and gave a little awhoo, a mix between a howl and a whine. Although it wasn’t an actual spoken answer, Pheonyx gathered what the dog was asking for. 

“Dylan Gossett? I’m surprised you’re not sick of him yet. You worked hard today though so you get first pick.” 

The dog’s tail beat against the stable floor, as if he understood every word, before he laid his bulky head down onto his paws with a sigh.  

Calloused fingers moved onto the proper strings, the metal ribbed wire pinched the skin in a familiar pain. He shut his eyes and pictured the song in his head. The chords and the feelings flowing from his brain straight into his fingers. The soft music floated throughout the barn and he started to sing, letting his brain rest from the stress of the world and the demons in his mind. 

Daryl tossed on top of his sleeping bag for the upteenth time in the past hour. It was too hot. That’s what he kept telling himself. The sweat coating his body and the thick air was what was keeping him up. It wasn’t the green eyes that kept flashing in his mind. Or the thick brown hair. Or the colorful art that dotted tanned skin. He wasn’t thinking about how much of that skin was probably covered in tattoos. And he certainly wasn’t thinking about how that skin might feel underneath his fingers. Would it be soft? He felt like it would. Their hands had brushed only for a moment earlier and that small glimpse of sensation was softer than the flannel pillowcase he had for 13 years growing up. Originally a red plaid, the case had been washed so many times that the fabric was dulled to a light pink, and so thin that he could practically poke holes in it with just his fingers. He refused to throw it out though. It was soft and comforting when his life was all sharp edges and pain. During a drunken rage, his father had burned it. Just like every other good thing in his life. 

Sighing, Daryl flipped to his other side, too tired to process the implications of his obsessive ideas. He tried to clear his brain of all thoughts, only focusing on the intake and exhale of his breath. He needed to get some rest. He had gotten barely 2 hours of sleep the night before and if he was going to spend another day in the sweltering woods, he needed to relax. 

When the first whisper-soft notes of sound began to float around him, Daryl thought his mind was simply fucking with him. Playing music to an unknown song while he was trying desperately to sleep. The melody of cicadas and crickets began to blend with the soft notes and Daryl opened his eyes, nose scrunching in confusion. Everyone else was bunked down for the night, aside from Andrea who had the first watch shift. He knew that because he heard the concurrent “good night”s and the accompanying sound of tents being unzipped and zipped again. He’d kept a mental tally. Dale was the first to announce his departure, including Carol in the plans as well since they were both sleeping in the RV. Glenn and T-Dog were next. Then, Shane had kicked dirt over the fire before heading to his own tent. Rick and Lori were sleeping in the same room with Carl. None of the group had music players, and radio was a thing of the past. While the notes were quiet and dampened by the walls of his tent, he didn’t think it was coming from the farmhouse, it wasn’t muted enough for that. The only other sound was the occasional rustle of sleeping bags from the tents in the distance, as Daryl had made sure to set his tent up a fair length away from the main camp. No one else seemed to be disturbed by the sound, which wasn't entirely surprising, the music was barely audible. He doubted any of the people in the group had the heightened sense of situational awareness to hear it. 

Grunting in exasperation, at the weakness of his group members and the fact he wasn't getting sleep anytime soon, Daryl lifted himself up into a sitting position. He wiped a dirty hand over his short hair. The oldest sister, Maggie, stopped him after he was done talking to Carol earlier. She didn't say much, just offered their bathroom up to him so he could shower, with hot water surprisingly.  The idea sounded amazing. He'd taken a brief one at the CDC but all the running and searching made that cleanliness a distant memory. But the idea of stepping into that farmhouse made him nauseous. The idea of tainting the purity of the pristine house with his dirty soul was sickening. He'd take a dip in the creek tomorrow sometime. That's the only place he felt a dirty Dixon like him deserved. Instead of answering, he'd simply grunted a thanks and walked away. He was regretting it now though, the dried sweat and dirt made his skin itch a bit as he crawled out of his tent into the humid air, making sure to grab his bow. Fresh sweat began to pebble on his skin, starting the cycle all over again. Looking around, the only movement he could see was Andrea on the roof of the RV, her head doing a back and forth sweep with a pair of binoculars, checking the fields for signs of walkers. Even the farmhouse was still. The only sign of life was a small oil lantern flickering in one of the second floor windows. Gripping his crossbow tightly, his palms sweaty against the smooth surface of the stock, Daryl started to follow the music. 

Grass crunched under his booted feet as he made his way out of their makeshift camp and got closer to the farmhouse. As he passed the covered porch, the music grew in volume, still barely audible. He walked slowly around the house and stopped when he found the source of the sound. A distance off, soft lantern light poured out of a set of rolling doors on a long building that was much newer than the other structures on the farm. Several small paddocks and water troughs surrounded it leading him to believe it was a stable or barn of sorts. 

Realizing one of the Greenes must be listening to music in the barn, he loosened his tight grip on the bow. The noise was barely noticeable, especially over the summer song of crickets and nightly breeze, so the likelihood of any walkers being drawn towards the farm were slim. As the distance between his feet and the barn decreased, a voice began to become understandable through the lulling chords of guitar strings. 

"-I still keep it with me

Tucked under all the memories

Your voice echoing throughout those trees…”

The song itself sounded folkish with a hint of country quality, a mix of husky voice and rural twang. Daryl was more of an old rock fan, his limited musical library consisting of AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, and Led Zeppelin. That was the typical type of music that played in any of the garages he would work at while Merle was doing stints in whatever prison or court mandated rehab. So, he’d learned to prefer it. But Merle was a fan of old country music, so he did often listen to George Strait, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, and Dolly Parton. Of course, Merle insisted he only listened to Dolly because she had a good rack but he had seen the older man shed a tear while listening to “Down from Dover”. The song playing had many of the old country-esque qualities that he was familiar with, although the lyrics themselves were a mystery to him. 

“And through unfavorable weather

And holes in the leather

These boots still covered in tar

Well I'm still praying to the heavens

And hoping for them sevens

But hope only gets a man so far…” 

When he was in front of the open stable doors, the heavy scent of hay and horses indicating that the structure was indeed a horse stable, he realized it wasn’t a radio he was hearing, but the dulcet sound of someone singing and playing the guitar. There were 3 lit lanterns spread throughout the aisle, casting shadows and yellow light throughout the space. It took a moment for Daryl’s eyes to adjust to the brightness and the unfamiliar surroundings. His sight was immediately drawn to the figure in the center of the building. Pheonyx was sitting on top of a covered hay bale, calloused fingers expertly plucking and strumming a beautiful dark wood guitar. His head was turned down, focusing on the strings so Daryl couldn’t see the movement of his lips but he watched as the man’s shoulders moved along with every word and how he moved slightly side-to-side with the rhythm of the music. 

“When this game of life plays heavy on my heart and–

Love is tough and loneliness is twice as hard and–

I'll carry that 'bout everywhere I go

They say pressure makes diamonds

How the hell am I still coal?…”

Pheonyx's voice was like the campfire from the 4th of July when Daryl was eleven. The comforting tone was like the heat from the flames, surrounding his shoulders and wrapping his body tight. It wasn’t deep, but still husky and dark like the smoke that wafted up into that humid summer night, staining his tattered clothes with a familiar soothing scent. Occasional broken notes were reminiscent of the crackling fire, the popping and hissing of its own song. Despite the roughness of Pheonyx’s voice, it was still soft like the marshmallows that Merle stole from the local Piggly Wiggly. Daryl had stolen the chocolate to pair with the sweet cloudy treat, but neither could fit any graham crackers under their shirts. So, they used their pocket knives to cut holes in the marshmallows, put a piece of chocolate inside, and then roast it over the flame. The outsides of the sugary pillows were charred to hell, and the chocolate barely room temp inside, but it was still perfect. Just like that memory. 2 days later, Merle left for basic training and ultimately left Daryl alone with their abusive father.  Despite that, that 4th was one he looked back on with fondness. It was perfect but also imperfect. Just like Pheonyx’s voice. It wasn't the flawless heavily edited voices that he heard playing on the radio before the turn. It was imperfect and that made it perfect. 

“I've seen heaven without dying

Met the devil without trying and they both seem to wanna talk to me

But I'm all outta luck now and my dreams aren't worth a buck now

It's tough tryna land on my feet…” 

Daryl watched the shadows dance across the younger man’s shoulders as the song picked up in intensity, muscles in his arms clenching and unclenching with every movement. He watched Medusa’s snakes on his shoulder dance with the rhythm of the song, as the tissue and sinew kept up with every note. Eyes trailing up over the smooth skin of his shoulder, he reached the man’s collarbones when his body became acutely aware that Pheonyx wasn’t wearing a shirt. Just as the thought entered his mind, which effectively became foggy, Pheonyx leaned back a bit, lifting his head and giving Daryl a full glimpse of the tattoo imprinted on the man’s chest. Much like the style of the other pieces on his body, a gothic style raven was spread across the hard form of the man’s collarbones. Wings spread in flight, the raven looked like it was decaying, feathers were falling from its open wings and bone could be seen poking through torn skin over the expanse of the bird's body. Mouth drying, Daryl wondered what it would be like to trail his fingers over the skin there. Would it be a beautiful juxtaposition of hardness and softness, the velvety derma laying over dense ossein?

“When this game of life plays heavy on my heart and

Love is tough but loneliness is twice as hard and

I'll carry that 'bout everywhere I go

They say pressure makes diamonds

How the hell am I still coal?...”

Before his thoughts could enter even more of a dangerous territory, Daryl was distracted by the little bit of movement that he caught at the corner of his eye. He was sure Pheonyx hadn’t noticed his presence, but the animals in the barn did. The large eyes of 4 horses were drawn to him, but they showed no outward reaction to his existence. In fact, he swore he saw them moving their heads to the rhythm a small bit. Except for the gray horse, he just glared at the archer and flipped his head at him. At Pheonyx’s feet, Kismet had raised his head and was smiling at Daryl. He didn’t get up from his position on the floor but the dog’s tail started to thump faster against the ground. Chocolate brown eyes looked at him in happiness and Daryl would be lying if he said it didn’t make his chest ache a bit. 

The song sped up even more and Pheonyx sat up a bit straighter, exposing more of his torso from behind the guitar. Daryl looked away from the happy dog and his eyes were pulled into the long red scars that ran across Pheonyx’s chest. His heart began to race, mind wandering to all the possible causes for the imperfections. 

“And everyday it's getting colder

Since that day in October

When you told me it was over, so I left

So if you need me, well I told you

I'm on the better side of sober

Tryna find a four-leaf clover to get me out of this mess

This game of life plays heavy on my heart and

Love is tough but loneliness is twice as hard and

I'll carry that 'bout everywhere I go

They say pressure makes diamonds

How the hell–”

It took a moment of confusing internal panic for Daryl to figure out the scars, running directly under the raven and parallel to its wings, were from some kind of surgery. Recently, if he had to guess. The scars were still bright and almost angry looking compared to the surrounding skin. Almost imperceptible, evenly spaced dots ran on either side of the angry skin, imprints of stitches long gone. The same dots ran in a circle around his nipples, which almost looked a bit scabbed. 

The voice of his father rang through in his mind, Fuckin’ bitch thinks cuttin’ ‘er tits off will make ‘er a man? Ain’t gonna change the cunt between ‘er legs. Always knew ya were a fuckin’ faggot. Look at ya, boy. Lustin’ after some psycho tranny. Prolly the only pussy ya could ever get. 

Daryl physically shook his head, pushing out the remnants of his father’s hate. The man was dead but still haunted his son’s thoughts. That smoke-roughened voice was ingrained harder in his body than the scars on his back. 

“This game of life plays heavy on my heart and

Love is tough but loneliness is twice as hard and

I'll carry that 'bout everywhere I go

They say pressure makes diamonds

How the hell am I still coal?” 

As the last note vibrated through the strings of the guitar, silence enveloped the wide space. Behind him, Daryl noted the sound of crickets increasing, the music no longer drowning them out. Aside from the insects, the only sounds that broke through the space was the slight shuffling of horse hooves and low panting from Kismet. 

“5 bucks to request a song.”, Pheonyx’s voice, slightly scratchy from singing, brought Daryl’s mind back into focus. Despite the archer’s earlier thoughts, Pheonyx knew he had an audience. After spending a full day walking side-by-side with the other man, the sound of Daryl’s soft steps was easily imprinted in his mind. So, he’d heard him the second the man’s boots came within a few feet of the stable. 

Blood rushed to Daryl’s face as he realized he was caught gawking. Embarrassment–and the remnants of his father’s words–sparked a small amount of anger in his chest. “All yer caterwaulin’s gonna bring a herd down on us. The fuck ya think yer doin?”, he snapped, taking a few steps into the stable, “This ain’t fuckin’ American Idol or some shit.”

“No, it’s definitely not. You’re much cuter than Simon Cowell.”, Pheonyx quipped, raising an eyebrow. Men raising their voices was typically an anxiety inducer for him, but something about Daryl’s demeanor made the other man feel more like a hissing kitten as opposed to a feral mountain lion. 

Shocked at Pheonyx’s words, Daryl didn’t know how to respond. Was he joking? Daryl Dixon wasn’t cute. He was an ugly old redneck. No one had ever called him cute before. 

At Daryl’s widened eyes, Pheonyx stood up, and placed the guitar down on the hay bale where he had been sitting. Kismet raised his head and looked between the two of them before huffing and lowering his head to his paws. Within a few seconds, soft snores filled some of the silence. Slightly scared to hear the other man’s response to his flirting, Pheonyx opted to continue. “You don’t have to worry though. The windchimes in the woods help dilute the sounds from the farm. As long as I don’t decide to take up the electric guitar, we’re as safe as we can be.” 

“Still shouldn’ be takin’ any chances,” Daryl grumbled, his eyes narrowed. He briefly glanced down, taking in the full view of Pheonyx’s torso. Under the scars on his right side, a quote was scrawled across his ribs, although Daryl wasn’t close enough to see exactly what it said. On the opposite side, in a fancy cursive font that was larger than the quote’s, was a girl’s name. Daryl didn’t understand the weird rolling in his stomach at the idea of someone else’s name being on Pheonyx’s skin. It wasn’t something he’d ever felt before and he pulled his stare away, hoping to unpack the feeling at a different time. Drifting down, a quarter sized round scar was prominent on the younger man’s stomach. It wasn’t as new as the ones on his chest. This one was older, and less smooth. The scar was brown and sunken into the surrounding skin, almost as if something gouged the flesh out. Almost unnoticeable on his pale skin, several pale jagged lines circled Pheonyx’s belly button, not scars, but stretch marks. They were very light, and Daryl only saw them because the lantern light was hitting the area just right. Those lines led under low slung jeans and Daryl had to stop himself from thinking about what else those jeans were covering. 

“Probably not, but sometimes you have to weigh risk and reward. What is the point of living anymore if you can’t do the small things that make you happy?”, Pheonyx crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t do it much, just needed to let off some steam.” He took in the bedraggled appearance of the other man. Daryl was still wearing the same clothes from earlier but now they looked wrinkled, more wrinkled than before. Short hair was sticking up on the back of his head and he had a look on his face that reminded Pheonyx of Beth when she woke up from her naps as a baby. "Can't sleep?"

The deep grunt from Daryl’s chest was almost a guffaw.  "Was tryin. Heard ya singin. Thought maybe someone left a music player on or somethin’,” He looked at Pheonyx and a wave of shyness came over him. The slight upturn of the other man’s lip was making the moths in his stomach beat against his intestines with the strength of a CAT bulldozer. He had roasted up a squirrel before heading to bed, the meat probably hadn’t sat well with him. Gripping the crossbow strap on his shoulder, he brought his thumb up to his mouth to chew on the corner of his nail. “Yer pretty good”. The words were spoken softly. He wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted Pheonyx to hear him. 

Surprised at the compliment, a small squeak escaped Pheonyx’s chest. He covered it quickly with a cough and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks," He ducked his head as blood rushed to the surface of his skin, heating up his already warmed body. 

Daryl gulped as he watched a red pigment pop up over Pheonyx’s cheeks and slowly spread down his neck, to his chest, to his stomach, and past the waist of his jeans. The only response he could muster was a grunt as he tried not to think about how his own blood was making a similar southward journey. Although this was probably for a much different reason. Daryl averted his eyes to the floor of the stable, suddenly fascinated by a small piece of dried mud that oddly resembled the state of Florida. 

To hide his embarrassment, Pheonyx wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. “So, um- I figured we'd pick up where we left off tomorrow. Sophia seems to be sticking close to the creek. There are a few landmarks along there she could be holed up at-”.

Without thinking, Pheonyx turned around, going to grab one of the three unopened water bottles sitting on the table outside of the tack room. His mouth was suddenly dry so he opened the bottle and took a few hefty swallows to remove the cottony film that had slowly spread over his taste buds. 

At first, Daryl didn’t see them. All he saw was more ink spread across broad shoulders. It was easily the most eye-catching tattoo that he had seen on the man so far. An amalgamated blend of dark reds, deep purples, fiery oranges, and bright yellows in almost paint-like strokes created an image of a phoenix in flight. Both wings reached up towards Pheonyx’s shoulder, the feathered ends were ragged flames that almost seemed to be in perpetual motion. Smoke and ash circled its feet and followed in a cloud behind its body, a nest of history and rebirth. A death left behind.  Small black eyes were galvanizing against the backdrop of smoldering colors. Those little dots told a whole story in and of themselves. The expanse of inked skin was an enchanting piece of artwork that practically flew off the surface it was needled into. 

It was only when Pheonyx lifted his arm to bring a bottle of water to his lips, did the lantern light accentuate the skin that Daryl thought was smooth only moments before. Instead of even flesh, heavy scarring marked almost every inch of skin along his whole back. The type of scarring Daryl was all too familiar with. Long, deep lashes broke the surface of the area. Only slightly thinner than his own. Whip marks. Dozens of them. More than Merle and he had combined. Littered between each mark of rancor were round, sharply-demarcated cigarette burns. Less than the whip marks but still a dozen at least. Daryl had to force down the squirrel that threatened to make a return appearance. Those memories from moments ago–happy memories of campfires, charred redneck s’mores, and brotherly bonding–were quickly replaced by nightmarish flashes of subjugation and brutalization. Red stained leather repeatedly falling down on his back, breaking open the soft skin of his boyhood and replacing it with the tougher, thicker skin of his adulthood. Each lash another brick on the wall he kept around his heart, a testament to his distrust and solitude. He needed to leave. The muscles in his legs were twitching. His brain was sending the signals to his feet to run but they weren't listening. It was like sirens were going off in his head and he was right back at that dirty old trailer, hiding in his tiny closet. Praying to a God his mother had so fiercely believed in. 

To think that Pheonyx had felt something similar, more if the amount of scarring was anything to go by, made him sick. He had to get away. Get away from the reminder of the weakest points of his life. 

Pheonyx turned around, placing the bottle cap back on his water, and stopped his rambling at the ghost standing in the entrance of the stable. Daryl’s bronzed skin was suddenly cadaverous, the blush that had been there moments before was completely bleached from his body. Sweat shined on his forehead and the whites of his eyes were nearly imperceptible against the pallid color of the surrounding flesh. Blue eyes latched on to him and he was nearly floored by the amount of emotion rolling off of them. While something wiggled in his brain that told him he was wrong, Pheonyx identified the emotion as disgust. The way Daryl’s eyebrows pushed together and his mouth pushed into a thin line, made the revulsion evident. He felt a surge of panic when he realized what caused this sudden change in the man across from him. His back. He hadn’t even thought about it. Growing up, he tried not to be ashamed of the scars but it was hard not to be. For so long he had to hide them, from his mother, then from his siblings. His mother wrote notes so he didn’t have to change in the locker rooms at school, ashamed of what his peers would say about their family. When he left Georgia, he made the ultimate decision to leave his hatred for the marks behind as well. The back tattoo had been his ultimate fuck-you to his father’s abuse. The tattoo artist he worked with specialized in scarring, and even used some of the scars to create the lines and color of the fiery bird, incorporating pieces of a broken childhood into a beautiful picture of reclaiming. But that familiar feeling of embarrassment and mortification slipped back into his heart at the look of repugnance on Daryl's face. Feelings that he swore he would never feel again. 

Before Pheonyx could utter a word, Daryl whirled around and disappeared into the darkness of the night. A bubble of sorrow traveled up his throat and the familiar sting of tears began to fog up his vision. He scrubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding his water bottle, refusing to let those little beads of weakness roll down his face. That feeling of sadness was quickly replaced with anger. 

What the fuck is wrong with me? He’s just a guy. I haven’t even known him for a full day. His feelings shouldn’t determine my self worth!, His internal monologue screamed. He was a fighter. He had been broken so many times. Beaten into dust. But he fixed himself. For years, he sat and glued those pieces of himself back into place, replacing the destroyed one with new pieces, learning to live with the holes of ones he couldn’t fix. But he was whole. And he did that. He wasn’t going to let some guy destroy his very essence. In anger, Pheonyx tossed the water bottle at the tack room wall. The plastic caved easily and a spray of water spread over the cement floor. The horses all jumped back in shock, their hooves clipping on their stall floors. 

Having heard the sudden movement of Daryl’s escape and Pheonyx’s outburst, Kismet looked at Pheonyx with worry. He lifted himself off the ground and trotted over to his owner. He pressed himself up against the man’s legs and nudged his head up against calloused fingers. A low whine escaped his barrel chest, a vocalization of his concern. 

Guilt ate at Pheonyx’s chest. He hated scaring the animals. “Sorry, guys.”, he spoke softly to them all, trying to calm himself. 

He thought Daryl was different. Earlier that day–when the man had accepted his identity without any protests or questions– Pheonyx felt like he might have found someone he could connect with. If not on a romantic level, at least as a friend. But he was wrong. The look of horror on the man's face as he backed out of the barn had that familiar feeling of shame filling his stomach. The scars that laced his back like a patchwork quilt of heartbreak and abandonment. Each piece was a square of fabric that told its own story. Daryl was the same as everyone else, seeing only the scars on the surface and judging him for them. 

“Fuck it.”, He refused to sit there and wallow in self-hate. Pheonyx walked with purpose to his stall, grabbing his bag of clothes and digging deep until he found an old clean band t-shirt. He pulled the soft fabric over his head, covering the objects of his discomfiture. Snatching up his cutlass and hunting knife, he quickly hooked the weapons to his belt, the weights of them a blanket of comfort across his skin. Opting to leave his Glock behind, he looked around for his bow and quiver that he had given to Maggie to put up. Both of them were leaned up against the small table by his bed, and he grabbed them. Feeling a bit of an evening breeze, Pheonyx also grabbed his jean jacket. The light blue denim was soft from years of wear and the sewn in red hood made for good protection whenever the Georgia skies opened up.  He shrugged on the jacket, making sure the hood wasn’t tucked inside. Movement was slightly limited with the material but it was better to have his arms covered since he was going out alone.

Pulling the quiver over his shoulders, he gripped the bow in his hand, some anger still running through his veins. He shut off all but one of the lanterns in the stable and made to leave. The clicking of familiar nails on the cement floor made him turn around to the big dog following him. 

“Go to the house, Kismet. You can’t go. You know that.”, another soft whine rumbled through the dog’s chest and Pheonyx felt guilt crawl in his stomach. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll be okay. Go on. Go to bed.” He used the bow to point toward the house.

Sad chocolate eyes stared at the man for a moment. Then, Kismet huffed and started trotting towards the farmhouse. 

Rolling his shoulders, Pheonyx pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. He walked until he reached the edge of the woods and stepped over the barb wire that encased the wood line. Just like every other night, he pushed into the gloaming of the night and chased after shadows. 

Taglist: @yoongibaybee, @edgyboi10000, @dixonsboy19, @clairealeehelsing

[midsummer-semantics]

🌙 Pressure in Increments

It's here! Pressure in Increments for the @eddiemunsonbigbang is now live! Check out the gorgeous art in chapter 2 by @helpimstuckposting!!

Rating: E

Words: 33,000

Relationships: Eddie Munson & Nancy Wheeler (Munson), Eddie Munson/Original Male Character, Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Summary: The Munsons had always been cursed. That was something Eddie knew from the very beginning, as long as he could remember. The thing about curses, though, is that sometimes… sometimes they don’t start out that way. He and his sister, Nancy, grew up being told a story of lost love and heartbreak by their mother (Rest in Peace) and then by their omega uncles, Wayne and Benny. Eddie swears he’ll never fall in love, and for most of his life, that rule serves him well. When his sister finds herself in trouble, however, and that trouble follows her home, Eddie learns how far love can go to keep his family safe.

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - 1990s, Inspired by Practical Magic, Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Eddie Munson, Alpha Nancy Wheeler, Omega Wayne Munson, Omega Benny Hammond, Loss of Parent(s), Rejection Sickness Mentioned, Magic, Curses, Time Skips, Eddie and Nancy are siblings, Wayne and Benny are Siblings, El and Will are Twins, Brief Eddie/OMC - Freeform, Non-descriptive mpreg, Loss of Spouse, Baker Eddie Munson, Henry Creel | One | Vecna is His Own Warning, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Minor Violence, Murder, but only a little bit (except it does happen three times all to the same person), Includes Art, Special Investigator Steve Harrington, we don't open the door for cops, mild body horror, Mild blood, Sexual Content, Possession, Ghosts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Soulmates, Steddie Endgame

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63768115/chapters/163498696

[oceansssblue]

Not sure how much you’d be to do Mpreg omegaverse stuff but- maybe with Omega Hunter? 🥹👉👈

And if not Mpreg, maybe just the fluff! Post preg with newborn baby girl…maybe a follow up with the Alpha OMC 😇

Sprinkle of angst turning into fluff turning into smutt 🫡

Hunter shall be a dad (again).

I think you're really gonna like how this one came out, bud.

Enjoy!

Xx, Blue.

"JUST AS BEAUTIFUL" – (a) OMC / (o) Hunter 💖🔥💔

WARNINGS: Omegaverse usual shit including smutt (scent & breeding kink), insecurities about physical body changes and self-value during pregnancy (a bit of angst related to that), male preg, comforting fluff.

Buckle up!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hunter had always been fit. It was required of him; his body needed to be on tip top condition to push him through hours of dangerous misions of extenuating difficulty. It hadn't been too hard to develop that strength, those muscles, either; any training was a hundred times better than to remain trapped in Clone Force 99's barracks for a whole day. It had always made him feel more useful; more alive.

Perhaps that was why he now felt the complete opposite. He could barely walk without pain these days –and let's not talk about running or carrying heavy weight–; his muscles had all but dissapeared with his growing belly, and all he did was slump around and watch the holonet or read. He had started to ask himself if he wasn't being a burden for Night. It couldn't be easy for him; going to work everyday only to keep working when he got back home. He never complained, though, and always greeted him with a smile. Hunter had definitely won the lotery with his alpha.

Feeling grateful, and with a new resolve on his heart, he got up on his feet; deciding to try to put together at least a decent dinner for him. But today didn't seem to be his day; Hunter sat for a minute in order to rest his swollen ankles, and a minute was just enough time to burn through the fish sticks he had drowned in the frier. The smell of burnt food tickled his sensible nose; and Hunter swallowed the wave of nausea down, eyes cristalising. Why couldn't he...

A key moved on the lock of the front door, and soon enough, Night's voice was echoing in the corridor.

"Hey, darling, I'm home" he made himself known, as sweet as always, even though by now he was fully aware Hunter could hear him from clicks away.

Hunter tried to swallow everything down and put up a calm, smiley face; but all his efforts were inmediately abandoned when his dark brown eyes made contact with Night's light purple ones.

His alpha's face instantly switched to worry; quickly scanning him up and down and slowly approaching him.

"Sweetheart. What's wrong?" He asked softly, hands inmediately travelling upwards to cup Hunter's face tenderly.

Hunter answered with a wet chuckle.

"J-just being stupid. I tried to prepare dinner and burned everything".

Instead of growing angry, Night gave him a small fond smile.

"It's alright, darling. I appreciate the gesture" he pecked Hunter's pouty lips once. "Why don't we forget about that and take a shower together, mm? We can order in after that".

Night knew how much Hunter loved taking showers or bathing together. It was a chance to relax, to just breathe; to caress each other tenderly and bask in each other's love. The thought of Night seing his naked body right now, though, didn't bring him the same comfort.

Hunter pulled down on his oversize sweater, shifting unsurely.

"I don't know... I... I showered already today..." he tried to step around it.

Night frowned. He knew him too well by now.

Hunter's vision turned blurry; and a quiet whine threatened to escape from his tightening throat.

"Hunter... Baby..." the alpha caressed the skin of his reddening cheeks with his thumbs and whispered gently. "Will you tell me what's really going on?"

Hunter couldn't helo but cry, if only a little. It wasn't messy and loud; just a few tears running silently down his cheeks. Night brushed them away with his thumbs.

"I feel so useless" he finally broke down and confessed to him. "You're working all day long so we can live here, and I'm just lazing around. I wanted to do something nice to compensate and look at what happened. And... and I look so different, Night. I feel like a giant ball of fat. I'm not the man you started dating. How can you...? How can you...?"

Night shushed him softly, kissing him deeply, perhaps with a little more force than necessary.

"Hunter" he firmly called him by his name, and the omega couldn't so anything else but to look up into his eyes. "You're not useless, and you're not being lazy. You're growing a life inside of you; and that takes energy, and sleep, and everything else. Of course you need to rest; and of course you're not going to be running around doing missions and shooting the bad guys. After how ecclectic your life has been it's normal this is making you feel a little lazy. But I asure you, it's nothing but normal. And just the fact that you tried to do this gesture for me is heartwarming enough".

Hunter's worries started to melt with his alpha's kind words; but Night hadn't even finished comforting him.

"And as for your physical aspect..." he brushed a hand down his hair. "You're as beautiful as the day I met you in the market. You have the same handsome face, the same pretty dark brown eyes, the same long hair I love so much. And yeah, your body has changed. But don't you think it's anything close to bad. Your ass is a dream, Hunter" he squeezed it suggestively with a grin and the omega had to laugh. "And seing you naked is one too. Do you have any idea of how much it turns me on? How good you look with our pup growing inside of you? How good knowing that feels?"

"Do you really mean that?" Hunter asked, fingers clenching on Night's shoulders.

The alpha sighed.

"Of course I do, Hunter" he pressed his forehead against his, just like the omega had taught him a year ago. "It's our baby. You're mine as much as I'm yours. I'm not going anywhere, and it's going to be okay".

Weeks of silent stress vanished from Hunter's body instantly; and he tugged his alpha's neck down to kiss him. Night complied without a blink; lips moving softly over Hunter's and hands bracketing each side of his face, deepening the kiss.

When they parted, both of them were breathless; a peaceful expresion in their face.

"Wanna' take that shower now?" Night offered again, hands travelling down to caress Hunter's hips.

Hunter bit his lip.

"Could we... Do you want to have sex? Now?"

Night looked surprised at first; but inmediately smiled and chuckled.

"Of course, baby" he tugged Hunter's body as close as he could against his. "I'll give you what you want now".

Hunter sighed; relaxing in his partners arms. Night dipped his head down for another kiss; and the omega tilted his head upwards, letting him explore him with his tongue. Hunter had not been one for those kind of kisses before meeting him; it was messy, too slick, too... Disgusting. In his opinion. It came out he had just really had very bad tongue kisses. The way Night explored him was nothing but; he had no rush, he didn't force anything around. He just softly prodded and swiped, just a little tease that left Hunter wanting for more.

One by one, each item of their clothes was left scattered around the floor. The sight of the alpha naked still managed to surprise him, a year and a half later; Night was a mix between pantoran and human, his skin a beautiful smooth dark purple and the small geometric tattoos on his face a softer violet. And he was big; so big. Hunter clenched just by looking at him.

"Like what you see?" Night teased, stroking himself once, twice, while Hunter squirmed in place. The alpha hummed and gently turned him around so he was facing the kitchen table. "Hold on, darling, I need to properly prepare you before you take me inside of you".

He didn't delay; falling down to his knees and grabbing a handfull of his ass, swipping his tongue over his wet entrance, spreading him apart.

Hunter's knees buckled; moaning quietly, he quickly took hold on the edge of the table, tiny movements pushing himself back onto his alpha's tongue.

Night hummed happily behind him; fingers playing with his wetness for a few seconds before he was slipping one of his fingers inside him too.

"F-fuck" Hunter stuttered when he moved onto three, after a few minutes of opening him up restlessly.

Night finally stood up –one knee cracking uncomfortably– and smiled; molding his chest to the omega's back. His fingers continued pumping inside of him.

"You're always so tight, love" he whispered close to his left ear, sending shivers down Hunter's spine. "It's a wonder. You could think by now that your body would have permanently adjusted to the shape of my cock".

Hunter whimpered and pushed back harder against him; a rush of lust and warmth bubbling over him.

"N-night..."

He knew what he wanted, and the alpha smiled quietly.

"You want it, baby? Want my big cock inside of you?"

Hunter sighed.

"Please..."

The alpha groaned and took hold of his erection, coating the tip with Hunter's wetness. The omega bit his lip. He already felt good and Night wasn't even inside of him.

"Kark, baby" the alpha finally pushed his cock into him, slowly but steadily until he was seathed inside his warm walls. "You always look beautiful with my cock inside of you".

Hunter clenched around him, bringing out another groan from the alpha; who caressed his hands all over Hunter's body, from his shoulders, down his back, thighs, and all the way up including his pregnant belly. Hunter squirmed.

"I'm okay" he whispered to the man behind him.

Night hummed and obbeyed his wishes, pulling back and slowly pushing back in.

Hunter kept his eyes closed; getting used to the feeling of something that big and that good moving inside of him.

Night moved progresively faster, deeper; until desire got the best out of them and he was pounding into Hunter with impatience and abandon. Hunter whined and dropped open his mouth with the rush of pleasure.

"S-so good..."

Night pushed on his shoulders, directing him to bend down and push his ass up into the air. Into him.

He whispered sweet –and filthy– nothings to his ear while never slowing down or changing positions; just small adjustments to keep fucking him non-stop. Hunter clinged to the table as best as he could; until his shaky legs couldn't hold him up anymore, and he grew concerned about hurting the baby if he pressed more of his belly onto the hard surface.

"Night..."

"Yes, love?" He asked, slowing down.

"Can't..." Hunter blushed, embarassed. "Bed?"

"Oh" the alpha seemed to realise the situation, and inmediately smiled brightly at him. "Of course, sweetheart. Come here".

Hunter squeaked when the alpha pulled him into his arms; lifting him bride-style of the floor and walking towards the bedroom effortlessly.

Night chuckled, amused.

"Didn't know you could make that noise".

Hunter shot him a glance, pouting.

"You could have given me a warning".

Night laughed, and he gently dropped him down on the matress, staring at him while he remain standing. Hunter squirmed impatiently.

"What?" He asked, seing the thoughtful expresion on his alphas face.

"Mm. I'm debating wether I'd like to fuck you against the matress like when you're in your heat or if I'd prefer to watch you on top of me".

Hunter's face reddened inmediately.

"Any thoughts on it?"

At Hunter's flushed silence, the alpha dropped on the bed besides him.

"I think I want to see how beautiful you look bouncing on top of me" he stated, grinning flirtily.

Hunter might have had some reserves about his body image; but right now he was so turned on, and he wanted Night's hard cock inside of him so bad, he didn't quite care what the position was.

He climbed over his alpha's thighs; hovering over his erection before slowly sinking down onto his cock.

"Fuck, Hunter" Night moaned, hands squeezing both sides of his hips, eyes growing hazy. "Just like that, baby".

Hunter answered with his own moan and slowly moved up and down onto him; closing his eyes and enjoying himself for a few moments without a care in the galaxy. When his thighs started to burn, he whined and shot a glance to Night's purple eyes; and the man understood inmediately, tugging him forward until he was half-resting on top of his chest, planting his feet on the bed and moving his hips up against him in short, sharp movements.

When the pleasure was too much for the omega to handle and Hunter all but slumped on top of him, his pregnant weight too heavy for him to push against, Night hugged the omega to himself and grinded their hips together. By Hunter's moans, they were both pretty close to orgasming.

"Please. Please..." the omega whined, panting against his neck, kissing his scent glands here and there.

"F-fuck" Night rumbled, the sound of his wet dick music to his ears, Hunter's voice too. "So fucking beautiful, love, so fucking... Fucking breedable. If you weren't already full with my pup I'd give you another one right now".

Hunter murmured a "close" onto his neck, squirming on top of him, and Night squeezed his hands on Hunter's bubbly butt, feeding more of his cock into him.

"You like that, baby? Like being bred by your alpha? Pushing your ass up and beg to be filled with my cum?"

"I'mgonnacumI'mgonnacum..." Hunter whined in eccstasy, digging his fingers onto the alpha's shoulders.

"Beg me" Night ordered, suddenly tugging his hair back and forcing him to hold his purple gaze. "Beg me to come inside of you, come on, baby..."

"Please" Hunter cried, clenching impossibly around the cock inside of him. "Please, alpha, wanna' feel your warm cum inside of me. Mark me up, breed me again, please, please..."

"F-f-fuck, I-I'm..." Night pounded once, twice, three times inside of him and then he was cumming in long warm spurts inside of him, moaning next to Hunter's ears and the omega was done for too.

Hunter cried, clenching tightly one last time over him while the stars exploded all around his body, pleasant tingles spreading through every nerve til the very tip of his toes; then relaxing slowly.

God. That was...

"So good" Night mumbled, still twitching inside of him, gently caressing his hips with his fingers. "Love you, Hunter".

The omega sighed, swimming in endorphins and happiness. Yes, he had won the lottery.

THE END.

Damn, that was 🥵

Back to omegaverse masterlist here:

[puckluckie]

Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin • 18,563 words • Explicit

Zhenya remembered where he was when he learned about the first alien transmission, of course. Everyone did. But never in his wildest imaginings would he have thought he'd be part of a small team of researchers who would study the world's first human-alien hybrid. Non-hockey AU based loosely on the 1995 movie Species featuring alien-hybrid!Sid and scientist!Geno.

A @sidgenospookyfest fic for @eyeslikeonyx. Huge thanks to the mods for organizing the event again this year! 🎃🦇

Aliens, Alien/Human Relationships, Mildly Dubious Consent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Age Difference, Xenophilia, Tentacles, Masturbation, Mpreg, brief Sid/Mario, brief Sid/OMC, Violence, perpetrated by Sid, he IS an alien after all

Read on AO3

[darkspicyevanstan]

Welcome to a Dark & Spicy Evanstan Fest!

This event is dedicated to top!Chris Evans/bottom!Sebastian Stan and the various characters they've played over the years. Get your dark & spicy fix here! 😈

The fest will be an ongoing, low pressure, event where you can choose from all sorts of prompts to inspire your next piece of fiction.

The prompt lists will be continuously updated so be sure to check those out.

More information available below the cut!

⚡️ Rules ⚡️

→ No minors allowed due to the explicit/mature themes that will be featured in participating works.

→ This event will focus on any top!Chris Evans character paired with any bottom!Sebastian Stan character. Yes this event will include Real Person Fiction (Actor RPF, MCU RPF, etc.). Switching and polyships are not allowed here. Ex: Steve/Bucky/Sam, Lloyd/Reader/Nick, Chris/OFC/Sebastian, Ransom/OMC/Max, etc.

→ There are no content restrictions in this event. Yes, this includes all manner of dark fiction and dead dove themes. As long as everything this tagged appropriately, you can write whatever you want.

→→ If you come across a fic with themes you don't like, simply click away.

→ No word minimum or maximum.

→ One prompt per chapter/oneshot.

→ "Choose not to warn" fics are allowed. Once again, make sure anything triggering is appropriately tagged.

→ Make sure that the submission you're using for this event is completely new. However, a new chapter/piece in an already in progress fic/series is acceptable.

⚡️ Challenge Mode ⚡️

→ Double Challenge mode: 1 AU + 1 Trope

→→ Triple Challenge mode: 1 AU + 1 Creature + 1 Trope

→→→ Quadruple Challenge mode: 1 AU + 1 Creature + 1 Literary Form + 1 Trope

⚡️ Posting ⚡️

→ Make sure to tag the blog using @darkspicyevanstan and #dark and spicy evanstan fest so your works can get reblogged!

→ To be reblogged, if you post your works directly to tumblr, use the keep reading feature if your submission goes over 250 words.

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[larrysballetslippers]

Would You Love Me? (for all that I am) by Kikiberoski16

@larrysballetslippers

Harry/Louis/OMC | 6,9k | Explicit | Kinky Poly Relationship

“What?” Andrew turned his head up, his eyes were still showing shock. Louis wanted to embrace him, but that wouldn’t fix things.  “Yes, a scene. It’s a lovely evening, and we all need to relax. Nice and easy, nothing complicated?” Louis knew that a relaxing scene would calm him down and let Harry feel good about himself. No hours of kink, just a nice short scene before bed. “Harry, you’re in?” Or, Harry and Andrew haven’t been feeling like themselves and their dom tries to cheer them up.

Part of the @1dastroficfest

Part 11 of the For My Lovers series. I want to thank my wonderful beta @milliondropsofwater for helping me with this fic. I couldn't have done it without you!

[oknowkiss]

fic claim: à bon chat

written for @moonflower-rose & @hd-erised 2023!

Pairing(s): DRARRY, past Harry/Ginny, past Draco/OMC Rating: E Wordcount: 35K Read on AO3 here!

Tags: Art Thief Draco, Crime Scene Investigator Harry, Divorced Harry, Paris, Heists, Cat & Mouse, the Insatiable Pursuit of a Thrill, Enemies to Colleagues to Lovers, Moral Ambiguity (he's a thief, so...), Gawain Robards Loves Penguins, Just a Whole Lot of Impressionism Summary: Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

rosie!!!! SURPRISE!!!! this was so much fun to write, and tbh it was even more fun pretending i didn't write it directly to your face. ;) but seriously, writing for you was an absolute delight. your prompts gave me so many amazing fun things to sneak in (thigh holsters?! please!!). here's to gifting you many more things in the future!! thank you so so much to @citrusses for the incredible beta, and to everyone who has read and commented and shared throughout the fest. it was truly such an honor to participate in erised's 10 year anniversary. finally: - draco's first steal is this painting - the paintings in the Big Heist are this series - the monet lilies room at l'orangerie is here - you can find my fic inspo playlist here: spotify - the banner above is from the 1915 silent film serial Les Vampires, and was the image that first inspired this entire story.

[wolfpants]

harry potter's most miserable year - chapter one | a drarry bridget jones fic

Roll up roll up, it's the Drarry Bridget Jones adaptation no one asked for!

This concept has been living rent free in my brain for months. I just had to get it out. Thank you so much to my little team of readers and betas: @getawayfox @citrusses @oknowkiss, thank you for indulging my crazy ideas and allowing me to write this nonsense.

Harry Potter's Most Miserable Year | Chapter One

Rating: E Relationships: Harry/Draco (endgame); Harry/Theo; past Draco/OMC, Minor Dean/Ginny, Minor Ron/Hermione, Minor Justin/Ernie, Minor Luna/Neville Tags: Endgame Drarry, EWE, POV Harry, Quidditch, Quidditch Manager Harry, Quidditch Player Draco, Sports Journalist Theo, Romantic Comedy, Romance, Diaries, New Year's Resolutions, Human Disaster Harry, Buttoned-up Draco, (a lot of) smoking, (a lot of) drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Explict Sexual Content, Banter, Pubs, London, Friendship, Charity Balls, Romione's naughty children, Dinner Parties, life in your 30s, Lying/Emotional Deceit, Smear Campaign, Infedeility (but not between Drarry)

After running into Malfoy at a New Year's Day party and overhearing some choice opinions he has on Harry’s character, Harry decides to change his life for good. Quit smoking, drink less, dress better, excel at his brand new role as Puddlemere’s manager, and find a nice, adult man he can settle down with. Sounds easy, right?

“What’s he like, then?” Ron asked a second later, suddenly at Harry’s side, plate piled high with turkey curry and rice.  Harry patted his pockets for his cigarettes. “A dickhead.” Ron laughed heartily. “Ha. I was right.”

read chapter one on ao3

[flamencodiva]

Prologue

Description: Dean Winchester is slated to be the next Alpha of his pack. As with all Wolves, Dean is waiting to see who his mate is at 18. But when he doesn't find her within his pack, he wonders if he will ever have a mate at all. On the brink of going feral, Dean is sent away from his pack to search for his mate. He can only return once he's found her, or he must take on a chosen mate. Y/N is the daughter of the current Moon Goddess, Selene. Hidden from the mortal realm after an attack on the moon kingdom, Y/N has heard a lonely howl for the past ten years since she turned 18. When unexpected circumstances force her to leave her current home, will she be able to find the lonely wolf and help heal him?

Pairing: Shifter-Wolf!Dean Winchester x Shifter-Wolf!Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Castiel, Garth, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Bobby Singer, Henry Winchester (in flashbacks), Nick (Lucifer), OMC Luke, Jack, OMC Zack, and many more!

Word Count: 2105

Warnings (For entire fic): Violence, Language, Sexual Content (Smut of all kinds).

This A/B/O is more werewolf centered than A/B/O-centered. I hope you all enjoy the world I have created through this fic. All characters, unless stated otherwise, are shifter-wolf. It is a world/lore that I stumbled upon and found myself wanting to write.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The full moon was high in the sky as it shone down onto the pack gathering below. Sixteen year old Dean Winchester stood with other his age as their bodies bagan to shift. His bones began to break and rearrange as tufts of shiny grey fur began to appear. He groaned in pain as his family stood near him and encouraged him to not fight the change. 

‘Just breath son,” his father, John Winchester soothed. 

“Just take deep breaths and let your wolf take over, Dean.” 

His mother, Mary Winchester, had instructed. He could only nod as his face began to change. His nose and jaw elongated to grow a snout and he found himself on his arms and legs as they changed into paws. It didn’t take long before he competed his shift and allowed his wolf spirit, Shadow, take control. 

‘Woah,’ Dean said as his vision sharpened. 

“Let us celebrate our children and the emergence of their wolves!” John’s voice roared as everyone sexteen asnd older began shifting. 

The entire pack ran as one through the forest that was a part of their territory. Dean was at the lead with not just his parents but with the rest of the adults that made up his father and mother’s Alpha and Luna units. His best friend Benny Lafeitte was slated to be his Beta. Castiel Novak was to be his Gamma and the one to help calm and keep him intune with his Luna. And lastly Garth Fitzgerald III who would take on the Delta position.  

 The Silver Moon pack was one of the proudest and strongest packs in the area. John and Mary Winchester watched as their son rolled around in wolf form, playing with their second son, Twelve-year-old Sam. 

“The pups are growing up fast,” John said as he looked at his wife. 

“They are,” she sighed, placing her head on his shoulder, “do you think they’ll find good mates?” 

“I think so.” 

“Dean will have to start training with you as an Alpha,” Mary reminded him. 

“He’ll make a great Alpha, my love,” John turned his head to kiss the top of his mate’s, “look at how he is with Sam and his friends. He will make sure our Pack stays strong.” 

two years later, 

Dean fixed his hair again. Today he would find his mate. When pack members turned eighteen, they would be brought together at the pack house to find their mates. Essentially it became one big party. 

‘Gotta find mate,’ his wolf Shadow whined. 

“We will,” Dean chuckled, “besides, who knows, it might be that we already found and sampled our mate,” he wiggled his eyebrows. 

‘No mate, not yet. Can’t sense her,’ Shadow huffed. 

Dean rolled his eyes before turning to the door to see Sam leaning against the frame. 

“How come I can’t go!” he whined, “I mean, I know I haven’t shifted yet but why can’t I find my mate?” 

“Sam,” Dean placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “you have plenty of time. Besides, it’s only four more years. What’s your rush?” 

“I know, my mate,” the young teen said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“You do?” Dean raised his eyebrow at his brother, “who?” 

“Jessica Moore,” Sam whispered, lowering his head in embarrassment. 

“Jess? Your mate is Jess? How do you know?” Dean asked. 

“Swift could sense it.” 

“You know you can’t know for sure until you’re 18, Sam.” 

“But Dean, I’ve read in some of the books that some mates can sense they are mates before they’re 18. It’s not all that uncommon.”

“Sam,” Dean said giving his brother a warning glare. “You know the rules. You have to wait until your first shift and on the full moon of your 18th birthday to know for sure.” 

“Fine,” his little brother grumbled and threw himself on the bed. “Can you feel your mate near by?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “But who knows, she might have been hiding from me. Or, it just takes me and shadow the full moon to feel them.” 

Dean sighed as he watched his brother through is mirror as he continued to get ready. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. His brother’s wolf had already found his mate before he was eighteen. It wasn’t fair. Here he was, the future Alpha, and his mate had not surfaced. Or at least he couldn’t sense her in the pack. 

Meanwhile, his brother, barely of legal age, could already sense his mate. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. His wolf let out a whimper before Dean shook his head. 

“Then, in four years, you and Jess can make sure you belong together,” Dean cleared his throat, “this is a rite of passage, Sam. So hopefully, my mate is out there, and the Goddess Selene blesses me tonight.” 

With that said, Dean gave his brother’s shoulder a soft pat before making his way down the stairs of the packhouse. He could hear his mother ordering people around to prepare one of the large rooms. 

“No, no,” he heard her cry in frustration. 

“The food needs to be placed in the next room. The main room is for dancing and mingling.” 

“Mom,” Dean made his presence known, “don’t you think this is a bit… much?” 

“Nonsense,” she dismissed him, “not every day your eldest is of age to find his mate. Besides, you know I do anything for you boys.” 

“You really think I’m gonna find my mate tonight?” Dean huffed. 

“Why not? I saw you and Cassie were together three summers ago,” she pointed out as she continued to direct older pack members around the house to help set up. 

“But that doesn’t mean she’s my mate,” Dean shrugged, “how did you know dad was yours?” 

Mary blushed and turned to her son, “I just knew. And so did your father. Our wolves just felt this connection given to us by the Goddess.” 

“What if my mate isn’t here?” Dean asked, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his shirt. 

“Then she will find her way to you,” Mary placed her hands on either side of her son’s face, lifting his gaze to hers. “You will find your mate Dean. You just have to trust that the Goddess has a plan.” 

Dean nodded before taking her hands in his and giving his mother a kiss on her cheek. Turning away from the planning, he noticed Sam near their father’s study, his brother giving off a low growl. 

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean whispered. 

“Dad’s got the council in there. I heard something about rogues near our border.” 

“What?” 

Dean stepped closer to the door, his senses tingling as he tried his best to use his wolf hearing. Much of what was being said was muffled, but he could make out a few words. He and many of his friends are mainly undergoing extra training in the next few weeks. 

“Do you think it’s Lucifer?” John sighed. 

“Is that what Nicks's runt is calling himself,” a voice called out, “Idjit.” 

Dean recognized the voice as Bobby Singer, one of the pack’s elders. Bobby had come to join their pack around the time his father, John, was just a young pup. He remembered his dad talking about Bobby being one of the best warrior trainers he had ever seen. Dean heard stories of Bobby having a son once, but the elder never liked to talk about it.  

“The rogues seem to be from Nick’s pack, and Luke seems to be leading the charge,” John sighed, “but all we can do is double that guard. Whatever he’s doing, we will need to find out.” 

“We need to beef up training, John,” Bobby sighed. “I’m too old for this.” 

John chuckled, “my dad trusted you, and our warriors are strong because of you. Benny is set to take over for Hypolite.” 

John’s heavy footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door. Dean could tell his father was worried. He only paced in his office when he needed to think of a solution to a problem. 

Dean and Sam continued to try and eavesdrop on the conversation when the door cracked open. 

“You know,” their father’s voice started them, “if you wanted to know what was going on, Dean, all you had to do was knock.” 

Dean stood up and gave his father a sheepish smile. 

“Well--” 

“Samuel,” John huffed, “you know better than to sneak around. If I wanted you to know, you would know.” 

“But dad! How come Dean gets to go to all the Alpha meetings? I’m an Alpha too!” 

John placed a gentle hand on his youngest son’s shoulder, “Dean is going to be Pack Alpha one day. He is of age. He’s been training for this just as you have. Right now, I need you to be a kid and enjoy not having to worry about his” 

“No fair. I can fight and be helpful!” Sam growled. 

“I know you can, pup,” John ruffled his youngest son’s hair. “I promise when the time comes, you can help. 

Sam frowned and stomped his way up the spiral staircase to his room, grumbling along the way. 

“He’s trying to grow up too fast,” John sighed. 

“He’ll get over it once he gets back into training mode,” Dean assured his father, “is it serious? The rogues on our borders?” 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” John dismissed, “tonight you find your mate.” 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed as his father walked away, “if she’s even here.” 

The guests arrived with Dean hanging out with his friends, Benny Lafitte, Castiel Novak, and Garth Fitzgerald III. 

“Excuze me, Boyz,” Benny said as he pulled away from his friends, “seem’z Red and I have zeroed in on our mate.” 

“Already?” Castiel huffed, “how the --” 

Dean watched as Cas stopped talking and turned towards the front door. 

“I, um… I gotta--” 

Garth and Dean watched as Benny and Cas walked toward their mates. The couples seem to fall into easy conversation. 

“Don’t worry, Deano,” Garth gave the Alpha a slap on his back, almost making him choke on his drink, “I’m sure the next girl to walk in will be your--” 

Dean covered his face with his hands as Garth clumsily tripped over his feet at the next female that walked in. Garth had stumbled into not just the table the boys were standing by, but the following tables lined up with the front door. 

“Sorry, my bad!” Garth called out as he stumbled his way toward the female. 

As the night went on, Dean watched as his friends and peers paired off with their mates. It hurt that his own mate hadn’t shown herself yet. By the end, Dean was left alone, his head hung low as he walked towards the balcony overlooking the valley. 

The moon shone so brightly that its rays illuminated every corner of the pack's territory. Dean finished off the last of his drink before turning his gaze to the moon. Shadow could feel Dean’s pain. After all, he and Dean were one and the same. Their pain resonated so profoundly that Dean let Shadow take over as a mournful howl echoed through the sky. 

‘Goddess hear my plea,’ it seemed to say, ‘let my mate find me soon.’ 

Little did Dean and Shadow know that in the realm of the Moon Goddess, the goddess herself had heard his cry. 

“Dean Winchester,” she said, her voice a whisper as the howl echoed in the halls of her palace. “When the time comes, your mate will find you,” she said to the wind. “Strong heir of the Silver Moon Pack, your trials are just beginning. My Conor’s sacrifice to keep our daughter safe will not be in vain. I hope you can be patient.” 

She walked to her room, away from the enormous mirror in her chambers, where the reflection of Dean sank. 

This was to ensure the safety of her daughter, Y/N. The wolf, who claimed the name Lucifer, was no match for Conor's valiant efforts. The death of Selene's mate was ultimately felt by her. Her first concern was ensuring the safety of Y/N. Meeting Dean was still too soon for her. The young Alpha had to face his own struggles as her daughter trained. 

A second reflecting pool was entered by the moon goddess's palm. With her light, she extended her hand into a room that was otherwise dark.

Whispering to her daughter, "My little Y/N," she delicately gathered the stray hairs and placed them behind her ear. "For as long as it takes, I will shield you from harm. I can only pray that the web of destiny does not end in sorrow."

Chapter 1

Tag List: Tag List is Open and has room for more. (note: Everything means everything from M/M to OFC)

Dean (Female Pairing Only) 

@440mxs-wife

@virgosapphire79

@deans-spinster-witch

@sandlee44

@waynes-multiverse

@cookiechipdough

@magssteenkamp 

@akshi8278

Dean Everything 

@sexyvixen7

@kickingitwithkirk

@deandreamernp

@holylulusworld

@roseblue3733

@stoneyggirl2

@hobby27 

@stixnstripesworld

[regthomas1728]

Editing/Beta Reading Instructions

Hey Peeps, gonna get the rough paragraph out the way first. I promise I'm not always like this but I've had some experiences and I want to make your experience with a beta reader easier.

I will be available for Editing or Beta Reading as long as you all can follow directions. I refuse to work with incompetence. I understand if a person accidentally messes up, maybe you send me a private message before reading through this blog and now I have an email and a message/ask about reading through your story. As long as you correct yourself by following the instructions below, all will be completely copacetic. 

That's the hard part! OMC! The rest will be easy, I think. Anyway.

GIF by waj13

1.) Make a copy of your document and title it "Regine's Copy - [Title], [Your Name], [Date You NEED edits completed by]

You don't HAVE to provide a date if you don't have one. It will not get your work done faster--I prioritize my health and happiness over your writings, apologies. I'll respond to your email with a round about time I can get the piece to you all barring any unexpected complications.

2.) Send me an email, butter me up. Please—for the sanity of my journal that has to see everything you all do to me!—do not just send "Can you please Beta Read this?" I'll provide an example. The Subject should be "Read my Beta" or something equally silly but including the word "Beta" or "Edit". My gmail is regthomas1728@gmail.com

Make sure to include a summary of your story (NOT an outline, think of it as a marketing strategy. How would you convince me to read your story)

Warnings - I'll provide a link for people to use as a guide but if you know AO3, then I would appreciate if you could use the tagging system.

Attach a copy of your story with proper title (not heading on the document, but the document title itself!)

Tell me what you want me to look out for while reading your story. I will focus on anything I know how to focus on but if you want something specific, you need to tell me as much.

If this comes across as mean, I'm not going to apologize, but also I don't intend it that way. I want to be as direct as possible because I've played this Editing and Beta Reading game before and people weren't easy to work with. I figure making specific instructions will weed out the people who aren't easy to work with. If they refuse to follow the instructions, then they obviously won't follow my advice or suggestions.

Happy writing, thank you for choosing me as an Editor or a Beta Reader, let me know if you're disappointed so I can add you to the list with my parents.

Resources

Beta Reading Responsibly While Preserving the Author's Voice and Intent

Not Confident In Sharing Your Work? Let's talk about letting others edit or peruse your work (How to improve your work--and confidence--before submitting your work for editing or beta reading).

Much Gratitude,

Regine Thomas Tumblr Arse | With (His) Spunk regthomas1728@gmail.com