#Omega Dub Experience

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

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Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea. 

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties. 

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha. 

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut. 

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food. 

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

��I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

[tinydefector]

TINY-DEFECTOR WORK MASTERLIST

RULES BELOW ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

REQUEST & ASK OPEN

Please feed me request they are keeping me sane.

information

1. I WRITE M/M GENDER NEUTRAL READERS OR CANON CHARACTERS I WILL WRITE TRANS MALE.

I am not a Fem writer

2. have the right to not do request if I don't want to.

3. I get a large number of requests, and sometimes they get lost in my inbox.

4. Every three months I will do an inbox clear out. And will save what I'm working on into my drafts.

5. I write as a hobby to keep myself busy.

it's been a long while since i've written on tumblr. I lost my last account, but I'm hoping to get back into writing fics or oneshots again. Mainly going to be Writing Transformers.

What I write for:

Transformers - Bumblebee

Transformers- ROTB

Transformers Prime

Transformers Gen 1

Transformers Mtmte, IDW

Transformers Skybound

Transformers Earthspark

Transformers One

Character list and links below ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Requests & ask Rules:

I don't tend to close my request unless I get over 30+ of them.

- 1 character per request if you want a longish one shot fic.

- you can make requests for multiples with scenarios but but I tend to keep them short with a few headcannons added in.

- Specify if you want a continuation of a previous fic.

- I will do both human and Cybertronian and occasionally Experimental monster readers.

-if requesting Cybertronian for smut, they have both a valve and spike as I write all Cybertronians with both parts, all cybertronian characters I write have both parts. (I will accept request with the fem bots, I just don't write Fem readers)

- your more than welcome to ask for NSFW, SFW, Angst, fluff and all sorts. I'm pretty chill. All Smut and NSFW content is marked with #valveplug

I write: gender neutral, or Male characters, (I'm not good nor do I like writing fem character, I'm a guy, if I do get fem readers I'm going to write them as gender neutral)

I will do:

- Scenarios

- Yandere and possessive.

- family content

-disabilities (human only)

- Fluff/Angst

- fearplay, mouthplay

-Vore: soft vore/ light vore (may experiment, but very light)

- NSFW, kink:

and Dub-con/ consensual Non-con

size kink 

skin fetish 

hair pulling 

Scent/ smell/ pheromones

Sex pollen/perfume.

silk and ribbon play

cum inflation 

breeding

pet play

Predator/prey

(On occasions will write Alpha/Omega/Beta, I write it rather differently to the classic AOB. But I will only write it on very rare occasions)

vore

fluid play and consumption (paint, energon, oil, cum, spit, lubricant,)

spiking warming

Heart and spark syncing 

new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

(Just ask pretty much)

-Pregnancy

- death request are alright just keep it civil I won't go into details on the deaths.

- The AUs:

First Contact PotatooftheLand

Tasty AU of @callsign-relic

Energy fluid AU - (my silly energy drink transfluid ones)

Human effects series - (either characters for the main storyline or smut request spin off's just be specified)

Sparkeater AU

Human pet

Merformers

Wings of Primus AU

Domestic Cybertron AU

I will NOT do:

-Incest

-Pedophilia

- Self harm

-Minors (exceptions if they are children of the Bots and reader but only exception)

- Don't get angry if I'm not willing to write fem characters, I'm a guy, and I tend to stick with trans content, M/M, or gender neutral, but I'm leanent but respect my boundaries.

Slightly iffy:

- death of parents (I recently lost my mother in an accident so please be aware I that things one's sometimes I won't do due to my own feelings on these fics, while other time I may because it gives me comfort)

I enjoy making silly little one shots or even just sweet little things. I will eventually do up a master list for links once I make more stuff. (Pretty much anything you can think of up that alley I'm more than happy to do)

If you want a request of one who's not on the list, please submit it. These are just all the ones I can remember off the top of my head, people enjoy.

Ps I love writing silly little things too outside of the fics and even enjoy making art to go along with them when I feel up to drawing.

So nothing is too silly ask away over all the strange little things you want to know.

__________

Tiny art dump

Art dump 2

My little spot for art

Food feed to me

_________

Works series

Marine Centre- Merformers Au

Human effects list

Transfluid headcannon

human and Cybertronian biology works

Rut cycle Masterlist

______________________

Character list and links:

Beachcomber

Blaster

Brainstorm

Breakdown

Bumblebee

Bulkhead

Cyclonus

Drift

First aid

Ironhide

Jazz

Knockout

Megatron

Mirage

Optimus Prime

Perceptor

Pharma

Prowl

Ratchet

Rodimus

Rung

Starscream

Skyfire

Skywarp

Skids

Swerve

Soundwave

Shockwave

Swindle

Tailgate

Tarn

Tarantulas

Thundercracker

Ultra Magnus

Whirl

[buckysunshine]

lost in the fire – house of the dragon

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader, Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (tho no threesome)

Warnings: Smut (18+) ! A/B/O dynamics (just the heat aspect there’s no official alphas or omegas), Unprotected sex, Bareback riding, Public Sex, A little dub-con (the heat making her decisions for her), Incest (Uncle and niece, Step-dad and step-daughter). You have been warned!

Even though this is pure smut I can’t help myself and wrote in romance. AKA I’m a sucker for intimacy and pining. 

Synopsis: The Targaryens is a special kind of house. The reason for their advancement stems from a family secret. Unfortunately for you, the mystery comes to light in the most wretched circumstance – while in captivity. 

(Basically reader goes into heat while in imprisonment by the Greens. Reader is a Strong bastard, but won the genetic lottery of inheriting silver hair. Daemon is not the reader’s biological dad! But Aemond is her uncle.)

Word Count: 4.4K

masterlist

Your visits to King's Landing were rare. The few times you went, you were always accompanied by your brothers or Daemon. As the only daughter, your mother, Rhaenyra, is awfully protective of you. Though, you understand your mother's protectiveness. The Greens weren't exactly kind to your family the time you lived there, especially now that you're just unofficial visitors to the palace the moment your house left for Dragonstone.

But this time, you went alone, and the one time you did by the Gods would have it – you were captured and taken as prisoner. 

It was your fault, really. It has been a while since you've met with your grandsire. You shared a special bond with the man. To everyone else, he was king, but to you, he was just your old man who enjoyed telling his stories for hours at a time. Until he got too weak to speak. The last time you saw him, he wasn't well, and it broke your heart to leave so soon. You wished to say your goodbyes before it was too late.

So you left on dragonback unescorted, only intending for a short visit. You had an inclination it was soon, but not this soon.

Now you're trapped and alone in King's Landing. A tool for the Hightowers to bargain with your mother. The only thing keeping you sane is the secret trips Daemon managed to sneak in every fortnight. 

"Princess."

Daemon ascends in his black cloak. He sheds it to greet you with a soft smile as always, and as always, you embrace him. You savored his presence. He had to travel in secret, leaving Caraxes behind, making the travel time painstakingly longer. Your rendezvous with him are the only time you experience affection in isolation. Something you regret taking advantage of. 

Daemon knew the secret passages hidden in the Red Keep, and the only place he could safely meet with you was a hidden chamber deep within the kingdom's walls at night. 

"Please tell me you're here to take me away now."

He pulls back from your embrace to cup your face in his hands. You frown at the familiar apologetic look he gives you.

"I'm sorry, princess. As per your mother's orders, it is not yet time."

Dismay spikes in your chest at the thought of being trapped here for other days at a time. Rhaenyra has kept you here for her plan to take back the throne. You know it hurt your mother more to leave you here, but with the persuasion from her council, her plans now involve you and your stay in King's Landing. They somehow turned your imprisonment into an unexpected advantage.

When news broke of your capture, war nearly broke out. It took great effort from the council, your brothers, and even Queen Alicent ensuring your safety to hold your mother and Daemon back from burning King's Landing to the ground. You trust your mother; deep down, you know she would never let harm come to you. And as her kin, you would do anything to support your mother's claim to the Iron Throne, even if it meant playing the role of the lonely prisoner.

"I've brought letters from your brothers." Daemon fished them from his satchel, offering them to you as a small comfort.

You fight back tears as you read the letters. Not a day passed when you didn't miss your brothers. Worry crept into your heart about their safety, especially now with the brink of war. You cherish every written word, for they always end up burned and destroyed to eliminate any trace of evidence. 

You flip through the papers until you reach a picture.

Daemon peers over your shoulder, chuckling at the appearance of the illustration. "Little Joffrey wanted to send you something as well. His writing still needs improvement, but he did his best with a handmade portrait just for his sister."

You clutch Joffrey's portrait of Tessaryon, your dragon. Ever since you've been captured, they have kept Tessaryon chained in the Dragon Pit, never to be seen again. 

The hole in your chest grows deeper each day, and it finally rips through you in salty tears.

Daemon comforts you, rubbing circles on your back. "Shh... I know, princess. If it were up to me, you would be long gone here and back home already. Even burn this place while I'm at it."

Amid your tears, you laugh at his constrained threat, and the sincerity gives you comfort. Daemon holds you a little while longer. Despite your want to stay like this until his leave, the need to speak about the growing concern that's been troubling your mind breaks your resolve.

Speaking of, you peel yourself away from your step-father, gathering the courage to speak on it.

Immediately, he senses your apprehension. "What is it?"

You clench and unclench your fists before finally muttering, "There's something wrong with me. Something's not right."

Daemon advances toward you, and instinctively you take a step back. His face dims at your retrieve. "Are you hurt? Do you need the maesters?"

"No, no." You shake your head, wincing at the thought. "All I need is my mother. I need to go back." 

Daemon sighs, uncertainty dreading down on him. "I can't help you if I don't know the problem, princess."

Chewing on your lip, you contemplate the best way to say it without painting yourself in the worst picture possible.

"Something is burning inside me." You begin to speak despite your voice coming out shaky. You rest your palm on your stomach to steady yourself. "Mother told me about it. If the fire inside me grows brighter than I could take, then I am to run to her. It's happening, Daemon. I feel it inside me, and I don't know how long I could hide it."

Your voice breaks at the last sentence. Head hung low, you dare peek at your step-father's expression. You fear it would hold fear, disgust, or even pity, but it only kept concentration and calm. If it was a mask, you could not tell.

He was quiet for a while, fingers toying with Dark Sister. Finally, he breaks his silence with a question. "What do you feel?"

"Hot." was your immediate response. Even now, you feel your temperature burning.

"And what more?" He adjusts his weight, hips shifting. 

Now you're the one who doesn't speak. If Daemon knew the extent of your symptoms, he would surely leave immediately.

"Tell me."

His tone was urgent but careful. The look he fixes on you is something you don't recognize anymore.

You swallow down your fear. "I feel hungry… for something I do not know."

"This hunger, show me where you feel it."

Unsure of what exactly he meant, you touch your heart. "Here." Then came next was your neck, "sometimes I feel it here," and lastly, your touch travels south to your core, "but I feel it most here."

Your hand only hovers over your clothed core, but even that is enough to produce slick. The thing you've been trying so hard to avoid for days now. 

"You're in heat." 

Daemon speaks decisively, taking slow, cautious steps toward you. "Chosen women in our family have them. It's nothing to be afraid of. Those who experience them birth the best of us. From them came our family's greatest kings, the most fearsome warriors. Your heat is a blessing."

With every word he speaks, your mind spins with the revelation.

He settles right in front of you, a distance smaller than usual. He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. "It's been decades since the last one. We thought they died out, yet here you are."

Confused about your purpose, you ask, "Then what do I do?"

"Do whatever you want." He drops your hand. "Whatever you think would help."

Daemon assumed you would use your fingers to alleviate the burning in your core. He'd watch and make sure you were doing it right. 

But what he did not anticipate is you taking his face in your hands.

Heeding his advice, you did the one thing you'd been craving for weeks. You touch his face. The feel of Daemon's skin gave you a sense of relief. The fire burning inside made you hungry for touch, and the skinship immediately made you feel better. 

Your eyes flutter close at the contact, ease setting in your bones at the feel of him.

Daemon's breath hitched at his throat, but he did not pull away. "That helps?"

You faintly nod. The relief was nice, but it didn't last long, and soon you were craving something more. 

Taking notice, he presses his temple against yours. A loving gesture he thought to be innocent. It was his little way of showing his affection.

You open your eyes and come face to face with Daemon's, and you’re overcome by the itch to touch more. Delicately, your thumb strokes his cheek, tracing his eyelid, which closes at your touch, the slope of his nose, and his bottom lip; you find yourself lingering at his lips.

"Princess…"

"Do whatever you want. Whatever you think would help."

And you did, so you leaned in to kiss him. Stunned, he tugs away, but you wrap your arms around his neck, blocking his escape. You slip your tongue inside, yearning to taste him, to feel him.

Daemon presses back until your back hits a wall, but you cling to him, kiss unbreaking and never heaving. His arm slams leaning on the wall, and the other finds its way to your waist. Any fight he had before dissolves at your determination, your heat affecting him as well. 

He bites your lip, from tasting your mouth to your neck. He licks a stripe underneath the slope of your ear. "Feel it here too?"

You nod feverish, back arching to give him more access. Impatiently, you grip Daemon's hair, take his hand, and lead it where you need it most.

Taking the hint, he ruffles your dress up, and soon his fingers slip inside your undergarments. You're a mewling mess now, moans escaping your lips willfully. He circles your soaked bud considerately, causing another strip of slick to wet your thighs before finally sinking inside you.

You hold on to his shoulders, legs shaky. He plunges his fingers in and out your cunt, and embarrassing sounds of wet flesh fill the empty chamber. You moan with every prod. 

With your release nearing close, you decided to reach for the stars – and you grope his cock. 

A decision that proved to be a mistake. 

With your touch, Daemon withdraws his fingers inside you and pulls away.

You cry out at the ruined climax. You were so close, and now you're back to zero.

Both breathing heavily, Daemon's actions still. His hands remain frozen. Confused, you lean in to kiss him again, but he only pulls away. You don't understand. He remains hard and, until now, willing to bed you, but now he can't even look at you.

Instead, he grabs your wrist, and you wince at the tight grip. He puts them at your eye level. "Use your fingers to help you with your heat. Like what I did."

He led them to your mound, urging you to try yourself. Hesitantly, you touch yourself, trying your best to mimic how he did it. It helped, but it was nothing to how Daemon's fingers worked for you. 

Frustrated, you whine, pulling out. "It's not enough. I need you, Daemon."

You reach to touch him again, but he backs away, putting distance between you. Your heart breaks at the space. Did you do something wrong? He turns his back on you in an attempt to collect himself.

"Daemon?" you called out, concerned.

He let out a mountain of curses in high valyrian before facing you again. He flips his black cloak back on his head. 

"Come." He holds his hand out, and you take it immediately. He starts walking, and shortly, he's picking up the pace, and you try your best to keep up.

"Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer. Soon you're somewhere away, but it wasn't somewhere new. Dread filled you at the sight of the familiar door.

"No. I'm not going back, not right now." You stop in your tracks, refusing to enter the room once more.

"You were gone too long. It's time to head back." 

Daemon opens the secret passage to your chambers – your prison. You resist, but he tugs you along anyway. 

He settles you on your bed. "I will return soon. For now, use your fingers to get through your heat. Do not leave your room. Do you understand me?"

He spoke with such force you felt fear of being left alone again. You frown, not responding and not looking at him, either. 

You know you don't have the luxury of time. Daemon's treading a fine line; you could be caught any moment now. 

In distress, he grabs your neck. "Do you understand me, princess?"

Shocked, you nod, tears swelling up again. Daemon's resolve softens at the sight, guilt weighing his heart down. He’s a fucked up mess now.

He removes his hands from you and gently wipes the fallen tears away. "The next time I return, I'm taking you with me." 

He sealed his promise with a kiss on your temple, and just like a flicker, he was gone. Disappeared within the walls of the castle.

You lie there dumbfounded, abandoned in the dark. The throbbing between your legs grew more prominent with the unfinished business. 

He really left you.

The disbelief turned into frustration and shame and soon festered into anger. You knew your fingers wouldn't be enough this time, and you'll be damned if you let Daemon tease you for nothing.

Despite his warnings, you leave the bed and wander the halls looking for the man. At this point, Daemon would be by Blackwater Bay about to board his boat, and getting through the hidden passages would only get you lost, so you settle on getting there through the main route. 

The darkness of the night cloaked your disheveled state, and your bare feet masked the sounds of your hurried steps. 

Frantic and mind clouded by lust, you find yourself in the godswood occupied by a lurking patron. You hardly noticed the figure hiding in the shadows until you collided with its solid chest.

You wince at the impact, holding out your hands to steady yourself. 

"Y/n."

The familiar deep voice reels you back into the present. Aemond stands tall with his hands clamped against his back, as usual, face annoyingly stoic. His intimidating stance makes you feel small in the dark.

"Uncle." You manage to greet back, caught off guard by his presence.

You should have known better. In addition to the dozen guards watching your every move, Aemond took it upon himself to personally keep you in your place. Always looking, constantly checking.

Despite his constant presence, you find it hard to look your uncle's face in the eye. The one eye is usually filled with contempt, but at this moment, it searches your face with intrigue and skepticism until it strays down to your bosom.

"Pray tell where are you off to at this late hour? And in such a rush, you forget your indecency." He tsked mockingly. 

Your face turns warm, and you quickly cover up your exposed flesh with silver hair. In your haste, you carelessly left your quarters with only your night shift, the thin fabric barely covering your figure.

"I… could not find sleep. I fancied a walk. That is all."  

You don't look at him as you say it. If you did, he'd see right through you. Instead, you stare off in the distance with your arms crossed, a piss attempt to somehow protect yourself.

He hums at your answer before stepping forward, invading your space. 

"You're lying." 

Without warning, he raises one hand behind his back and grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You gasp at the sudden contact.

He leans in, sneering. "If you're going to lie, at least have the decency to say it to my face, or don't say shit at all."

You grasp his arm, clawing to get away from him. "Release me." You grit out.

"I'll ask you again. What are you doing?" His grip on you only tightens. It irritates you greatly that he can keep you captive with just one arm. "What is it that you're planning? Is your traitor mother here to get you? Planning to take the crown, hm?" 

You continue to struggle against him, concern increasing at the realization that the wetness between your legs is growing from the harsh touch of Aemond's skin.

Thinking fast, you recall Jacaery's training. You flip Aemond's elbow and quickly follow it up with a shove. And just because you're rarely presented with such an opportunity, you also hit his nose with your head. Hard. 

He stumbles, startled at the ambush. Still, a hint of a smirk plays at his lips.

You manage to get away, glaring at the imposing man. "Trust me, the crown is furthest from my mind right now." 

Before your mind is wholly overturned by your heat, you turn to flee, but with swift feet, Aemond seizes you. 

"You're not leaving."

He pins you against the large tree in the middle of the garden, wrapping his hand around your neck to keep you in place.

And with that, you all but lost control.

A moan escapes your lips. The pressure of his palm on your neck, coupled with his body weight leaning against yours, is enough to give your touch-starved body pleasure.

Aemond freezes at the sound, the noise echoing in the quiet garden. Bewildered, he pulls back to study your face. At this point, your eyes are fully dilated, breath coming uneasy and legs clamped tighter than a mangled knot. 

He presses on your neck once more, and unwillingly you let out another needy moan. 

"You're in heat." He realizes, disbelief painted on his features.

"Yes." You hissed out. "So either you do something about it or let me go find someone else who will."

For a moment, his perfectly practiced mask falls, and his grip on you loosens. Just when you thought you'd be free, he slots his thigh between your legs, pinning your bottom against him.

"Aemond." You gasp at the sudden pressure. You grip his thigh, unsure if you want to pull it away or ride it.

He leans down to take in your scent. "I thought they were only legends. A child’s tale. I read about them, the things the heat does to the woman and the greatness that comes after.” He presses down more, and you almost buckle to your knees. "You're never going to find someone who can properly take care of this, sweet niece."

Daemon. The thought grows more distant the more Aemond floods your senses.

With both hands, he lifts your face towards him. 

"Allow me the honor." He whispers, breath fanning your face. 

The pressure was too much to bear, and you couldn't take it anymore. You make a move and lean in to take his mouth into yours. He receives you immediately, tongue already slipping inside to greet yours.

Like him, his kiss is unrelenting.

Panting, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His mouth traveled down to kiss your jaw, settling on tasting and nipping at the skin of your neck. Your back arch at the sensation.

You pull away just enough to mumble in a daze, "take me to bed, Aemond."

He lifts your legs to wrap around his hips, and you revel at the feel of his cock straining hard against his breeches. You nearly humped him right there and then.

You expect him to carry you into his chambers, but he turns the other way and settles you down to the ground underneath the shadow of the evergreen. He discards his coat and lays it beneath your back, protecting you from the sharp prickle of the grass.

He leans back to take you in. 

You lay there sprawled open to him. Only illuminated by the moonlight, you look ethereal. Your silver hair shines despite being scattered on the earth, and your skin glows with fever and anticipation. You look unworldly. Inhuman. Like an unclaimed dragon. 

Aemond had never seen something so captivating.

"What are you…." You reach up to feel him again, desperate for his touch.

His hands caress your legs, lifting your night shift further until your bottoms are exposed to him. He grips your inner thigh, blood pumping with excitement.

"No time. You need release now."

His slender fingers find you, and he plays with the wetness he finds there. Aemond's manhood nearly bursts at the feel of your supple skin. He wastes no time exploring your heat. You whimper at the intrusion, grateful for the sensation but yearning for more, for something bigger. 

He leans down to kiss you once more. "Patience, dōna mirre."

Before you know it, he dips down, head in between your legs and mouth on you. You stifle a scream that would surely wake the entirety of King’s Landing. Aemond groans against your cunt, mouth lapping at the continuous flow of sweet nectar. A taste no man could resist, driving anyone to addiction. It did not take long for you to reach your first release of the night. 

Aemond only ascends when you push his head away, skin still sensitive from fighting his incessant tasting.

He makes quick work of his trousers, taking his cock out. He strokes it as he watches you come down from your high. Slender arms cover your face, chest heaving at the impact of your release. 

Gently, he brushes a nipple, and instantly, it hardens.

"Gods."

With a tug, he reveals your breasts, ripping away at any fabric that dares cover you from him. You yelp at the quick removal, skin shivering at the cold air. While he's distracted by your naked body, you take the opportunity to take hold of the flesh poking your thighs.

He groans at your touch, hips thrusting for more. 

"So needy."

You bite your lip, wanting more. "Please, uncle."

He leans back, gaze fixed down to where his cock slides between your folds, slick coating every inch of him. "Is this what you want, sweet girl?"

"Yes, yes." You preen desperately. 

He remains sliding his cock on your glistening pussy, bud nearly aching at the little friction. He could do it. Slide right inside you so easily. With your wetness he wouldn’t have to fight any resistance. Just tight slick heat waiting to swallow him. 

But even with the sheer desire radiating off him, you sense a hint of hesitation holding him back.

"Aemond?" You call out to him, concerned.

His gaze snaps back to yours, face suddenly serious. "Once I break your virtue, no husband will take you. No husband means no allies. No allies mean no crown. Is that what you want?"

He speaks sense, and you should likely listen for your own good. But you find it hard to comprehend the future ahead of you. It might be your heat making you delirious, but all you want is now, and all you want is Aemond.

You take hold of his hand, placing a tender kiss on his palm. "Then wed me. Make me your wife," 

Aemond's heart sputters at the proposition. Everything his family has been building for would come crumbling down if he said yes; the war he's been fighting for would be for nothing, but all that didn't make the offer any less appealing.

You sense the pause your words had on him, so you continue speaking. "or just fuck me and forget me. Aōha iderennon, issa prince. "

With a curse, he makes his choice. He presses at your entrance, plunging deeper until he's satiated inside you. "Fuck." 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as satisfaction finally seeps into your bones. Aemond's thrusts start slow and careful but soon gain momentum, until he's relentlessly pumping into you.

Aemond lifts your leg to hook to his hips, pulling you closer. Holding each other, your hands never leave his skin. His back, his behind, his hair. You were always touching him one way or another. He rests his weight by his arms, face buried in your neck. 

"Aemond.." you moan his name, wanting to see him, you lift his face from your nape.

For the first time, you faced him, and his eye held no contempt. Your breath is taken away at the sight. The once harsh lines of his face turned into something delicate, and the fixed frown he wore every day no longer tainted his handsome features. At this moment, he is beautiful.

You trace the prominent scar, mindful of his trauma. You remember the night it happened so vividly, and never would have thought it all would lead to this.

He flinches at your touch, head rearing back. He was still within reach, so you coax him back by stroking his jaw instead, coupling it with a flush of your hips and light kisses. He relaxes, and this time you reach for his eyepatch. You lock gazes with him, silently asking for permission. You wanted to see him in all his vulnerability. 

He only closes his eye, face stilling to let you remove the leather. And with a flick of your wrist, the veil falls to the ground.

In all his glory, you see Aemond Targaryen for who he is. 

The wounded eye was stripped of any skin on his left eyelid, leaving a bright shining sapphire eye in its place. You heard rumors of the one-eye second son and his sapphire eye. Only a few saw it; the majority that didn't deny its existence, but the ones that did spoke of its haunting beauty. 

But you did not see it for long. With only just a few seconds, Aemond hides his face back into your neck. 

Flashes of insecurity pierce Aemond's heart. He's never been this intimate with anyone, and he certainly did not foresee it to be with the sister of the man that maimed him. He's starting to fear he'll find himself far in the deep end, unsuspecting of the waters he plunged into. He plans to make you cum quickly, determined to distract you from his shame.

But you don't allow it. With a shift of your weight, you roll over, pinning him against the tree's bark. Now you're the one on top, and you hold his shoulders down, making him look up to you. Aemond's throat dries at the sight of you mounted on top of him.

“Y/n-”

"Look at me."

The power in your voice makes him obey. Once your eyes lock, you search for a hint of trust, and once you're sure he's not to pull away again, you start riding him. You roll your hips, moving to hit the spot inside you. He supports you with gentle touches on your back and tweaks to your nipples.

Aemond watches in awe, letting you chase your climax. In your state, he is clearly reminded that like him, you're a dragon rider. A rightful Targaryen. You move like you ride a dragon — confident, strong, and in control. 

It makes his cock hard.

Your movements grow frantic, the familiar high nearing close. Aemond starts meeting your thrusts, cock plunging deeper at the new position. You feel your cunt produce one last slick of wetness before constricting around him, body spasming with pleasure. Aemond quickly followed, capturing your mouth in one last kiss before finishing inside you. 

Satisfied, the fire inside you subdues, and you feel your body grow light, at ease. Exhausted, you fall into slumber. 

Not Aemond. 

He lays there with you in his arms wide awake. He clutches you in an embrace, shielding you from the nearing sunrise. If he could stay there buried inside you for the rest of his days, away from the war, all the scheming – he would. But reality is creeping up on him, and he's reminded of his choice.  

"Make me your wife, or just fuck me and forget me. Aōha iderennon, issa prince.”

Aemond has yet to grow old and wise, but even then he knew one thing – even if he tried, he could never forget you. He could conquer the earth and back, claim the mightiest dragon on land, and win the greatest of wars. In the end, he knows you'll still plague his mind, body, and soul. 

So he made a choice, and this time, he let the Gods decide his fate. 

-

dōna mirre - sweet thing

Aōha iderennon, issa prince - your choice, my prince

Fun fact! Tessaryon is inspired by Tessarion, the goddess of music, arts, knowledge, healing, plague, prophecy, poetry, beauty, archery, and booty — A god of old valyria.

[nahoney22]

Beyond the Fall***

Tech X F!Reader

word count: 6.8k

*gif is mine so please credit if used.*

warnings: Spoilers for TBB Episode 9. Enemies to Lovers NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content, sex pollen, dub-con in both parties but also somewhat pretty aware, solo masturbation (reader), begging, swearing, slight mention of breeding kink, several positions, p in v, rough sex, creampie but reader mentions that she is protected. accidental confessions of true feelings I suppose. comfort at the end. Arguing at the start. Not proofread ngl.

When you take a tumble down a deep hole, you did not think for a second that Tech would dive in straight after you. With tensions on the high anyway, what fares when you both experience a certain aphrodisiac within the water.

“Tell me, how exactly did you and Wrecker miss our ship being compromised?”

You watched in shocked awe as the Marauder, your home for going on the last eight months flying away without a crew member on board. Luckily, Wrecker answered Tech’s irritating question for you.

“Maybe if you hadn’t docked it out of view, we would have seen someone approaching.”

“Well, there was no other suitable landing zone, Wrecker.” Tech scolds.

“Yes there was,” you snapped at the goggled clone, eyes fuming with anger, “I suggested landing just on the ledge above and you said no.”

“The terrain was not suitable so I suggest you do not tell me where to dock my ship.”

You laughed mockingly at him, scoffing. “Your ship? How about next time you be the lookout then!”

“Perhaps I will.” He retorted, posture tense, “Although, the likelihood of getting the ship back is very slim.” His brown eyes are frowning at you from behind his helmet. His eyes always had that judging look when he looked your way which was enough to make your blood boil. 

But when you looked at Omega, your heart sank. The others may not have noticed but you didn’t miss the glistening of unshed tears in her eyes as the bunch of you argue. 

“Don’t worry Omega, it will be fine.” You reassure her softly, placing a hand to her shoulder.

Ever since Echo departed with Rex, the atmosphere had been tense. There was something about the man that had managed to keep the squad together, and with his departure, the cracks were starting to show. Nonetheless, this did not have a significant effect on your relationship with Tech, which had always been a bit unsteady.

“Other than the fact we have barely any food, shelter and mode of transportation, sure.” Tech interjects shortly before strutting off. You shot him an annoyed look before rolling your eyes. 

“Ignore him.” You tell her before the lot of you venture off to find any signs of life.

————

“What is your issue?”

With the Ipsium now gone, a rare and expensive mineral that you all came to this damned planet for, you find yourself trapped inside one of the vaults after the mineral exploded. So clearly, the mishap of the ship going missing was the start of the downfall.

His words were somewhat callous and lacked sympathy as he spoke down to Omega who was very frustrated and emotional, her young self looking to each and every one of you. Unfortunately, it was Tech who had to open his mouth.

You watched Omega leave, Hunter trying to get her to stay but after she insisted she wanted to be alone. As the team turned to Tech, you could sense their agitation and annoyance with his lack of empathy. You couldn't help but add your own thoughts to the mix, clapping slowly with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

"Good job, Tech," you said, trying to make him understand the gravity of his words.

Tech, who had taken a seat on a boulder, was confused and looked over at you, frowning. "What did I say wrong?"

"You were stating the obvious," you voice with a grunt, grabbing your water canister and taking a gulp before saying, "but maybe you could've been a bit more empathetic."

“Would you rather me lie to her?” He counters, raising his brow as if to challenge you.

"It's not about lying, Tech. It's about understanding, especially in times like these." 

"I was simply using logic," Tech defended himself. "Telling her the truth is the best way to handle the situation."

You took a deep breath, trying to control your rising frustration. "It's not about just telling her the truth, Tech. It's about how you say it.” 

Although you did not particularly like Tech, nor did he seem to like you it seems, you felt a little bad that you had to discuss with him his lack of social skills and emotional response to certain situations. He had always been this way, down to his genetic programming but for someone so smart, he can’t see the bigger picture sometimes. “Can’t you see she is upset?”

“I am aware that Omega is frustrated at the present moment but that has nothing to do with me. Omega needs to be aware that these situations happen and one of us has to be the voice of reason and therefore, logical conversation is the best approach.” He holds his finger in the air, “I understand if this goes over your head.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to contain your anger but to no avail. "Will you stop being an arse to me? We're all in the same boat here, and I will not have you speak to me like that!" Your raised voice strained as you spoke. Never had you been so bitter towards someone in your life as of right now. Not only has he made matters worse with an already sensitive Omega, he blamed you for not seeing the ship being taken, he basically called you stupid to your face… you’re surprised steam was not coming out of your ears at this point.

You storm off for a few minutes to collect yourself and in the meantime, Hunter folds his arms and glares across at his brother. “Well that’s one way of telling her you like her.” 

Tech went to speak but no words came out, a little aghast at Hunter's insinuation. “I do not know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled a tad.

“Sure you don’t.” He unfolds his arms and begins to push away at some of the rocks. “Get back to work.”

Tech spots you from the corner of his eyes, your hands running over your face in presumed stress and just for a mere second, he is conflicting with his emotions.

———

The second you heard that Tech was off to find Omega, you don’t really know why Hunter and Wrecker suggested you go with him. Albeit, something in your gut was telling you to go along anyway, so you did.

Your heart was thumping with every step you took alongside him, the eeriness of the mine only adding to the palpable tension.

“Question, why do you think they wanted you to come with me?”

You’re surprised he’s making conversation but that wasn’t exactly unlikely of him. 

“I don’t know.” You grunt, not interested in talking to him at all at the moment. You also had a feeling it was so he didn’t upset Omega even more and to smooth things out but Hunter could sense how irate you got around Tech so this little mission together will be enlightening. 

When you nudged Tech and pointed towards Omega’s gear on the floor, you’re a little precarious to see her extracting the mineral that got them in this mess in the first place.

“Hey love, you doing alright?” You ask softly, peering through the small hole she had made to crawl through. When your heart landed on the large gaping hole beside her feet however you grew hot under your collar. 

“Fine.” She muttered, extracting the last bit from the section she was at. “What are you two doing here?”

"We came to see where you were, of course," you say softly, hoping to bring some comfort to her. That is until Tech decides to interject.

"And to find some Ipsium," he blurts out, causing you to shoot him a disapproving look. He quickly gets the message and coughs, trying to rectify the situation. "Which you are already cleverly extracting for us. Great job."

“No,” Omega mutters, pulling the drill away and finally looking up at you both, “why are you two here? Together? You hate one another.”

The pair of you froze. Even though it was clear that there was some kind of tension between the two of you, always bickering, hate was certainly a strong word. In fact, you knew what it was like to hate someone and you never felt it with Tech. You felt something, though you could not pinpoint what it was exactly.

Tech looks at you, gauging your reaction but he did not understand the look on your face. 

“Hate is not the word I would use.” You finally speak up, voice a little timid as Tech stood next to you. You didn’t want to add fuel to the already blazing fire between the pair of you, nor did you want to upset Omega any further. “We just have different thoughts about things.”

She blinks at you both before subtly rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

You sighed, head slumped before moving out of the way to let Tech speak with her. 

Thankfully, Tech quickly changes the topic. “How much have you extracted?”

“Just this vial. Figured we could use it to blow ourselves out of here.” She holds it up to him, a little irritated that he didn’t take it from her grasp.

You stood back and watched the exchange and you can tell he is definitely trying to make it up to her. Although he is not apologising upfront nor discussing it, you figured his best approach is to forget it and move on.

When they both come up with an agreement, the tension slowly fading away between them, there’s one vial left but the extraction point looks just a little bit out of Omega’s reach.

“I’ll get that one if you want?” You suggest, not liking the way she was almost creeping over the edge of a large black hole.

Omega wants to finish the job herself but knows that you were probably better suited as you were taller. “Okay, I’m going to go back to the others then.” She wipes some sweat off her brow before swapping places with you.

Tech peers through the hole you just crawled in, tapping away at his datapad. “Are you aware of how this procedure goes?” He asks once Omega vacates the area. 

You reach down and grab the drill, looking to the final piece that was in a very precarious place. “Yep.” You reply shortly, trying not to get distracted.

“Do we really need this last one?” You mutter more to yourself but Tech had a keen ear.

“If we are to have extra, then not only can we escape this place but we will also be compensated for it.” He pushes his goggles up his nose. “So yes.”

“Great.”

It was no easy feat and several times you had to alter your position, crouching, leaning and every other position to make sure you’re safe but it didn't help at all when you had someone breathing down your neck.

“Are you nearly done?” You jump a little, turning around to see Tech staring at you with a bored expression. 

“I’m trying my best, Tech.” You sneer, turning back to the task at hand.

“You need to lean closer.” 

You groan in frustration and enthusiastically point to the gaping abyss. “Do you need your goggles cleaned or can you not see this hole? I’ll be done, when I’m done!” 

In a moment of weakness, you had reached across as prodded by Tech but just a tad overstepped, sending you over the edge.

“Tech!” You squeak, clawing onto the jagged rocks to hold yourself up, panic shooting through you as your feet scrambled to cling onto anything.

His eyes widen in horror and in a blink he is by your side, reaching across to you. “Take my hand.”

You take a breath and let go with one hand, reaching for him. But as your fingers brush against his, you’re not strong enough to hold on and fall into the abyss.

He screams your name, standing up and with no second thought, he jumps down after you. 

The water was tumultuous as you struggled to keep your head above the water. Your arms and legs are kicking, the energy you had slowly fading as you struggle against the current.

Then you heard your name.

“Tech!” You called out with a sob as the water thrashed over your face and partially down your throat.

He swam towards you as fast as he could, shouting your name as you cried out for help while your body crashed against the jagged rocks, your lungs filling with water.

But Tech soon caught up to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you both rode the current into the unknown. When you were suddenly confronted by a waterfall, you both cascaded over it, splashing into a peaceful pool.

You emerged from the water, gasping for air but began to panic when you didn't see your savior; Tech.

“Tech! Where are you?” You gasp, searching the water to see if he had been swept under 

but relief washes through you as he quickly emerged from the water moments later, gasping for breath and searching for you.

You both lock eyes, panting heavily before you start to swim for an embankment, crawling onto land. You’re coughing violently, some water pumping out of you as Tech collapsed onto his back, pulling his goggles back to wipe away the water droplets.

You lay staring at the rocky yet blue illuminated ceiling, catching back your breath as your wet clothes hung to your body. You sit up eventually, looking at the bright pool of blue you and Tech just got submerged in before glancing around. 

“It appears we have entered an underground aqueduct surrounded by plenty of Ipsium.” Tech acknowledges, sitting up and looking around too. “Not the best place for you to lure us into but not the worst.”

You processed his words and even now, he had the nerve to put the blame on you. “Are you saying this is my fault?” 

“Partly, yes.” He replies nonchalantly.

You scoff, standing up and moving away from him. “I can’t believe you. Are you really doing this? Now?”

He watches you move and stands too but remains where he was. “Simply stating facts.”

You look at him in disbelief, running a hand through your sopping wet hair. “Did I ask you to jump down with me?”

He shifts, suddenly feeling a little warm under the collar. “Well no but-.”

“And was I the one to initially upset Omega?”

“It can be argued we all had a part in that-.”

“Was it you who allowed me to get the last bit of Ipsium?” You bombard him with questions, all of it leading up to now. “Was it you who told me to lean in closer?”

His jaw clenched, fists tightening. “If you and Wrecker had not let our ship get stolen, we wouldn’t be here at all.”

“I told you to dock it somewhere else! In view!” You shout, voice booming around the small hidden cave. 

“And why would I rely on anything you have to say to me? You have not an ounce of my intelligence nor knowledge of planets. You do not know how to drive a ship, let alone instruct the pilot where it should land.” He rants, eyes trained on you, both of your breathing hard and heavy, tension so thick it felt like nothing could cut it. “Know your place in this squad.” 

His words hurt. A lot. No matter how much you bickered he had never said anything so belittling to you. Stress is evident on both of your faces given the situation but to hear how he supposedly felt about you was difficult to swallow. “I… you’re impossible.” You whisper but he still hears it. 

The second he heard you sniffle, he wanted to instantly narrow it down that you instantly got a cold from the water but as you aggressively wiped away a tear and stormed off, he knew he took it too far. Does he chase after you? No. He figured you wanted to be left alone just like he learnt with Omega. So in the meantime, he tried to contact the others.

You sat on the other side of the cave, your knees hugged to your chest as you just sat and hoped that Tech could summon a message to the others. In the meantime as you sat, you tried to ignore the odd pulse circulating under the skin of your palms. But, it started getting progressive and a wave of scorching heat flushed your body.

A whimper parts your lips and you begin to quickly strip the gear from your body and throw it around you carelessly. “Why’s it so fucking hot in here?” You gasp to yourself, tugging on the high collar of your body glove.

“I too am suddenly feeling quite feverish.” Tech’s voice sounded next to you making you jolt. As you look up at him, your eyes drank in his tall, slender figure. You swallow the saliva that started to pool in your throat, pushing the clouded thoughts to the back of your mind. 

“Did you get contact with the others?” You rasp, moving yourself onto your knees, staring down at the water as you try and steady your breathing that suddenly becomes ragged and scratched at your throat. 

Tech shakes his head and quietly sits beside you, unconsciously tugging at his now soaked clothes as he feels as though he’s been dipped in lava. “No, I can’t get a clear signal.” He says steadily, blinking quickly as sweat starts to seep into his goggles and blur his vision. 

You could almost moan in despair but the only whimper that parted through your lips was one of searing pleasure.

“T-Tech, do you feel… different?” You whisper, looking up at him through hooded eyes.

Tech looks back down at you, pulling his goggles up onto his head to swipe the dripping of sweat from his eyes and he almost gasps at the sight of you. 

Your lips looked full, parted and wanting. Your skin glowed with a distinctive hue that he couldn’t quite put his finger on but as he stands above you, seeing you on your knees a wave of pleasure shoots straight to his cock. He closes his eyes, tight. Mentally trying to snap him out of this precarious situation and then an idea popped into his head. 

His hands, now shaking and pulsing under his gloves reach to one of his many sections of his utility belt before pulling out a single vial, and swiping up the water the pair of you plummeted in. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. Hard. So hard you think you think you could have drawn blood but it’s nothing compared to the bite at the center of your core as your heart races with nothing but desire. You needed to touch yourself. 

“Oh dear,” he finally says.

“What is it?”

Tech slumps against one of the boulders that surrounded the cave, a mixture of different emotions flushing through him. Confusion, worry and a whole lot of desire. “The water… it appears to be polluted which is why we are reacting to it.”

“You want to narrow that down?” You groan, falling onto your back as your fingers deep into the rough texture of sand beneath your body to refrain yourself from reaching down and begin to relieve this brewing sensation. 

Tech's eyes that were trying so hard to stare at the datapad in his hand only start to move to longing gaze at you, watching you physically writhe on the floor as a mixture of whines and moans erupt from your mouth. “It’s polluted with,” he gulps, trying to now ignore how physically aching it was to feel his length pressed against his pants, “aphrodisiacs.”

The word itself made you mewl and although you should feel panicked and alarmed, the burning feeling between your legs followed by the throbbing pulse all over your body was taking over instead. “W-what do we do?” 

Not knowing what he was doing, his hand lowers to his crotch and stars to slowly palm himself at the sight of you tugging and tearing at your bodysuit to rip it from your body. The moment of weakness stops and he quickly snaps out of what he’s doing and diverts his gaze and body away from you. “To erase the side effects you will need to masturbate in order to form the release. An o-orgasm,” he grunts, gripping onto the boulder as the word makes his cock twitch, “is the only way to stimulate. I will leave you alone to engage in this process.” 

The second Tech moves away to the other side of the cave to take care of himself, you have pulled yourself out of your body glove and began the impulse of pleasuring yourself.

Your hand flushed down your thigh and then to your bare sex, pressing two fingers harshly down against your clit that had you wailing out in ecstasy. “Oh f-f-fuck!” Your whole body arches in response to the touch to your bud, circling motions rapidly as you beg for the quick release that is brewing. 

Your moans and swears echo around the cave, deafening out the noise of the waterfall that poured down. But it’s not enough.

Frantically, your fingers move to your sopping  wet entrance, curling inside of you and rubbing back and forth as your opposite hand now rubs furiously at your clit. Although your body spasms, the burning that felt like your body was aflame with sexual desire would not fade. Moans become erratic, it isn’t long until you’re begging for your own release as you writhe pathetically on the ground. 

Then, you said his name. The one person who you knew could push you over the edge. “Teeeeeech,” you call his name. Wanting. Needing.

Within the space of maybe ten seconds, a shadow looms over your sweating and spasming body and as your eyes open, you melt to see Tech in the nude, pumping his cock that was glistening in precum.

“You look so wonderful like that,” he purrs, licking his lips as he stands over you and strokes his cock in frantic motions. “I knew it wouldn’t be long until you would be begging for me.”

“P-please Tech,” you grit, fingers going completely numb with the constant strumming against your clit, “it’s too much, I need you.”

The second your back arches, Tech falls to his knees beside you and slings an arm around your back. He’s swift in his movements and he’s uttering the most indiscreet filth he could before diving his fingers straight into your core without a second thought.

His fingers hook inside you, pulsing all the while expertly have his thumb rubbing at your bud. 

“Oh my stars! Tech, please don’t stop, please make this burning go away.” You beg him, writhing under his touch as his hand rocks against you, sending you into a flurry of loud groans. 

“That’s it darling, take my fingers. Maker, you’re sublime and a little begging mess for me. Glorious.” Tech grunts as his hand starts to spasm, his pace relentless and despite wanting you to cum all over his fingers so he could taste you, he didn’t expect for a second for your hand to come down and grab at his cock and balls.

Your hands look small in comparison to his length, his skin hot to the touch that felt like silk. With your touch alone, it has him bucking his hips as you both mutually pleasure one another. “You’ve got such a pretty cock, Tech,” you whimper, looking down at his member that twitched in your hands both somewhat aware and non aware of the lewd words that pour from your lips. 

“And you’ve got the most perfect little pussy that needs pleasuring. And am I doing that?” Tech locks eyes with you, dark and filled with an unspoken need. “Am I pleasuring you enough?”

“Yes! Fuck yes, you are. I think I’m going to cum soon.” You tremble and in your heart, you didn’t want him to stop the incessant rampage of his fingers against your cunt. 

As you pump along his throbbing cock, Tech feels himself start to edge closer and close to his release. He’s whimpering, a sound you never thought you’d be blessed of hearing but there’s something about him that makes you tingle. His eyes trail down from your face to your breast, mouth salivating at the thought of ramming his cock between the perfect mounds.

“Kiss them, please.” You had caught his leering and without a second thought he bends down and latches his lips to your stiff peaks, tongue licking aggressively against the sensitive skin. 

Your legs begin to shake, the touch of his hands agaisnt you, the feeling of his tongue licking feverishly against you followed by the gesture of you wanking caused your body to shoot, making you wail as you hit your climax. 

Tech follows soon after, his hot ribbon seeping over your fist as he his hips stutter.

You let out a longing gasp, elbows shaking as you prop yourself up to see Tech’s glistening fingers pull out of your body lewdly. 

The silence was ringing and for a moment, you didn’t dare look to Tech. Your heart race is the realisation of what just took place began to hit but not as quick as another jolt of pulsations straight to your clit once again.

“Tech,” you rasp out and consciously grip onto his wrist, shaking, “I’m sorry but-.”

“I’m aware.” Tech whispers and as you finally meet his gaze, you look down and see that his cock was already hard and twitching for your touch. 

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you manage out before the aphrodisiac overpowers you once again.

Tech nods quickly in understanding and in the faintest of touches, he cups your cheek, “I know.” 

Quicker than before, the wave of desire washed over you both and simultaneously you both lean in, lips slanting over one another as his tongue plunged straight into your mouth. Both of you fought against each other, thick muscles that spent so much time bickering at another now dancing in a fiery passion. 

He’s crawling on top of you now, his cock sliding against your thigh and stomach as you maintain this intense make out session but it was going on for too long. You just couldn’t bear another second without his cock inside of you.

 “Fuck me,” you plead, “I need you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk for a week. I want you to ram your cock so deep inside me, please.” You moan against his lips, words of filth that were almost unholy to hear that made Tech let out a guttural snarl as he pulled away from your lips and quickly positioned himself between your now spread legs.

His tip presses to his entrance but he’s not shy in letting his hands roam your body, tweaking your nipples before resting them on your hips. “Maker, you do look breedable.”

In one quick motion, he’s breached your entrance in a swift motion, buried inside you.

“STARS! TECH!” Your cries in delight boom around the cave, your body beautifully glowing from the pool of water beside you both as he almost bottoms out ontop of you. 

“K-Kriff,” he stutters, feeling your walls clench around him like a vice, the burning through his veins temporarily subsiding before absolutely rocking his cock in and out of you like a man desperate for air.

His hands clasp at your waist, fingers biting down into your flesh as your body shoves down against the ground with every resounding thrust he gives you. “Could fuck this little pussy all night if I have to,” he grunts through gritted teeth, eyes dark.

If you weren’t intoxicated by this sensation you would be in complete shock at his words, but instead you let his words carve into your mind as his hips rock back and forth all the while your gazes are locked on another. 

In a moment of weakness, his hand moved from your hip and over your breast, caressing the soft mound with his fingers as a devilish smirk plasters his face. “I’ve always imagined your breasts to be divine to touch. So wonderful to know I was correct.” He sings, admiring you from above.

“They’re all yours Tech,” you submit to him, eyes heavy, “you can have me whenever, wherever. Just please don’t stop.”

A noise emits from him and you gasp as he manages to flip you so you're now on your front, forced to your hands and knees before he starts to take you from behind, spanking your cheeks with his thighs with every hard thrust. “You shouldn’t have said that mesh’la, can you not understand that I have wanted to fuck you for so, so long? Having to, ugh fuck-.” He pauses his unfiltered words, in awe of how pretty you looked arched downwards as he seethes his aching cock into you, “having to watch you all day everyday and never being able to express my desires.”

Again, your mind is too boggled to completely comprehend the seriousness of his words. Your cries of pleasure strain in your throat and your eyes burn with desire as Tech’s hands grip to your lower back, pushing you down to the ground as he hits you with wanting thrusts. 

“You’re fucking me so good Tech. Why haven’t we done this sooner?” 

Tech’s low chuckle does something to you as your words did to him, “Next time instead of fighting, we should just fuck. Or maybe, if you want me to submit,” Tech breathes through each thrust, seeing himself pull his cock out that’s now glistening with your juices, “be a whore and suck my cock. You obviously like it, don’t you?”

“Y-yes! Yes I love your cock! It feels so good in my pussy. Bet it’s even better between my lips.” You entice, looking over your shoulder at him which sparked something wild in him.

He pulls out despite being spurred on, leaving you almost begging for him. But this time you’re being pulled into his lap, tongues already dancing against each other the moment your lips meet as you seethe onto his thick length. 

“You may think my cock would be better between your lips, but I have never felt anything better than it being inside you.” He whispers to your lips, almost a glimmer of reality snapping back to you both as his words weren’t exactly driven by the intoxins - rather something else.

You’re smirking against his mouth and that’s when the desperation of needing to be fucked hard again, boils. As you begin to move your hips, frantically back and forth and rocking against his cock, his eyes shoot wide open and he’s whimpering tirelessly in front of you.

“That’s it, that’s my girl! What an edacious creature you are. Riding my cock like a good slut. Can’t get enough, can you?” He is holding onto your waist, fingers biting against the flesh once more as you tilt your head back, rhythm changing from back and forth to up and down. Your tits are bouncing in his face that he wasted no time in burying his face into the mounds, kissing and sucking against your skin.

 He had lost his sense of self completely now and was driving in pure instinct alone that when his tongue slid over one of your nipples, you gasped in approval. With your hands coming up and wrapping around his neck, your breathing is ragged and exacerbated whilst he uses you.

“You like it when I ride your cock, Tech? Huh? You love my pussy don’t you? Maker, could sit on your cock all day and never get enough.” Words of filth ooze out your mouth ease, making Tech react to your words with wanton moans.

Tech’s lips glaze over your beasts, leaving marks of today's antics as a reminder all the while claiming you. “Don’t stop darling, don’t you dare stop until you have milked every last drop of my seed until it seeps out of your little hole.”

You’re wet, warm, and velvet soft around Tech’s cock, taking him to the base with greed. He picks up a rhythm, matching yours as rocking his hips up and into you steadily as the blue shine of the cave reflects on your naked and sweating bodies. 

Minutes that felt like both hours and seconds passed, Tech pounding you at such a rapid pace that you were confident your pussy was getting warmer. Skin prickling with tingles, you knew you were about to cum. 

“Tech! Oh fuck, Tech I think I’m close to cumming! Make me cum! Please make me yours with your cum.” As you finished your thoughts, you cried out with joy, your entire body feeling like it was lighter than air while simultaneously being filled with every possible positive sensation it could possibly handle. Your mind lost all semblance of where you were, what had happened to you and what had gotten you to this point, instead focusing solely on Tech beneath you, still diligently pounding himself into you like he was sex starved. 

As your mind slowly returns to reality and your breathing catches up with your body's senses, you’re aware of what was happening. Especially as you felt him still pounding into you. Tech was whining, grunting and groaning as he maintained smashing into you rapidly, and you could tell by the way he breathed and his determination that he must be close to climax. 

Suddenly, he groans out your name. Shouting it so loud that it wouldn’t surprise you if the others had heard his cries from above. You could feel him driving himself as deep as he could go. A gasp emits from your lips as the burning that once was scorching your body from the water was replaced with the warm feeling of him filling you up with more cum than before.

Your lips part, words strangled in your throat as you felt his warm cum stuffing you while you guiltily enjoy the sensation. In fact, you could have sworn he was filling you to the point that you thought you may have had a second, smaller orgasm as he began his. Tech grunts with exertion as he finally finishes, his head flopping forward to rest against your shoulder, tiredly.

“Tech,” you whisper after what seemed like forever, hand gently resting on his shoulder to bring his head back to meet his gaze.

As the pair of you locked eyes, it clicked instantly what just happened. How one second you were arguing and then the next… Similar to you, his lips parts but this time he is speechless. 

A wave of new emotions flooded over him, none of which he understood or could process. Though the more you looked into his eyes, the more you understood that jittering feeling in your stomach. But now was probably not the time to look into it.

Eventually, Tech carefully removed you from his lap and you had to hold your breath about how lewd it was feeling his now softening length pulling out of you. 

He is silent when he collects his gear, slipping the damp clothing back on his body meanwhile you do the same. 

He glances over his shoulder at you and a wave of worry hits him when he notices grazing over your back. 

“Did I hurt you?”

Pausing, you quietly turn to look at him and see him gesture to your back. Awkwardly you glance down and audibly wince at the markings. But, from what you were aware, he wasn’t the cause of it. “No. It would’ve been from when I fell.”

“I see. When we head back to the ship I will gather supplies to help you clean it up.” He is fumbling around with his belongings, trying everything in his power to ignore what just happened but a pressing matter infiltrated his mind. “Speaking of supplies, we will need to head into the nearest village to locate any means of contraceptive-.”

“I’m on the pill, Tech.” You sigh, running a hand through your damp hair as you finish getting dressed before plopping yourself back on the sand, pulling your knees to your chest. 

Tech looks down from over his datapad at you, unsure how to approach this. But after taking a deep breath, he silently sits beside you, both of you gazing into the water that did unspeakable things to you both.

“I am unsure what to say to set your mind at ease.” He starts, trepidation on his words. “Though I can imagine it is hard for you to also summarize how you’re feeling about his moment.”

You close your eyes, hoping that burning behind your eyes would subside because although he had seen you, all of you, you weren’t ready to let him see your tears. “You don’t have to say anything,”

Tech looks in your direction, eyes drinking in your features. “I… I am sorry.”

“What for? You did what you had to to help me.” 

“I’m aware, but I am not apologising for that.” Your eyes open and a flurry of confusion crosses your face. 

You turn your head to look at him, shocked a little to see him already looking back. “Then, what are you sorry for?”

A sigh parts his lips. “I am sorry for all the times I have been hard on you. I am also apologising for what I said previously about you having to know ‘your place in this squad’.” Your mind is reeling and all you can do is let him continue. “It has come to my attention, for a long time now, that you are a valuable asset. My behavior towards you is unwarranted.”

“But,” you lick your lower lip idly, not quite processing what he was saying, “I thought you hated me?”

“Hate is a strong word. And as we discussed with Omega before, I do not hate you. Differing ideologies is all.” He breathes out shakily, feeling a minimal weight leave his shoulders. 

“So why are you hard on me?”

He rubs the back of his neck, a little unsure on how to answer. So often he had been judged for his blunt responses and now, he was finding it difficult to be honest. But, if the two of you were to never make it out of here - he may as well lay it all on the line.

“There is no denying that I struggle with emotions and how I reciprocate certain feelings from others. Truthfully, there is something about you that I find both irritating yet fascinating.”

He sneaks a glance at you as he speaks and he expected you to appear annoyed but instead, you appeared quite intrigued. Subtly, you nod your head to continue. “What I am trying to say is that I have a rooted attraction to you and feel as though pushing you away would help. But, it does not seem to be working.”

As you try to let his words sink in, you couldn’t help the feeling of your heart seeming to somewhat flutter at his admittance. All this time… he liked you? Truthfully your mind was still a little hazy to take it all in but there was now a burning question in the back of your mind. “Did you mean anything you said?”

“Indicating to what?” Tech asked gently though he had an inkling as to what you were referring to.

“You know…” you say shyly, cheeks emitting a certain heat.

He chews on the inside of his cheek, fully aware of what filth had poured from his lips only minutes ago. “From what I gather from aphrodisiacs is that it sends even the most sane people wild. All in all, a lot of truths are or have been told when under the influence.”

With a shaken breath, you close your eyes. “So it’s true that you’ve always wanted to fuck me? That’s what you said.”

“Yes. Yes, that is true.” 

Oddly enough, you’re okay with this information. Although you can’t say you have felt the same but in the back of your mind, you still remember the sight of him above you and remembered word for word everything he said. 

“I hope you do not think I have taken advantage of you - that would never, ever be the case. If I could have thought of a different solution then of course, I would have. There could be many anecdotes but-.”

“Tech.” You cut him off softly, clearly your silence was playing on his mind. You tilt your head to hom and offer him the softest smile he had ever been blessed to receive from you. “Thank you for saving me.” 

A gasp echoes through the cave as you gently lace your fingers through his, a gentle squeeze that speaks a thousand words. 

You weren’t too sure what was going to happen from now on. Would the others ever find you? What was to become of yours and Tech’s relationship? All you know is that if you were to fall into a cave filled with water with dangerous toxins with anybody - you’re somewhat glad it was Tech. 

Masterlist

Tags and those who wanted to be tagged will be tagged in a sep post because tag limit and shite: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart t @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @rintheemolion @seriowan @agenteliix @kaminocasey @the-good-shittt @photogirl894 @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester’s Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Word Count: 984

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnaubingo true mates

A/N: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N II: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

PART V

Dean angrily stomped down the hallway and burst into the exam room, yelling, “Do you have any idea how fucking backasswards this state is, Dad!”

John blinked in surprise. Dean rarely spoke like this towards him as a Subordinate Alpha, which meant something was very off. Sam's ignored inquiry was another red flag. “Dean, what happened?”

“Do you know what they mandate done to prove ownership of O’s?” John was about to respond when the doctor reappeared, clearly unnerved by the angry scent rolling off Dean. “I need to speak to you privately, Mr. Winchester.” John doesn’t answer them back. “Dean, you got all the paperwork squared away?”

Dean acknowledged it was complicated, shifted his focus to the doctor, staring oddly at Sam, and barked, “You’re not his type, Doc!”  John ignored Dean's outburst and ordered them to wait outside the O’s room. They walked to another exam room, shutting the door. The doctor handed him a file. “This is the reason I asked to speak privately. It concerns your sons and the O.”

John read the first page. “The O’s file is flagged in the database? It was part of a lot taken during the bust of an illegal Pack distributor, and federal law requires spaying before resale?” The doctor interrupted, “Since I just examined it, I can attest this O is still fully intact. Heaven knows how Helms got hold of it.”

Anger crossed John’s handsome features, and snarled, “That son of a bitch! Her original purchaser accused Helms of selling them misrepresented goods. No wonder that Alpha sold her so cheaply.” He flipped to the next page and continued reading.

The next thing John was aware of was that he was seated on the floor. He knew most people would find this situation impossible, but he had had too much personal experience with the unbelievable to doubt it. “Mary’s obstetrician never said anything about us having twins!”

The doctor rolled a stool over and sat down before the big Alpha. “Was her physician at a government clinic?” John affirms the question, which makes the doctor sigh. “I bet she had an amniocentesis performed.” At John's expression, they said, “Some of their OBs order testing even if the ultrasound or blood work doesn’t show anything concerning.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Money. They use it to determine the sub-gender and designation because there are those among the elite wanting specific types of newborns. And twins with designations of Pack Omega and Breeder Alpha? It would’ve created a bidding war.”

John felt his lips moving, unable to vocalize the questions spinning in his mind. He did not want to believe the information when the doctor gestured to the results in his hands.

“I’m not lying about Sam and the Omega being twins.” John shook his head. “But I saw the ultrasounds. I would have known if I had a daughter!”

“With the older equipment, they could have already loaded someone else’s tape in the machine to fool you. And were you present during delivery?” John responded negatively.

“They drugged your mate, so she won’t remember the birth to smuggle the newborns out of the hospital directly. Something must have gone wrong since they only got your daughter, but it doesn’t explain how she ended up with that illegal distributor.”

John flashes back to seeing Mary and remembers how out of it she seemed after having Sam. Later, a shorter man appeared out of nowhere when he took Dean to the nursery, holding him up to see his new brother through its large window. He doesn’t remember their conversation, but Dean’s comment about not letting the man with the spooky eyes get Sammy stuck with him.

John's voice is hoarse. “How can she be a Pack Omega? And Sam a Breeder? They don’t exist anymore!”

“We might have evolved into civilized beings but still carry our ancestors' genetic makeup.” The doctor tapped a finger against their lips, “There was a theory that the reintroduction of Wild Pack DNA could reactivate Breeder genes within certain bloodlines, which would explain why the twin turned out a Pack Omega. She is your son's true mate.”

The doctor's words, certain bloodlines-true mate, pounded like a drumbeat, repeating in his keen mind and boarding on deafening when it hit him.

All this has something to do with Mary's death too.

“As that character in Jurassic Park said, life finds a way.” The doctor looked pained. “I must report all these results to the federal authorities by law. They will request a local retainer immediately and take them into custody. But since you have a court date,” the doctor calculated by wall clock, “In roughly thirty hours. I won’t send the results until then.”

John grew suspicious. “Why delay it?”

“I may participate in this system, but I’m not heartless. I have pups myself, and I’ve just dropped a metaphorical bomb on you. If these weren’t extenuating circumstances, you’d have legal recourse against Helms.”

John nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you. Are you obligated to tell all my pups about these findings?” The doctor replied yes but gave a pointed look, “Your party has left before I could notify them.” They paused to ponder a moment.

“Perhaps this is an unexpected blessing. The judge must accept these test results, negating your son’s conviction because now they’ve been brought together, their wolves won’t allow them to be separated easily.”

John left the office but slipped out of the clinic's rear entrance instead of returning to the exam room. He walked out of the security cameras' range and pulled out his phone, dialing a number he swore never to use again. It rang twice before answering.

“I told you to lose this number, you son of a bitch!”

“It’s about my pups.” There was silence, then, “I’m listening.” John released his held breath, “Bobby, I need your help, or I’m gonna lose them all.”

Part VI

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

[pumpkingas]

Eprocto thoughts abt spooky creatures (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

Tw: Dub/con, Necrophilia ?(Cuz... Zombies)

Zombie 🧟

Literally unable to control their bowels, being dead you don't have the most control over your body...

That sloppy loose spinchter would absolutely collect air, causing constant windy farts, and even though they function as on-command farts the smell would still be HORRID from simply passing through zombie cheeks.

Skin is probably rotting which is gross HOWEVER... It'd be extra soft and elastic, you could knead it like dough, maybe help work some of that trapped air out??

Maybe they're sentient but still hungry?? Maybe you're a zombie lover and collect piles of rotting meat from the dumpsters behind grocery stores to take to your zombie pal?? Maybe they over indulge and lie down with a huge bulging gut that stretches way beyond living limits??? Maybe bubbly farts slip out of their ass as they groan and pant??? Maybe all the blood from that red meat sends them into a burping fit???

Werewolf 🌕

I think we can all agree werewolf diets are GNARLY, if not for being their soulmate/Luna/omega (and so on and so forth), they'd probably eat YOU if given the chance. Expect your freezer to be emptied out obviously, but also your refrigerator and cabinets. Raw meat, deli meat and nut bars will start to go missing, but soon it will be sauce bottles, leftovers with freezer burn, jars of olives and all kinds of pickled foods. Their breath will quickly smell like vomit if you don't own a werewolf proof kiddie gate.

Although they have stomachs of steel and likely wouldn't experience stomach troubles or bloating, you'll quickly become witness to the nastiest farts ever released into the atmosphere. They'd range from loud and quick duck quacks to long rumbling motor engine farts. The smell might not compare to rotting meat levels but werewolf stench will NEVER leave you, it will singe your nose hairs, coat your walls, sink into your fabrics, even soak into leather, like a skunk gone wrong.

Even if they're in their human form that ass is still going to be COVERED in hair, no matter the age, gender, sex, whatever, what's a wereWOLF without its fur? And how willing are you to spend hours helping a gassy werewolf wash the jungle in-between their fat cheeks?

If you're in its pack or are at least a candidate to join you HAVE to be scented, can't walk around like you're just anyone's human! Maybe it's a thrilling loving process where your werewolf lover sits on your naked form and carefully pushes fart after fart onto each and every body part of yours. Or maybe it's a secretive process from a werewolf that hasn't revealed itself yet, helping with the laundry just to rub your clothing against their crack, working up a sweat so they can drain the sweat drops into your body spray, shampoo and lotion. Taking a nap with your toothbrush between their ass so each bristle will be stained with their scent...

Vampires 🦇

Farts are quiet and SBDs are frequent but not mandatory, usually their gas releases in sort of a hum that vibrates whatever they're sitting on or laying against. Perhaps they have a form of fart echolocation, maybe you've planned a surprise party for a vampire as they got bored of birthdays after their 121st, and instead of reaching for the light switch they just begin to let out bubbly farts as they move around their home.

If you offer your neck to a vampire you better be aware of your diet, if the vampires lactose intolerant you better watch your dairy, if they're sensitive to raw vegetables you'd better cook yours thoroughly, and for the love of anything don't give a vegan vampire your meat eater blood, unless of course you'd like to see them grasp at their stomach and groan, releasing uncharacteristically loud farts and moaning shamelessly...

Suppose this is a vampire that's taken a liking to you, naturally you'll begin to bond with them and it'd intensify after each bite, but the thing is, there isn't exactly a limit to human devotion. One day a vampire could be nothing but someone you cross on the street who makes your heart flutter with no memory of what occurred the night before, and a year later that vampire could be your beloved owner that only speaks to you in commands, whenever they need a chair you're bending over before they can finish their sentence, and when the smell of their own gas begins to bother them how could you not dive between their cheeks and smell it?

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 9

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted—a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

Part 9 Practical Applications

It’s usually difficult for Steve to eat a meal in peace in the school’s dining hall. Too many of his staff see him and flock over to ask questions, or favors, or to float ideas, just trying to get their two cents in while they have him in sight. Or students will inevitably come over, wanting a word or to gush about something, complain about something else. It’s not usually a very enjoyable dining experience. Steve prefers to eat in his office.

But that evening at dinner he’s got Bucky with him, and all the staff and students seem to recognize that he’s acting as Handler to Bucky for the time being. The staff, understanding that it’s actual work, stay out of the way, and the students either avoid them with jealous glances over the special attention they think Bucky’s getting, or sympathetic glances over the punishment they think he’s receiving.

The answer is more complicated than that. Mostly, Steve just needs to spend enough time interacting with the boy to decide if Sharon really isn’t the best fit for him. A student’s relationship with their Handler is crucial to their success during their time at Carter Academy, so Steve doesn’t take the task lightly. It’s unusual but not unheard of to have to switch up a student’s assigned alpha, especially for newer students who haven’t been broken in yet. So Steve brings Bucky to the dining hall and takes over the role of Handler as he tries to get a feel for the boy. Bucky doesn’t act up as they go around and get their food and then sit down to eat, so there’s no real need for punishment of any sort. Steve pulls out his phone at the table and reviews the assessment Sharon filled out on Bucky. 

Bucky, who sits catty corner to him and eats his dinner with a far-off look in his eyes, is clearly still distracted by his body’s arousal. But somewhere halfway through the veritable mountain of macaroni he’d had Steve heap on his plate, he starts to become interested in what Steve’s doing. “What are you doing?”

Steve looks up, not having realized how focused he’d been on his work. “Sorry,” he says, tucking the phone away and going back to his own plate. “Just headmaster stuff. Lot’s to do.”

“Like what?” Bucky grumbles. “Forcing everybody to bend over and let a doctor shove—”

“That’s enough, young man,” Steve chides, though his tone is closer to fond than stern. He shakes his head with a wry smile. “More like reviewing Handler assessments. I get a progress report for every student, every week. It’s a lot to keep up on.”

“Oh.” Bucky twists his lips and goes back to poking at his plate. He seems to have come to the end of the macaroni and is being standoffish with the vegetables. “So … did Sharon do one for me?” he asks, trying (and failing) for an air of nonchalance. 

Steve nods. “Yes. She did. Quite a thorough one, in fact, since this is your first week here. New students tend to have the most behavioral issues, so they get the most attention. She made some recommendations about what she thinks will work best for you.” He stares straight at Bucky as he says it, cataloging every expression that flits across the boy’s face. Bucky doesn’t seem thrilled to hear that he’s been assessed at all, which is to be expected. Steve goes back to eating his food and waits for the inevitable next question:

“What’d she say about me?” 

He shrugs. “The usual. She noted the areas where you struggle and where you excel, what your interests are so far. She made suggestions for best discipline measures and what your daily protocols should be.”

It’s clearly the word “discipline” that brings the scowl back to Bucky’s face. He shoots Steve a peeved look and abandons his fork to the vegetables, reaching instead for one of the butter cubes on the table and unwrapping it. “So? What’d she suggest?” 

Steve sits back a little in his chair, considering him. He decides to be frank. “Spanking, for one. Though you’ll need to be assessed before we can make any determinations on how useful or not that is for you, in terms of discipline and/or protocol. Some students have a daily spanking as part of their wellness plan, others behave better with just punishment spankings when needed. It depends on the individual.” 

“What?! No !” Bucky glowers at him. “Spanking is the one fucking thing I didn’t want! … Or being naked,” he adds, after a second of thought. 

“Yes, well. We’ll see about that. It may turn out that you respond well-enough to other measures without needing to resort to corporal means. Not everyone needs it.” Bucky looks like he’s about to blow up, so Steve cuts him off by continuing, “For daily protocols, she’s suggesting lap time or kneeling time, and hand feeding for meals.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffen. “What the fuck is ‘lap time’?” he sneers, then adds, “I’m more of a reverse cowgirl type of guy.”

Steve refrains from rolling his eyes, and of course he doesn’t take the bait. “Lap time just means close bodily contact with your Handler, like snuggling. An omega’s wellbeing is greatly improved by close bodily contact with their alpha, so sometimes we schedule time for that. A lot of students get it in just before bedtime, or after their classes are over to help them calm down from the day. Has Sharon not engaged with you at all these past few days?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Bucky makes a face. “Whatever. I’m not really into chicks like Sharon, anyways.”

Steve arches a brow. “Well that is, of course, your preference. Everybody has them. Sharon herself suggested that you might fare better with a male Handler.” Bucky’s eyes pop back up to him in surprise at that, and Steve nods. “But I’d advise you not to refer to Ms. Carter as a ‘chick’ ever again. You won’t like what happens if she hears you disrespecting her like that.”

“She said I should have a dude?”

“It’s something we’re considering,” Steve admits. “Though I’m less focused on that and more concerned that you might simply need a firmer hand. Sharon is easy to get along with, which can be helpful for some new students who are being combative and just need some space to help them adapt to the sudden change in lifestyle. But from what she’s reported, you haven’t fallen in line very well with the ‘friend’ approach.” He gives him a pointed look. “I have stricter Handlers I can pair you with, if you have a tendency to brat until you’ve received the dominance you’re itching for.”

Bucky’s face goes pink at that pronouncement. Steve sees the instinctual pleasure that peeks through for a second, before the boy is covering it up with another scowl and more defensive posture. It’s in that moment that Steve knows he’ll definitely be assigning Bucky to a more dominant, no-nonsense Handler. Bucky is exactly the type to brat until he gets put in his place, and it’d be negligent-bordering-on-cruel for Steve to ignore his needs. He’ll have to sit down in his office and choose someone later that evening. “It’s nothing to feel bad about,” he tells Bucky. “The urge to act up doesn’t mean you’re bad. It’s just a sign that you have a higher need for domination than some other omegas. And there are plenty of ways we can tailor your routine to help give you that.” 

Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes—proving Steve’s entire point, though the kid certainly doesn’t realize it. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” he sasses, and reaches for his dinner roll. Steve snatches it off the table before he can get to it. “Hey!”

“The other protocol she recommended was hand feeding,” Steve repeats calmly. “Let's just see about that, shall we?”

“No.”

Steve gives him a real warning look this time. “Bucky, I’ve been patient with you. But you need to check your attitude real fast, or I’ll be frog marching you to the nearest spanking bench.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he immediately glances over to the spanking bench that Steve knows lives in the corner of the dining hall. “No,” he says quietly, just the threat of Steve exercising that sort of dominance over him making him turn mild and pink in the cheeks. “No.”

“Then get over here, right now.” Steve points to the floor. “Use the cushion off your dining chair to kneel at my side.”

Bucky looks mortified, but he does obey. He grabs the cushion off his chair and drops it beside Steve, and goes down heavily to his knees. Then he looks up at Steve. His pissy little expression wavers somewhat, just at being in the submissive posture. Steve gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything about it. “Just a few bites,” he tells him kindly. “I just want you to get a feel for it. See what I’m talking about.” 

“Whatever.”

Steve splits the dinner roll and butters each half of it, then rips off a small piece and brings it down for Bucky to take in his mouth. “ Aht ,” he corrects, when Bucky starts to reach with his hand. “No. Open .” He waits expectantly until Bucky parts his lips. Then holds eye contact as feeds him the piece of bread. “Good boy,” he says quietly, letting him hear the praise just as the flavors are hitting his tongue. He feeds him another piece, and then another, watching as Bucky’s posture relaxes and his eyes go heavy. Steve feels his heart squeeze in sympathy at how dominance-starved the boy clearly is. “Has anyone explained hand feeding protocol to you?” he asks quietly, ripping another bit of the roll off. Bucky takes that piece readily, and he’s busy chewing as Steve tells him, “Like I said before, most protocols are meant to reinforce reliance on your natural instincts. You have mental health needs that can only be met with domination and close contact, so things like allowing your alpha to feed you are always encouraged. It creates a physical feedback loop in your brain. It’s why you feel good right now, posturing down by my side like this.”

Bucky makes a whiny sound of complaint in his throat, but by the last bit of bread, he’s gone soft and sloe-eyed, and doesn’t seem to be thinking anything much besides how pleased he is to have his alpha feeding him. “You want dessert, Honey?” Steve asks, smiling down fondly at him. Bucky had pleaded for a slice of cake at the buffet earlier, and while Steve isn’t one to encourage sugar addictions, he’d grabbed the cake with this very idea in mind. He starts to feed small bites of it to the kid, warmth growing in his gut the more Bucky falls into accepting it. The biggest brats tend to fall the hardest, once they get what they need.

By the time the last bite has passed his lips, Bucky has all but turned to a puddle on the floor, with his chin resting against Steve’s leg and his lashes fanned out on his cheeks as he waits obediently for his alpha to feed him another bite. Swallowing heavily, Steve drags his finger through the last bit of icing on the plate and sets it gently to Bucky’s lips, cock pulsing in his underwear as he watches the boy part eagerly for it and suck his finger into his mouth. Steve grits his teeth and tries to get a hold of himself. Christ . 

Bucky whines and opens his eyes when Steve’s finger is removed. Steve pets his hair and shushes him. “That’s all there is, Honey. You did good.”

Bucky makes a grumpy sound and rubs his cheek more aggressively against Steve’s leg, and Steve raises an eyebrow. He ignores the feeling of tightness in his briefs, making a mental note to institute kneeling and hand feeding as mandatory daily protocols for this kid, since he obviously responds well to both. “Okay, Buck,” he tells him gently. “I think that’s it. Let’s get you settled for the evening.”

After dinner, the students all have a block of unstructured evening time. Some spend it working on their studies if they’ve fallen behind in a certain subject, or on protocols with their Handlers if they’re feeling extra needy, but most of the boys choose to socialize for at least an hour or two before bed. After the success at dinner, Steve allows Bucky to choose what he wants to do. Predictably, the boy decides to seek out Parker and latch onto whatever the other omega is doing. 

Thus, an hour later they find themselves in the darkened auditorium as the latest—and dumbest—Fast & Furious movie plays on the projector screen. Steve stands in the back of the room with Natasha. “I want you to encourage this friendship,” he tells her. “Parker’s done well here. His behavior modified quickly and he’s excelled academically. Plus, he’s got a good situation lined up for after graduation.”

In the dark, Natasha turns her head the barest degree. “Nothing’s been made public.”

Steve hums. “Yet.” With Parents’ weekend coming up, there will soon be multiple announcements about mates being taken. It happens every year. Students find their alphas at the matchmaking ball. Some cement their choices, some meet a number of potential suiters without locking down on any one person. But there are always some prestigious families who've make arrangements outside the school's purview. Parker falls into the first of those categories, having cultivated his relationship with the man who serves as his sponsor. Steve knows Stark hasn’t made his intentions public yet, but the time is drawing near. "His alphas will make an announcement next weekend, I'm sure."

“Stark and Potts?” Natasha murmurs. “They’re sharing, then?"

"That's the impression I got."

"Hm. A triad.” 

Steve nods primly, staring straight ahead at the movie screen where a car is being launched out of an airplane. “They’re good people. He’s an asshole, but he’ll take good care of Parker. I’ve heard good things about the wife, too.” 

Soon they’ll be two very happy alphas, married spouses with a sweet and subservient omega mate to cherish and raise their pups. It’s an old fashioned notion, certainly: two alphas, married as intellectual equals and taking on the care of an omega together. The picture perfect, white picket fence, happily ever after, pre-war ideal that people used to aspire to; born of a time when society still acknowledged the realities of the world and the needs of those living in it. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever met a two alpha triad that weren’t some version of blissfully content.

He tries not to be bitterly jealous about it.

“I want Barnes to see how easy it can be, if he just gives in. Parker will set a great example,” he declares, and Natasha nods along silently. It’s the kind of silence where Steve can tell she’s thinking something but not saying it out loud, so he refuses to look at her as he stiffly nods and changes the subject. “Good. Do you have any plans with him tonight?”

“He’s been pretty wired today. I don’t think lazing around during gym did him any favors.”

“Sorry. I told Odinson to get them moving next time they have gym.”

“We’re going to wind down with protocols after this. He’ll probably ask for an orgasm before bed.”

“And he’ll get it?”

“Oh yeah, he’ll get it,” she says, and there’s a low note to the way she says it; something covetous and very privately alpha that betrays the fact that she’s going to enjoy giving it to him. “I’ll reward him for being so friendly with the new kid, let him have a few until he gets tuckered out.” She glances over at Steve. “It could make for quite the demonstration, if your boy needs a push.”

“A demonstration." He considers it, locating Bucky’s head and shoulders up amongst the boys watching the movie. Steve's been eager to touch Bucky sexually, certainly he can’t lie to himself about that. And there's no rule that says he can't. As long as Steve isn't using the boy for his own gratification, then there's no impropriety in it. After the doctor's visit that afternoon, he knows Bucky has been struggling with keeping his composure. It’ll be delicious to watch the stubborn little thing fall apart once he gets a taste of what could be. Steve’s fingers twitch as he imagines stuffing them in Bucky's sopping wet cunt and working an orgasm or three out of him while the kid begs prettily. Fuck , he can't wait to hear the sounds he'll make ...

Steve sees that Nat’s watching him closely, realizes that he's probably scenting aroused, and he straightens and clears his throat. “Right. Well. Hm. Good idea. Let him get a look at what he’s missing. He’ll come around once I’m putting him to bed.” 

“I think you’ve been lulled into a false sense of security,” Nat says.

“Why?” 

“I read Sharon’s assessment. He’s bound to act up.”

Steve frowns. “Maybe, maybe not. Things don’t always get worse before they get better.”

“No, not always.” 

He sighs and fights the urge to rub his forehead. “Parker’s on the same hall, yeah?”

“Just a few rooms down.”

“Great. I’ll make sure we pass by at nine o’clock. Try and be in the thick of it then.”

“Sure thing.” For a moment it’s quiet, save for the ridiculously awful movie’s action sounds. Then in a different tone of voice, Natasha asks, “And ... how are things? With you?”

Steve pretends not to know what she’s really asking. “Good. Busy. Got a lot going on with parents’ weekend and all that.”

“Mmhm. And Peggy?”

“We’re liaising for parents’ weekend,” he says curtly, not wanting to get into it any further than that. Already, he knows he’s got more than one email from her waiting in his inbox. He’s been ignoring them all day, not wanting to deal with whatever problems she’s come up with now. 

“You know,” Nat says. “Just because she changed her mind doesn’t mean that you couldn’t still find yourself a nice omega to settle down with.” She pauses pointedly. “You prefer males, don’t you?”

“That’s enough, Nat,” Steve snaps, his voice cutting the tension like a knife. 

It isn’t like he hasn’t been entertaining the fantasy ever since Bucky wet submissively in his office on that first day. But he’s since talked himself out of the idea. Parents don’t pay forty grand a semester to see their children mated off to the damned headmaster. Steve doesn’t live in the same social echelon as these folks, and a stodgy middle class academic is a far cry from the types of mates that Carter Academy’s parents want for their children. Steve can only do his best for Bucky, perhaps manage to get him to behave at the parents’ weekend long enough to chat up a potential suitor or two. ( Dare to dream, at least.) 

“I’ll bring him by at nine,” Steve reiterates. “Make sure your boy’s visible from the doorway. With the way Barnes’ day has been going, he won’t be able to hold out much longer.” 

Steve is no fool. He knows that an omega can only go so long without sexual relief. And after the frustration of that afternoon’s medical exam, he’s well aware of the building levels of arousal that Bucky is experiencing.

The boy’s gorgeous floral scent has only grown richer as the evening has worn on, so much so that Steve isn't at all surprised when the kid’s little prick is sticking straight out when he strips down to take his evening shower. And he’s certainly not surprised when Bucky balks at not being left alone to wash himself. Clearly, the boy had plans for his shower time. Plans that Steve is now ruining. 

He leans against the bathroom wall and pretends to be absorbed in his phone while he waits Bucky out in their little shower stall stalemate. Bucky puts up a fuss when he realizes that Steve isn��t planning on stepping away, the horror of having lost his opportunity dawning on his face in an expression half near to nausea.

Steve smirks down at his phone and scrolls some more. “Chop chop, Kemosabe. I haven’t got all night.” He watches Bucky’s cute little backside as the kid finally deems the water hot enough and steps into the shower. His skin pinks up quickly and his hair soaks flat to his head. The slick on his thighs becomes indistinguishable from the water sluicing over his body. 

Steve watches him move about slowly, as if he's pained. His shoulders are tense, and he seems to tremble full-body for a moment as he looks down at himself—perhaps staring at his rigid little dick that he can no longer touch now that Steve is there. He all but vibrates with the arousal he’s feeling, standing still under the spray for long minutes.

“Wash yourself, Bucky,” Steve commands, not unkindly. “Or do you need me over there to assist you?” Bucky isn’t facing in his direction, but even still, Steve would bet money that he’s giving the shower wall quite a death glare right about now. Poor thing.

Bucky could cry when he realizes that Steve isn’t going to leave him alone to shower. “I can wash myself without you staring at me,” he says. “Sharon doesn’t watch me.”

“Sharon gives you too much credit,” Steve says from where he’s been leaning against the wall and dicking around on his phone, looking bored. “Now finish up.”

Bucky grits his teeth and turns back into the spray. He looks down at his cock and fights the urge to whimper. He’s so fucking hard . His underwear had had an embarrassing amount of slick on them when he took them off. And much to his mortification, Steve’s attention had gone right down to the wet spot. Bucky knows he probably imagined the heated look in the Headmaster’s eyes, but even still, having an alpha who looks like Steve watching him undress certainly hasn’t helped to calm his situation down any.

Bucky’s body feels achy and tight and too sensitive, the water hitting his prick keeping his attention down between his legs. He can feel the slick between his cheeks, but he avoids washing himself there because that’ll mean touching himself there, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop touching if he starts. The thought of Steve wrestling him out of the shower to spank him silly for stuffing his whole goddamn fist up his ass isn’t something Bucky wants to experience.

“You almost done in there?” Steve drawls from across the room, after Bucky has washed himself, after he’s shampooed and conditioned and rinsed his hair. “Gonna run out of hot water, soon.”

Bucky growls lowly and pumps more body wash out of the dispenser. “Don’t rush me.”

He looks down at himself, his whole belly clenching hard at the sight of the gel in his cupped palm and his throbbing prick right there, how easy it would be to reach down and wrap it around his cock and —

“I’m sending in a rescue mission soon,” Steve jokes, and Bucky’s eyes water with the urge to scream.

Jerking off once a day is not enough, but it’s all he has. He’d been counting on these few minutes tonight to be able to get some fucking relief! So far, his nightly showers are the only times he’s been left alone without any sort of camera or alpha surveilling him. Sharon hasn’t acted like she suspects that he’s using the opportunity to jerk off, but now Bucky’s beginning to think that she’s known all along and has tipped Steve off. 

Just a little longer, he tells himself, practicing some deep-breathing after a glancing touch to his nipples nearly pulls a whimper from him. Just a little longer and then he’ll be alone in his room, lights out, and he’ll be able to get some relief. Sure, there are cameras, but if he angles himself just right under the blankets and doesn’t move too much, he thinks can get away with it. Someone would have to be watching his bedroom camera like a hawk to see. 

“Bucky,” Steve warns. “You’re not even washing yourself. Come on.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Hang on !” He gets more shower gel from the dispenser and starts soaping himself up all over again—fastidiously avoiding his chest and anywhere between his belly button and his knees.

It's awful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s gone more than eight hours without masturbating since the day he turned thirteen, and now it’s closing in on a full twenty-four hours since he’s had any relief. His entire pelvis feels full and heavy at this point. It’s an ache second only to what heat feels like, and he has to continually remind himself not to let his vocal cords tighten up into the instinctual keen that wants to come. 

What makes it even worse is that there’s an alpha right there. And unfortunately and mortifyingly, that alpha is Steve. The man is leaning against the bathroom wall, perfectly willing and capable of getting Bucky off if Bucky asks him to. The one reprieve of the shower is that it gets some distance between the two of them. Bucky can’t smell Steve's scent from under the spray of the water, but he knows he’ll have to face it again as soon as he gets out.

Which is why he’s delaying getting out. Insisting that he didn’t want Steve to finger fuck him over that medical bench had been the most painfully counter-intuitive thing Bucky thinks he’s ever done in his life. But he hadn’t wanted to give the alpha the satisfaction of knowing how bad he needs it, hadn’t wanted to prove him right in his misogynistic beliefs. So what if Bucky’s horny a lot of the time and needs to jerk off three or four (... sometimes five) times a day? It’s normal for an omega, doesn’t mean he’s as desperate and helpless and useless as Steve and everybody else at this school thinks he is, doesn’t mean he needs anybody or anything other than his right hand. Alphas jerk off too, he thinks mulishly. Don’t see anybody telling Steve he’s not allowed to pull the pud whenever he wants.

Bucky all but jumps out of his skin when Steve’s hand appears in front of his face, shirt sleeve rolled up and the hairs on his forearm getting wet as he shuts off the water.  Bucky spends a very brief second admiring the way the veins line the alpha’s strong forearm before he remembers to be upset. “Hey!” He whirls around to glare at him. “I wasn’t done .”

“You’re done,” Steve says, looking amused. Bucky’s belly flips when he notices the alpha’s gaze dragging down his naked, wet body, lingering on his still-hard prick. “Clean as a whistle,” he murmurs, something dark and interested flashing in his eyes before he turns to grab a towel. “Come on. Time to get settled.” 

Bucky dries off and wraps the towel around his waist for the walk back down the hall to his room. He’s eager to be left alone so that he can finally get his hand on his —

“Oghn!”

He freezes in place as they’re passing Peter’s room, barely noticing that Steve almost runs into him from how suddenly he’s stopped. “Buck?” Steve says, but Bucky only half processes it because his ears are ringing as all the blood rushes out of his head and down to more important places. 

Like all the other bedrooms in the dormitory, Peter’s room has no door. So Bucky has a perfectly clear view of what’s going on inside. He’s come to a dead stop just outside the door frame, and he whimpers without meaning to as he’s confronted with the sight of Peter, bent over the side of his bed, facedown in the comforters while Natasha stands behind him and …

“Nnngh, Nat, yesss. Fffuuhh—”

Bucky’s knees go weak, and the only thing that keeps him from dissolving into a puddle of slick on the floor is Steve’s hands on his waist. “Whoa there, Bud.”

Bucky makes a noise of distress in his throat at the feeling of Steve supporting him against his hard body. He thinks the alpha will pull him along, tell him not to look, but instead Steve holds him up and lets him watch. “Night time expression,” he says quietly, as if what they’re seeing is completely normal.

“What,” Bucky rasps, having to try again when his speech initially fails him. “But that … that … ahm, that’s allowed?”

Steve chuckles, the low rumble of it felt against Bucky’s back. “What? The hook? It’s just an aid, Honey. Helps to get the glands wrung out real good and proper.” Bucky makes a small choking noise as Steve says it, the alpha’s fingers gripping him a little firmer at the words ‘wrung out’. Steve notices and chuckles. “The glands inside of you are your biggest sexual organs, did you know that? The prostate alone is three times the size of a beta male’s. That’s why you can’t go for long without relief, it’s just biology.”

Without thinking of what he’s doing, Bucky’s one hand slides over the towel to in-between his legs, cupping himself from over the terrycloth for the briefest of moments before Steve tuts and takes hold of his wrist. He gently but firmly moves his hand away from his aching prick, and Bucky keens miserably. “Shh,” Steve soothes. “None of that, now. That’s not allowed and you know it, Bucky.”

“But I need to,” he whines.

“So you ask for help ,” Steve corrects. He gives him a comforting squeeze. “I told you that you can always ask your Handler for help with your sexual urges. That’s part of what they’re here for. Just like you have nonsexual submissive needs, it’s completely natural to need to orgasm a few times a day. You just have to accept that it’s someone else’s job to give it to you. You need to submit .”

“Yeah, but …” Bucky licks his lips and tries to avert his eyes several times, but he’s unable to look away for long. He’s starting to wonder if maybe Steve knows about his jerking it on the sly in the bathroom these past few days. “I don’t … I, um.” It’s not his fault that his brain is leaking out of his ears. Not when faced with this .

Peter is fully naked where he’s bent over the edge of the bed, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the blankets. His whole body is flushed, but the skin of his backside is noticeably darker than the rest of him, stained deep pink from an—ostensibly very recent—spanking. Bucky gets a brief glimpse of what could be dried tear tracks on the boy’s cheeks, but if he was crying, it seems to have little bearing on his enjoyment of what’s happening now, as he gasps and moans and presses back into the curve of the metal hook that Natasha has buried up inside him. Bucky can’t see much of it, just the way that Natasha is tug, tug, tugging on it in tiny little motions, rocking it inside Peter's body. But just imagining what it must feel like is enough to have Bucky’s own hole clenching down needily on nothing. God, it would be so firm, wouldn't it? It'd get right at it ...

Natasha picks something else up from the bed: a little egg shaped thing. Bucky just about has a cataplexy when she pushes a button on it and the thing starts thrumming in a heavy, pulsing vibration. “Ohmygod,” he whispers, watching with wide eyes as she holds it against the part of the hook just outside Peter's body, letting the vibrations travel through it. Bucky feels his body release a fresh wave of slick at the faint sound of it and how he can instantly imagine how it must feel . 

He thinks about the toy he’s smuggled in, in his suitcase. Nobody’s found it yet. He hasn’t been able to use it since arriving there, but watching Peter get his prostate pounded so thoroughly makes him suddenly desperate to have something up there, filling him up and drilling away the ache that these miserable one-wank-a-day days have left him with. It’s been almost a week since he’s had anything inside him, and he feels saliva pool in his mouth as he envisions how he might be able to slip his dildo out from its hiding spot that night and use it under his blankets, after lights out. He thinks about the soft, firm, rubber head, and how it’ll feel to rub it against his rim and tease himself for a while before finally shoving it inside and relishing in that first, delicious stretch. … Though ... it'd be pretty nice to have an alpha to rock a hard metal ball directly against his prostate, too.

“This is part of his routine,” Steve’s murmuring, his quiet voice pulling Bucky back from his thoughts. “Parker is high energy, low self control. He’s … spastic. Anxious. Like you. This helps to settle him.”

“I’m not—”

“See his backside?” Steve continues, ignoring Bucky’s weak interruption. “That’s one of his protocols. A nice, steady spanking—therapeutic, mind you, not punishment. You’d be amazed how much relief you can get from a session. Tomorrow I’ll assess you to see if it’s something we should implement.” Bucky makes a squeak of protest and Steve shushes him with a gentle squeeze to his waist. “Don’t worry, Honey. It’s not like you’re imagining. Punishment spanking isn’t at all like therapeutic spanking. They're two completely different creatures.”

“H-how?” Bucky’s eyes fall back to Peter’s butt, darker pink than the rest of him. It looks angry, like it must hurt a lot. He stares at Natasha’s slender hand and her hand on the toy, tug, tug, tugging …

“It starts off slower, for one. Very light and gentle at first.” Steve’s fingers curl in more securely when Bucky squirms in distress, holding him still. “Shh sh sh. It’s alright. Look at him: does he look upset?” 

Bucky sniffles and tries to look away. “Lemme go.”

“Your Handler will have you bend over the bed, like he’s doing,” Steve keeps explaining. “It builds up gradually. You’ll be comfortable. They’ll start soft and build up the force until you’re overwhelmed but not in pain. It won’t hurt.” 

“That makes no sense ,” Bucky complains, though the ache in his pelvis is heavier and tighter than ever at hearing Steve murmur the explanations against the shell of his ear. He imagines what it would be like to be spanked by Steve; held down firmly and soothed with cooing, sympathetic words like Natasha is giving Peter right now.

“Poor baby, you really needed this, huh? Could hardly put two sentences together since dinner, you’re so wound up. That’s how I know you’re gettin’ tired, need to let it all go and stop thinking n’ just feel.”

“Nat. Can’t … can’t, nnngh …”

“Shhh. There’s a good girl. It’s okay, just relax and let it happen. I know it feels good, Honey, I know. Alpha’s got you. It’s okay to cry. It’s a lot, I know.” 

Bucky looks down at where Steve is holding his waist. He admires the shape of those strong hands, his thick fingers and sturdy wrists, the veins against the skin … He swallows heavily and imagines Steve's palm coming down on his backside again and again, imagines what it would feel like, what it would look like. And— Oh god, fuck. Steve’s got such big hands. It'd be so solid .

A low keen breaks from the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he bites down on his lip, still not able to tear his eyes away from Natasha and what she’s doing to Peter. “I don't understand,” he says miserably. “No. You're lying."

"Lying about what, Baby?"

"About, about ... that," he grits. "How can it not hurt?”

Against his ear, Steve’s condescending chuckle makes his belly clench and his asshole release another obscene wave of slick. “You’ll see. It’s because of the pace, and the way your brain reacts to the physical dominance. Endorphins build up and are released before you can start to feel any real pain. The skin warms and you sink into it, kind of like a trance. By the time you’re getting real hits, you’re already high. Some students are able to orgasm from it.” Bucky shudders, and Steve hums. “It’ll be comfortable. You won’t be restrained. Your Handler won’t be angry with you. It isn’t discipline, that’s not the point. It’s to help you feel good and keep you healthy.”

Another whine is building in Bucky’s throat and he’s fighting to hold it back because he doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting him. Though really, he figures Steve must know—from his scent alone, if nothing else. Bucky's freshly showered, but underneath the towel there’s new slick trickling down his inner thighs, wet and sticky, and there's no question that Steve can smell it. Bucky rubs his legs together uncomfortably, cringing at the messy feeling.

In the bedroom, Natasha turns up the vibrations, and Peter lets out a pornographic moan and arches his back even more. “Ohnn! Nat, Nat, Nat.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmnnn, feel’s’good …” He squirms and writhes, starting to cry helplessly when Natasha abandons the hook and pulls both hands back, no longer rocking the toy into him. She tuts and hushes him almost mockingly as he gets red in the face and wiggles around, trying to move the metal ball inside himself but unable to do it. “Nnnnh!” he cries desperately, prompting Natasha to pet his back and shush him,

“You’re okay. You’ve got it. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Nnnoooo,” he cries miserably, hips working, shoving back in vain to try and work the hook in the same way she'd been doing.

“No? You want to stop?”

“Please, please. Don’sstop.”

Bucky's heart leaps at the sight of the hook going into Peter's hole, the helpless clenching of his wet and swollen rim as his body grasps it, trying to stimulate himself to no avail. Once again, Bucky's knees go weak and Steve is the only thing keeping him upright. Meanwhile Peter’s practically nonverbal, upset and desperate for the stimulation he needs. Natasha coos and rubs his back, encouraging him to ask for what he needs. “C’mon Pete. It’s okay. Tell me what you need. Remember to ask the right way. That’s all you have to do.”

Peter nods frantically, hips still working, eyes opening and closing sightlessly. He's crying sluggish tears now as he begs, “Help, please, help. Nat. Nnnn. Need you. Please Alpha.”

“Theere’s the magic word,” Natasha praises, her hand going back down to grasp the hook. She begins to rock it again and Peter sobs in gratitude. Natasha smiles and laughs fondly. “There you go, I’ve got you. I know you can’t do it yourself. Poor dumb baby. Just get too overwhelmed to know what to do, don't you? Need Alpha's help to make it go away.”

Against the pillow, Peter moans and drools and nods his head. “Yeah, y-yeah. Ongh …”

It’s too much. Bucky’s hips judder in Steve’s hands, his body literally unable to stay still when he’s this aroused. He knows that Steve can tell how bad it is, but the alpha doesn’t tease him. He just holds him and talks to him quietly as they both watch what’s going on. “You like that?” he asks, watching the scene alongside Bucky and humming knowingly when Bucky lies and shakes his head no. “It’s been a long day for you,” he says, a degree of kindness in his voice that, for all the heaviness in Bucky’s belly, still manages to make him feel thin and brittle and liable to break apart. “I want you to have some relief, Bucky. I can tell this is hurting you. So when we get to your room, if you need, you can bend over the edge of the bed just like that. Okay? Then all you have to do is ask nicely.”

Bucky moans, he can’t help it. He wants that so bad. Even just Steve’s big hands on his waist feel so good, making him yearn for more. “No,” he rasps, only to feel Steve’s chiding rumble against his back. 

“You don’t have to do that, Honey. It’s okay to give in.” 

“Nnn.”

“ Look at him.” Steve urges, nodding at the bedroom. “Don't you see how she is with him? How gentle? It’s not just about sexual release. It’s about that closeness, that care. Trusting your alpha enough to let them give that to you. That’s an important aspect of an omega’s wellbeing. It literally keeps your brain balanced the right way.” 

“I know,” Bucky grits. “We learned about it in science class." (Fucking right-wing, bullshit science class.)

“Good.”

In the bedroom, Peter is whining and mewling and moaning, and Natasha is so caring and attentive , telling Peter that he’s good and that he can let go and come whenever he wants to. “Whenever you’re ready, Pete. Just close your eyes and let it happen.”

Bucky’s eyes are filling with confused, anguished tears from watching it, a soul-deep yearning he doesn’t even understand swelling up inside him and making it hard to think. It just looks so safe and warm and good , what Peter has with Natasha, and he wants it. He wants to know what that feels like.

On his hip, Steve’s one hand edges inwards, fingers glancing over the tent that his prick is making underneath the towel. Bucky whines in frustration and Steve hushes him. “Stop. C’mon. How long do really think you can keep this up, hm? How long are you going to fight it?”

Bucky grinds his teeth even as he can feel his eyes stinging from the tears he’s trying not to cry, from how bad he wants it. “Forever,” he grits, though that’s a fucking lie and they both know it.

Maybe Steve has already figured out his plans to jerk off at lights out, who knows? He tuts at Bucky's defiance, and meanwhile in the room in front of them, Natasha is curling further over Peter’s back, sort of lying up alongside him. Peter’s eyes are glazed and he’s drooling on the pillow, dumb to anything but the climax he’s nearing. The closer he gets the calmer he seems to get, relaxing instead of straining, body going limp and letting Natasha do all the work.

“Good boy,” she purrs when he goes soft for it. She sets the vibrator against the hook again, speaking in an extended litany of gentle praise. Bucky can’t make out the words anymore, but whatever she’s saying, it makes Peter cry and shiver and nod, followed by more of her pleased hums and encouraging alpha sounds.

“ —‘pha,” Peter slurs, rubbing his face against the sheets as Nat’s hand works down below, keeping the toy seated deep and tug, tug, tugging against that spot inside. “Mmm. Please, please, yeah …” Peter looks and sounds like he’s completely sure that he’s going to get what he wants, that Natasha is going to give him what he needs , and seeing it makes Bucky burn with a wave of emotion that he only belatedly recognizes as jealousy.

He jerks in place, angry at himself and wanting to get away from the sight of it, but Steve’s strong hands hold him fast, not allowing him to avoid witnessing the display of what he’s missing out on. “No,” Steve says sternly, holding him still. “Watch it.” And Bucky can’t pull away. He’s forced to stay standing there in the alpha’s arms, face flaming, the sheer intimacy of what he’s witnessing with Steve making lust coil heavy in his guts, weighing heavy, heavy ; aching deep in the cradle of his pelvis.

Every gentle word and gesture that Natasha gives Peter makes him think of what it’d be like to have that with someone, what it’d feel like to have an alpha curl over him and purr at him and care for him so completely. A pit of yearning is opening up in his mind, cavernous and gaping and awful.  Briefly, he thinks of Brock and the few times that the older boy had been there when Bucky really needed it, how he’d fucked him hard and knotted fast and then pulled out before it was completely down because he had to get to practice, and wasn’t Bucky just grateful that he was there wasting time on his heat anyways?

He cries out when one of Steve’s hands readjusts on his hip and nudges his cock in the process. Steve gives an infuriatingly smug chuckle by his ear. “Pete’s a nice kid,” he says. “He was like you at first, you know. Angry, resistant, fought everything tooth and nail. Till he figured out that we were just trying to help him, to give him what he needs. Cause once you get a taste of what it's really like, you never want to go back. And now look at him: He’s happy, balanced, an A-student with a mate lined up for after graduation.”

Bucky shivers at the word 'mate', trying and failing to look away from the pair on the bed. He feels Steve’s breath hit his neck and is struck by the indelible urge to have the alpha cover his body the way that Natasha is covering Peter’s. And Steve is so much bigger than Natasha. Steve could really cover him ...

“Look at him,” Steve urges. “Getting everything he needs, because he asked. That could be you.” Bucky whines and jerks in his hold and Steve’s fingers dig in. “It’s that easy, Little one. All you have to do is admit it. Stop fighting everything so hard. You’ll be amazed how much easier it gets once you just let us help you .”

Bucky tries to think of something to say back to that, but he’s slogging through a brain gone mostly to soup, and before anything is forthcoming, Peter starts to come. He moans and shudders, and Natasha works him through it with those same deep rocking motions. It seems to go on forever, and when it’s over she eases the hook out of him and sets it aside, sits on the bed and has him lie there with his head in her lap. She strokes his hair and tells him nice things.

“Okay. Come on.” Steve guides Bucky away from the doorway, back down the hall and to his room. He steers him over to the bed and presses down on his shoulders, gently urging him to sit. 

Bucky hisses at the thrum of intensified arousal that comes just from Steve forcefully moving him and his butt meeting the bed. He fights the urge to squirm down against the mattress, but it’s hard. There’s slick between his cheeks that makes him want to writhe. He wants to rub his ass back against the blankets, hard, wants to purr and luxuriate in the feeling of soft things sliding against his skin. He wants to yank all the covers down and bunch them up between his thighs and squeeze , hump on them like an animal until he bursts.

But even more than that, he thinks he wants to hear Steve’s Voice praising him while he does it.

Steve surprises him by taking a knee right there beside the bed. He puts his hands on Bucky’s thighs and rubs up and down in a move that is probably meant to be soothing, but does nothing but make Bucky’s belly swoop with pleasure. He’s still got the towel wrapped around his hips, his prick an obscene little poke beneath the material. Steve is looking at it. “Last chance, Honey,” he says. “Do you want to bend over like Peter?” 

Bucky feels like he’s watching somebody else shake their head no, because everything in him is screaming for him to nod his head yes. Just a few minutes longer, he reminds himself. Just until lights-out. “No,” he breathes, and watches as surprise flashes in Steve’s eyes—though it quickly fades into something like disappointment. He almost looks pained for Bucky. He looks sorry for him.

“Okay,” he says, nodding grimly. “Okay Honey. That’s your choice. But you know the rules, right?” He gives him a pointed look. “The cameras are always on. You’re not going to get away with anything. Someone will come in here and restrain you if you try.” 

“Restrain?” Bucky asks worriedly, eyes flicking over to the cameras in the corner.

“Yes. So behave yourself. Your Handler will be in tomorrow morning. You can ask them for help then, if you need it.” 

“Sharon?” he asks dumbly, because that’s what comes to mind, but Steve shakes his head.

“No. Someone else. I’m assigning you a new Handler.” 

“What? But …”

“No buts.” Steve gives his leg an encouraging pat. “It’s not a bad thing. We’re just trying to find the right fit for you.”

“Sharon fits fine ,” Bucky snaps, thinking that at least he’s able to manipulate her a little bit. If he gets someone else, he may not be able to get away with his clandestine shower jerkoff sessions anymore. “Sharon fits,” he insists again. “She does.”

“You need a firmer hand, and you obviously respond better to males.”

“What? I do not .” Bucky deflates when Steve continues to stare at him knowingly. “Whatever,” he sulks. “It doesn’t matter who you assign me to. I’m still not gonna be how you want me to be.”

Steve stills, looking sad. “And how do I want you to be, hm?”

Bucky looks away, cowed by Steve’s intense eye contact. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “Just … like this .” He wiggles his hips uncomfortably. “Helpless. Needing an alpha. Pathetic.” For a few long seconds, Steve stays kneeling there, completely still, not saying anything. Bucky peeks at him and then quickly looks away again. He squirms self-consciously. “ What ?”

Steve inhales deeply and then reaches up. Bucky tenses, anticipating his displeasure, but Steve isn’t displeased. He’s just reaching for the collar on Bucky’s neck. “Let’s take this off for bed,” he says quietly. 

Heart in his throat, Bucky waits as the alpha maneuvers it around with deft fingers and undoes the buckle. There’s something so incredibly intimate about sitting there and allowing him to do it. It makes dread and desire war with each other deep in Bucky’s gut. He swallows compulsively once the collar is off, relearning the feel of himself without the leather band around his throat, fighting not to bring his hand up to touch the empty space where it was. He won’t admit that it feels like a loss, but it does. 

Steve sets the collar aside and turns back to cup the front of Bucky’s throat, this time with nothing between his hand and the bare skin. His thumb brushes back and forth over Bucky’s bonding glands. “It’s good to take a break, to maintain its effectiveness. Your body adjusts to the dopamine rush too much if you wear it twenty-four seven.”

Overly-sensitive, Bucky shivers at the sensation of Steve’s thumb swiping over his glands. A tiny, needy sound escapes his throat without his permission, and he peeks up at Steve to find the alpha staring at his neck. 

“You’re not pathetic, Honey. I'm sorry that other people have taught you to think that way about something that's natural for you. Something that's supposed to be beautiful.” He slowly applies pressure with his thumb, frowning when Bucky gasps and then whines pitifully. “You're swollen," he murmurs. He sounds displeased. "Has Sharon helped you at all since you got here?” 

“No,” Bucky whispers, which isn’t a lie. She hasn’t. But only because he's turned her down at every single offer. Bucky goes tight lipped, since admitting that to Steve feels like admitting that he’s broken the rules already. They both know it’d be near impossible for him to have gone four days without any sexual release whatsoever.

Steve doesn’t acknowledge it, though. He circles the pad of his thumb more firmly over Bucky's glands, massaging and looking thoughtful. He presses a little more, and a little more ...

Eventually it becomes too much to bear and elicits a tortured whimper from Bucky. “Nnh! Stop .” He slaps Steve’s wrist, and is surprised when the alpha lets go. Steve pulls his hand back to himself. Bucky swallows nervously, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to hit.”

“It’s okay. I know this is hard for you.” 

Steve won’t stop staring, and Bucky hates it. He flinches from the scrutiny and looks at Steve’s body instead, taking in the nicely tailored clothes he wears: the front of his dress shirt, his pants. The fabric pulls taught against the strong, thick lines of his thigh muscles, but Bucky is disappointed to find that the alpha isn’t visibly hard. He looks back up, and Steve’s eyes catch on his. Bucky gulps. “I … I’m tired,” he says. "I'd like to go to bed now."

Steve’s mouth quirks. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” 

They both know he’s lying, but Steve doesn’t call him out on it. “Your Handler will be here in the morning,” he tells him again. “He’ll help you. Just behave yourself and ask nicely.”

Bucky’s face burns. Like hell is he going to bend over and beg for an anal hook fucking from a stranger before breakfast. He’ll handle it tonight, himself , just as soon as Steve’s out of the room. “Kay,” he says, avoiding any further eye contact, because every time he meets Steve's gaze he feels like the alpha knows exactly what he's planning. “S’fine,” he says. "You can go." Steve doesn’t move to leave, and he smells kind of melancholy, too, which makes confusion and worry twist in Bucky’s gut. “Are you mad at me?” he asks. Steve doesn’t smell mad, but the way he’s just kneeling there, and staring …

“No, Buck. I’m not mad.”

Bucky huffs. “Well what then?”

Steve’s hand cups him underneath his jaw and angles his face towards him. “Look me in the eyes,” he commands quietly, and Bucky’s breath hitches. He wasn’t expecting Steve to Voice, and the sound of it has him visibly reacting, goosebumps erupting across his skin. If he isn’t mistaken, Steve’s eyes get a little more heated. The alpha rumbles in approval. “I asked you a question the other day,” he says. “In my office. Do you remember?”

Bucky shakes his head dumbly, but in his defense, there’s a lot that he can’t remember right now. “Uhm …”

“I asked you a question and told you to think on it for a while before you answered,” he reminds.

Against Steve’s hand, Bucky swallows. “Oh,” he whispers. “Yeah. Y-you asked …” He squirms uncomfortably as he recalls the loaded question Steve had asked him that day. “Mmn.” He shakes his head.

“Tell me, Baby. What did I ask you to think about?”

“Dunno,” he mumbles, which is another obvious lie.

Steve tuts softly and circles his thumb over his glands again. “I asked you to think about when the last time was that you were really, truly happy.” A—

Bucky frowns as he thinks about the answer to that question. It’s not an answer he wants to give. He’s not even sure he knows the answer. But he knows it’s not a good answer. Because Steve asked about when he’d been truly happy long term , not just happy in the moment over one thing or another. " Settled "—that’s the word he’d used. When was the last time Bucky felt truly happy and content; settled in his own skin?

His lip trembles as he admits to himself that it’s been a long, long time.

A.N.: Uh, yeah I know it's an awkward place to end, but it was getting stupid-long and I still have a lot left to go in this scene and the next, so the next part will be a separate chapter.

T.W.: The next chapter will contain explicit mentions and depictions of past cutting scars.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

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[ivymarquis]

Intro + Masterlist

Hi! I’m Ivy and I have been known to write things on occasion. 

27 | Sapphic | Lover of dark content

I have a penchant for writing about scary men (+ women!), and am not opposed to writing smutty and/or dark content. Because of that, this blog is strictly 18+.

Minors + ageless blogs will be blocked

Dark content **is** placed under a cut for those of you who don’t wish to see it!!

Requests are currently ||open for snippets|| (pls check ((rules)) and ((F-List)) before sending requests!

Masterlist Key:

⚠️= Dark | ✨= Smut | ❗❗= Angst | ⚪ = Consensual |  ⚫ = Dub Con | 🔴 = Non Con | ✔️ = Completed Series | ⭕ = WIP Series

**UTD as of 6/5/23; Check the “my writing” tag to see if Ive posted anything that hasn’t been added to the list yet :)

Kinktober 2023 masterlist here!

OVERWATCH

Unspecified male OW!character x Reader

Heat Stroke He was a furnace and a cuddle monster- a trait you’d greatly appreciated when you’d started sleeping (as in, literally sleeping) with him in the winter. Now? The temperatures were rising and his grip was borderline suffocating at night.

Gabriel Reyes/Reaper

Gabriel throat fucking Reader   ✨⚪ Free use throat fucking kink

Kinktober Day 6 (2018)  ✨⚪ Daddy | Corset

Kinktober Day 7 (2018) ✨⚫ Praise Kink | Aphrodisiacs

Kinktober Day 10 (2018)  ✨⚪ Wax Play | Hair Pulling

Incubus!Reaper Gabriel has something to tell you. Hopefully he doesn’t have a secret wife.

Gabriel Reyes vs 2-year-old toddler Gabriel underestimates the power of a nap

Daddy kink headcanon Tis what it says on the tin. Reyes’ reaction to their s/o having a daddy kink

Reaper teaching his S/O how to kiss Tis what it says on the tin

Moira O’Deorain

Kinktober Day 2 (2018)  ✨⚪ Medical Play | Begging

Kinktober Day 11 (2018)  ✨⚪ Aphyxiation | Object Insertion

Moira with an affectionate S/O Headcanons of Moira with an S/O who enjoys showing random affection

Looks Can Be Deceiving  ✨⚪ Moira thinks you’d look adorable squealing underneath her.

Birdy   ⚠️✨🔴 Moira’s in rut and has plans for you.

Daddy Part of your self-appointed job as Moira’s girlfriend was to annoy her on occasion.

Us  ❗❗ You can’t overlook this.

Chocolate Kisses  ✨⚪ You agree to go on a date with Moira

Problem Solving  ✨⚪ You take control when Moira gets too stressed out.

Jack Morrison/Soldier 76** ** F!Reader fics written prior to announcement of Jack’s sexuality

Daddy kink headcanon Tis what it says on the tin. Jack’s reaction to their s/o having a daddy kink

Brat Tamer!76  ✨⚪ You weren’t acting out because you’d missed him. Definitely

Sleeping Dogs Lie  ⚠️✨🔴 Jack just wants to make you happy

Movie Night  ✨⚪ Jack starts seeing a new mother and develops some new kinks as a result.

Hang Ups  ✨⚪ Jack moves past his hang ups.

Stealth  ⚠️✨🔴 You’re not nearly as stealthy as you think you are.

Cole Cassidy** ** Older fics refer to Jesse McCree, pre name change

Kinktober Day 1 (2018)  ✨⚪ Smiles/Laughter | Deep Throating

Demon!Hanzo x Werewolf!McCree x F! Reader  ✨⚫ You decide to summon a demon and there are some… unintended consequences

Nap Time It’s just a fact that boobs make the best pillows

Gratitude  ✨⚪ Jesse shows his gratitude to his sweetpea getting a tattoo themed after him

Welcome Home, Baby  ✨⚪ Jesse comes home

Daddy kink headcanon Tis what it says on the tin. Cassidy’s reaction to their s/o having a daddy kink

Trying for a baby with his wife headcanons Tis what it says on the tin

Genji Shimada

Late Bloomer (I) (II)  ✨⚪✔️ Genji’s precious beta is actually an omega- one whose heat hits her like a freight train.

Dragon!Genji x Reader  ✨⚪ You’re ready to carry your lover’s eggs

Bother  ✨⚪ You figured Genji wouldn’t care for a second if your cousin was visiting. As it turned out, he cared very much.

Stay  ✨⚪ Genji hasn’t been with anyone since his near death experience. Then you join blackwatch.

Playground You and Genji go to a playground

Kitten Play  ✨⚪ Being a well respected professional in your work life is fine and all, but there’s comfort in handing the reins over to someone else.

Genji w/ S/O who struggles with penetration  ✨⚪ Tis what it says on the tin

Idol Genji has his own way of wishing you good luck for your concerts- This has unintended consequences.

Hanzo Shimada

Demon!Hanzo x Werewolf!McCree x F! Reader  ✨⚫ You decide to summon a demon and there are some… unintended consequences

Daddy kink headcanon Tis what it says on the tin. Hanzo’s reaction to their s/o having a daddy kink

Sugar  ⚠️ You just got cold feet is all

Incorrigible  ✨⚪ You’re an incorrigible tease when you want to be.

Hanzo x Reader  ✨⚪ You let Hanzo tie you up like a thanksgiving turkey

Candy Hanzo has some concerns about all the reader's candy

Trying for a baby with his wife headcanons Tis what it says on the tin

Sombra

Kinktober Day 3 (2018)  ✨⚪ Sensory Deprivation | Edgeplay

Aleksandra Zaryanova

Zarya + Chubby!Reader Self love is important, but can be hard

Akande Ogundimu

Phone Etiquette Akande knows how to make a boring business call much more interesting.

See Something You Like? You notice when Akande starts timing his workouts to match with yours.

Wilhelm Reinhardt

Sugar Daddy!Reinhardt Headcanons of sugar daddy Reinhardt

Lucio Correia dos Santos

Trying for a baby with his wife headcanons Tis what it says on the tin

Far Cry 5

Jacob Seed

Apex Predator (I) ⚠️⭕ The Deputy has a secret, and Jacob makes it his mission to bring her to heel

What You Want  (I) (II) (III) ⚠️✨🔴»⚫ ✔️ Jacob learns the deputy is his mate and sets out to subdue her

Quality Over Quantity (I) (II)  ✨⚪✔️ Jacob ensures the continuation of the Chosen’s line

Happy  ✨⚪ She was content with her place in the middle of the pack. Then Jacob took notice of her.

All Good Things He's been sweet on her ever since she propositioned him back in Missouri

Better Late than Never Pushing 50, Jacob had figured years ago his dreams of a wife and kids weren’t happening

Unrequited ❗❗ Not sure I’ll ever actually finish this- Jacob is in love with the deputy, but marries one of the women in the cult after the deputy marries John

Kinktober Day 4 (2018) ✨⚪ Spanking | Spit Roasting

Kinktober Day 8 (2018)  ✨⚪ Hate Fucking/Angry Sex | Fisting

Illness The Deputy gets sick in the cages

Can’t Sleep Jacob's insomnia is not new- when the Reader can't sleep, he offers a potential solution

Good With Kids John gives commentary on Jacob's baby-handling skills

“You smell like wet dog” Fluffy one-off where Reader informs Jacob he needs a bath.

Love Language Tis what it says on the tin

Favorite Kinks Tis what it says on the tin

John Seed

Baptism of Blood  ⚠️ John finally has a willing soul to cleanse

Kinktober Day 5 (2018)  ⚠️✨⚪ Sadism/Masochism | Blood/Gore

Love Language Tis what it says on the tin

Favorite Kinks Tis what it says on the tin

Joseph Seed

Love Language Tis what it says on the tin

Favorite Kinks Tis what it says on the tin

Faith Seed

Love Language Tis what it says on the tin

Favorite Kinks Tis what it says on the tin

Eli Palmer

Kinktober Day 4 (2018) ✨⚪   Spanking | Spit Roasting

Kinktober Day 9 (2018)  ✨⚪ Titfucking | Lingerie

Call Of Duty

Simon Ghost Riley

Simon’s Spotify Playlist Don’t ask me for anyone else’s lol. He’s the only one who gets one.

Spoiled  ✨⚪ Spoiled the thought flashes across his head. Course it doesn’t help that he’s utterly whipped. He’ll give you anything you ask for just because you want it.

Bonded ❗❗ You and Simon are caught off guard during a mission

SS: Overstim Tis what it says on the tin

John Price

Blind Date John goes on a blind date. It goes well

John Soap MacTavish

Steel Magnolia Soap falls head over heels for the base’s fire breathing preceptor

Character Study: Honey

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Under My Skin Your situationship uncomplicates itself on a rainy night

König

SS: Pregnancy Risk Not only does König not care that it's not safe to finish inside- that's kinda the point.

Platonic Reader + 141

The B.A.G. Coalition You accidentally spill the beans on why Graves can’t get a date

[tommykinard6]

could you explain briefly how the omegaverse work and why is eddie one? thank you :)

Gladly! I shall break it down as much as possible.

Omegaverse is a take on wolf pack dynamics. This can be literal, with wolf characters or werewolves. It can also be when the characters are fully human or have very distant wolf ancestry.

There’s Alpha, Beta, Omega, and sometimes non presenters, though not all authors write with non presenters. These are called secondary genders. Primary genders, such as male or female, have no impact on secondary genders in most verses. Non presenters never take a secondary gender or present much later in life. Presentation usually happens in the teen years or the person is born already presented. Presented is another term for secondary puberty, when the secondary gender matures and becomes obvious.

Now I shall keep this post SFW, but I can do an explanation on NSFW too if it’s wanted! Just let me know!

The alpha is generally the protective leader, the dominant one, sometimes literally the pack leader. In most fics, they are the partner with most societal pull and authority.

Betas are the neutrals. They make great peacekeepers, healers, advisors. Alphas and omegas are generally affected more by scents and emotions than betas.

Omegas are the caretakers and the heart of the “pack”. They’re the quiet engine that make the world go round.

Now, traditionally, alphas seem to take more stereotypical male roles and omegas take more stereotypically female roles, regardless of primary gender. That isn’t always true! But is a common theme.

Let me explain scents real quick. Basically every presented alpha/omega has a distinctive scent. Betas might too, but that varies. Betas also might not be able to smell scents as well as alphas and omegas. These scents can be vague, like smoky, or detailed, like apple pie with a hint of lemon.

((Warning for mention of mpreg: I’ll mark when it ends))

Each dynamic can be any primary gender. It’s up to the author how they want that gender to cross over. Are female alphas able to get omegas pregnant? Can female alphas get pregnant? Can male omegas get pregnant or get someone else pregnant?

((Ends here))

Betas tend to follow the biological rules of primary genders.

((Brief mention of dub-con/non-con as a theme. No graphic description within))

Now, it’s worth knowing before anyone non-experienced in A/B/O goes looking that sometimes, dub-con and non-con are themes in fics. That’s because alphas experience ruts and omegas experience heats and in a rut or a heat, the person can’t consent unless they already established consent beforehand. They’re not technically in their right mind.

((Finishes here))

That’s part of why omegaverse gets a bad rap.

I pride myself in writing fully consensual and enthusiastic A/B/O content, at least between the main ship. It’s absolutely possible to do. Tagging is important! Be sure to utilize filters if you want to avoid stuff when you go looking.

Now, for why I see Eddie as an omega.

It started partially because I don’t see Buck as an omega and I was and still am a Buddie shipper. I definitely saw him as an alpha figure. It’s also partially because of the top/bottom dynamic. Stereotypically, alphas are tops and omegas are bottoms. THIS IS NOT ALWAYS TRUE. You can write it however you want! That’s how I prefer to write, though.

I see Buck as a top/dom and Eddie as a bottom/sub. That man just needs to let go and get out of his head. He needs to be taken care of and pampered. Buck loves to take care of people and spoil them. Besides, I’m a bit of a slut for a size difference.

I don’t do well in explaining how or why a character is a bottom/omega to me; it’s sort of just a feeling. But hopefully, that explains it well enough!

Quick note to add that any dynamic can have any relationship. Alpha/alpha, alpha/beta, beta/beta, beta/omega, omega/omega are all alternatives to the classic alpha/omega pairing.

I did the best I could, but please let me know if you have further questions!

Edit to add: he’s canonically a nester and while that means something different in A/B/O…VINDICATION

[celestial-specter]

So I finally got around to watching the first three episodes of the final season, and I’ve got to say, I’m very intrigued by the addition of the three clone cadets! Most of my interest comes from their names- and since I haven’t seen anyone else discuss them yet, I thought I’d throw my own thoughts out there.

As we have seen in many star wars projects over the years, character names seem to be overwhelming literal, either revealing elements of their background, or foreshadowing their future (think how in Rebels, Kanan means ‘little wolf’, while his true name, Caleb, means ‘dog’, foreshadowing his link to the Loth wolves.)

Of course, we know that the clones either name themselves or have the name bestowed on them by their brothers (think of Echo getting his name). The trio of clones that we meet in Paths Unknown are named Deke, Stak, and Mox. There hasn’t been much information released regarding at what age clones typically receive their names, however in the Clone Wars episode Clone Cadets, we see Cutup take his name from a trainer who criticizes him for his attitude. As that episode focuses on Domino squad’s final training simulation before graduation, and that they all appear to be fully grown adult clones, it can be assumed that they are all around ten years old, the same age of most clones sent to war. Given that we see Cutup choose his name during this episode, and that Echo is struggling with his nickname and remembering Fives’ name, it suggests that Domino squad had only recently begun thinking about what name they would choose for themselves.

While we haven’t been given a definitive age for Deke, Stak and Mox they are all still clearly children. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even have names by the time they were taken off Kamino, and had to create names for each other while trying to survive on the planet they were stranded on.

To begin with Mox, his is the name I could find the least amount of reference for. There seems to be three possible interpretations:

Mox is a type of fuel designed for use in nuclear reactors.

Mox is a shortened version of moxie, meaning ‘energy, courage, and determination.’

Mox is the Latin word for ‘soon.’

I’m not overly drawn to the first idea, but I can understand the second - as Mox is clearly the eldest and protective over his younger brothers, I can see him taking a name which shows that side of his personality. I also see Mox as a direct parallel of Hunter; both are the eldest brothers of their respective groups, and are both incredibly wary of outsiders due to their need to keep their brothers safe.

However, I much prefer the third choice. The idea that Mox’s name means ‘soon’ can have both good and bad implications. For starters, Mox is clearly the most emotionally conflicted throughout the episode, unsure of his place on the mission, and of his place once they leave the planet. Hunter assures him that he has time to consider being something other than a soldier, and Mox offers his hand to Hunter. This action could be foreshadowing that soon, Hunter himself will be able to retire from this lifestyle, by finding Omega and Crosshair. Alternatively, Mox’s name meaning soon could be a very bad omen for the batch, as it could foreshadow the clone cadets being used as leverage against them (I’m thinking this could come into play when the empire attacks Pabu if the cadets are there).

Moving on, the word Deke was originally coined by Hemingway as a shortened form of the word decoy. We do not see him act as a decoy in any way during this episode, so I believe it is solely to foreshadow future events. Considering the many parallels drawn between Deke and Tech during this episode (e.g. Stak dubbing Deke ‘the smart one’ and Deke almost falling to his death in the base) his name meaning decoy only makes me more convinced that Tech is still around in some capacity (even if that capacity is just his body being used for cloning experiments).

Finally, Stak is most commonly considered to be an old version of the word stick, which makes sense when you consider the basic stick-based weapons that the cadets carry, and Wrecker’s first words to Stak and Deke when he meets them: ‘Blaster beats stick, kid!’ Knowing that the Star Wars writers love foreshadowing, this comment has me thinking things might not end so well for Stak. Interestingly, another link I found while researching this is that Stak is a common phrase in the Rogue Trooper series, in which a war is fought between facist Norts and democratic Southers (you can already see the obvious parallels to Star Wars here). In the series, in an attempt to win the war, the Southers create genetically engineered soldiers, but only one, known as Rogue, survives. Even more links involve one of the main stories of this series being titled ‘The Marauders’, and each one of the genetically engineered soldiers having a bio-chip in their body. While not a direct link, these coincidences do make me think there is a direct link between the two medias, it is possible that there is a fan of the Rogue Trooper series within the team behind The Bad Batch.

Either way, I’m very happy to finally be getting some explanation into what happened to the young clones who never saw the battlefield during the clone wars - though I am a little concerned that their worth being tied to their unexplored identity as soldiers could lead to them taking risks in further episodes in the hopes of proving themselves.

[foxdev1l]

you need to share more of your thoughts because i know they are good tell me tell me tell me teeeell meeeee

thank you so much for this sweet message. since it's kept vague, i wasn't sure what kind of thoughts you wanted to hear, but i've recently spent a lot of time thinking about and writing down notes about a/b/o headcanons for the rg characters which you might be interested in. i've got notes for basically all of them, but Six's headcanon kind of grew a mind of its own. if anyone's interested in more, feel free to let me know

◇Sierra Six – Shed Skin◇

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54652036

Wordcount: 2.507

Summary: Six does not feel comfortable in his own skin

A/N: much love to @hollandstrophyhusband for helping me brainstorm and beta reading this for me. i hope you guys enjoy my little spin on Six and the omegaverse. might write a second part one day, who knows. there was some talk about six/colt...

Content warnings: nsfw, canon typical violence, self-destructive behavior, rough sex, dub con, identity issues

He presents unusually late, at the age of fifteen, and without any prior warning. It's almost like he's grown a second skin, one that is simultaneously too large and too tight on his scrawny body.

Courtland expects to feel relief. He's an Alpha, after all, the only child to follow in his father's footsteps.

His mother is born an Omega, awfully timid and quiet, and too afraid to raise her voice. His brother has presented as a Beta young, too gentle and too defiant at the same time. His father has always resented them both for different reasons.

So Court should be relieved, to have dodged a bullet, to escape his father's cutting disappointment.

But then his father takes one look at him, his ragged features contorted into a strange expression, something almost akin to pride. He sweeps his gaze over Court's haggard form, breathes in the heavy stench of a newly presented Alpha, and smiles. The smile is twisted, foreign, wrong; like the newly grown skin pulled taut over his frail bones.

Court feels nothing but repulsion.

“I don't think it fits,” he tells his father.

“It doesn't need to fit,” his father says, the contentment on his face turning sharper, more dangerous. “Just wear it like you own it.”

And so he does.

He tells himself things can be different. That it is still about choice. That his second skin does not come sodden in blood. He can learn to be comfortable wearing it, can accept his status, and still reject society's expectations. He can grow up to be a better Alpha than his old man ever was.

It's only when he's standing above the dying body of his father – the powder burns from his gun tainting his fingers black – that he's struck with the sudden realization that he's always been destined to inherit the violence of his father; that this blood-lusting rage is so deeply carved into his DNA, he cannot have one without the other.

He hardly gets any time to think the first few years locked behind bars. He's too busy avoiding becoming a target. He makes himself bigger than he's ever been, plays his part as the aggressive and strong Alpha, and it feels wrong, sickening, but it doesn't matter because this is not about his comfort but the mere act of survival.

He doesn't experience a proper rut until the CIA has him catching the chain. The abuse and trauma he physically and mentally had to endure over his lifetime have taken a toll on his system and fucked with his hormones enough to suppress any prior ruts.

Though he's never experienced one, he's heard of it. How it takes over one's body and mind, burning up the insides with a maddening fever of raw lust.

Court mainly feels pain.

The CIA pairs him up with an Omega. Court is far too gone to protest at that point, but he doubts it would've mattered anyway. The CIA doesn't seem to care much about his autonomy.

He doesn't know the Omega's name, can barely make out their face past his blurred vision. But he knows what's expected of him.

The Omega is nothing more than a piece of meat for the CIA to dangle in front of him, not much unlike a gnarled bone thrown in front of a starving dog. He's supposed to claim them, feast on them, gorge himself on their willingness to submit.

The Omega tells him it's alright, that they don't mind his roughness, the bruises he leaves behind no matter how much he tries to hold back. Court almost wishes they wouldn't have said anything at all.

His rut ends eventually, the fever subsiding without him ever finding relief. The Omega is taken away quickly afterward. Court never sees them again.

The CIA has provided him with a soulless room in a depressing, gray building, and he's allowed a break, an undisturbed couple of days to gather himself back up.

He takes a shower to try and wash away the last traces of his rut, turns the heat all the way up. It burns him worse than the rut but he doesn't step away from the water. Instead, he uses his hands and nails to scrub, scrub, scrub his skin raw, till it's red, red, red, but still there. Despite everything, it's still a part of him no matter how hard he tries to get rid of it.

He wants nothing more than to shed his own skin, peel it away until it detaches from his flesh, tear it apart, so all that remains is a bloody and shredded framework of bones.

What he once reluctantly accepted and exploited for the sake of safety and survival, he's now grown to outright despise, to reject.

He showers multiple times a day over the next week, rubbing and clawing at his skin until it's stung and irritated. It doesn't make him feel better, only leaves him aching and longing for a different life.

Once his break is up, the CIA gets his training underway. It's brutal and laborious and keeps him busy once more, but it also makes everything worse. The once scrawny, lanky boy has grown into a strong, deadly man who seems to fit every stereotype he's sworn to dismantle.

His hands seem to be constantly coated in blood nowadays. He has to stop looking into the mirror when his reflection keeps twisting into the wilted image of his father.

At least he gets put on heavy military-grade suppressants. It berefts him of his ruts and fucks with his pheromones enough to dampen the aggressive smell of his Alpha; but above else, it mainly makes him numb. Court doesn't complain. It's better than the alternative.

He tries to keep to himself, avoid other Alphas at all costs though that's not always possible. He hates it, feels so out of place, uncomfortable, and strangely alien when he's around others.

Rumors begin to spread like wildfire, and as much as he tries to stay unbothered, it makes his hackles rise. They assume he's an omega because why else would he be so tight-lipped, act so odd and deflective whenever the topic gets brought up.

He doesn't know what to think of that. The word Omega doesn't feel as scalding as its counterpart, but it still doesn't fully seem to fit.

It's a bitterly cold winter night when Six makes the decision to hook up with an Alpha for the first time. He finds him in a seedy bar, his cheeks flushed and lashes wet from the snow.

He's freshly off a mission. The gun has left indents in the palm of his hand and he believes he can still feel the sticky, crawling sensation of blood despite the hour-long shower he took.

The alpha is leaning against the beer-sodden bar when Six spots him, nursing a cheap whiskey with one big, calloused hand. He's tall, taller than the Sierra agent, a burly, broad frame with a handsome, aged face.

The stranger turns, then, meeting his gaze dead-on. Six's pulse ticks up, his insides twisting. He isn’t quite sure whether it's from arousal or repulsion.

His instincts are reeling deep below his sternum but he's feeling daring, still drunk on the adrenaline-fueled high of his most recent kill and desperately chasing for more, to break through the heavy, numbing haze of the suppressants.

He ends up with his face shoved against the rough wall behind the bar. The stranger doesn't grant him the comfort of a bed, merely tugs down both of their pants as far as necessary and kicks Six's feet apart. Six thinks he prefers it this way.

The man's merciful enough to work Six open, though it still hurts when he pushes inside. They have nothing but a condom, and Six has never done this before, is hardly prepared to take a single finger, much less the thick cock of another fucking Alpha.

The Alpha's obnoxious scent is filling up the entire alleyway. It's thicker than the smoke of cigars, impenetrable like the billowing fumes of the streets. It clogs up Six's nose, lays heavy on his tongue, sharp and bitter all at once.

Everything about the experience is uncomfortable; the fingers in his hair, tugging and pulling and pressing his cheek into the sharp bricks; the hand on his hip, digging into his bones, squeezing bruises into his flesh; the mouth on him, panting against the shell of his ear, licking and biting up the side of his throat.

Six flinches away when teeth scrape over the skin just below his scent gland but he doesn't get far. The Alpha crowds him further against the wall, keeping an unbreakable hold on him as he relentlessly thrusts into him from behind.

A grunt escapes Six's bloody lips, gut twisting in fear but when the stranger reaches out and grabs his cock, it's already painfully hard and it doesn't take long for him to spill all over the Alpha's sweaty hand.

The Alpha doesn't stop, taking more pleasure than he draws from him, and Six is left to moan against the cold brick wall. He's cold and his legs are trembling by the time the Alpha finishes and pulls away.

“You're not an Omega,” the stranger acknowledges and Six just shrugs because his lungs have yet to fill up with oxygen again.

“And neither are you a Beta.”

Six shakes his head.

The man regards him with a flat, unreadable expression, “I didn't peg you as an Alpha.”

Six simply spits a glob of blood onto the dirt-stained pavement, the inside of his cheek sore where he's bitten through it. Then he shrugs once more and stumbles away, out of the alleyway and back into the shadows.

It becomes a common occurrence after that. The CIA keeps him on a short leash but Six still finds time to slip away every few weeks. He goes looking for meaningless fucks with willing Alphas every chance he gets, in the dark corners of whatever shabby bar is closest to him. He keeps seeking them out no matter how uncomfortable they make him feel.

It's painful, shameful, to be reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess under the aggressive grasp of another Alpha, but he cannot help himself. There is a certain thrill at being forced to give up control. It's strangely alluring, addicting.

He doesn't get off on the pain. In fact, he deeply despises it. But there is a certain sense of detachment that comes with it. It's still not enough to chip away his second skin, but it makes it less restricting, more bearable, gives him something else to focus on.

And then Lloyd comes along and ruins everything.

Lloyd manages to do something no one else has ever done before – he takes one look at Six, gasping and writhering where he's pushed into the wall, chin forcefully tilted back with the muzzle of a gun, and sees right through him.

“Ohh,” he croons, “What a little, pathetic Alpha you are.” He leans in, nuzzles at the column of Six's throat, digs the gun deeper to expose more of the heated flesh.

Gritting his teeth, Six keeps himself deathly still. He swallows down a rising growl, not willing to give Lloyd the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Or,” Lloyd continues, “Is it Omega?” His smile is full of teeth, his leer predatory, and Six does the only thing he can think of.

He fishes for the grenade safely tucked in the pocket of his pants, and pulls the safety pin.

In hindsight, he should've killed Lloyd then and there.

What follows isn't Six's fault. He is aware of that even though it doesn't stop the guilt from eating away at him. His handler is dead, his protégé traumatized, and Six just yearns for a fucking nap.

He's never felt such deep-rooted anger like he does for Lloyd. The Alpha is loud and arrogant and violent, and Six would've torn his fucking face off if Suzanne hadn't stopped him in form of a bullet to his thigh.

The next few weeks are a blur of heavy sedatives and strong pain medication. He's used to feeling trapped but the cuffs binding him to the hospital bed make him sick to his stomach. He finds great satisfaction in ripping them apart.

Tracing Claire's whereabouts is easier than expected and it pisses him off because the CIA obviously doesn't care enough to provide a proper safe house.

He steps onto the property, the smell of blood of his guards at the hospital still sticking to his clothes. The violence of his actions, though necessary, has torn something open deep inside him, a festering wound he fears will never heal again.

Perhaps he is his father's son, after all. Perhaps he's never been anything else.

He feels like a stranger, not only in his skin but his very own bones as he gets closer to the safe house.

His body aches, most of his injuries still not fully healed but he sets his jaw and pushes forward. Breaking open a window at the back of the building, he heaves himself up onto the ledge.

As soon as both his feet are flat on the ground, he goes to work, not daring to waste time. The suppressants have dulled his scent enough to stay hidden as he puts down the vinyl cover and a sloppily written note.

Incapacitating the guards hardly takes any effort. It doesn't bring him any satisfaction, only further rips and gashes at the wound inside. But it's worth it in the end, when all is done, and the blood has begun to dry, and Six pushes open the door separating him from Claire.

Being reunited after being forcefully pried apart feels a bit surreal. Claire looks tired, worn, but her smile is sincere as she clings to him, her nails sharp as claws where they dig into Six's shoulders but he doesn't have the heart to step away.

Instead, he buries his face into her hair, catching the subdued but familiar scent of a young Alpha; intense but gentler somehow, softened by the sweet and mellow taste of wild flowers dried by the sun.

Claire.

The scent slips below his skin easily, effortlessly, soothing the ragged edges of the wound beneath.

Claire is still so awfully young. Too young to be burdened by bearing the weight of her status. And yet, she does not seem to let it drag her down. Despite being impressionable and at the mercy of her biology, through all the illness and grief and trauma, the brutality of the last few weeks – she's remained unchanged.

Her eyes are still kind, her touch still gentle, and her heart untinged.

Six presses her tighter against his chest, his grip white-knuckled where it's clutching the back of Claire's shirt. He takes a moment, then, allows himself to linger, to breathe in the soft, calming scent of his protégé. For once, it does not feel like he's suffocating in the confinement of his own skin.

[inkedreverie]

You're Mine

pairing: dark!alpha lloyd hansen x omega!fem!reader

summary: months after leaving Court’s pack, Lloyd decides to take what’s his.

word count: 4k+

warnings: non-con(aka rape) but also dub-con. dirty talk, p in v sex, blood kink if you squint. abo dynamics/werewolf au. kidnapping. lloyd is an asshole in the beginning. forced intimacy. let me know if I missed any warnings. if you’re uncomfortable with any of these themes, scroll past this. you are in charge of your own media consumption. Minors do not interact!!! 🔞

A/N: This is a repost from my other blog since it got deleted. If you enjoyed this, please reblog/ give feedback!

requests are currently open! | read on AO3

He’d been watching Y/N for a while now, unbeknownst to her. Always a few feet away or hiding in the shadows at night. Lloyd has perfected the art of stealth, due to years of experience with working with the CIA. Also, there’s the fact that he’s the Alpha of his pack. He won’t let her see him until he’s ready. And he can’t quite put his finger on it , but there’s just something about her that reels him in. 

Recently, he’s found it hard to control himself around Y/N. He blames it on those sundresses she always likes to wear, now that the summer heat has rolled around the corner. The way they hug her curves, the way those spaghetti straps fall off her shoulders, and the way her curls cascade down her back.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s stayed up, thinking about her, fucking his own fist to the lewd images of her invading his mind, imagining her plump lips wrapped around him. Lloyd dreams of taking her away from that obnoxious boyfriend of hers and one day making Y/N his.

And don’t get him started on her scent. It’s intoxicating. And she’s not even in heat yet. A mix of vanilla, honey and lavender. He can’t get her out of his mind. He’s got to have her—and he will but he’s got to pick the perfect moment. 

One night, he follows Y/N on her regular run to the grocery store. She was gathering a few essentials. Her heat was due in a few days and she wanted to be prepared. It’s late. Eleven o’ clock, to be precise. She makes the mistake of dropping her bags in the middle of the alleyway and that’s when he decides to pounce. Y/N jerks up as soon as she feels herself being shoved back against the brick building, followed by the cloth that covers her face.

 Y/N begins to fight back. Her arm comes up to knock his hand out of the way but she freezes the moment she feels his hand wrap around the base of her neck, eyes going wide. 

Refusing to give up, she reluctantly raises her knee to his groin but he blocks it with his thigh. 

“Tsk, tsk”, is the last thing she hears before she feels her whole body go heavy and all her surroundings go black. He’s got her.

—

Lloyd watches in the corner as she stirs, shielded by the darkness. God, she was gorgeous. But more importantly, she was his.

Cold air prickles her bare shoulders, her eyes flutter open, feeling heavy lidded and swollen. She moves to rub both of her arms, but strong leather prevents her. Y/N blinks a few times before her vision clears, a long black strap fastened against her forearms. She begins to squirm and fidget, making the hard bed frame beneath her squeak. 

Everything is a bit of a blur, images all jumbled together like mismatched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She remembers leaving the grocery store, and walking down the dark alley and then— nothing.  

“Help!” She croaks out. 

“Hello, Sunshine,” Lloyd’s deep voice alone almost makes her jump out of her skin. She freezes, watching as he steps out of the shadows before her. If she didn’t know better she could have sworn her heart stopped. “Where am I?”

“You’re home.”

Home? What the fuck was he talking about? Brows furrow as she processes his answer. Y/N squirms against the restraints. “Where’s Court? Lloyd, this isn’t funny.” She’s hoping this is some sort of sick joke. That any minute he’ll confess that all of this isn’t real but Y/N’s smarter than that.  

For as long as she’s known him, Lloyd’s always had a short temper. There’s been many times she thought he was going to rip Court’s throat out. And at the time she couldn’t quite understand how he could be so sweet to her and absolutely feral the next.

His jaw clenched and Lloyd fights the urge to ball his fists. How dare she bring up his name right now. 

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?” she demands, eyes narrowing and desperately trying to squeeze one hand free but to no avail. She was too weak right now.

Lloyd strides over. Placing a hand to her forehead,  he brushes a few strands of hair out of her face. Y/N pauses at the sudden touch.

“That’s not important. Now, if I take these off, are you gonna be good?” 

Y/N nods and watches him as he slowly unbuckles the strap. She sits up carefully, taking in her surroundings. The basement is cold and damp, lined with brick walls and cement floors. A small ceiling lamp was the only thing that illuminated the space she was in, the rest filled with darkness. 

There was no sign of any exit. Not one she could see, at least. The only window in sight was the small one above her bed, covered with steel iron bars. 

“How long have I been here?” She mumbles, looking back up at him through dark lashes.

“A few days.” Lloyd followed her roaming eyes. 

“You’re not getting out of here without my help.”

“Lloyd, please, let me go. I need— I need to be with Court.” Y/N begged, voice cracking. She hated how desperate she sounded. Y/N tried to put on a brave face, but panic was setting in. She watched as his eyes softened. And for a minute she thought she saw empathy in them.

She was wrong. 

“Shh. Listen, Sunshine. You’re not going anywhere,” leaning down, his lips only a few inches from hers, “You’re mine.” Strong fingers trace the line of her jaw, “Besides, a man like Gentry isn’t gonna be there for you like I can. Nor could he give you what you want. 

“And you think you can?”

“Oh, I know I can, sweetheart.” 

Y/N pushes him back and stands up abruptly. “This is ridiculous.” She steps forward, legs wobbly at first. And for a minute she thinks Lloyd will let her get away. But the moment she walks past him, his arms slink around her waist, pulling her into him, back against his firm chest, his other hand wrapped around her neck. 

“No, what’s ridiculous is how fucking loyal you are to that asshole. Pumpkin, we’re not gonna play this game.” He whispered, nuzzling his nose in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t you know how long I’ve waited for this? How many times I stood there and watched him kiss you, touching you?” Strong hands traveled upward, cupping both of her breasts. He gently squeezed them, warm breath tickling her neck. 

Y/N gasps at the sudden touch, honeyed heat pooling in her lower stomach. She hated how much power he yielded over her, how he made her feel.

“God, I want you... But that’ll have to wait.” He grips her hips, turning her to face him. “Tell me, how many days until your heat is due?”

“T-tomorrow.” 

“We need to prepare then. Come.”

To be honest, everything in her is telling her no, to run. But she doesn’t have much choice. Y/N couldn’t remember the last two days and Lloyd, despite her lack of trust in him, was the only one offering her any support when it came to dealing with her heat. 

He guided her out of the moldy basement and when they reached his bedroom, he ordered his men to bring in the necessities she’d need to nest. He’d laid out a gown, along with a pair of towels for her to bathe. Y/N felt guilty how the hairs on the back of her neck stood, the butterflies swimming in her stomach. 

For as long as she’d known Lloyd, one thing was for sure. He wasn’t a nice man and he always had something up his sleeve.

When Y/N stepped into the shower, her shoulders dropped, relaxed by the feeling of warm water cascading down her back. She hadn’t really noticed how much tension that had been built up the past few days.

She tilts her head back, rubbing the soap over her collar bone, eyes fluttering shut. And for a moment, she forgets where she’s at and who’s awaiting her outside the bathroom.  God, how did she get here? Y/N mentally curses herself, remembering her boyfriend’s warning. 

How he advised her not to go out when it was so late, how she gave him a reassuring smile, kissed his cheek and said, “I’ll be fine.” And oh, how wrong she was. 

When Y/N’s finished, she steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, wrapping it around herself. She takes a deep breath, before turning the knob and opening the door and she’s not surprised when she spots Lloyd laying down on the bed before her, hands intertwined and resting behind the back of his neck. 

A devilish smirk is etched onto his features as he glances at her. He likes her like this; nervous, fidgeting and nowhere to go. Nothing, nobody can stop him from taking what’s his now.

“Lloyd, where are my clothes?”

“Right here,” he nods to the end of the bed. He rises from the bed, stalking towards her. “But, before you do. I have one small favor to ask.”

“Lloyd, please, no more games.” Y/N gripped her towel tighter around her,  she starts to walk around him but he stepped to the side, blocking her path.

“This isn’t a game, pumpkin. When are you going to get that through that beautiful head of yours?” He wraps an arm around her. “Now, give me a kiss and I’ll let you get dressed.”

“N-no. I’m not kissing you.” she stutters, her hands coming up to push against his chest, but she stops herself when his eyes turn icy with anger.

“Am I gonna have to teach you a lesson?” He leans in, nose pressed against her scent gland. “If you don’t behave, I’ll have to shove my cock between those pretty little lips of yours.” 

“But you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” He taunts, fingers trailing over her bottom lip. “I can smell your arousal even now. Bet if I ripped this towel off of ya’, you’d be soaking wet. Would you like that?”

Y/N gulps, heart racing. She can feel the heat rise from her neck, goosebumps spreading down her damp shoulders. She was loyal to Court but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to Lloyd. 

Maybe it was his casual stance, paired perfectly with that cocky smirk that drew her in. Or those striped polo shirts and the way they always fit tightly against his broad chest. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that deep down, she‘s attracted to this darker side of him. The way he would deny authority, his impulsivity. Once Lloyd transformed into an Alpha, everything had shifted. Something more feral had awakened in him. 

She remembers how he’d manhandle the other females, and that one night she walked in on him, fucking another omega, secretly wishing it had been her. Y/N remembers it like it was yesterday— he’d had the other girl pinned, back against the wall, legs wrapped around him. Lloyd’s strong arms holding her thighs, as he pounded into her. The image still makes her heart race. 

Y/N watches him pull away and grips her wrist, pulling her over to the king sized bed and pushing her down. 

“Lloyd, I’m not kissing you.” she seethes, glaring up at him. “You will,” Lloyd ignores her, pushing her back against the bed, “if you want to get dressed.”

He leans down, arms placed on both sides of her. “Or I could just rip this towel off of you right now, take away these clothes and just have my way with you?”

Y/N glares up at him, fists clenched and pushing against his chest but it’s useless.  When it comes to him, she’s powerless. “Lloyd. Don’t do this. I love Court—“ 

His lips form into a wicked grin, eyes scanning hers. Y/N feels her breath hitch in her throat, stomach churning. “You really shouldn’t have said that.” he growled, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them above her head. “Gentry is gone. He’s not your Alpha anymore. I am.”

“L-lloyd,” He interrupts with his lips touching her collarbone, then her neck. “That’s better.” He hums against her skin before he reaches the corner of her mouth. Finally, his lips find hers, needy and hungry. This. It’s better than anything his mind could conjure up. 

And this definitely makes up for those lonely nights he spent dreaming of her. Y/N lets out a small whimper and Lloyd can feel the bulge in his pants growing. She once again, squirms underneath him, making her towel slide a few inches. When his lips leave hers, she’s breathless, mind spinning, eyes gazing down at his mouth. 

Lloyd’s lips curl into a small grin. “Hmm. Seems like Gentry wasn’t much of a good kisser.” He taunts. When he pulls away she can’t help but sense this feeling of disappointment. Her cheeks heat up again as she sits up from bed. 

Y/N grips her towel a bit too quickly because when she looks up again, he’s standing in front of her, grin widening. “Aw, cupcake, don’t play coy now.”

Y/N stood up from the bed, hands resting on her hips. “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me the courtesy of leaving while I change?”

“Leave the room?” He raises a brow, pulling out an unlit cigarette out of his pocket, “’M afraid not, pumpkin.”

“Then can you please turn around?” 

“Why?” He quirks up an eyebrow, grin never faltering. “Don’t tell me Court’s never seen you naked?”

“I-I —well…” Y/N trips over her words before she regains her composure. “Lloyd, please?”

“Fine. Just this once.” With a huff, he finally turns around. After a few seconds, she drops her towel and slips on the red silk gown. Her eyes wander over to him after she’s clothed, and she’s surprised to find out his back is still facing her. 

“Okay,” Y/N finally says, arms crossed against her chest. 

When he turns, his gaze wanders from her hair, stopping all the way down to her knees where the dress stops. The gown hugs her curves. Lloyd tilts his head, eyes still scanning her body. It’s a shame she’s covering her chest. She’s absolutely gorgeous. Lloyd’s had many girlfriends in the past but none of them compare to Y/N.

He hasn’t been staring long but it’s starting to bother her. She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear before fiddling with her fingers. “Well? Is this up to your satisfaction?” she asks, gesturing to her outfit. 

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” 

—

After dinner, Lloyd had dragged her out onto the balcony to watch the sunset. He’d been careful not to let her get too far away from him. He wasn’t an idiot. Just because he’d wined and dined her didn’t mean she was now content with her new surroundings. It would take some time.

But then she flashed those doe eyes at him, those plump lips, pressed her chest against his. “Lloyd, you went through all this trouble for me.” She finally breathes out, delicate hands traveling up his chest and slinking around his neck. “When all you had to do was ask,” Y/N whispers, both hands now cupping his face. 

He furrows his brows, he can’t believe the words he’s hearing. He opens his mouth to respond but she shakes her head. The next thing he knows, she’s leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His grip tightens around her waist, hands traveling lower and lower. Y/N tries her best to force out a moan. She’s raising her knee swiftly and when it comes in contact with his crotch, she’s pushing him away. 

Y/N doesn’t wait. This is her chance. Turning around, she runs down the stairs, the stone steps are rough and warm under her feet. Once she reaches the grass, she breaks off into a sprint, arms at her sides, as she hears muffled screams echoing her name.

—

She’s running, running as fast as her feet will carry her. It’s dark and cold, the only thing illuminating her path is the moonlight above her. Y/N can feel the slight chill creeping into her bones, the harsh leaves from the bushes scratching her skin, as she sprints through the woods. But she can’t stop.

Her eyes scan the woods for an escape. Anything. An old shed, a bush. She knows he’s not far behind her. She’s still holding out hope that she’ll allude him. She’s got to escape, she can’t go back. Y/N knows what fate has in store for her. A man she doesn’t love, doesn’t want. Lloyd’s been waiting, aching to claim her once and for all. 

He can feel the anger swelling up inside him, coursing through his veins and fueling his strength. His hands slowly clenched into fists. Ungrateful little bitch, he thinks. He should have known. Should have known this was all an act, just so she could escape. And on the night before her heat, no less. What was she thinking…Lloyd’s mentally scolding himself. He saw the way she was looking for an exit earlier this morning. He should have never let his guard down.

Lloyd pushes his thoughts away. He can’t dwell on the past. He needs to focus on rectifying this mistake. He’s waited too long to let her slip through his fingers. He’s sprinting by now, he raises his chin, letting that familiar scent invade his nostrils. She’s close. He can feel it.

Y/N can hear the crickets, the leaves crunching beneath her bare feet. It’s only been a few minutes but it feels as if she’s been running for hours. Her heart’s beating faster, but she can’t tell if that’s the fear creeping in or the energy slowly being drained from her body. She can feel her muscles beginning to ache. 

She’s close to the edge of the forest. She can hear the sound of cars speeding by, honking, the glow of the headlights through the crack in the trees. She’s almost there when her leg gives way on a fallen branch. There’s a crunch, followed by her feet tripping over themselves. 

Before she can catch her breath, she hears footsteps behind her. With a fist full of her hair, she falls backwards on the ground. “There you are,” he purrs, his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. “Did you actually think you were going to escape me?” When Y/N doesn’t answer, his grip tightens around her scalp, making her wince and let out a small whimper that makes his dick twitch.

When he releases his grip from her, he bends down and picks her up, carrying her over his shoulder. “Lloyd, let me go!” she screams, fists pounding repeatedly on his back. But he doesn’t budge. The only response she’s left with is him chuckling darkly, as he makes his way back to the house.

When the two of them reach the top of the stairs, he’s grabbing her wrist, tightly. Slamming open the bedroom door, he pushes Y/N forward, making her stumble over her feet. 

He’s striding over towards her, eyes darkening with lust, lips pressed into a thin line. Y/N doesn’t have to read his mind to know he’s angry, furious even. 

Lloyd closes the gap between them with one last step. And the moment he sees her head dip down in fear, his hand grips her chin. “What? Not so talkative now, are we?”

“L-Lloyd, I’m sorry. I promise. I won’t do it again. P-please?”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m gonna make sure you never leave again. Now be a good girl and lay down.” Without another word he releases her from his grip. Y/N stumbles back on to the bed, eyes darting from his dark ones as his hands slide down to the buckle on his jeans. 

With one swift movement, he unzips his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers, letting his cock spring up. Y/N looks away, eyes burning as tears fill up the corners of her eyes. “Lloyd, please, you don’t have to do this,” she pleads, voice cracking.

”You’ve given me no choice, Y/N. You know, I was going to be nice. Let you nest for tomorrow, prepare for your heat. Then I was going to break that bonding gland, be gentle with you so it wouldn’t hurt.” Lloyd pushes her back on the bed, pushing up the hem of her red gown, the one he’d given her a few hours ago. “But that’s all changed.”

He’s sliding her panties to the side now, guiding his thick tip at her entrance. “Aw, look at that, already so wet for me.” He leans down, hand at her throat again. “That little stunt of yours, you liked me chasing you. It turns you on, doesn’t it? You like getting chased.”

Y/N lets out a small whimper, fingers clawing at the bed sheets, her head turning away from him.  “Don’t deny it, Y/N. You and I both know it’s true.” His lips brush against her cheek, pressing a kiss at her jaw. “Remember, I can tell when you’re lying.”

Lloyd slams into her in one long thrust, his length filling her up completely. “Tomorrow, I’ll be the only man you think about, the only one you’ll want.” he pants, hot breath fanning over her face. Y/N squeezes her eyes shut.

Lloyd doesn’t slow down, each thrust faster than the one before. His nose is pressed against her neck. “You just had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you?” He growls, fingernails digging into her flesh as he grabs her face. “Look at me. I wanna see that pretty face of yours while I fuck you.”

Her eyes flutter open, vision blurry from her tears. “Lloyd, please. I’m sorry,” she sobs, body betraying her as her walls clench around him. 

Lloyd ignores her pleads, hand still clasped around her throat. “But you feel so good around me, baby. Look at you, taking my cock so well.” He leaves a sloppy kiss to her lips, pace slowing down, being extra careful not to knot inside her right now. His thumb strokes the side of her neck.

”This is gonna hurt, babygirl. But it’ll be worth it. Okay?”

 Y/N sniffles, brows furrowed in confusion but then his eyes turn red, fangs extending. He doesn’t give her time to respond, his mouth is on her neck, teeth sinking into flesh. Her hands are gripping the sheets tighter and it takes all the strength she has to fight the urge to scream.

Blood trickles down her chest, soaking and blending into her gown. Y/N gasps, pain courses through her neck and shoulder. She’s shutting her eyes again, wishing this was all some terrible dream. “No... P-please, stop.” she mumbles, body trembling underneath him. “It hurts.”

“Shh, baby. It’s almost over.” He coos, lips curled into a slanted smirk. Lloyd licks up the rest of the blood before his mouth finds hers. This time he’s kissing her softly, rough hands coming up to cup her cheeks, gently wiping away her tears.

Y/N gulps down the metallic taste in her mouth. When Lloyd pulls away his eyes have softened. He’s looking at her face, anger now replaced with adoration. “I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispers. 

—

When she wakes, there’s only one thing on her mind: Lloyd. And the ache she feels. Her hands roam over her chest, thighs clenched together as her arousal drips between her legs. There’s a faint light peeking through the windows. 

Y/N turns her head and when she realizes the space beside her is bare, she’s surprised. A small moan escapes past her parted lips and she’s cursing herself after it happens. She’s gone through her heat alone before and she could do it again. As if on cue, he’s walking through the door.

“Go away,” she seethes.

Lloyd strides over to her, flashing her that knowing smirk. It doesn’t help that he’s shirtless, gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. Everything in her is urging her to leap off the bed and jump on him right here and now, but she refuses.

“You don’t mean that. I need you.” He breathes, he stops near the side of the bed, hovering over her, chest heaving up and down like he’s been running. Lloyd closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling her heat scent. It’s sweet. Better than anything he could imagine. The aroma alone clouds up his mind

“And I know you need me too.” He whispers. “Y/N, stop resisting. You’re in pain.”

“Fuck. It hurts.” She whispers, then she’s sitting up, she wants to peel off her skin it hurts so bad. It’s almost unbearable, the will to defy this want—no, need for him.

Y/N let’s put a shaky breath, eyes look up at him through dark lashes. 

“Lloyd.”

“Yes?”

Y/N stands up, arms locking around his neck, her forehead pressed against his.

“Make it go away. Make the pain go away.”

“I’ll make it all better, baby.”

Her lips touch his with such neediness, such desire. Y/N doesn’t have room to feel any sense of guilt. There’s only a need for him. Only him. 

He’s halfway tempted to rip off her gown,leaving her bare so there’s nothing standing between them. Just skin on skin but he ignores the urge. He eagerly pushes up the hem of her gown, ripping off her panties instead.

Lloyd slides his hand under her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist. This time, he slides into her slowly. He wants to take his time, wants to cherish the moment. The gasp she lets out is music to his ears, her hands are now sinking into his hair. Another moan leaving her lips with each thrust.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he breathes, forehead touching hers. Heat-scent invading his mind. She’s like a drug—a high he doesn’t want to let go of. 

Her fingernails are grazing over his scalp, tugging on his locks when he finally hits that sweet spot of hers, slick dripping down his thighs. “Lloyd, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. You look so pretty like this,” he coos. “My pretty omega. All mine. I was meant for you.”

And then her walls are fluttering around him, fingernails trailing and then digging into his skin at the back of his shoulders. Lloyd let’s out a low groan, his mouth finding hers once more. “I can’t believe this is real. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

His nose now pressed into the crook of her neck. “Am I making you feel good, Princess?” Her answer is a strangled moan, fingers digging in deeper, pulling him closer if that’s even possible. And now he’s picking up the pace, nipping at the sensitive skin on her neck.

Her heart is pounding in her chest and Lloyd can feel it. He’s now leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, her chest, until his mouth is on her clothed breast, the thin, silk fabric not much of a barrier. Y/N’s head falls back, clutching his shoulders as he holds her in his arms.

He’s fucking her, hard and fast, a desperate need for him and when he pulls away, his forehead is pressed to hers again, eyes staring down at her doe-eyed one’s. “You’re perfect, Y/N.” He whispers.

“Lloyd,” her voice is cracking, her legs tightly wound around his waist are shaking as he thrusts and thrusts upwards, pleasure radiating up her spine. “This feels—this feels good.” 

“Don’t you see, Y/N? You were made for me. Only me.” There’s nothing more divine than this. Suddenly she’s arching her back, chest to chest, sweat dripping down her forehead, down her neck, lips parted into a hushed scream as she spasms around him.

“That’s it,” he whispers, lips ghosting over hers. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and I’ll give you my knot.”

Soon enough she’s devouring him in a frantic kiss. It’s messy and bruising and she’s locking her arms around him, almost as if she’s holding on for dear life. And then she’s coming, walls fluttering around him again.

His knot expands, pleasure climbing up her spine like fiery warmth. Lloyd can feel her quivering against him and he takes this moment to slide in deeper, pumping his cum into her. 

After a few minutes they both collapse on the bed. With the little strength he’s got, he rolls both of them onto their sides. His knot keeps them linked together. Time seems to slow, both of them trying to catch their breaths. LLoyd nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck, her back pressed against the warmth of his chest.

“Are you okay?” he says softly. 

“Yeah. I still hate you though.” she mumbles, breath still slightly ragged. 

A small chuckle leaves his lips. “You’re a bad liar, Y/N.”

[gogesimp]

A 五夏 formula one, omegaverse AU.

Suguru is the youngest of a conglomerate family, born in the lap of luxury and decadence. But as an omega, there have been certain expectations of him. He has been tutored since a young age on how to become the perfect, docile & subservient mate to whichever alpha his parents choose for him. Suguru has reconciled himself to this fact. Though it doesn't stop him from dreaming of a life that doesn't have to follow rules imposed by his family & society.

Being the youngest, he is given some concessions. It also helps that Suguru is very dear to his parents and has been an obedient child throughout his life, never causing them any trouble. Rather they tend to brag about young Suguru's academic achievements & extra curricular prowess at all the social gatherings they attend.

Maybe that is why when Suguru chooses automobile engineering as his course of choice, a very strange one for an omega, his parents don't try to dissuade him.

He graduates with flying colours & through his own merit gets the chance to an apprenticeship w/ one of the top automobile manufacturers.

There he gets experience working as a mechanic. He realises that there are other omegas who are also working in this field, though they are still in the minority.

Seeing his interest lies in race cars, his manager recommends him to the formula one team & that is how young suguru finds himself amongst the alphas in this fast paced racing world. His work usually happens prior to the start of the season, when the teams are putting together the engine & chassis. But he does get free access to the team area & a close view of the pit while the race is in progress.

And it is during his first ever grand prix that he meets the white haired blue eyed demon- as dubbed by Suguru's teammates.

He is in Suzuka, for the Japan grand prix, his team is confident of a podium finish. Though they are a bit wary of the Gojo chap who drives for one of the smaller teams.

A bigger budget allows the teams to create better cars & also employ the best drivers. Suguru is pretty confident that Sukuna and Toji will dominate the race.

It's an exciting weekend for Suguru because it'll be the very time he has been allowed to be in the pit during the race. He'll be shadowing different members & will get to see the drivers in person.

The aura surrounding Sukuna is intimidating, no wonder people give him such a wide berth. Similarly for Toji. But the most distracted his team became when they turn to look at the pit of their competitors, to catch a glimpse of Gojo. Suguru was curious as well.

So he follows the gaze of his team members & finds himself staring straight into those blue eyes. The rest of the face has been obscured by the helmet which drivers have to wear. As a blonde man approaches Gojo, he looks away & Suguru realizes he had been transfixed to his spot by those azure eyes. He shakes himself awake & hurriedly moves away from the pit before anyone chides him for day dreaming.

It's when he is standing at a safe distance from the grid where the cars have been lined up does he realise his heart is beating at an accelerated rate & his cheeks are aflame. While trying to spot his team's cars he finds that Gojo has got pole position, followed by Sukuna and Toji. There's a funny feeling at the pit of his stomach, knowing that there's a chance this race might not end how his team wants it to end.

Right before the start, when the red lights are getting illuminated, Gojo turns his head to look straight at Suguru. His heart stops beating, because any second now the race will start & this fool is not keeping his eyes straight ahead.

From the corner of his eyes Suguru see all five lights have turned red.

Any second now.

Look ahead, you fool!

Any sec...

The lights go black & the guy turns his head & makes a perfect start, as if he wasn't just staring at a random person instead of focusing on the track.

Suguru let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding, a hand on his heart which is beating rapidly.

[neteyamssyulang]

❁ First things first please, if you send in a request don’t make it very descriptive as it doesn’t leave much room for creativity.

❁ Another thing to note is this, please do not send in requests if it clearly states they are closed. To me it’s a bit disrespectful as it shows that you are not reading my rules, if that happens your request will most likely not be done.

❁ Who I’ll write for: Jake, Tsu’tey, Neteyam, Neytiri, Lo’ak, Spider, Kiri, Aonung, Rotxo, Tsireya, Tonowari, Ronal, So’lek, Eetu, Teylan, Nor, Etuwa, Ralak, Nefika, Nesim, Minang, Okul, Hastu, Reyzu, & Keylu.

⤥ Note that Neteyam, Spider, Lo’ak, Aonung, Kiri, Tsireya, and Rotxo are all aged up ⤦

❁ Who I won’t write for: Any of the recoms, Mo’at, Tuk, Norm, Max, Trudy, Grace, Human Jake, Mercer, Harding, Alma.

❁ I will also write avatar human AU, same rules apply except for human AU I will only be doing Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, Aonung, Rotxo & Tsireya.

❁ Who I’ll write for: Alastor, Husk, Lucifer, Adam, Charlie & maybe Vox.

❁ Who I won’t write for: Rosie, Vaggie, Cherri, Sir pentious, Egg boys, Angel dust, Val, Velvette, Carmilla, Zestial, Lute, Sarah, Emily, Lilith.

❁ For hazbin human AU I’ll only do Alastor.

❁ What i will write: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Series, One-shots, Two-shots, Dark fics, Enemies to lovers, Friends to lovers, Forced proximity, Love triangles, Fake relationship, Forbidden love, Opposites attract, Omega-verse, Murder, Near death experiences, Kuru play, Alien biology, Threesomes, Polyamory, Slight abuse, Dub-con/Non-con, Step-cest, in rut/heat, Tail/wing play.

❁ Kinks I’ll write: CNC, Size kink, Breeding kink, Knife play, Blood play, Praise/Degradation, Stockholm syndrome, Choking, Spanking, Daddy/Mommy kink, Age-gap (as long as both are of age), Dacryphilia (aroused by tears or sobbing), BDSM, Masochism/Sadism, Odaxelagnia (sexual arousal through biting, or being bitten), Somnophilia (engaging in sexual activity with a sleeping person), Breath play, Wax play, Cockwarming.

⤥ If there’s a kink you like and it’s not up there feel free to ask, my apologies if it’s something I will not do ⤦

❁ What I won’t write: Piss/scat play, Lactation kink, Extreme Abuse/BDSM, Incest, Rape + a few others.

❁ Please do not get upset if you sent in a request and have not seen it yet, it is most likely still being worked on. I take a bit of time to ensure they come out the way you want, that being said if I see the same req on someone else’s blog I will not continue it. And please do not also forget I do have a life outside of Tumblr <3

[the-smut-analyst]

Fantasy Rom-Coms

The genre I never knew I needed. Until I found it.

Short 'n' sweet book rec post today (because I know I've been doing a lot of deep-dive analyses of late). I deserve a break. You deserve a break. So let's do it.

Here's my top three fantasy rom-com series at the moment!

Pick them up if you enjoy a bit of smutty fantasy and are in the mood to laugh.

1. Anything by Kimberly Lemming

I do not know if my tits were built for murder. I don't even think they were built with my back in mind.

Lemming is an auto-buy author for me. This woman is bloody hilarious. The humour is farcical and somewhat absurdist, which is my absolute favourite style. I grew up with the likes of Monty Python, The Mighty Boosh, and The Confessions of Georgia Nicholson - so Lemming's work is right up my alley.

Her character Alexis, the dirty-talking sword (yes, you read that correctly) is, in my mind, nothing short of comedic genius.

"Oh my god, chip my steal, you're so annoying," Alexis snapped. "Maybe if you fixed your attitude and took a bath once in a while, women would talk to you. You smell like old cheese and a mother's regret."

I know some reviewers have been thrown off my the modern vernacular in Lemming's work, due to its medieval-like fantasy setting. However, I think that is exactly what makes these books so good (and refreshing).

The love interests speak a bit more "ye oldy", while the female protagonists speak like we do. The result is something akin to what might happen if a modern romance reader were dropped into a smutty fantasy world. It's brilliant. For example:

"Every scratch," he whispered, his tone gentle and comforting. "Every bruise, I will pay back in fire and blood." I blinked. "Um... that is so sweet but so unnecessary."

I'd recommend reading Lemming's work in publication order, which is as follows (links included):

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon

Mistlefoe (novella - available with KU)

That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf

Two Scoops of Hellfire (novella - standalone - available with KU)

A Bump in Boohail (novella - available with KU)

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Human

2. Alphas of Nasila series by V.K. Ludwig

“If you ever see me running in heels, then you better run, too,” she says with a scoff. “What am I supposed to run away from, anyway?” “Me!” “Why? You got a chase kink or something?”

The best way I can think to describe this series is that it is Omegaverse satire. The pairings are alien males and human females, and the smut / romance includes all your fairly standard A/B/O tropes - with the exception of non-con. The consent is refreshingly solid here.

Book one of this series, Heat for Hire, was actually my entry into the Omegaverse. If you're unfamiliar with the genre, then this is a good place to start because the protagonist, Elli, is unfamiliar with how alpha/omega pairings work. So all the... ahem... knotting, heat cycles, etc. are explained via her first experience of them.

My skin prickles at the memory of Rhen’s growl. But only until I remember that I rubbed myself to orgasm on a civil servant.

However, book two, Knot for Nest is by far the best of the series, in my opinion. The chemistry between the two protagonists, Lucy and Tjor, is brilliant - and it's just a genuinely hilarious read. Lucy is a snarky, independent omega who absolutely knows how to play the big, bad alphas to her advantage.

Book three, Purr for Purchase, is a lot higher angst (and less comedic) than its predecessors. It wasn't really my cup of tea, but that's just because I'm not a huge fan of pregnancy in romance.

If you've tried the Omegaverse before but not enjoyed it because of the power imbalances or dub/non-con, then I'd still recommend this series. The Omega / Alpha dynamic is very much reserved for the bedroom and does not reflect how the couple interacts outside of it. This is particularly true of Lucy and Tjor. She might enjoy being "dominated" during sex, but she genuinely holds all the power in the relationship.

“Big, bad alpha, all calm and well-behaved between my thighs.”

The characters in each Alphas of Nasila book are interconnected and the events chronological. However, you do not necessarily have to read these books in order. If you're sceptical of the Omegaverse in general, start with book two. All these novels are available with KU.

3. Claws & Cubicles Series by Kate Prior

Some people really haven’t adjusted to life under the Dark Reign of Terror yet. Some things are different, but honestly it’s all cosmetic. Things aren’t that different from when we had a normal, living CEO.

This series is like The Office, but with monsters (and smut). The dry, relatable humour of a boring corporate job - but with non-human co-workers like orcs, the undead, etc - is genius.

The comedy definitely leans into that classic British deadpan / understatement style. Think IT Crowd, Faulty Towers, and After Life. I think anyone who's ever worked in an office will definitely be smirking and chuckling their way through this series.

“You could have just called me in. I’ve got skin.” I wonder if that last remark is rude or something. After all, he doesn’t really have skin, to my knowledge. I hope I don’t have to take an undead sensitivity training class now.

Book one, Live Laugh Lich, gets pretty kinky (the MMC has three... er... yes). The smut here isn't going to be for everyone. But I liked the humour so much that I didn't really mind if the intimate scenes weren't my cup of tea.

However book two, The Orc From the Office, holds a much broader appeal, I think. I adored this installment. I'd recommend pushing through and reading this, even if you had mixed feelings on book one. The orc MMC is a socially awkward cinnamon roll and I love him.

I wonder distantly if my health insurance covers being eviscerated by Orc cock.

Book three, The Gargoyle from General Management, left me a bit wanting in terms of the character development. However, the setting of everyone being away together on a company retreat was comedy gold.

All of the Claws & Cubicles books are available on KU.

That's all! I hope you enjoy the smutty rom-com fantasy recs!

This post includes affiliate links to help me create content. No pressure to use them! But if you do, I'll be very grateful :)

[eriexplosion]

FINISHING OUT SEASON ONE WITH KAMINO LOST, TIME TO CRY.

Lugging Crosshair around Kamino like a sack of sad potatoes. The way he gets to wake up pinned underneath a fucking steel beam like fucking congrats you tried to kill yourself one way so how do you feel about this significantly worse impending doom?

The voice work on the clone reporting that Kamino is destroyed is fantastic, that poor fucking clone.

GREETINGS CT-9904! YOU SURVIVED THE AERIAL BOMBARDMENT BUT ARE NOW MOMENTS AWAY FROM DROWNING!

Azi is so fucking funny like it's obviously terrible to experience this but imagine doing it with this chipper robot narrating your oncoming demise for you

I have a headcanon that Crosshair has a fear of drowning, because his reactions to possible death elsewhere are nothing like here where he sees the water and starts Immediately trying to actually survive.

Getting Hunter to shoot him? Fine, he'll take that. But do NOT let this fucking planet drown him after all this time.

"WHAT have you DONE" Crosshair do you really think this is THEIR FAULT? You knew the Empire was going to bomb the place!

IF YOU WANT TO STAY HERE AND DIE THAT'S YOUR CALL sometimes you need to lay it out clearly for someone that is intent on throwing a giant tantrum.

The entire tower of pods being submerged fucks me up so much

God but if there's one thing they're good at doing it's animating absolutely devastating destruction in intense detail.

Never noticed before that Echo nearly falls and has to grab onto Crosshair because everything was always moving SO FAST.

Crosshair genuinely standing there looking like he's thinking about just staying there and dying but thinking better of it when he realizes dying here means drowning specifically.

ENDING UP BACK IN THE BARRACKS.

Literally they are safe for like 3 minutes tops and Crosshair plans to spend all of them complaining.

We made a choice, and so did you. Goddddd the betrayal and hurt layered in there. Just. A lot changed when Crosshair said that the chip was out and didn't bother to clarify when. And no one here knows the chip was enhanced to be even stronger. (Except maybe AZI?) Just Crosshair really feels like he admitted he totally tried to kill them under his own power.

"We need to go back" BACK TO W H E R E CROSSHAIR?

Tech's assessment that basically diagnoses Crosshair as Insanely and Incredibly Stubborn. I dub thee an unbearable bitch, but I understand you.

THIS OUTCOME IS SATISFACTORY! while they all look utterly traumatized by the experience.

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET A KID CALL THE SHOTS Crosshair I swear to god. Your plan was to stand there and die so like, I think u need to ease up a bit.

Literally might be dead in a few hours but he WILL dedicate those last few hours entirely to registering numerous complaints and insulting a 12 year old. I love him.

"THAT'S YOUR PROBLEM HUNTER, YOU TAKE THINGS TOO PERSONALLY." This is single handedly the funniest line in the show no intentional humor can beat Crosshair accusing other people of taking things too personally like he doesn't take every single action utterly personally to a pathological degree.

Omega trying very very hard to bond with Crosshair who is blocking her attempts to know him with the skill of an elite goalie.

You know my headcanon is still that AZI took Crosshair's chip out to save his life and that's why Crosshair was the one to say that the droid could do it. Nothing has actively shut this down either and with AZI possibly being the only one to know Crosshair's chip was enhanced I would LOVE for this to come back up.

I understand why Omega has to be in her own tube for plot related reasons but it is SO fucking funny that Echo and Tech are doubled up and SO ARE HUNTER AND CROSSHAIR instead of Hunter being in Omega's tube.

Our Get Along Tube

The sequence of AZI guiding the tubes is actually legit beautiful the GRACE of juggling all of them and the light of AZI's eyes in the dark

Genuinely the way they used AZI at the end of season 2 does not make up for how genuinely devastating AZI falling into the depths i- wait a fucking moment. Why is this so reminiscent of Tech's slow mo fall into the clouds?

Omega watching someone she loves slowly fall away from her. Will she try to save Tech in some way and need to get rescued herself? Hm. Much to think about.

I feel like people do overstate the moment of everyone aiming guns at Crosshair because like it is definitely mentally traumatic to Crosshair but they absolutely had their stun on. Sometimes I see people act like they were going to kill him lol.

Everyone looking at the ruins of Tipoca City because no matter how they felt about it, it was the only home they ever had. Seeing it just utterly in ruins like that, my HEART.

God they tried to give Crosshair a chance to come with them and he's just not READY YET. Well he'll have a lot of time to think about it here on Kamino. Lots of time.

Ughhhhh this is such a heartbreaking ending I need season 3 to end on a high note because this is SO DEPRESSING.

I understand why they wanted to put the Mt Tantiss hook in at the end but godddd does it throw off the pacing, Crosshair watching them fly away is like the perfect final shot.