#alpha by name alpha by nature

[speedy-beans]

yeah i dont. have an explanation for this he just took over my mind.

[perfumespritzzzzzzzzzz]

i drew 2day but im eepy.. and at school. ill take pics later xp

[gojorgeous]

"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you’re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. if you want more of my omegaverse fics check out my alpha!gojo fic here! and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 5.2k

“No.” 

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.” 

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.” 

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.” 

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–” 

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.” 

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–” 

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry. 

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm? 

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer. 

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach. 

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope. 

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road. 

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.” 

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.” 

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.” 

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.” 

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare. 

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to. 

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto. 

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck. 

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed. 

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home. 

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. 

“Yes you can. I know you can.” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.” 

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.” 

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.” 

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.” 

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–” 

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.” 

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours. 

“I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

~

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly. 

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs. 

“Feel anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter. 

“Sleep, baby.” 

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot. 

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs. 

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.” 

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint. 

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-” 

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.” 

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” 

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.” 

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place. 

“No, baby.” 

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully. 

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin. 

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.” 

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” 

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight. 

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants. 

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead. 

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit. 

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives. 

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. 

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him. 

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need. 

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled. 

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away. 

“Gonna knot you good, princess.” 

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes. 

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk. 

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.” 

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss. 

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.” He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything. 

“Sugu–” 

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling. 

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens. 

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness. 

~

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that. 

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…” 

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much. 

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine. 

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.” 

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams. 

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.” 

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it. 

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…” 

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl. 

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised. 

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

link: alpha!gojo fic

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[cavillscurls]

wherever you stray, i’ll follow

alpha!joel miller x omega f!reader

Joel resents the choice to allow an unmated omega into Jackson—until he’s the only one who can help her feel at home.

warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson era. Joel’s POV. Alternate universe: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Implied Soulmates. Alpha!Joel. Omega!Reader. SoftDom!Joel. Sub!Reader. Enemies-ish to lovers. Grumpy x Sunshine. Joel is emotionally constipated. Unspecified age gap. Stereotypical gender roles. Fluff. Angst. Self-flagellation. Poor coping & communication skills. Explicit smut. Dub-con elements due to the nature of heats, but everything is explicitly consented to. Size kink/size difference—Joel is huge in this, like 6’5, thick, broad, and burly. Reader has pubic hair. Pet names. Dirty talk. Scenting/scent marking. Man-handling. Fingering. Squirting. Drinking bodily fluids. Oral (f receiving). Multiple orgasms, somewhat uncontrolled. Unprotected PIV. Tummy buldge. Knotting. Breeding kink. Pregnancy implications. Adult Alpha!Ellie, Beta!Tommy, & Alpha!Maria make an appearance. Ambiguous-ish ending. wc: 10.7k

➻ a/n: this fic has been a long time coming & means so, so much to me. this won’t be for everyone, & that’s ok. i pictures game!joel for majority of this, but he is left to your imagination as always. thank you to @kiwisbell for beta reading and supporting me during the writing process. any feedback is so appreciated enjoy. x

playlist | fic inspo tag | read it on ao3 | art by @kiwisbell

Tommy Miller had always been the foolish brother, but even Joel found his particular lack of cautiousness that night out of the ordinary. 

There were three members. What was left of a pack, likely separated or raided. They had entered the walls of Jackson that fateful evening—the walls Joel and his brother happened to be manning—dirty and famished, overly emotional and outwardly grateful for the sanctuary. The first two, an elderly woman and a teenage boy, betas. He could tell just by the way they walked, the monotonous way they carried themselves, crossing the threshold of their haven with Maria at the helm of the herd. 

“The boy’ll be a good addition to routes, whenever he’s old enough,” Tommy had remarked. Ever the optimist, too keen on seeing the good in people to even acknowledge the risk that was posed every time another body came through those gates. 

And a risk it was. 

Joel Miller had experienced a fair share of fear in his life. Real, unadulterated fear, enough to bring a grown man to his knees despite his efforts to rise above it. A fear contrived by something entirely out of his control, forces working against the walls he’d built around himself, the rough exterior that fought, and bled, and killed, and protected. But the fear he felt that ghastly night remained unlike any other. It was entirely from within, something deeply embedded in himself. Fear, once harnessed as a means of survival, reduced to a shackle, left entirely at its disposal. It rose from his toes into his head where his ears rang and his face burned. 

Time stalled. His senses were numb to everything but this walking force of nature that, at first glance, was an indiscernible canvas of shivering limbs. But as it drew closer, the details were impossible to avoid. The shape of lips and sad eyes. The foreboding sound of a beating heart. Oxygen was no longer a necessity of survival, but vanilla and lilac and something so distinctly, uniquely sweet became the vice in his lungs. 

And it happened so fast, the way fear turned to panic and panic into anger—angry that he had no control or say over how the thing inside of him responded to the thing emerging before him. Powerless. He watched at a standstill as each body lining the wall stiffened upon your entrance. Even his brother, whose composure hardly faltered, could be heard inhaling a sharp breath of disbelief.

Omega. 

She isn’t stopping. Why isn’t she stopping? 

Joel’s eyes shot toward Maria, her indomitable gaze remaining forward on the parting doors. He had to fight the sudden urge to jump the gate over how seemingly unfazed she looked. His sister-in-law was a lot of things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. How could she be so foolish? 

A question left unspoken, unanswered, because his body was not his own. The sound of pounding rattled in his chest, blaring in his ears. A flame ignited. A switch flipped. The world as he knew it became mute to the battling voice that rang inside his head. 

Why isn’t she stopping? What is she doing here? It’s not real. There’s no more. There’s not supposed to be any more. It’s cold. It’s too cold, she’s not wearing a proper jacket. Where’s her jacket? She can’t be here. She’s not allowed to be here. How could she survive this long? Alone? She’s alone. No Alpha. Alone—

He vaguely recalled the sound of his brother shouting his name; a growl settled low in his chest and the heels of his hands pressed against his temples as he tore himself away from the perimeter and stormed through town. 

He needed to get away. Put as much distance between him and that thing that poked and prodded at what was to remain untouched. That stirred him, that set him quick to anger as those of his kind were notorious for. What he worked hard to not be. 

He wasn’t sure how long he paced. How many glasses of whiskey he downed, or the number of curses he threw at his walls, but later that evening, when he had subdued himself to some sort of composure, Joel sought after his brother and his wife, making it a point to address the issue head-on. He burst through their door without knocking: 

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” 

“Joel—!” snapped the younger Miller, bouncing to his feet from the couch where he sat beside Maria, already engaged in conversation over what Joel could assume was the reckless decision at hand. 

“It’s fine, Tommy,” Maria interjected, extending a cautionary hand toward her husband. Her focused eyes took a once over of the fuming man in front of her. “Joel, I’m not turning away perfectly capable people. They pose no threat to us; we’ll find each of them a place here.” 

People. Them. Joel knew his sister-in-law wasn’t so naive as to think he was distressed over a couple of betas. The patronizing calm of her voice stirred him on, and he flashed his teeth at her when he spoke, low and gritty. A fight for dominance. 

“She’s an omega. Unmated.”

“And we’ll be sure to make accommodations for that.” Maria nodded slowly, carefully. She was all too familiar with the taming of beasts. 

Joel shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “There are twelve goddamn unmated alphas in these walls, Maria.” 

“Yeah, you included,” she clipped, and that shut him up good. “And with the way things are progressing, soon enough, Ellie.” 

That made him nauseous. 

Ever since her eighteenth birthday, she had been showing all the tell-tale signs of an emerging alpha. Joel knew—despite his unpreparedness and objections to the thing called nature—there was nothing he could do to stop it. The only other option was to prepare. And up until that point, Joel had thought his adopted daughter's presentation was the worst of his worries. 

He wasn’t prepared to reevaluate his own self-control. 

He hadn’t dealt with a rut since Boston; it was only the start of FEDRA’s reign, before the suppressants had been sufficiently pumped into the population, and fiery instinct was reduced to a dull nuisance. And while his access to the aid was now nonexistent, he still hadn’t considered it possible anymore before you showed up. Upon his and Ellie's arrival, the measly two other omegas in his vicinity had already inhabited Jackson. Both mated. 

Joel assumed the next time he encountered the type, it would be when one in the community presented. And by that point, he hoped he’d be far too old for the monster inside his head to have any more biological control. 

The solution had been to set you up in the cottage furthest from the center of town. It was a decent little space that had been used for storage until late, having cleared the fireplace last fall for ample central heating and restoring some of the rotten infrastructure. As deliriously naive as he saw it, the belief appeared to be that the distance of your dwelling from the rest of Jackson would prevent any complications if they arose. When they did. Joel couldn’t decipher what genius course of action his sister-in-law had for when the time came, but his protests were silenced by the majority. And by morning, you had claimed your corner of sanctuary. 

That was six months ago. 

And while the winds of winter kept the newcomers isolated with adjustment, the summer's heat brings livelihood—and much more of you. 

Your voice, your laughter, your scent. It permeates Jackson’s walls like a disease, saturating Joel’s life despite his efforts to avoid your very existence. 

You contribute your share at the daycare, of all places, often seen with a young pup clinging to your neck. Sometimes, the little ones chase after you in the center of town—running towards you with excited, grubby hands and beaming smiles. You always grace them with an embrace. It’s in your nature, the ability to comfort, to nurture. 

You’re gentle. Kind. Considerate. A smile brighter than a thousand stars. Perfection didn’t appear to have a name until the universe made you, and there is no denying the intrinsic effect you have on those around you. 

Because the rest of the town fucking adores you. 

There is no escaping you. As hard as he tries, you linger at every turn, in every breath of the wind that creeps down his back and stands the hair up on his skin. Most are in awe, admiring the creature that glides before them, whose presence adds to balance the very nature they all endure. A missing piece of a puzzle, something delightful and pure. 

Rare. 

Not diamonds, or rubies, or gold can compare. But in tandem comes those who feed on things that shine, and he knows that some—a very specific some—leer with less adoration and increased selfishness. Some who believe they are owed for the mark you bear, whose pride and lust drive their ambition, whose power is unmatched in the face of something so helpless. 

He’s aware, by the principle of semantics, that he falls into this greedy some. Though he could not identify further from it. And while the monster may heave and thrash within the dwindling confines of his chest, lured to all that is so rare, Joel had decided the moment you walked through those gates he would have none of it. He would not reduce himself to the thing he worked tirelessly to tame, nor would he entertain the force of nature that drove someone like you to something like him. 

You’re aware of his distaste for you. That much is obvious in how you blatantly evade him in town, skirting around when you are forced to share the vicinity, a terrified thing, so easily spooked. 

Once, a few months prior, he had been asked to repair some of the leaky ceiling panels in the schoolhouse. Unbeknownst to him—and you, he assumed, judging by the way your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull at the sight of him and how the honeyed stench of the room turned sour—they were all located in the daycare room. 

What followed could only be described as two hours of slow, burning torture. He tried his very best to stay on task, he really did. But he was hindered by the discernible discomfort you exhibited and all it did to the thing inside of him. You tripped over your words to the fellow attendants in the room, couldn’t seem to locate anything you were looking for, and at one point, had to excuse yourself for what turned into a twenty-minute-long disappearance. And where he stood, high up on the ladder, trying to balance his body and his mind, Joel hated how worried your absence made him. He couldn’t see you, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t smell you for those agonizing twenty minutes, and that anger he felt the first day he laid eyes on you returned. Because he was not a man that gave up control. 

And you, for whatever reason, wielded a great deal of it over him. 

The first day of summer promises a bonfire. Dusk, in the open plain beyond the stables, the laughter of children and the strum of music are bringing the community to life. These are cherished moments amongst the whole of Jackson, and Joel isn’t the kind of man to be so self-absorbed that he can’t understand why. He had, up until six months ago, once enjoyed the camaraderie. It was the first time in decades he felt a semblance of impulse to let go. No more running, fighting, grieving. 

He can hardly remember that feeling now. In its place returns caution, unpredictability. Six months and the work of years lost. He feels insane—the lurking monster that haunts his own shadow. And as hard as he tries to shake it, he fails every time. The feeling is embedded, brought to life by its complimentary fragment that, much to his dismay, walks the very same walls. Lurks in the same shadows. 

He used to feel stable, steady. Not any longer. 

Your hair is tied half up today, out of your eyes—he’s watching you. Not watching, observing. This is the trade-off, the compromise to keep the beast satiated. Always from afar, and never with the intent of action, he observes you and all you are. It’s a part of his routine, studying the way you move, the way you exist in this space you’re both forced to inhabit. Constantly drawn to one another, even in distance, even without trying. Magnetic. 

Frustrating. 

You’re smiling at something. And then laughter, like the sweetest song rattles his eardrums. You sit on a blanket across the mountainous flames, your legs tucked under you, beside two other girls he couldn’t care to remember the names of. Briefly, he wonders what it is that you find so amusing. 

A misfortune at the hand of another? 

No, he cannot imagine you to be so cruel. 

An anecdote from the daycare? 

Seems far more likely. The type to find joy in what you do, in all that is around you. 

He’s envious of this, maybe. The effortless way of being attracted to what is deemed good. He tries to remember a time when he knew another person like that; all that ever follows are brief memories full of sorrow. The hazy outline of something, someone, so perfect in a way no one should be. He always dismisses the thought. He would never know what it means to be that way, after all. 

“Nice night.” 

He damn near jumps out of his boots. Tommy’s sudden materialization beside him diminishes any spirals of imagination, a blessing in disguise. 

Still, Joel is bothered by the disturbance. His little haven of borderline-stalker tendencies crushed under his brother's obnoxious foot. He merely grunts in response. 

“Glad we finally got this event together,” Tommy continues nonetheless, a hand on his hip, sipping his beer bottle and glancing similarly across the flames. Joel’s eyes have already left you, his arms folding taut across his chest while he casts his gaze anywhere else, if only for the sake of avoiding his brother's inevitable chastising. “Good to get the kids out… good to get everyone out, really. Nice chance to mingle.” 

Subtle. Real subtle. 

“Out with it, Tommy.” He doesn’t feel like playing this game tonight. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the sake of appeasing his brother, or rather, his brother's wife. “Whatever it is you wanna say to me… out with it.” 

Tommy shrugs. “Nothin’ to come out with, Joel. Just that y’all have been here two years already and still seems like you have a tough time with these things.” 

He doesn’t miss the chosen emphasis. And it’s true, to an extent. While precarious in her initial adjustment, Ellie has been far more social than he. He talks to people. He just doesn’t trust them. Not those outside his immediate circle. And why should he? Joel does his work. He lends a hand to the community where he can. He’s polite. Punctual. Reliable. But he’s still living in the end of the fucking world, a world he has seen more brutality and injustice in than he ever would have cared to. So what if he doesn’t want to roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs? 

“What is it that you want from me, Tommy? I’m here, ain’t I?” 

“Don’t want nothin’ from you, brother,” Tommy says with a shake of his head, and Joel still can’t pinpoint just when his little brother finally grew the fuck up. Twenty years of lost time will do that to a person. “Just wanna be sure you’re livin’ this second chance to the fullest.”     

A second chance. 

He can pinpoint a time where he would have killed for one of those. 

And perhaps he did just that, and the real fault lies in being unable to embrace the outcome. Or maybe, the misery he lives in is the price he pays for the choices that led him here. Second chance shrouded in self-loathing. 

His brother persists: “Take advantage of how lucky ya are to be here, how lucky we all are to be here, to have…options.”  

Has he ever been good at weighing those? Twenty years ago, he would have had a different answer. Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have known the debilitating options of life or death. This isn’t the first time Tommy has presented the topic of conversation, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. He wonders when he’ll find a response that appeases him, if ever. 

“Just try to enjoy yourself a little tonight, alright?” 

He doesn’t answer. He lacks the discipline to say something of substance. Instead, he turns his head forward and strains his arms against his chest, silent and brooding, until his brother sighs, pats him on the shoulder, and slips away. 

This is enjoyable enough; left to his own devices, keen to observe the joy around him, a silent hope that some of it may permeate, keep an eye on—

He’d been too preoccupied with Tommy’s noise to notice you’d disappeared from his line of sight. His brows furrow and he scans the perimeter of the bonfire. Your friends have moved to the beverage stand, but the spot you had occupied beside them is vacant. 

He cocks his head left, then right, scanning for signs; the cadence of your voice, the shape of you, your scent. And he’s frustrated. Because how could he let you vanish so fast? Where? Why? 

It’s something instinctive that compels him to act at the first sign of trouble. It’s the faintest thing, a subtle waft in the wind he’s certain no one would catch unless they were searching for it. Sour and burnt, his nose wrinkles. 

He does a one-eighty and panic seizes his chest.

Your silhouette may be foreign to the common eye, but he’s learned it well. It tramples and scrambles through the foliage, distressed; a good two, three hundred yards away from the crowd and headed in the direction of your dwelling. 

He’s honed in. A nerve fires inside his chest. His heart ticks to a beat that suffocates his eardrums, and there’s a churning in his gut that threatens to yank him forward. 

He turns back toward the flames, only once, before his footsteps fall in stride with you. 

He wonders just how long he’s been blind. How many days had passed since the tell-tale signs began to emerge. When you knew, if you knew, or if this very moment, here and now, is the one mother nature decided to take you by the hand and guide you down the imminent path. 

Joel always watches you. Observes. How could he have let this slip under his radar? 

He’s imagined this exact scenario numerous times before. Though in his head, havoc rained, blood was shed, and carnage laid bare across the whole of town. A wreckage for all to witness, to acknowledge the barbarous creatures that walk amongst them. Twelve starved, selfish alphas seeking a single, undeserved prize. 

In theory, his expectations aren’t all that far-fetched. In a time before, they may have been a reality. When there was no order. When creatures with perceived power could take and take, and others would be remiss to challenge them. 

But here, in the haven he occupies, those expectations are mere theatrics. 

Here, the air is frighteningly quiet, save for the joyous voices in the distance, the whistle of the breeze. He’s aware of the sound of his boots crunching against the ground, how the weight of them seems to melt into the earth with each daunting step. They follow after lighter, fluttering tip-toes; a scared, scampering thing on the run from all that could harm her. Alone.

Vulnerable. 

The closer he follows, the clearer your labored huffs reach his ears. The aroma in the air loses its earthy notes and adopts the sweetness you shed. A trail of seeds yet to sprout, bathed in moonlight, beckoning him closer. A single lantern is left lit on the cottage steps, a beacon. You clamber up them two at a time, and in tandem, his careless foot snaps a twig beneath his boot. 

Your head whips around, sharp eyes pinning daggers to his chest.

“I ain’t here to hurt you.” 

He puts his hands up in careful defense, leaving the vast space of the porch steps between you. Your chest is heaving and your temples are already damp. Your eyes have glossed over, a crazed look, and he knows the fever has taken the reins. 

But there is no urge to pounce. No incessant need to satisfy a selfish craving. It’s there, it lives, but it does not drive him the way he always suspected it would. It’s evicted from the home of fears that feed on his consciousness, and in its place, emerges something just as innate. As plain and clear as all other parts of him he once tried to diminish. 

“What do you need?” he asks softly, carefully. Unprotected prey are easily spooked. 

Your eyes dart every which way, searching for the complimentary predators. They glisten with tears under the porch lights, sweat reflecting off your forehead the more you lose yourself, and he knows that you’re afraid. He can feel it. 

“Omega,” Joel commands, and your wide eyes snap right back to him. Drawn to him and all that he is. If his instincts weren’t so hellbent on curbing your fears, he would’ve scolded himself for abusing such a power. “What do you need?” he repeats, a bit more pointedly. 

He watches the way your throat constricts when you swallow, brows twitching together in study of him. Searching for some ulterior motive, no doubt, but the trepidation is brief. Your nostrils flare in deep inhalation, and he wonders what remedy he must exude to ease you so effortlessly. 

You trust him. 

A terrifyingly naive mistake. 

And yet, there is no denying the way his chest swells with pride and how the monster inside of him roars to life. 

“Keep the rest of them away,” you say finally, and it’s all he needs to hear. The rest is second nature. 

He nods dutifully, lingering at the bottom of the steps. He waits until you blink the haze out of your darkening eyes, giving him a final once over, and scramble the door open and shut, before he climbs to the top of the steps. He turns his back to the door, his arms crossed over his chest like they had been while he watched you through the fire, his eyes forward—focused. An unmatched mode of protection activates. He hears the deadbolt lock, and he’s grateful for your diligence. Though he knows it’s useless. Every alpha in a ten-mile radius would smell you within minutes. 

And that smell. 

It’s only now that he notices its potency. It grows and swells the longer you’re hidden inside; waves of vanilla and citrus that are almost too sweet. They burn his nose. Coat the back of his throat in thick tar, making it impossible for him to swallow without a taste of you. 

The beast grows, a second skin now. It occupies him further as each moment passes by. His fingers twitch, his own brow dampens, and an unrelenting ache settles low in his stomach. 

He gruffs out a breath, shaking his head rapidly. He needs to keep it together. He needs to move. 

He’s stalking the perimeter in a craze, eyes and ears on high alert. He leaves his mark behind wherever he can, brushing up against trees, allowing the dense pheromones that seep out of his skin to pollute the air. It isn’t foolproof, but it’s enough to dampen the sweet nectar radiating off your walls, at least for a time. 

He starts to panic when he finally hears the first little moan slip through the walls. A soft, restless thing, and the ache in his gut flourishes, threatening to send him to his knees. He seeks purchase on the rail of the porch, having made his way back to the door. He squeezes his eyes shut. This cannot be happening. 

Clarity becomes overshadowed by instinct, and the ache expands into his chest, his fingertips, his toes. It’s been years, and the onset is no less overwhelming. He’ll do what he can to prolong it, ensure that he is of his right mind when the height of the fever takes you. He can’t imagine what he’ll do, otherwise. 

But his patience is tested. The soft scratch beyond the front door makes sure of it. 

His ears perk up and his nostrils flare. He can make out a faint creak, weight shifting. Palms to the panes, a body pressing against the wood. Warmth seeps through the cracks. 

“Joel?” 

There you are. 

His body carries him up the steps–he doesn’t have to think about moving. His muscles and joints, his very soul seem to be linked to your command. He stands with his toes pressed to the bottom of the door, and it’s getting harder to breathe. Harder to discern what’s right in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I’m here.” 

Your breath wavers, a sigh of relief. He zeros in on what he can make of you through the barrier, the last shred of sanity. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, and his eyes shoot open, brows laced in confusion. 

“You have nothin’ to be apologizing for–”

“No, I do,” you press, and the words come with great difficulty. Heavy and strained, as if it is critical you say them now. 

Perhaps it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re not entirely yourself. Before he won't be able to get a coherent answer out of you, when every action you take relies solely on relief. 

He’ll take the opportunity to listen to what you have to say while you still can. You seem to realize it too as your words start to pour out, staggered and rushed:

“I know I’ve done something… something to upset you for all this time, and—and I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry, and I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, Joel. I promise. Just please—”

“Stop that.” 

He can't even begin to believe what he’s hearing. Can’t possibly fathom the damage he’s caused, all he’s insinuated with his behavior, his choices. 

Him. He is to blame. 

Yet, you’re the one near tears. You’re the one who begs for forgiveness, where no plea nor apologies need be. You’ve convinced yourself, or rather, he’s indoctrinated you into believing you are the one to blame. 

That you are the monster. 

And oh, does it make his blood boil with well-acquainted self-loathing. 

“You don’t—you haven’t—”

Now he’s the one sputtering. Where does one find the words to right infinite wrongs? 

You’ve reached an impasse, and this is surely the desperation speaking. He’ll have to be the level headed one, steer you in the right direction. A chance to redeem himself, as great a feat it’s proving to be. He musters up the courage, sets his pride aside. 

“You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, you hear me?” His lips are near pressed against the wood, seething through them, desperate for you to latch on to each painful word. “You needa know that, all right? You… you ain’t the one to blame here.” 

The admission is ash on his tongue. Speaking it aloud, bringing it to life. His ears strain for any sign of you, fallen silent. Something inside possesses the urge to break clean through the wood. 

“Help me.” 

Forgiveness. Guilt welded to his chest now shattered and set free by the capabilities of kindness. You hardly know one another, and yet, there is mutual understanding. An agreement that surpasses time, bonded to what you’re made of. 

“Alpha,” you call, and Joel has to brace himself against the frame to keep from falling. His chest beams, his belly stirs, and the sting of desire plagues him. “Please.” 

He had read about the process once, long before. Disorientation. Excruciating aches that make it nearly impossible to stand upright. A tingling sensation so intense, that it replicates that of burning on the skin. 

Pain. 

You’re in pain, and he knows he can stop it. 

And soon enough knowing turns to needing, and he can feel a fraction of the pain you’re enduring. It’s enough to shatter his resolve. 

A heavy hand rests on the doorknob. A beat. And then, as if on cue, he hears the deafening sound of the deadbolt unlatching. 

He hesitates, opportunity served on a golden platter. Sifts through the repercussions of what could follow. But when the door opens and shuts again, he’s on the other side of it. The lock latches, this time, under his own hand. 

You’ve shuffled your way back from the door. Standing, though by the looks of it, with great difficulty. You’re no longer in your pretty summer dress, but a t-shirt large enough to swallow you and little shorts so short he can smell right through them. 

Even from a distance, his height climbs above you in the way only predators leverage prey. But he knows you’re unafraid. He can sense your fascination with him just by observing you; it’s as plain as the air he breathes, something intrinsic and right as hard as he’s worked to deem it wrong. It’s in the way that you stiffen, your body having no other choice than to respond to him. Wide eyes appraise every inch of him, and you trouble your bottom lip with your teeth in a spot he would very well like to taste. 

The aroma is suffocating; it seeps into his pores and wraps its eager hands around his throat. He won’t be able to rid himself of you for days, even if he tries. 

He’s grown pompous, it seems. For the thought of those he passes enduring a whiff of you on his skin stirs his cock in his jeans. The idea that awakens him, the prospect of becoming his. 

“I’m scared,” you hiccup, and he suddenly remembers he has greater things to tend to. 

He has a million questions, torn between action and rationale. 

When was the last time this happened? Do you have enough supplies prepared? How long is it expected to last? 

But none of that matters right now. She matters. And she needs you. 

“I know, baby.” He’s terrified, and the words spill out. “But you’re gonna get through it, ya hear me?” He takes another step closer. “We’re gonna get through it.” 

And there is a glimmer in your eyes, that of hope, and he knows that he is powerless in this battle he’s fought against himself for so long. He’s only prolonging the inevitable. 

“You’ll help me?” It's all pleas and hope and teetering near the symphony of begging, but he can’t hear you beg. He can’t bear the sound nor the implication, as he’s certain it will ruin him. But: “Please,” you whimper, plucking his kryptonite out of thin air and wielding it against him. And it’s only then that he notices the way your thighs tremble together, desperately searching for some sort of friction. “It hurts.” 

And he loses, loses the fight. He is lost to you. He always has been. 

“Turn around,” he beckons, and you obey him because you’re good. You’ll be so good for him. 

Because you know exactly what she needs. 

The floorboards creek beneath his feet, and when he reaches you, fingers drag the bulk of your hair over one shoulder. He watches the muscles flex below his touch, the way your hands ball into tight fists at your sides. He’s hit with the overwhelming scent of your exposed gland, and his mouth waters. 

Focus, the thing inside him chastises. You’ll have plenty of time to taste. 

He takes a final step, flushing the front of his chest with your backside. Greedy hands latch on to your waist, followed by the slump of your body into him. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your lips part in a sigh—a pretty little sound, though he’s determined to alleviate the burden it stems from.

He reaches for one of your fists, taking you by the wrist. Your fingers unfurl upon his touch, and he uses it as an opportunity to fold his own overtop your knuckles. He guides your joint hands, settling them low over your belly. 

“Show me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to the crook of your neck. His lips dance over the skin, and your legs begin to tremble. He keeps the hand at your hip firm, an anchor. “Show me where it hurts.” 

Your breath catches and your eyelids flutter, half-open. Your fingers squeeze around his, and without hesitation, he squeezes back. He’s here. He’s got you. He won't let you go. 

And with that reassurance, hands descend, following your lead. You claw away the t-shirt hem, idling above the waistband of your shorts before sinking underneath. A low growl rumbles in his chest at his findings, muffled into your hair. You comb his fingers through soft curls, the flesh below hot and throbbing. Together, you cup the little seam of your cunt, and Joel has to fight the urge to fall to his knees, pry you open here and now. 

You’re dripping. Warm slick pools in his hand, sticky against your thighs. He feels a pulse of it spill out of you when his fingertips prod at your hole, your back arching off his chest, another devastating gasp of air choking you. 

He’s already dizzy, high on the fumes of you. He shuts his eyes when his vision begins to blur. And he’s hard. So achingly stiff against your back, if he thinks about it for too long, he's sure to lose control. You’ll send him into a full blown rut, he’s certain of it. Likely, you already have, teetering at the edge. And as these minutes tick, the less time he has to prepare you. To warm you up and slather you in pleasure before brute nature runs its course. 

“Joel,” you whine. His eyes flash back open, pupils doubled in size.

“Bedroom. Now.” 

He releases you, but only after giving a handful of your ass a terse squeeze. You squeal, nearly leaping out of his touch. You flash him your eyes only once before tiptoeing forward, and he’s hot on your heels, stalking after you. Patience drowned deep, mangled by desire. 

Your room is to be expected, cozy and warm, entirely you. Under any other circumstance, he’d have more appreciation for the homemade candles and delicate tapestries, the various posters displaying your interests and the native plants you’ve taken the care to pot and house. 

But he’s immediately drawn to your mattress, the piles of pillows and blankets strewn about in a fashion only you are to understand. You’ve been busy since you left him on the porch. 

You stop a few feet shy of the bed, glancing over your shoulder at him, uncertain. There’s a shift in your aura, suddenly grown timid. There’s a guilty sort of gleam in your eyes, but he recognizes it for what it really is—shame. That you cannot control your erratic breathing, or the heat that creeps over your brow. That your body faces the impulse of preparation for something beyond your control, and now, you’re forced to lay it bare for him to witness. 

He holds no judgment, only empathy. There is beauty in this vulnerability, and for the first time, he understands the gravity of your trust in him. Something in the shape of fulfillment blooms. 

“Here?” he asks, nudging his chin toward the heap. 

You nod once, and he shrugs the flannel off his shoulders. An offering, and you accept it wordlessly, eagerly. You eye it in your hands, then him, back again, hesitant. You’re shy now that he’s indulged you.  

That’s alright. She just needs you to take your time with her. 

Finally, you slowly bring the wad of it up to your nose and inhale. Your eyes droop shut, lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks, and his chest beams with pride at the notable fall of your shoulders. Tension evades you, replaced with the comfort of his scent. His. 

“Go on,” he instructs gently, once he has your eyes again. He wishes he could peer inside your head, decipher the wary thoughts that live so plainly on your face. 

Nonetheless, you shuffle your way to the mattress, carefully crawling on top of it. It’s painfully adorable, the way you gnaw at your bottom lip and analyze the space, his flannel still clutched in your fist. 

He also recalls reading about this, how it’s imperative that your space be designed to your exact liking. The assistance of a trusted alpha’s scent is a surefire way to heighten comfort. 

So when you drape his flannel over the pillow you lay your head upon at night, and tuck it in tight around the edges, he’s overcome with a mighty wave of emotion. He is strengthened, his affliction no longer a weakness, but a gift. A means of sustaining your well-being. He almost feels unworthy. Almost. But when you sit up on your knees at the edge and give him those expectant eyes, he imagines what it would be like to rid the town of the eleven other hungry beasts who could have ended up outside your door. So that they may never get a breath of you. 

That they may never touch what’s his. 

He approaches with caution—slowly, toeing off his boots in the process, fighting every urge to pounce. Droplets begin to roll down your temples, and he thinks you’re the most beautiful like this; wild eyes, a little frenzied. Awaiting some treat like a starved puppy who's already forgotten how to chew, how to swallow. He will remedy this. He’ll feed you, satiate you. 

You’re an antsy little thing now, nearly bouncing up and down, toes curling and uncurling beneath you. And as soon as his shins meet the bed frame, you’re rising on your knees, nearly his height now. You study one another and the heat between you, the uneven breath and the palpable compulsion to touch. His brows rise on his forehead, surprise, when you reach out first. Shaky, dainty hands coming to rest upon his shoulders that glow under your willing gesture. 

He can’t help himself; his hands splay over your ribcage, curving around your lungs, and yanking your chest against his. You yelp out, but the tiny grin that follows on your lips and the way you wind your arms around his neck flash a million green lights. He can hardly keep up, and he realizes now he’s the one panting; his fingers bruise into your skin, and his tongue seems to swell three sizes with need, starvation.  

And he hesitates, because if he proceeds, he’ll finally know the sensation of kissing you. He’ll have a taste of you. He’ll understand what it means to have your body pressed against his, and how the scent of him will change, saturated by pieces of you. 

But it’s you and your willingness to be so kind, so undeniably what you are, that breaks him from the mold he’s cast. You scratch him gently just below his ear to get his attention, and his worried eyes find yours—a pure contradiction, only certainty and peace to be found. 

It’s alright. She’s ready for you. 

This voice is different, warped. A mixture of two. He’s not sure if he hears it from him, or you. 

He doesn’t care. 

His lean into the kiss is measured, but it’s not long before it descends into madness. You’re wound and fiery against him, clawing at the nape of his neck, baring tongue and teeth. He’s willing, eager to keep up, bending you at the small of the back and crowding over you. Licking you open and shoving his tongue between your lips, until the sharp sounds of saliva echo through the room and his palate is coated in sweetness. 

He loses himself a bit, winding a hand up your back until it’s latching around tendrils of hair and pulling taut. You gasp, arching into him, and he growls at the opportunity of more of you, to taste all of you. 

His lips clamber down your throat, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. You’re mumbling something, indescribable under the mask of your flourishing heat, but the pliancy of your body is all he needs to make way for instinct. 

When he reaches the base, the tip of his nose traces your clavicle, sniffing like a mad dog. He continues up the curve of your neck until he finds the rough little patch behind your ear. Here, he inhales deep, audibly; your scent is most potent here and it clouds his judgment. His tongue juts out from his lips, salivating, searing across the gland and sealing his invasion with a gentle kiss, and oh, you like that. He hears the strangled sound that rips through your throat, feels your sharp nails dig deeper into his skin and the weight of your body shuddering against him. 

He yanks at the hem of your t-shirt. “Arms up.” 

You heed his command, and he pulls the fabric over you, tossing it into oblivion. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled amongst the nest of your things and his, in no time. He sinks to his knees, huffing at the stiffness of them. He bullies himself between your shaking thighs and drags his paws across your torso. He cups both of your tits in an unforgiving grasp, heaving himself forward and suctioning his lips around one. You howl and pant, pain and pleasure, weaving fingers through his locks of hair and tugging just as hard as he sucks. He switches to the other, leaving welts behind, memories of his ardor. 

He wants them to linger. Knowing that he can’t mark you—won’t, not while you’re like this—in the way he longs to. A greedy act of ownership he hopes will ward off the others until he can map out this newfound territory. 

Your thighs suffocate his hips, radiating warmth. He feels the little gyrations of your hips, seeking friction, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you any longer. He licks a trail down your sternum, the tangy taste of fever, peppering kisses over your belly. His fingers curl over the waistband of your shorts, taking two fistfuls, and he rips them in two. Joel doesn’t think you’ve even noticed the destruction, already pawing needy hands across his shoulders to guide him where you need him most. 

Your legs part instantly, willingly, and his mouth drops open at the sight. He’s suddenly reminded of his own struggle, his cock seeming to swell another size in his jeans at the sight of your bare, swollen cunt. Creamy liquid coats your wet skin, pearly clit swollen and wanting. He rests a cheek upon your inner thigh, latches his hands around the outer to keep you steady, and admires. Lets his eyes fall shut and leans in, burying his nose in the soft curls on your mound. He inhales long and groans; the earthy musk, the inviting sweetness. 

“God, look at this pretty fuckin’ hole.” He starts blathering aloud, but you smolder under his praise. Bucking your hips and grabbing at all the bits of him you can find. “This all for me, Omega?” 

Yes, yes, yes, you pant, speaking with your body and your mouth, nodding so frantically. He enjoys the way your cunt flutters around nothing, each little pulse oozing another drop of sweet slick, coaxing him in. 

He wets his lips, takes another whiff of you. He’s certain he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t taste you, so he does. Flattens his tongue against your impatient pussy, and watches as you all but combust when he suckles up the nectar seeping out, all for him. 

It’s more heavenly, more euphoric than he could’ve imagined. The stain of you against his tongue, ambrosia, a remedy for all ailments. He laps into you, dehydrated and desperate for every drop, smearing his tongue all over your cunt, your mound, your thighs. A feast for the taking. 

You wail above him when his lips latch onto your clit, and heavy hands force your thighs back against the mattress—he needs you spread, and still. Needs you to understand the severity of this famine he’s experienced for so long; maybe, as long as he’s existed. You yank at his hair and your heels dig into his back, pushing and pulling all at once, and when he finally comes up for air, he’s feeding you his fingers. Catches your eyes and the way they grow when he sinks two, thick digits inside of you, groaning at the squeeze of your plush walls, ripe and ready for him. 

“Gonna open you up for me, darlin’,” he rasps, lips and cheeks and chin gleaming with you. You hastily prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a view of the way he learns you. Moonlight glows across sheen skin, angelic. 

“B-but Joel—” you whine, but he silences you with a thrust of his fingers, curving them up, up, up, and beaming when your legs jerk and your eyes roll back. He taps his fingertips against the spongy little spot he’s discovered.

“Hush, now,” he bites, but his taunting fingers promise a better outcome than his tone. Your head has already fallen back into the pillows, hands mindlessly grabbing and twisting the sheets around you. “M’gonna open you up, get you nice and ready to take me.” He starts his steady pace then, gradually pulling his fingers back and rocking them forward, maintaining the hook, searching for the sweet little spot that makes you cry out every time he bumps it. “You’re gonna be patient, let me make it all better, yeah?” 

“Yes, Alpha. Yes, yes.” 

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy this descent into submission. How the further you slip away from him, the further he is from himself. Two parts of a whole lost to what nature made them, somehow, finding one another to latch onto. 

He leans into it. Embraces it. He needs to make this last. Take advantage of all that it is, fearing it may be the first and only time he’ll be lucky enough to have it. 

A heavy hand, his free one, presses against your lower belly. He can feel the drag of his fingers inside of you, just below his palm, sending his blood to a boil. Sweat graces his own brow; these are shared symptoms, that of your fever and his rut. Cosmic, burning from the inside out, like stars. Everything he is, created for you. 

He can feel the wave, the buildup of pressure in your gut that makes his own ache. Feels the wet tip of his cock in his jeans when you start to pant his name, when a flimsy hand reaches for the flannel you tucked away so neatly, and yanks it toward your face. Smothering yourself with it, shoving your nose to his scent. 

“Alpha—nghh!” 

“C’mon, baby. C’mon,” he chants; a mantra. Presses harder onto your burning belly, extends his thumb to circle over your throbbing clit in time with his flexing wrist. 

Your body seizes, soft, full breasts rising and falling as you desperately gulp the air. Your poor legs tremble so hard, you can’t keep them upright anymore without his help, so they drape over his shoulders. Squeeze them tight, claws nearly drawing blood against his scalp, and your pussy sucks him into the knuckle. Grips on like a vice before the wave crashes, and you’re gushing around his fingers. Crying out ecstasy, soaking his chin, his chest, your limp legs. 

“Fuuuck,” he’s growling, in awe of the little spurts of cum that keep flowing out of you with each measured jingle of his digits. He wants to see how much he can drain you before he removes them, how much pretty, perfect, omega slick you’ll make for him, every drop an homage to your yearning for what he’s preparing to give you. The thing that swells, and aches, and burns at the base of his cock, and he can’t help but rub it up against the side of the mattress, desperately seeking some of his own relief. 

You’ve lost yourself entirely now, he knows this. The orgasm he’s granted you sets your full heat into motion, and you’ll require more. Can sense it in the haze of your eyes, the delirious babbling of his name mingled with Alpha, Alpha, please. Tears coating your cheeks, an emptiness in the pit of you only he can fill. 

But one taste isn’t enough, and he’s greedy. Greedy, greedy alpha of a man, who needs more. Can’t help it as he watches the liquid pour from around his fingers, so he unsheathes them, quickly replacing them with his open mouth again to drink the goodness right out of you. A fountain of excellence he’s certain he’ll never tire of. 

He must be lost in this, the incessant need to quench his thirst, for some time. Because you start to whine and thrash below him, strings of pleas and sorrow alike. Pulling at his t-shirt, trying to tear it from him at this awkward angle. Telling him over and over that it hurts, Alpha, it hurts—and that just won’t do. 

He quickly replaces your wandering fingers, tugging his shirt up and off of him and retreating to his feet to battle with his belt buckle. You jolt up at this, suddenly alert, perching at the edge of the mattress, wet hair sticking to your face, eyes taking a curious path down bare skin. 

There’s a momentary wave of self-consciousness; he can’t remember the last time a woman saw him naked, let alone after the safety and comfort that Jackson provided. 

He’s aged. Gained a few pounds in his belly, muscles bulky and lined with fat instead of the lean mass they once were. But then, you place your palms on his chest. Flutter your eyes up at him as you glide your hands slowly over his torso, and make sure he’s watching when you lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his sternum. His eyes go dark, his insecurity silenced. 

“Wanna taste it, Alpha,” you demand, voice breaking at the edges. Sounding simultaneously foreign and never more like yourself. Shaky fingers reach down, cupping him through his boxers, making his dick jump, and he sucks the air through his teeth. “Can I taste it, please?” 

He grins down at you, because yeah, you’re good. So good. So polite. Just like he knew you would be. Good, kind, generous little omega, too much so for her own good. You rake at his bare chest, start to palm him slowly, batting dangerous eyes up at him. So tempting. He reaches down, takes your chin between his fingers, and pets your bottom lip with his thumb. Hoping to soothe away disappointment. Because as much as he wants to be selfish, he needs to be inside of you. 

“No time for that now, sweet baby. Not this time. Wanna give it to you somewhere else.” He drops his hand, splaying his fingers low over your abdomen. “Right in here, huh? Isn’t that what you want?”

Oh, yes. Yes, it is. You nod up at him, frantic, mouth hung open and drool spilling out the sides. Ravenous thing you are, just as hungry as he. 

“C’mere. Let me help you.” 

He’s got you by the hips, lowering you properly back against the pillows. He shuffles out of his boxers, and you watch him, dazed; your fingers in your mouth, chewing on them. Knees up to your chest, thighs rubbing back and forth, slipping so easily with all the pretty slick he’s pulled out of you. 

Vulnerable little creature you are, you welcome him into your nest. Pull your fingers out from your teeth and extend them towards him, and spread your legs for him to settle his mass between. And when he does, there’s a shared sounding of pleasure. He sits back on his heels, guiding the weight of his heavy cock over your cunt, and fuck, if you aren’t just perfect like this. 

Your body burns, a fire he must extinguish. He leans forward, exasperating you a bit when he drapes his weight over you, caging you in with elbows on either side of your head. His knees still cradle your ass, and he uses the mounted leverage to grind his cock against you. He huffs, his knot blazing, painful and stiff, and his gut is on fire. You’re so warm, so wet, and he slips so easily between you. He can’t help but growl out when you begin to meet his thirst with needy rocks of your own. 

Your eyes droop shut, hands seeking purchase on his shoulders, and he uses his to cradle each side of your scalp. He presses his forehead to yours, captures your parted lips in a searing kiss. 

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he mumbles, drawing back from you, reaching for his stiff cock and gripping it tight. His eyes drop to where you’re nearly connected, so close. You glisten along his shaft, and he uses it to rub the angry tip of him back and forth over your folds, parted petals that threaten to suck him in each time he catches on the opening. He taps it on your tender clit; you quiver and clench, wailing out frustration. 

“N-no please—please,” you beg, eyes brimming with tears again. You slide your hands underneath his arms, digging your nails under his shoulder blades. “Please put it inside me, Alpha. Please, please.” 

“You can do it, baby.” 

“I can’t, please. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” 

And you do. You chase the high vigorously. The jerks of your hips follow him, taking great precision in the way he slides his shaft up and down your swollen little seam, paying special attention to your clit. He can feel the way it jumps and throbs, all the juices flowing out of you dowsing over him, dripping down onto his knot. 

He can’t look away, an obscenely beautiful sight. And the next time you quiver, clench around nothing, and call out his name, he just can’t help himself. 

He slips inside of you with one, tenacious thrust. Met with no resistance, only warmth and fullness. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes bulged and lips hung open in surprise, before relaxing entirely. You melt into him, the fury of your need thawing with his gift, and you sigh a beautiful sound of reprieve. Vanilla melds with leather, interwoven, and he knows he’s ruined you for any others. 

And he. He’s sweating, and panting, and the shudder won’t leave his spine. He’s never felt anything quite like it, the flutter of a fertile omega’s cunt around his cock. He was dreaming before, and now he’s awake. Startled by all that is perfectly right. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.” He rolls his hips once, the tip of him bruising your cervix, and you sigh his name. “Promised I’d make it all better, yeah?”

You use the leverage of his shoulders to crane your neck up, pressing your forehead to his. Your thighs straddle his ribcage, clinging to him, needy little pet that you are. 

“S-so full, Alpha. It’s so big.” 

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos. “But look.” He parts with a fleeting kiss to your chin, sitting back on his heels and dropping his gaze to where you’re connected. A thick ring of cream sits above his knot, and it pulses at the sight. “Look how well she’s taking me.” 

You shakily bring yourself to your elbows, peering with drunken eyes and O-shaped lips. Your brows knit at the center of your forehead, and the precious, fucked-out look you cast up is enough to send him into motion. 

He grunts, wrapping his hands around your hips and yanking your bum up and onto his thighs. His pace is slow but deep, focused on kissing your womb with every thrust. Now that he’s inside of you, he can focus on nothing but the result. How imperative it’s become that he fills you. Satiate the ache by pumping you with his seed. He bares his teeth, images of his spend dripping out of you flashing before his eyes. He needs it. Chases it with fury, a conquest. But he won’t let it go to waste. No, he needs to knot you. Be certain that every drop of it touches your womb. How it would feel to have you latched to him, the prospect of its ramifications—a swollen belly, a piece of you carrying a part of him—sounding nothing but appealing.  

“JoelJoelJoel.” You’re repeating his name like a prayer, looking at him with such devotion. 

He’s picked up his pace, instinctive. Hard enough now that your flimsy mattress springs squeak, and the headboard thumps against the wall. You’ve fallen back into your pillows, your hands coming up to knead and pull at your breasts, and fuck, if it doesn’t gratify him to see you lean into the pleasure. 

He knows you're close when the tears at your waterline begin to stream down your cheeks. He scoots you further up his thighs, places a heavy hand back on your belly, and sure enough, on his next thrust, he can feel the bulbous tip of his cock through the skin. He grits his teeth, and he knows you must feel it too because you gasp as if he’s committed some sort of crime, shock and disbelief. 

“Feel you—haa—in-in my stomach, Alpha.”

“That’s right, baby,” he grunts. “In your fuckin’ guts. Just where you needed me.” 

His thumb drops to your clit, circles it with the rhythm of his thrusts, and makes you sing. There isn’t, and he’s sure there never will be, anything like the way you feverishly clench around him. Actively trying to suck him in, the steady flow of tears and cum, your incoherent babbles, beyond your control. He needs you closer, he needs to saturate you with every part of him. 

He rolls onto his back, scooping you into his chest and dragging you along with him. Gets you good and propped on his bent legs before he drives up into you. You collapse onto his chest, desperate hands clinging to his pecs. You burrow your nose into his neck, and he nearly bursts at the seams when you tease your teeth across his beating gland. 

“One more,” he seethes, bouncing you up and down with a great force; you needn’t even help him. He takes palm-fulls of your ass, secures the reins. Your hips will bruise by morning, but he doesn’t care. It’s worth the desperation in the way you cling to him, call to him. “Give me one more, Omega, and I promise I’ll give you what you need.” 

You wail out, half protest, half pledge, and you’re actively clamping down on him. Working your tight cunt over his shaft, milking him closer and close to the shining edge, and he feels his belly begin to boil. His head pounds and his gland aches, and as soon as you release again, unable to curb yourself from the pleasure he vows, the voice worms its way back into his ear. Chanting now, now, now. 

He spills into you with a mighty roar, stuffing his knot up inside of you as soon as it expands. He digs his teeth into your shoulder, pushes your hips further, and further down, nowhere else to go, but he has to be sure he’s filled you tight. That he can keep you here, locked onto him for as long as it takes to eradicate the delirium, as many times as you need him to fill your fertile little womb. 

And you come again, all from just this. Tight, soft, and bruised, you clamp around his knot as if you’re worried you’ll lose it. And he squeezes his eyes shut at the overstimulation, bites on his tongue to curb the pain, and lets it flourish in glorious pleasure. His cock releases another string of cum, and Joel groans. 

You’re hardly lucid on his chest, trembling, breathing heavily. One of your hands wraps around his sticky shoulder, clutching into his skin, trying to steady yourself. He works carefully to soothe you, to nurture the heavy come down, and avoid a dangerous drop. He scoots himself up the mattress, taking you with him until you’re both comfortably propped against the headboard; there’s no telling how long you’ll be united like this, but he has no intention of rushing it. He drags his large palms over the length of your spine, litters kisses along your hairline, and you both share a whining sound each time he stiffens and spurts inside of you. He allows his eyes to shut, focusing on steadying his breath, the sound of your beating heart. 

Eventually, your body settles. You start to breathe evenly again, grow limp, purring little sounds of contentment. He lifts a hand to push away the hair that sticks to your cheeks, and you reach for it, latching your bony fingers around his wrist. You nuzzle your nose into his palm and wrap your lips around two of his fingers. He lets you suck on them like this for a while, humming, the salty taste of him seeming to quiet your nervous system and ease you back into a state of equilibrium. 

There will be consequences for what’s transpired here. The post-euphoric clarity lays his transgressions bare and forces him to examine them. He feels, quite regrettably, the return of war. That between himself and his nature, though here and now, they are far more intertwined than they’ve ever been. 

He has a decision to make, one that months, days, hours ago seemed so clear. That he will not give way for the monstrosity he harbors, if only to save you from a lifetime of horror and regret. 

But the hours, minutes, seconds have passed, and they dwindle to this moment where he realizes, almost jarringly, how wrong he may have been. That the great fight against what nature bestowed him retreats within your stronghold. The worry is silenced, the weight lifted, the burden removed. He isn’t a soldier, but a man. 

Only a man. So simple, and so freeing. 

“Stay with me?” you mumble as if you can read his mind, letting his fingers slip from your lips, and already drifting to a place somewhere deep between sleep and wake. It’s a single question worth a million, holding the weight of your existence, the entire world. 

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that if he stays, no amount of self-control will prevent him from indulging your needs over and over again. He knows how brittle his distaste is—was, a façade—and how quickly he will devote himself to you. 

You’re all he would require to live and breathe. 

Most terrifying, he knows the primal urge will only continue to spread. And for some purpose far beyond him, while he’s coated in your scent and slick and the haven of your arms, he won’t be able to find a reason to stop himself from sinking his teeth into that sweet spot upon your neck. 

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, your kindness, you. You’re a chance at redemption, something he is certain he relinquished decades ago. You’re an opportunity, an outlet to release his grief, his anger, his hatred for this world and his place in it, and turn it into devotion, protection. 

He doesn’t deserve it. 

But the way you look at him now, head nuzzled against his chest, pupil-blown eyes the picture of vulnerability, it satisfies the beast. Sets every nerve ending on fire. Tugs him forward frighteningly taut, unable to recoil. 

You look at him like you need him. 

And he needs to be needed. It’s all he’s ever wanted. 

“Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll stay.” 

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, bad politics, chemically induced heat? institutionalized reader, doctors, wack rehabilitation program, ish brainwashing

fem reader

You’d been difficult to tame. Or, he just didn’t have the time to do it properly—too busy at work and too tired when coming home. He’d wanted a sweet Omega, one who did house chores when he was away and had dinner ready for him when he got off.

You’d looked real sweet at the auction—a perfectly beautiful Omega. You weren’t cheap either—everyone had made their bids, but he’d been the one to walk away with the prize in the end. He can’t say he regrets it—he still has a fondness for you even though you’re not what he’d thought he’d purchased.

You just need some behavioral correcting. And so, he put you in an Omega institution.

It had been recommended to him. It’s not so uncommon, he later found out while reading up on the place. Auctioned Omegas tend to end up a little rough around the edges—here, at the institution, they’ll smooth those edges right out.

Sadly, there’s been a rise in unstable Omegas as of late—he reads on their website. It’s a misguided revolution taking place in several auction homes that’s to blame for it—circling modern ideas of liberation, equality, andindependence. It all stems from a place of fear, the website explains in detail—Omegas seek to stand on their own in the world. Cooped up in auction homes, they fear they’ll never see the outside without a mate—and as the years dwindle on and their prospects become slimmer, they start fantasizing about doing it on their own.

He feels sorry for you while reading it. Your attitude makes more sense now, knowing you’ve been fed a bunch of deluded nonsense. He can’t blame you for getting swept up in it—you’re a little younger than him, after all. But the silly idea of a lone Omega isn’t just laughable but dangerous. It was best of him to make sure any such notions were quashed—for your own good—before you end up doing something you might regret. 

And it seemed this place was the place to do it. In fact, many of his fellow Alphas had done the same, and they’d all sung this particular institution’s praises.

Oh, but it’s been hard. You wouldn’t talk to him much or even keep him in good company at home, but still, he misses your presence. The house seems so empty without your little everyday spats to keep him on his toes.

You’ve been away for a whole month now, and he hasn’t even been allowed to visit, not once. It would ruin the process, he was told. But he’s been assured that the caretakers there have been making great progress with you. He should be able to come pick you up as soon as the start of next week.

He remembers having been skeptical about leaving you here as he walks to announce himself at the help desk. The facility is pristine and sterile—very impersonal, just like any other hospital. He wonders if you’ve been scared. After all, it’s most likely your skittish nature that makes you so hostile, joined with misgivings making you confused. It can’t be easy. He hopes the doctors here have helped you sort things out. Maybe you won’t be so frustrated all the time.

He was led to a private room where he could complete some paperwork for your release while waiting for your discharge. He made quick work of it. A door opens, and your doctor comes through, and then, following right behind him, there’s you—his pretty little Omega.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you quite so subdued—not even when you’d been caged at the auction, there’d still been some fight to your spirit. Now, not so much—taking quiet and careful steps with your head hung, looking at your slipper-clad feet.

You pick your face up when you recognize the scent, and then you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost. Wide-eyed and lock-jawed—your breathing picks up rapidly, and his name drops from your lips like a pained whimper, followed by a sudden burst of tears and a rush toward him. “You came back—” 

You’re on him before he has the time to blink—pressed against him tightly, skin-to-skin and heart-to-heart, with your face buried in the grove of his neck. Your claws are slightly drawn, but in no effort to hurt him—rather, to cling to him. It’s not any normal hug—not that you’d ever given him one before—but even so, you’re swaddledaround his neck with your legs crossed at his back.

He’s taken aback by the behavior—it isn’t like you at all. He remembers your aversion to his touch, how you’d regard him like a plague, snarling each time he’d get too close. This was beyond new.

But you leave him no opening to comment either, too busy rambling in meek little whispers pressed into his skin, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—I knew you’d come back—knew you hadn’t forgotten about me. I’m sorry I was being difficult, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’ve forgiven me, right? You’ll take me home now, right? Please—”

He’d never been in a position to soothe you before—you’d never wanted it. He doesn’t know what else to do but smooth a hand over your hunched and shuddering back, shushing you like he’d seen mothers do with their sobbing children. You didn’t look much different right now.

“Yeah… we’re going home,” he assures you. 

You hug him a little tighter as a sob wreaks through you.

This isn’t exactly what he prepared himself for. He thought you’d be... well, he doesn’t really know... nicer?Perhaps. Agreeable. Not so violent. But not this—this broken little ball of shivering sniffles holding onto him as if the world was about to end.

He swallows thickly, then looks at your doctor—he doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, he seems utterly unfazed.

It makes him wonder, a little warily, “What have you done with her?”

The doctor seems more than happy to explain—it’s only customary, after all. He’d paid a lot to have you rehabilitated here.

“Each omega requires special treatment suited to them,” the doctor explains. “Yours was particularly unruly.”

You flinch. He feels your claws dig deeper, but they’re too blunt to draw blood and too weak to hurt anyway. But even so, your sentiments are more than clear—you fear this doctor with your entire being.

“We’ve found that in the case of hostile Omegas, the most effective way to correct their behavior is to keep them isolated and let their own instincts remind them of what they need,” the doctor continues. “Of course, we’ve taken protective measures to ensure she wouldn’t harm herself in said isolation and have fed her accordingly at scheduled times every day.” He smiles. “We can assure you she’s been perfectly safe in the pillow room.”

He lifts the silver suitcase he’d been holding, props it up, and pops the lid, revealing a row of ten syringes—a hot pink fluid within.

“This is our recommended medicine.”

You shudder even more, unrelenting in your grip around him—hanging on so tightly as if you fear someone would come and pry you off him at any moment.

“Give one to her if and when she acts up. More instructions come with the case—please read through them carefully.”

He eyes the syringes with furrowed brows, picking one up to inspect it further. They don’t look like anything he’s read about in the brochure or on the website—perhaps a brand new method for treating Omegas? This is a cutting-edge institution, after all.

He can’t guess what they must do to make you cower like that. The spit-spire he left here a month ago wouldn’t cry over a tiny needle.

“What are they?” he asks.

The doctor’s smile stretches. “Nothing dangerous. All natural hormone components.”

He’s not sure what that entails, and so he quirks a brow while laying the syringe back in its designated mold. “And what does that mean?”

The doctor clasps the case shut and hands it over to him while explaining plainly, “They induce heat.” 

He accepts the case before his ears have the chance to draw back at his words. Now that explains your sudden clinginess—why you’re so frigid.

The doctor adds, “Poor thing’s spent quite a few alone in the pillow room, so I’m sure she’ll be grateful to finally be by her mate’s side again.”

He’s speechless.

Spending heat alone, without any relief, is a form nothing short of torture. If he’d known that was what they were doing to you, he wouldn’t have sent you here in the first place. He very nearly chews the doctor out for using such barbaric methods but thinks better of it. If anything were to be done, it would be through a well-worded and filed complaint and a vow to never do business with them ever again.

Though, coming home with you by his side, still clinging to him… he can’t argue with the results. 

So he doesn’t complain. He just enjoys your new and improved wellness and promises never to use those injections on you himself. Yes, they’d forego their expiration date soon enough, dusting away in the back of his closet. He’d never ever put you through something so horrid. That’s his pledge as your mate.

Oh, but then... the honeymoon phase dissolves. And you return to your old habits of teeth and claws.

It’s never-ending barking with you all over again—you want to leave, you want to be alone, you don’t want him to touch you, you blame him for what you went through at the institution, you hate him for it, and you’ll never ever forgive him.

He doesn’t want to—he swears while holding the syringe to your thigh where he’s strapped you down in bed with ropes and knots—he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t, but you leave him no choice when you act like a wild animal. 

The first time is always the hardest. But he doesn’t leave you alone in a room like they did at the institution—no, he helps you through it. It’s not torture this way. It’s just… well, what can he say? It’s just a little reminder to get you back on your good behavior.

You would rather stay here than get sent back to the pillow room, right?

It’s all too easy the second time around even though it shouldn’t have been. It was only a day of small uproars, nothing all that bad—refusing to greet him at the door, to make dinner, to fix his plate, to wash dishes, to come to bed. He’d allowed you days like that in the past, but this time, he’d felt himself gravitate towards his so-called last resort once again. 

Still, he’d felt a little guilty about it. 

It would be easier to refrain if it didn’t work like a charm.

Now, he goes and finds the briefcase at the drop of a hat. Say something snarky or look at him funny. Give him any opportunity, and he’ll abuse it—even things you don’t even mean to do, like burning the food, shrinking his clothes in the wash, or forgetting to make the bed in the morning. He’s on you with the syringe deep in your flesh before you can even mouth the words “I’m sorry—”

You’re limp and sweat-drenched after a few hours. He spoons you as the spasms continuously ricochet through you—his spent leaking down your thighs. Even after several rounds, the hormones are still brewing up a bad storm within your gut, thundering in your heart as its lightning zips along your limbs. Your head is a rainy cloud—heavy and full yet soft like cotton.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—it was an accident—” you mumble between labored breaths, not entirely sure what error you’d made this time, shivering against his warm chest as he cups your breast in one big hand and your swollen cunt in the other.

“I know, I know it was, baby,” he coos. “But you need to be more mindful—can’t be making so many mistakes all the time.” His lips brush your skin as he purrs, placing small pecks against your cheek and neck. “How can I trust you with my pups if you’re gonna be such a scatterbrain, hm?”

The mention of pups makes something roar more ferociously in your underbelly, and you whimper meekly in return. “I’m sorry—I’ll do better.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll get there, sweetie.”

The storm within crackles, rumbling with a deepening hunger. Even though you feel battle-worn and ever ready for the sweet escape of sleep, there’s something even needier and heedless that makes your body feel all but set ablaze.

You’ve cum so many times already, but it’s still not enough—it’s never enough. It takes everything in you to make sense of his words—to act civil even when all you want is to jump his bones—make him fuck you until your fever breaks, then allow you rest.

But act in any way out of turn, and he’ll only drag this out. Be sweet, you remind yourself—sugar, syrup, honeycomb—sweet and soft like velvet—no teeth or claws or growling. No matter what, don’t let the animal out of the cage.

“No matter how many lessons it’ll take…” he murmurs. “I’m here to help.”

“Thank you—” you wince while rubbing your thighs together—grinding against his hand in desperation. “Can you… can we—”

He chuckles fondly, feeling you rub your ass back against his crotch wantingly. “Oh? Another round so soon?” 

You bite your lip at his teasing. Far beyond proud to not be begging, “Yes, please—pretty, pretty please—”

The sweet warble in your voice is so pitiful and cute—he can’t help the smile it brings him. “Alright, honey,” he hums while shifting, getting up with a hearty sigh, then leaning over you to give your pleading little pout a kiss. He feeds you his next words with a grin on his face, “Let’s see about that needy pussy of yours.”

He spreads and shimmies himself between your aching thighs, nice and snug against the weeping little thing between them—looking down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smug smile that makes you feel like the most hopeless little Omega in the world.

He places another kiss upon your forehead—dwarfing your hand in his big one, braiding your fingers together while the other carries his meaty cock, holding it steady up to your fluttering and glossy slit. 

The size never fails to make you squirm as you look down at it—wondering why you crave it so badly when it only serves to make your body twist and scream from the stretch it gives you.

 “Don’t worry, sweetie,” he soothes the tiny cry that cracks from your throat once he starts easing the length inside the snug comforts of your walls. “Your Alpha’s here to make it all better.”

♡ BNHA – old man Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Daichi, Ushijima ♡ AOT – Erwin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[superbat-love]

Omegaverse AU. The annual Gotham Matchmaking Event was in full swing. Bruce Wayne, towering over the alphas and omegas around him, moved through the room with an unapproachable aura. The whispers followed him, just like they always did.

"Wayne’s so assertive. Doesn’t act like an omega at all," someone muttered.

"He should stop pretending to be above his station," another added with a laugh.

Bruce pretended not to hear them, his jaw tightening as he positioned himself near the door for an easy exit. If not for the fact that these matchmaking events were mandatory for all unmated omegas of age, he would have refused the invitation outright.

A new arrival caught his attention. The man’s tanned skin and wavy hair stood out, he didn’t seem to be from Gotham. His name tag read "Kal."

Bruce watched the foreigner as he mingled with the other guests. Kal’s alpha status was obvious, but unlike most alphas, he radiated warmth and charm. People naturally gravitated toward him, drawn to his approachable demeanor. The double standards grated on Bruce more than he cared to admit.

Until Kal’s gaze found his.

The alpha froze, wide-eyed as he stared at Bruce. Bruce glared at the shorter man. It usually kept alphas at bay.

No such luck. Kal approached him anyway.

"Have you heard of Kryptonian queens?" Kal asked.

Bruce blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What?"

"In Kryptonian legends, queens were the biggest, strongest omegas in the colony. They either earned the title by winning dominance battles or left to establish new colonies on distant outposts," Kal said, his voice filled with awe. "You’re like a legend brought to life."

Bruce’s guarded expression faltered. Despite the absurdity of the alpha’s words, there was something in his tone—genuine respect—that made him pause.

And Bruce found himself listening.

The Omega Queen AU

[navybrat817]

Where Worlds Collide - Intro

Pairing: Silver Fox!Sugar Daddy!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader

Summary: Your boss forces you to be eye candy for an alpha at a gala, but things take a turn for the better when you meet another alpha. Does it matter that you don't belong in his world?

Word Count: Over 9.2k

Warnings: Smut, v. fingering, possessive behavior, dirty talk, instant connection, A/B/O dynamics, talk of bonding, misogyny, unspecified age gap, insecurities, world building, choking (not our reader… yet), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I'm pretty proud of the intro to this world, lovelies! @whisperlullaby, @targaryenvampireslayer, @tavners, here it is! Ant thanks to @queenoftheworldisdead as well. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Soft music drifted from the ballroom as you stepped into the lavish venue. You’d never been to a gala before. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to receive an invitation, nor did your last name carry any influence. The only reason you were there tonight was because of the alpha on your arm, all thanks to your boss’s insistence that you accompany him.

It was an evening of style, grace, and luxury, and you didn’t belong.

You held your breath as you walked deeper into the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers casting a refined glow over everything. A mix of alphas, betas, and omegas socialized and gossiped, their glamorous evening wear glittering under the lights. You had designed a few of the dresses and suits, but none of the people wearing them would recognize you. The alpha you worked for always took the credit. Complaining about it wouldn’t help. After all, you’d only sound like an ungrateful omega and hundreds of other omegas would beg to take your place.

You couldn’t wait for the day you quit.

Chet’s grip on your arm brought you back to the present. “Keep quiet and smile,” he ordered, a haughty expression on his face as he led you through the place. You didn't want to judge all men named Chet, but you had pegged him as a douchebag the second he went in for his fitting and he was proving you right. You couldn't even enjoy that he was objectively handsome since his personality made him less attractive.

“I am smiling,” you said. Wrinkling your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and expensive colognes and perfumes, you did your best to make your smile look natural. The servers looked like they were doing the same as they served everyone. It was strange how a room so enormous could make someone feel so small.

“Then keep smiling,” Chet ordered through his grin. “What you do or don’t do is a reflection of me.”

“I know,” you muttered. Because it was all about him and you were just his omega arm candy. You really should’ve demanded overtime pay from your boss, but that conversation wouldn’t have ended well.

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

You did notice a few more men looking your way. A few women as well, not hiding that they were whispering about you. Trying to hide your vulnerability, you held yourself the way you thought a goddess would. You also held yourself with pride since the dress you wore was your own design. A sleeveless black dress with a middle slit, it was bold and alluring. The glitter throughout the fabric made you shine like stars in the night sky. The finishing touch was the matching collar, a tasteful way to protect you from any alpha who even thought about marking you.

Reaching up instinctively to run a hand over your collar, you felt your heart ache. Your inner omega wanted a mark, but the thought of being tied to someone was somewhat terrifying. You respected omegas who wanted to go the traditional route by staying home and being submissive, but you didn’t want to be submissive outside of the bedroom. You wanted a partner who would view you as an equal.

Your false confidence didn’t last long when Chet’s grip on you tightened, your body immediately going stiff. You’d have to take a long shower and dry clean your dress just to get rid of his scent. “Loosen up,” he ordered.

“Maybe I’d loosen up if you weren’t digging your fingers in,” you whispered.

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

A shiver rolled down your spine when you heard a low growl come from another alpha. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone looking directly at you. It probably had nothing to do with you because why would anyone care if an alpha was bossing you around?

Chet’s hold on you loosened nonetheless. “And just so we’re clear, you have no intention of sleeping with me?” he asked as an omega in a revealing dress sauntered by. Your date didn’t bother to hide how he was undressing her with his eyes.

“That’s right,” you said. You made it clear to your boss that sex wasn’t an option, and he was oddly on your side. Maybe he thought Chet could sway you if he tried hard enough. If he even thought of using some sort of alpha command on you, nothing would stop you from lashing out and making him sorry.

“Then you’ll have no problem finding your own ride home should I choose to leave with someone else,” he said.

“So, I can’t make you look bad, but you can leave with another omega?” you asked.

“You got it. You’re smarter than you look.” He tapped your nose with a condescending grin. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The prick was pushing his luck. “Listen you-”

“Chet, my boy! Good to see you!” A man interrupted, uncaring that you were speaking.

“Shane,” Chet smiled. “Always a pleasure.”

The bulky alpha shamelessly looked you over, his scent almost making you choke on your next breath. “And who might this be?”

“Pretty, isn't she?” Chet cut in before you could answer, puffing his chest out. “Doesn't say much, but I’m not exactly interested in her conversational skills, am I?”

You bit your tongue when they chuckled. Be seen and not heard. It was insulting.

“Come join me, but leave the omega,” Shane said unapologetically, taking another look at your chest. What would happen if you threw a drink in his face? “As entertaining as she would be, we have business to discuss, and we don’t need the distraction.”

“Of course,” Chet smiled, turning you toward the bar as Shane walked away. “Since he doesn't want you around, why don't you take advantage of the free drinks until I get back?”

“I’m not-”

“And not that you’d have any extra cash to tip, but it’s taken care of,” he continues, your face hot at the assumption that you couldn't afford to tip the staff. “Just behave and try not to make a fool out of either of us, you got it? Wouldn’t want your boss to hear about it if you do.”

Biting back a retort, you freed yourself from his grip. There wasn’t enough liquor at this party to get you through the rest of this evening. “Don’t worry about me, alpha. Go have fun,” you said, your eyes burning as he walked away. A few heads turned your way when your scent soured. It wasn’t enough that you had to attend an event where you didn’t belong, but your date just had to rub salt in the open wound by reminding you of such. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered, making your way over to the bar to order a drink.

Plastering a smile back on your face when you got the bartender’s attention, you ordered a whiskey on the rocks. You wanted something that would go down smooth but leave a little burn. You also preferred opting to watch the bartender make a drink in front of you instead of grabbing a glass of already poured champagne. The drinks were likely fine, but better safe than sorry. And like hell would you accept a drink from your sorry excuse for a “date” if he offered you one. He was lucky you-

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

No… It couldn’t be your mate.

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too. He looked like the kind of alpha who would have omegas kneeling at his feet, and it frightened you how badly you wanted to get on your hands and knees and crawl toward him.

His. Mine.

Lifting his tumbler to his lips, he kept his eyes on you as he sipped the expensive liquor. You wanted to look away but couldn't as the air crackled between you. He had you under some sort of trance you couldn't snap yourself out of. As frightening as it was to have a scent hit you so strongly, a feeling like this hit you square in the chest, the thought of him staring at another omega that way nearly made you hiss because you didn't want anyone else on the receiving end of those blue eyes.

He smirked like he read your mind and pushed himself off the wall. You did whimper out loud when you realized just how large he was. Dominant, assertive, yet there was something almost playful in his smirk when he finally broke his gaze. You greedily inhaled with the hope of catching more of his scent when he strode toward the nearby balcony, smooth and fluid as a server quickly took the empty tumbler from his hand. The men at the gala were all posturing, but no one could match the confidence of that alpha.

So how were people not surrounding him, begging for a scrap of attention? Was he untouchable among those who deemed themselves untouchable? He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who chased after anyone. No, people went to him.

He wanted you to follow him, right?

Downing your drink in one gulp, your feet moved before you could stop yourself. “I don’t need this alpha,” you whispered, the words bitter in your mouth as you followed his path. If you were smart, you’d walk the other way and not look back. Yet the thought of never seeing him again made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to examine.

Does he know?

Studies over the years showed that not every bound pair was the same. Some couples felt the bond instantaneously like a firework exploding. Others felt it like a small burn that slowly consumed them over time. For a few, the spark took a long time to ignite. You couldn't ignore this burn if you tried.

You welcomed the slight chill in the air as you stepped onto the large balcony. It was lit up with sparkling lights, yet it didn’t take away from the stars that shone in the sky above. The alpha who caught your eye stood by the railing, alone, like he was looking over a kingdom. You felt foolish for going out there to bother him.

Steeling yourself with false confidence again, you walked over to stand beside him. You weren’t close enough to touch him, wanting to leave him a respectable amount of space. You could always use the excuse that you just needed some fresh air if he asked what you were doing.

Stealing a glance at him, you didn’t want to believe that you had a true connection with this man, that he could be your mate. No way would an omega like you be his match. Would he even want an omega like you? One with dreams to do more, be more?

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice thick like honey and the whiskey you drank. Of course, his voice would be a powerful weapon. But he wasn’t scenting you, or trying to tear your collar off, or doing anything to indicate that he felt the sort of spark you had. Maybe that was for the best.

“It is,” you sighed, looking out at the view. You couldn’t deny the beauty and how much easier it was to breathe since you weren’t surrounded by the suffocating bodies and scents. “It really is something.”

“I was talking about you.”

You whipped your head toward him so quickly you nearly hurt your neck. The flare of heat in his eyes hypnotized you again, but this time you didn’t want him to draw you in. A man of his stature, his power, he could chew you up, spit you out, and leave you a shell of yourself. But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

You were in so much trouble.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“I don't think I’ve seen you at a gala before. I would've remembered you,” he stated. You weren't sure what to say to that. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky if you’d like.”

You blinked a few times. “You’re James Barnes,” you whispered, not having to belong in the inner circle to know who he was.

James Buchanan Barnes. One of the wealthiest alphas in the city, his family came from money and it was no secret that Bucky, as he liked to go by, wasn’t bound to anyone. People assumed that he didn't want to share his wealth with anyone beyond his charitable donations, or that he was either extremely picky in choosing a mate. And here he was talking to you. This was the man you thought could be your mate.

You were in way over your head.

“I am,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

It took a moment, but your name tumbled from your lips as you shifted toward him. He inhaled when a breeze rolled in and you hoped your scent got to him the way his scent got to you. The way his eyes darkened, it had. Your inner omega wanted to purr with delight.

Time stood still when he took your hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but…”

“But what?”

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. Had Chet or another alpha done that, it would've been a different story. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

You whined before your inner hackles went up, making him pull his mouth away immediately. He at least had some level of respect and sensed the shift in your stance. “How many omegas have you said that and done that to?” you asked when you had no right to feel jealous.

He didn’t look put off by your question, and he didn’t let go of your hand either. “I’ve come across a few delectable scents before, but I don’t think I’ve ever described anyone as divine,” he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. An intense longing behind his eyes had your knees weak. “I haven’t smelled anyone like you.”

This alpha was telling the truth, but he wasn't a boy scout either. He knew how to fuck, you could tell, and he likely broke hearts without intending to. You didn’t want to be the next victim if a quick fuck was all he was looking for.

“I haven’t smelled anyone like you either,” you admitted, grudgingly pulling away. His heady scent made it hard to concentrate. And standing close to a man who wore a suit that cost more than half a year’s rent was another reminder that you were a girl playing dress up, nothing more. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Bucky stopped you from turning away, his grip on your arms tender so you wouldn’t feel threatened. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t belong here, and I don’t expect you to understand that,” you replied.

It was bad enough to let your guard down by following him out there, and you couldn’t let him seduce you more than he already had. You were lucky the very presence of him didn't trigger your heat. And how would your story end? He was a rich alpha, and you were a struggling omega. Was happiness really in the cards?

Your eyes widened when you heard the rumble in his chest, his scent producing a soothing aura that wrapped around you. Your lip trembled slightly as the rumble faded. Bucky could’ve let you walk away, yet he was comforting you. It made you want to cry.

“I may understand better than you think,” he whispered. Did he? Did he feel alone in that crowd of people there? “But help me understand why you feel that way.”

You rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. What was there for him to understand? “Okay,” you whispered back. The fact that he wanted you to talk to him meant something. “For starters, that crowd is kind of… well, awful from the short time I observed and interacted with them. They think they’re better than everyone else because they have so much, but they have no right to look down on others.”

The people in the gala simply flaunted what they had without a second thought. Being there made you appreciate your friends and their genuine interactions more. They worked hard for everything they had. They wouldn’t have anything against people born with a silver spoon in their mouths if they showed a little humility.

Bucky's chuckle surprised you. “Money doesn’t equal class, and believe me when I say they aren’t worth taking up any space in your beautiful mind,” he said, giving you a small smile. “To be honest, I came out here to get away from them because, save a select few, they're fucking assholes.”

You found yourself smiling, too. No wonder he has been standing by himself. “Is that the only reason?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch his perfect hair simply because you could.

He looked at you, a mixture of lust and something soft. Standing like this you felt like a couple. “I may have wanted you to follow me, and I’m glad you did,” he said, his tone calm and casual as butterflies filled your stomach. “You’re the first person I’ve considered approaching in a long time, but you looked a bit upset when you went to the bar. I didn’t think bothering you would win me any favors.”

You exhaled. Was he the alpha who growled when Chet gripped you too tightly? “I…” you shivered when another breeze rolled in.

He shrugged his jacket the moment he spotted you shivered. “May I?” he offered.

You hesitated. Bucky had a powerful scent, and how would it look to Chet if you wore another alpha’s jacket? Chet wasn’t your alpha, but he could run his mouth and get you in trouble with your boss. It didn’t matter that you wanted to quit one day. Today wasn’t that day because you financially weren’t ready. That was the excuse you made up in your head.

But your inner omega wanted Bucky’s scent to surround you and you replied in a small voice, “Yes, please.”

Bucky carefully placed the warm jacket around your shoulders. “I know the crowd bothered you for good reason, but who specifically upset you and how can I fix it?”

“My date,” you answered. You didn't have it in you to lie to him. It also wasn't up to him to fix it.

Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your arms. It helped warm and relax you. “What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes landing on the collar around your neck. You wondered what he would do if your mating gland was exposed, and you had to push that thought away.

“His name is Chet and he’s discussing business with some alpha.” The change in his scent was subtle. He seemed too confident to be jealous, but he didn’t seem pleased either at the thought of you being with someone else. “They were extremely condescending, and I couldn’t exactly throw a drink in their faces or put them in their place since I’m just an omega.”

Bucky snarled quietly, his eyes blazing. “You’re not just an omega,” he said. He was upset on your behalf. Was he not like other older alphas who wanted omegas to be subservient? “Maybe I should have a chat with them.”

You purred before you could stop yourself. Bucky offering to stand up for you felt better than you wanted to admit. “You don't have to do that,” you said, running your fingers through his hair again. You wanted to soothe him the way he soothed you. “Besides, I’m not really on a date with Chet. He just wanted me to be eye candy for the night.”

Bucky almost snarled again, but raised an eyebrow instead. “And you agreed to that? I have the feeling you aren’t the arm candy type.”

You giggled. He was right about that. “Didn’t really have a choice thanks to my boss,” you told him.

“Your boss? What exactly do you do for work?” he asked carefully.

He asked a lot of questions, but you didn't mind since he seemed genuinely interested. Maybe he assumed you were an escort. “I'm a designer,” you answered, smiling to yourself. “At least, I want to be. I’m just an assistant at the moment.”

“Let me guess. Your boss is an alpha, makes you do the grunt work, and takes the credit?” he mused, humming when you solemnly nodded. “And he convinced you to come here tonight because Chet is a client?”

“Something like that. It was either that or I get fired,” you laughed bitterly. “And if he fired me I’d get blacklisted, then I’d have no job, no money at all, and I’d lose my tiny apartment and…”

His nose wrinkled when you trailed off. You were so embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop your scent from souring. Talking to one of the richest alphas ever about your problems wasn’t something you thought you’d experience tonight, but that soothing rumble and smell came out again to help you breathe easier.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said with a touch of firmness so you knew he didn’t pity you. You could take a lot of things, but not pity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, smoothing out some of the fabric on your dress and not wanting to dwell on the topic. “I actually made this,” you told him. It was silly, but you specifically wanted to hear something nice from Bucky to make you feel better, which was bad. You shouldn’t want compliments from him or want him period.

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

Your mind raced, the heavy weight of his gaze pinning you in place. The longer you stood there, the more you wanted him. You had to snap out of it. “You’re dangerous,” you whispered, shaking your head as his hand fell away. “I should go inside.”

He stepped back, his eyes searching yours. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you replied honestly. Some of his actions were forward, but he wasn’t pushy. He was the sort of predator who probably gently played with his food before he sank his teeth in, yet you weren’t completely afraid of the bite. “Though I’m wondering why you don’t have a date tonight. Keeping your options open?”

Maybe he really did want to live the bachelor life.

The corner of his lip tugged when you narrowed your eyes. “I come to these things to make a short appearance. That’s all,” he explained. Even the wealthy had obligations. “Unlike some alphas my age, I’m not interested in having a date for the sole purpose of eye candy. And because most of the people here are fucking assholes, I don’t usually find anyone to take home.”

“So, you aren’t interested in taking me home?” you tried to tease. If he said no, you could lick your wounds later since you’d likely never see him again. If he said yes, you… Well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close enough that you felt just how big he was. A shudder wracked your body, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you. “I’m very interested in taking you home,” he breathed.

You lifted your eyes to him, his desire matching yours. “I-”

A young giggling couple stumbled out to the balcony reeking of booze. They took a few steps forward and Bucky moved you out of the way before they could crash into you. The ferocious growl he let out made the laughter cease, but it had you purring like a bitch in heat. “Leave,” he ordered, keeping his arms tight around you. The underlying threat in that single word had the couple rushing back inside, but they had effectively ruined the moment.

“I think that alpha almost pissed his pants,” you teased to cut through the tension.

“He’s lucky he didn’t tumble over the railing,” he said, loosening his hold on you and taking in your expression. You felt naked under his stare. “You aren’t ready to leave with me just yet.”

“I’m still here with a ‘date’,” you reminded him to cover up any feelings or doubts in your mind.

Other than Bucky being wealthy, powerful, and smelling like a sinful kind of heaven, you didn’t fully know him. Something within you felt like you did, but going home with him for the night… What if you disappointed him? What if he decided he didn't want you?

He gave nothing away as he stared at you while you felt like your eyes told him everything. It wasn’t fair how in control he looked when you were close to spiraling. “Let’s go sit inside,” he suggested, finally cracking a smile when your face scrunched up. “No one will bother us, and I’d like to keep talking to you even if you don’t decide to leave with me.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with you for a few minutes,” you said, especially if he would keep others away from you.

His hand on your hip felt like it belonged there as he guided you back inside. The scents and mindless chatter didn’t bother you as much now, likely because all you could really smell and concentrate on was Bucky. Did his kisses taste like plums or whiskey? Both?

He brought to a corner near the bar, far enough away from the mingling crowd that you still felt a bit of privacy. You kept his jacket around you though the room was considerably warmer than it was outside, not quite ready to give it back to him. “Drink?” he asked, angling his chair so that his knees were touching yours. There was no table in front of you. Anyone looking would see how close you were.

“No, thanks,” you said. You already downed a glass of whiskey and your head was spinning thanks to him.

You felt his gaze on you for a full minute before he spoke again. “Your ‘date’ isn’t the reason you’re hesitating to leave,” he said, scratching along his beard. You bet it would feel wonderful between your thighs. “Is it me? Am I too old for you?”

You had to laugh. “You’re a gorgeous silver fox, so that isn’t the problem,” you said. Beneath the suit you knew he was in great shape, too.

He smiled a gorgeous smile, appreciating the compliment. “So it isn't my age. Do you think I won’t treat you well?”

“I know you’ll treat me well,” you answered, avoiding his gaze. You knew that in your core. “But I’m afraid of what happens in the morning.”

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Everything.

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul. “And it isn’t fair that you have that kind of power over me.”

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

It wasn’t a matter of if with him, but when. “You couldn't possibly want me for more than one night,” you said. He knew you were just a struggling designer’s assistant and didn’t run with this crowd. You lived in different worlds.

“I’m going to want you every night.” He tilted his head when you shifted in your seat. “You feel it, don't you?”

You feigned innocence when he held your gaze, your heart racing. God, he had felt it. Was it an explosion, a slow burn, or something else? “Feel what?”

Bucky smirked, not at all fooled. “That you’re my-”

“Don’t say it,” you begged. Speaking the word would make it real and it wasn't something he could take back. “Because if you don’t want that or me, we can just go our separate ways and ignore it.”

He hadn’t marked you, and you hadn’t claimed him either. You didn’t know what it would feel like to have his knot, so you couldn’t possibly miss it. And neither of you would have to depend on the other. You could walk away with as minimal damage as possible, and you’d find a way to remain whole. So would he.

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

You thought the same about your heat. “Bucky-”

“Our scents call to each other. We call to each other,” he said, placing his hand on your chest. How did your heart feel fuller from his touch? “Tell me you didn't feel a connection when you caught my scent and looked at me.”

“I felt something,” you admitted.

“And it compelled you enough to follow me outside, to open up to me,” he said. You couldn't deny that. “You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Scare you?” you asked. Having mates could be wonderful, but what if he wanted that pull with someone who wasn’t you?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

You looked at him like he suddenly grew another head. “Quit my job and move in with you?”

“Yes. Your boss doesn't deserve to have you as an assistant, and you wouldn't have to pay rent if you stayed at my place.”

You didn’t attempt to laugh off his request since he was completely serious. “You realize that sounds insane, right?” you added. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary though. Some couples who took their time building their bond still moved in right away.

“Insane would’ve been marking you the moment I saw you and dragging you home the way some alphas do,” he said.

You bristled. “It’s too soon for you to mark me,” you said, even as your mating bond throbbed.

“Don’t worry. I won't mark you tonight,” he assured you. Hurt crept up for a split second before he ran a finger along your collar. You visibly trembled and realized that he did want to mark you. He just wasn’t doing so tonight out of respect for you. “But you can still be mine in every other way until that day comes.”

You opened your mouth to argue. He hadn’t marked you, but you still felt owned. “You really think people want you with an omega outside of your tax bracket?”

“You think I give a fuck what they think?” His handsome face twisted in a scowl as he looked around. “And if they even think about insulting you, I’ll ruin them. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you said.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

It sounded too good to be true, and nothing in this world was free. “I have my rent. If I break my lease-”

“I’ll pay what you owe.”

Your rent was probably pocket change to him. At least you didn’t have a roommate you’d have to worry about. It was always too risky to rely on someone else to help with bills and utilities. “And all that in exchange for what? Being your whore?”

He snarled, and you were delighted to hear that sound. “Trust me, doll, you may want me to fuck you like a whore, but I’ll treat you like a goddess. Like my equal,” he replied, his promise touching something deep inside you and drowning out most of your fear.

You just wished the remaining would fade away.

“I want us to be equals, but do you realize that you’d have all the power until I get my designs off the ground, right? I’d have to rely on your money, your roof over my head,” you said, swallowing the small lump in your throat. Did he realize what he was asking of you? To push aside the small amount of pride and independence you had? “I’ve done fine on my own and to have to depend on you is something else altogether.”

You hoped he at the very least realized how vulnerable you were right now by opening up more.

He looked vulnerable, too, as he moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to have to depend on me, but with me you wouldn't have to do this on your own. My finances don’t mean I have power. You’d have power, too,” he said. You wanted to believe you would. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in this entire city who could bring me to my knees. That’s power.”

You smiled a little. Could you really bring him to his knees? “As flattered as I am that you want to take care of me, do I have to decide tonight?” you asked. He was saying all the right things, and it was tempting, but there was so much to figure out beyond the living arrangements.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’d like,” he said, looking around as you let out a breath. He had no doubt in his mind that you would spend the night. “Have you seen your date?”

You looked around, too, not at all worried when you spotted him. A complete contrast to how you felt at the beginning of the evening. “He’s…” You gestured to the bar where Chet was flirting with the loosely dressed omega from earlier and staring right down the front of her dress.

Bucky growled and swept his eyes over you, no doubt catching how you pressed your thighs together from the sound. A growl really shouldn't be that sexy. “Not a very faithful alpha, is he?”

“Well, he isn't my alpha, remember?” you pointed out. Someone like Chet would never be. “My boss only ‘suggested’ that I go with him tonight, and I made it clear I wasn't going to sleep with him.”

There was another hint of a growl before he smiled. “Wait right here. I’m just going to tell the young pup that you’re going home with me.”

You gripped his arm as he tried to stand. “Easy, old man. I didn't say I was going home with you,” you teased, knowing full well you were in fact leaving with him.

“Old man?” he smiled.

You shrugged. “You called me ‘doll’, which sounds like something an old man would say.”

“I think an old man is exactly what you need.” His eyes flashed with a deliciously dark promise that he was right and you’d enjoy every single inch of what he’d give you. “And you didn’t explicitly say you'd go with me, but we both know I’ve swayed you to go to my place.”

“You alphas are so cocky.” You refrained from rolling your eyes since he was right in this instance. “But maybe I should just stay here a bit longer and make you work for it since you want me so badly.”

He chuckled. “You’d rather stay here? Fine by me,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ll just slide my hand up your dress here and now and feel just how wet you are for me. I doubt anyone would notice if I made you come on my fingers. They’re too caught up in themselves.”

Your eyes closed when he touched your thigh. “You think I'm wet for you?”

“I know you are. I can smell it. Can practically taste it. You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” he purred, and you could only tremble as his hand moved higher, your legs parting to give him more access. “In fact, why don't I drag your ‘date’ over and let him watch while I lay you out and feast on your cunt? Show him what you'll never give him a taste of?”

You weren't sure if the pool of arousal was from the thought of Bucky eating you like a starved man, making that sad excuse for an alpha watch while he got you off, or both. You wondered what it would be like to taste yourself on his lips. “And why would you let him see what I look like when I come?”

He seemed to consider your question. “That’s a good point. He shouldn't see how you look when you come.” Bringing his hand to your face, your breath hitched when he caressed your cheek with such care. “But you’ll never have to hide that beautiful expression from me.”

“Hey!”

You pulled away from Bucky in time to see Chet storm over. “Shit,” you whispered when he furiously looked between you and Bucky. You were shocked smoke didn't come out of his ears.

“What the hell are you doing? I said enjoy the free booze, and do not embarrass me. You can't even follow a simple instruction,” he snapped. You refused to bare your neck when he showed his teeth. He wasn’t going to embarrass you either. “The only reason you can even step foot in this place is because of me. You fucking sl-”

Bucky was out of his seat before you could blink, his hand wrapped tight around Chet’s throat and cutting off the remainder of his insult. A few patrons gasped and stopped to watch as Chet clawed at Bucky's hand, but no one stepped in to help. The anger that poured off your alpha was enough to deter anyone from getting involved. And you were loving every second of it.

“She’s my mate,” Bucky said through his teeth, making Chet’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Biology may say you’re an alpha, but you’re nothing. And I’m tempted to crush your windpipe for insulting her.” He squeezed harder and smirked when Chet wheezed. “When her boss asks how the gala went, you’re going to sing her praises. If you don't, I’ll hunt you down and make sure you can never knot anyone ever again. And that’s just the start of what I'll do to you.”

It was almost humiliating how turned on you were by Bucky's dominant display. You thought you’d be an omega who wouldn’t want an alpha acting like, well, an alpha, yet his defense of you meant a lot. “Bucky.” You stood up and smiled when he looked at you, his anger shifting to something softer. “You can let him go.”

Chet fell to the ground and coughed once Bucky released him. Your alpha bared his teeth with a snarl and Chet showed his throat like an obedient dog. It was clear who the top alpha was.

“Apologize,” Bucky commanded. Not only did Chet cough out an apology while avoiding your gaze, a few others said “sorry” as well. That was how powerful this man was. And you wanted him more than anything.

“Thanks for the free booze, Chet. And don't worry about me getting a ride home. I think you should worry if that omega still wants you after your… performance,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s. “Have a great night.”

There was no need to fake your confidence as you and Bucky walked out together. It didn't matter at the moment what they thought of you. All you could think about was how Bucky defended you, and how he called you his mate. It was out in the open. He…

Oh, God.

“Thank you for defending me, but you do realize you just told everyone that I’m your mate, right?” you whispered. That gossip would spread before the night was over.

“Is that what I did?” he asked, smirking when you hissed and glared. “And you don’t need to thank me. He had it coming.”

The smirk was still on his handsome face as the valet brought his car around. What the hell were people going to say? He didn’t care what they thought and neither should you.

“Listen, Bucky, just because you…”

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

“You better get me off before we get to your place,” you said instead of finishing your original statement because you truthfully forgot all about it when his lips touched yours.

Your insides tinged with more heat and desire when he nipped your bottom lip. “You better say my name when I get you off.”

“Should I say Bucky or James?” you smirked.

“Bucky. Reserve the name James for when you’re upset or extremely serious,” he winked, thanking the valet before helping you into his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice.

“And you won’t mark me tonight?” you asked once he got up, touching the back of your collar to make sure it was still secure.

“We still have a lot to figure out before I mark you,” he said, leaning over as you sighed in relief. “But before we go…”

His mouth landed on yours, both strong and soft as he took possession of yours. The entire gala could've gone up in flames and you wouldn't have noticed since all you felt was him. You tasted his hunger when his tongue plunged inside, and there was a hint of desperation, too. He was starving for you and you moaned, deepening the kiss to show that you were just as eager.

You panted when he broke the kiss. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” you breathed, your eyes once again giving everything away.

His nose bumped yours affectionately as he dragged his lips to your forehead. You didn't expect such a fond gesture from him, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't blurt out how nice a kiss to the forehead felt. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss against your skin.

Your heart felt full, and your inner omega wanted to shout with joy. “Take me home then.”

Bucky sped off a moment later, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Your core ached as you looked at him, giving you a chance to once again take in his profile. The saying of aging like fine wine probably rang true for him. You imagined he was always good looking, but he was both rough and refined thanks to his age. People who said perfection didn’t exist clearly never saw him before.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I do, but you know that,” you answered, his jaw clenching when you pulled your dress up to reveal your legs. “And didn’t you promise to get me off before we got to your place?”

The sexual tension that had been building up spiked, and you sensed his need to claim you in some capacity was rising to the surface. “Give me your panties,” he ordered, giving you a sharp look. “Now.”

“You’re bossy,” you smiled, pushing your dress higher. He swore under his breath when you gripped your underwear and slid it off, your slick practically dripping from the flimsy fabric. No one ever got you that wet before. “But I kind of like it.”

He chuckled, licking his lips. “You like it because it’s me,” he pointed out, snatching the underwear out of your hand once it was within reach. You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

You trembled when he took his eyes off the road. Pulling your dress over your hips, you obediently spread your legs and let him get a good look at what would soon belong to him. “You like what you see?”

“Just wait until I tie you to my bed and get a real look before I fuck you. It’ll be a shame to wreck something so pretty, but you’ll thank me for it,” he replied, looking back at the road as he sped up. Oh, you’d thank him over and over. “Touch yourself, but don’t put your fingers inside.”

Bringing your hand between your legs, you gasped at how sensitive you were. It was like you were in heat, but fully aware of your surroundings. “Like this?” you asked, moving your fingers along your folds.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his gaze darting between you and the road. You hoped one day he’d fuck your throat while he drove. “Now give me your hand.”

You presented your glistening fingers to him, giving him the opportunity to grip your wrist and suck the wet digits into his mouth. You felt his mouth water from your taste, the groan of arousal in his throat making you shake. He didn’t stop until he licked your fingers clean. “You taste just as divine as you smell,” he said, releasing your hand and reaching over to cup your mound. “And I need more.”

“I need more, too,” you moaned, his palm rubbing your clit and building that ecstasy within you. He teased your dripping hole with another finger, but didn’t push inside yet. You arched your hips, trying to get him to breach you. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl saying please,” he praised, finally pushing a thick finger inside. You clenched around him so tight, your body wanting more. “Fuck, you’re tight. And wet. Made just for me. Imagine how good you’ll feel once you’re stretched around my cock.”

“Want your cock,” you moaned, opening your legs wider. “Want your big cock inside me.”

“Yeah, you do. You want my big, bare cock in your soaked cunt,” he said, pushing another finger in, your slick coating them. You didn’t let anyone fuck you bare before, but you’d let him. “You want my knot, too.”

You moaned, an image of you on your hands and knees flashing in your mind, Bucky’s strong hands pulling you back to meet every thrust until he locked your bodies in place. You could practically feel his teeth sinking into your neck to fully seal your fate. Or would he make love to you, linking your fingers together and kissing you with care as he tenderly pushed his knot in? It didn’t matter. He’d give you everything, and you wanted it all.

“Are you hard just thinking of fucking of me raw?” you moaned, the need to rip the top of your dress open to reveal your breasts strong. No… If your dress was going to get torn to shreds, he could do that himself. “Coming so deep inside me you’ll drip out of me days later?”

The next growl he let out was inhuman, his fingers curling until you cried out. “My good little omega has a dirty mouth on her,” he smirked.

“I do have a dirty mouth. You should fuck it sometime,” you smiled sweetly before your mouth fell open, his expert fingers fucking you deep. Talking dirty to him helped stamp down your emotions a bit, but they were threatening to surface the more he touched you. “Bucky.”

“That’s it. Say my name. Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded. Your back arched, gripping the leather seat until your hand ached. Your body certainly knew who owned you. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you.”

You bit your lip to hold back your whimper, your heart pounding out of control. No one took care of you. No one wanted to until tonight, and you hadn’t wanted that either.

He stopped moving his fingers, keeping perfectly still as you hissed in frustration. Was he really going to build you up and not let you finish? “Tell me,” he demanded again, gentler this time.

Your eyes burned, but you swallowed your pride. Again. “You, Bucky,” you whispered, trusting that he’d be an alpha of his word. “You'll take care of me.”

He cooed when you whimpered, slipping a third finger in and moving them again. “That’s my girl. My good omega. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say,” he praised, so proud of you. Part of you was proud of yourself, too. “Do you need to come?”

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately trying to ride his fingers as the pressure grew. You were so close. Just a little more…

“Then do it. Get that slick all over my hand and seat,” he said, pushing against your bundle of nerves once more as your body locked up. “And say. My. Name.”

Waves of pleasure rolled through you, colors blurring your vision as you cried his name. Your eyes rolled back as the squelching sound of your cunt filled the car, his fingers helping you ride it out. You were drowning, unable to breathe until you broke through the haze. You felt ruined already by his fingers. Oh, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Fuck, that’s it. Give it to me. That’s my good girl. Can’t wait to feel that all over my cock.”

He only removed his fingers when you whined and licked your essence away with a low moan. The beautiful bastard still looked so put together, and hadn’t swerved once while he drove. “Holy shit,” you exhaled, your walls still fluttering. The orgasm took the edge off while leaving you wanting more. “Did I… soak your hand?”

“You did,” he confirmed, your face hot. “Fuck, I’m going to need an entire weekend to eat your sweet cunt just to start,” he said, flashing you a smile. “And you make very pretty sounds when you come.”

You managed a smile as you slumped in the seat, your dress still bunched around your waist. “What do you sound like when you come?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’ll find out,” he promised.

You trembled again when he put his hand back on your thigh, your hand immediately covering his. You needed his touch to ground you, but didn’t want to say so. “I just realized something,” you said once you fully caught your breath.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you’re my mate but you haven’t marked me yet, and you plan to pay for… well, everything for me for the time being,” you said, a laugh bubbling up when you saw that your window was fogged up. You drew a little smiley face, making you laugh more before you glanced at him. “You’re kind of like my sugar daddy.”

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t push it, old man,” you giggled. Though if anyone could sway you, it would be him. “Why don’t we just stick with ‘alpha’ for now?”

“That and Bucky,” he suggested, turning his hand so your palm rested against his. “I like hearing you say my name, doll,” he added in a whisper.

“I like saying your name, Bucky,” you said, your brows furrowing. “But who came up with that nickname?”

He chuckled again, your skin tingling when he lifted your hand to kiss it. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stole a glance at you. Through the heavy scent of your orgasm, you detected joy seeping from him. It made you feel happy, too. “Okay,” he smiled, running his thumb along your hand. “I got the nickname a long time ago…”

You twisted more in your seat to face him as you listened, lost in his voice and smile. There was so much you had to learn about your alpha. His likes and dislikes. What he would be like before, during, and after his ruts. He had a lot to learn about you, too. You wouldn’t give up on your dream of becoming a designer, and accepting his help may not be such a bad thing.

And maybe accepting the fact that you had a mate to depend on wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

So, what do we think so far? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[beloveds-embrace]

Okay what if (and stop me if I'm wrong here I'm new to A/B/O) the guys see someone flirting with the designation-less reader and they start subtly start marking them with pheromones to tell everyone else to back off?

I love this idea so much ugh 😩 scenting in the omegaverse always makes me so jdjsjen and no worries! Nothing about what you said is wrong and welcome to the blessed cursed space that is a/b/o

Original post

It started with Price and Ghost stepping into the armory.

You hadn’t noticed them at first, too focused on trying to edge away from the overly friendly Alpha soldier who just wouldn’t take the hint, no matter how disinterested you made sure you looked. He was leaning in closer than necessary, voice dropping lower with each word like he was trying to make the conversation feel more personal. Though your nose picked nothing, you just knew he was probably, likely, drowning the area with his stench.

You didn’t know how to stop it without making a scene. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong- just too many compliments, too much interest in your plans after hours, too much weight in the way he said your name. It left you off balance, unsure if you were imagining the tension curling low in your stomach. Unpleasant tension, as if youmd accidentally eaten spoiled food.

These days, it seemed as if you either garnered no attention, and when you did, it was unwelcome attention. At least it was different and far more pleasant with the 141.

“So, love, I was wondering-“

Then Price cleared his throat.

It wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a gunshot, sharp and commanding. Both you and the soldier froze, heads snapping toward the sound, and there he was- Captain Price, standing in the doorway like he owned the entire building, eyes locked right on the man in front of you.

Ghost was just behind him, silent and still as a shadow, but the weight of him filled the room like a second presence- dark, heavy, watching, shoulders tense like Price. You’ve been with them long enough to tell when they are angry based on body cues, and right now, that’s what they were.

Not for the first time, you wondered just what they’d smell like. Would it be heavy and harsh on your nose? Somehow, you doubted it. Then again, Soap did tell you that angry Alphas smell like burnt rubber most of the time.

You eyed the way your… admirer’s nose wrinkled, jaw tight, eyes shifting around.

You hoped it smelled worse.

The soldier stumbled over a few words before making an excuse to leave. He didn’t even try to finish the conversation- rude- and barely managed to keep his composure as he slipped out the door.

Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your shoulders relaxed slightly as you turned to thank them- but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way they were now looking at you.

It wasn’t anger, exactly. It was something… sharper. Something that made your pulse quicken and your palms feel clammy, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong.

But then Price strode towards you and nodded, low and firm, clasping a hand on your shoulder, and Ghost lingered just long enough to brush his shoulder against yours before following him out the door.

… weird Alphas.

“Weird Alphas.” You said outloud as well, huffing.

You thought that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

It was subtle, so subtle that you almost didn’t notice at first.

Soap was the easiest to miss, playful and touchy by nature so much so even one as people-averse as you were comfortable next to him by now. He slung an arm over your shoulders whenever you were nearby, leaning into your space like it was nothing. He’d linger there just long enough that your skin was warm before pulling away, flashing you a knowing grin you didn’t understand.

Gaz was more deliberate. He’d pass you things- gear, water bottles, paperwork, pens- and his fingers always brushed yours and lingered. Small steady touches, leaving traces of his warmth on everything he handed you, leaving traces of his warmth on your skin. When you worked together, he’d lean in close enough that his presence settled over you, wrapping around your skin like a second layer. Your shoulders and thighs would touch, and sometimes you swore you could feel a deep purr coming from him.

Price didn’t touch you often, but when he did, it lingered and was acutely felt. A hand at the small of your back to guide you through a crowded hallway. A warm palm resting against your shoulder during debriefings, right where your faulty scent glands are. Solid, steady touches that felt heavier than they should’ve- clearly intentional even to the likes of you, and yet you didn’t want to really, truly acknowledge them.

And Ghost- Ghost was the worst.

He didn’t say a single word when he draped his jacket over your shoulders after a long, rain-soaked training session, the heavy fabric still warm from his body and shielding you from the wafting chill. You’d tried to give it back later, but he pushed it into your hands with a low, demanding “Keep it.” That left no room for argument. You didn’t think much of it at first- just a practical gesture- but you caught the way the others looked at you after, the raised brows and faint smirks that made you second-guess what it really meant, especially when you found yourself wearing it long after the cold had faded. You’d tried wearing your own jacket, but the look he gave you had you sighing, leaving, and returning to wearing his.

You didn’t understand it at first, didn’t recognize it for what it was. But others did.

It was possessive. Territorial.

The stares started- quick, assessing glances from the other soldiers that led to widened eyes. People moved out of your way in the hallways, gave you more space than before. Conversations shifted when you walked into a room, voices dropping, eyes darting toward the men who always seemed to hover just behind you.

You didn’t know what to make of it.

And then Soap grinned at you over lunch one day where you wearing a shirt of John’s now and Ghost’s jacket, leaning close enough to bump his shoulder against yours, and said, “Looking good, bonnie. Don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to try sniffin’ around you now.”

It took you a second too long to process what he’d said. When you finally did, your eyes darted toward the others- toward Price, who didn’t even look up from his plate, and Gaz, who only smirked and in your shock, slipped the bracelet he was wearing on your wrist. Toward Ghost, who met your gaze with something dark and unreadable before leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t affected at all. No; he was satisfied, like a smug bear.

You swallowed.

It should’ve felt suffocating, overwhelming, but it didn’t.

It felt… safe. Secure in a way you didn’t know how to explain. The guy that had been bothering you had even requested a transfer.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t call them out on it.

But later, when Price pulled you in his face and rubbed his face, his chin and beard all across your neck, you didn’t move away.

The “good girl” you got was all you could think about hours later.

[empyrealoasis]

‧₊˚ The Science Behind @luckykiwiii101's Distraction Technique *ೃ༄

Relaxing °. *࿐

Relaxation techniques are more effective when the body is at ease. A comfortable position minimizes physical distractions and prepares the body for a shift into a relaxed, meditative state, which is essential for reducing stress and activating the parasympathetic nervous system.

The Alpha State °. *࿐

Alpha Brainwaves: The alpha state refers to a brainwave frequency range (8-12 Hz) that is associated with relaxation, creativity, and heightened suggestibility. Alpha is a common state for the brain and occurs whenever a person is alert, but not actively processing information. You can increase alpha by closing your eyes or deep breathing and decrease alpha by thinking or calculating. ଳ Sub band low alpha: 8-10: inner-awareness of self, mind/body integration, balance ଳ Sub band high alpha: 10-12: centering, healing, mind/body connection

Counting and Visualization: Counting down and visualizing numbers can help quiet the mind, reduce external distractions, and induce relaxation. This repetitive task shifts attention inward and promotes alpha wave activity. It activates areas of the brain linked to visualization, like the occipital and parietal lobes. Adding another layer of mental activity, further grounding you in the internal, relaxed state.

Distraction Through Visualization °. *࿐

Distraction vs. Focus: The paradox here is that by intentionally distracting yourself with a scene or an internal activity (like playing a song mentally), you stop focusing on the external world (the "3D"). This detachment from external stimuli is key to shifting into an altered state of consciousness.

Default Mode Network (DMN): When you visualize or let your mind wander, the DMN, a network of brain regions activated during rest and self-referential thought, becomes active. This helps in decoupling from immediate sensory input and encourages a meditative or void-like state.

Letting Go: The act of distraction prevents overthinking about reaching the void, which can be counterproductive. When you're engrossed in a scene or mental song, you're no longer "trying," which facilitates a natural shift into the void.

Induce Pure Consciousness °. *࿐

Guaranteed Results: The process relies on reducing external focus and internal resistance. The void state is associated with a deeply relaxed state of consciousness, where mental barriers (ego) dissolves. This does not mean it's a deep meditative state, it's just "pure consciousness" as its name suggests.

Neuroscientific Basis °. *࿐

Relaxation Response: Inducing the alpha state triggers the relaxation response, reducing stress hormones (like cortisol) and increasing focus.

Cognitive Load Diversion: By distracting the conscious mind with visualization or mental activities, the subconscious becomes more accessible.

Hypnagogic State: The method resembles techniques used to enter the hypnagogic state, a transitional phase between wakefulness and sleep, where visualization and suggestion are potent.

[cthulhus-curse]

Eternal Flames

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 15,155

Warnings: Omegaverse, Alphas!WandaNat, Omega!Reader, WandaNat have penises, Nursing, Smut Fluff, Hurt/Comfort | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: After having escaped the sharp claws of HYDRA, you end up as the newest member of the Avengers and the object of Wanda and Natasha's affection.

Freedom is earned, not deserved.

Those words forever echoed in your mind, haunting you through your horrifying dreams and waking life alike. They came from the same husky voice, one which always made you shudder in a torturous remembrance. Rumlow, you felt bile rising from your throat at the sole humoring of the name, was anything but compassionate. Day after day he spit the same phrase your way since your earliest memories. HYDRA was your home, he had said, and for the longest years you believed it. 

Being born into the organization, taken from your own home as a child, forced you into being a pawn in their game of chess. As the bishop, Rumlow was meant to oversee your training alongside other stolen members forced to partake in HYDRA’s black and white board, with his men as rooks standing by in case any deserters had the bright idea of leaving. Because if it happened, and it did from time to time, there wouldn’t be any hesitation to put a bullet between their eyes. For HYDRA, undying loyalty was everything, even if they needed to drill it onto you with less-than-savory acts. 

A killer is what they made you – a coldhearted yet accomplished weapon of mass destruction, one that followed the Winter Soldier’s footsteps with red dripping from your ledger with each passing day. Countless lives were taken at your hands, and although you were forced to believe that HYDRA was your home, that you needed to fight for them, there always came a hint of doubt deep in your subconscious. Regardless of the brainwashing, that light was never put out no matter how much they tried. And for that, you were punished severely. 

Even for the sole fact that you were an omega, you were treated as the lowest of the low. Many of your fellow HYDRA soldiers, those thrown into involuntary service, had the same nature. There were a handful of alphas scattered around, but mostly it was the omegas, demanded to be submissive, which took the harshest beatings. Medication was shoved down your throat to prevent any heats and suppress any scents. To them you were nothing; no one. And if they wanted to control every breath you took, they’d do as such. 

With the fall of HYDRA at the hands of The Avengers, one Black Widow and Captain America to be exact, came your freedom. There were still active soldiers operating outside bounds that were set, hiding in the shadows refusing to be found, but not you. No, you were saved from that life instead. Muscular arms wrapped around your frame as you slept in the beat-down cot of HYDRA headquarters, pulling you away as the woman promised you’d be alright from now on. You didn’t know her, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia on her told you all you needed to know. Sighing, you nodded her way. Because in the 20 years you’d spent under her rule, you could finally take a breath of relief. 

Your defection from HYDRA came by, and you couldn’t help but happily turn around to betray them for the sake of your freedom. Maria took you under her wing through that time, morphing you into an exemplary S.H.I.E.L.D. agent much like herself. She saw greatness in you, never failing to repeat those same words whenever possible as a reminder of all the things you could accomplish. You were more than a killer, the woman told you, and you realized then that if it wasn’t for her, you’d probably not have a life past those 20 years. 

The shame that came with your past haunted you in your present. Each night you went to bed bawling your eyes out without fail, sobbing for all the innocents you’d harmed under the hand of HYDRA. The cries were muffled enough to not boom across the headquarters as to not alert your fellow agents, and yet a certain brunette always passed by, sighing as she was well-aware of the torture you put yourself through on a daily basis. 

“You don’t have to beat yourself up for it,” Maria reminded you one morning as she handed you a cup of coffee right after a joint run. “That wasn’t you. They made you do it, you didn’t have a choice.”

“I could’ve done something,” you shrugged. Although the coffee burned you as it went down your throat, you deserved it – that and even more. “I was there and I didn’t-”

“You were just a kid when it all started,” she had to interject. “No one blames you, alright? And…sure they made you do horrible things, I know that, but that doesn’t mean you take the blame for it all. They made you, not the other way around.”

The two of you sat in silence in the break room, your eyes staring into the nothingness while Maria’s was set on you. She took her unofficial job as your protector very seriously, seeing parts of herself in you – a lost alpha who, luckily, was able to find solace in the arms of her omega wife Pepper. All the agent wanted was for you to seek out the same happiness she earned. Perhaps then she could help save you the way she had been.

“I might have something for you if you’d like. It’s a bit of a step up from running covert missions under Fury and I,” Maria shrugged, smiling as she had a good feeling about it. “They’re called the Avengers. Fury brought them together, but they operate by themselves without us overseeing them. You wouldn’t have to report back to anyone but yourselves. Does that sound like something you’d consider?”

“The Avengers,” you scoffed at that. “Is that like a band or something?”

“Well, they’re not The Beatles, but I suppose they’re a bit of a band,” she explained. “They’re making way more progress than we ever could in taking down HYDRA. I’m sure you’d be a very valuable asset to the team if you decide so. Between you, the god from space, and the big guy, you’d be unstoppable.”

More silence came about, but this time it was pensive. You truly took your time in humoring the offer. For months since you joined the organization, you’d been able to help in hunting down the remainder of HYDRA operatives, but you knew that there were more hiding in plain sight who needed to be dealt with. If there was an opportunity to do so, you’d be dumb not to take it in a heartbeat. 

Maria would never push you into uncomfortable positions, let alone throw you into the wolves as she sat back and watched. But alas, she knew of the positive effects being surrounded by such a team could cause. There came the question about your reaction to having numerous alphas around you though. Between the leader of the team, Steve with his alpha mate, and even the leader of the pack itself Natasha and her second-in-command Wanda, Maria was unsure you’d take a liking to them instantly. At least with the two women, she had a good feeling you’d warm up to them in a few weeks. 

“Try it out for a bit, yeah?” Maria gently pushed. “Then you can let me know how you feel about it. If you don’t like it, I can always ask Fury about getting you your own taskforce. I know you’re young, but I really think you can-”

“Omegas don’t lead,” you interjected, suddenly speaking in the same monotone voice Rumlow once carried. “That’s…that’s what they used to tell me.”

With sympathy stricken over her features, Maria shook her head. She reached out enough for her hand to lay atop your own, her thumb brushing over yours as a means to show you her understanding of the matter. Since your sudden departure from HYDRA after it crumbled, it was the first time you let someone, let alone an alpha, touch you without pulling back in fear.

“You can and you eventually will,” she sincerely told you. “I have so much faith in you, Y/N. Have some in yourself too, yeah?”

Those were the same words you carried around your chest on your first day with the Avengers. It was different from HYDRA, better at that. Maria had surprised you earlier that morning with a brazing cup of coffee and a box with a cute sticky note on it. Hope it’s the right size , it read, and when you pulled out the wrapping paper, your eyes widened at the sight of a suit – mostly black with the Avengers insignia and S.H.I.E.L.D. one on the side – one solely for yourself, hiding underneath. 

Walking through the steps of the Avengers compound, you sighed. It was much larger than the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, making it easy for you to get lost in the Upstate New York campus. Rushing through, you realized you’d be late then for the early debriefing session Hill told you about, at least until you ran, quite literally, into the one help you’d found all morning. 

“Shit,” you yelped as you fell into the ground. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” came a lighthearted giggle. “You should really watch where you’re going, sweetheart. I’m not too fond of getting concussions from random girls. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Not only did the words drawled up gently made your features heat up, but as you pulled away and were able to catch sight of who you stumbled on, your mouth went agape. There were no words to describe the beauty that had befallen before you, and yet you tried. A vibrant redness tied back into messy French braids cascaded down strong shoulders barely covered by a sleeveless gray shirt. It left you breathless, scarred even, because in the 20 years you’d spent on Earth, even if locked away in your demonic cage, you had never felt your heart racing in such a manner, fingers tingling and craving to reach out to trace her chiseled jaw until you reached her rosy lips. 

“I- uhm…” you tried to speak, but only slurred incoherent mumbles you were unable to control came out.

“Pretty and cute,” the mystery woman hummed. “Great combination. What’s your name, милая?”

From your time at HYDRA, you understood the term very well. There weren’t many things that made you smile, but being called ‘honey’ by a rather attractive stranger did the trick. Her Russian accent was thick when she spoke in what you assumed was her native language, her tongue drawing out each syllable and making it impossible for you to tear your eyes away. 

“I’m…” you paused, needing time to take in her words and figure out a proper manner in which you could respond. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Natasha,” she said. “But most people know me as Black Widow.”

And from that time on, you swore to yourself there’d never be a more glorious sight than the Black Widow herself. You were wrong of course, because only minutes later you rushed into the meeting room, hot on Natasha’s guiding heels, only to find a rather sheepish brunette eyeing you two sweetly. With the two of them around, you were unsure on how you’d focus on your goal, let alone carry on your fear of alphas when you craved two so carnally. 

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Within your first six months of being an Avenger, you had already made a name for yourself. ‘The rookie’ or ‘rooks’ is what the men referred to you as, especially Clint who took on the mantle of a loving messiah ready to shoot an arrow through just about everyone to make sure you’re safe. He was nice enough, they all were, but your eyes were always focused on a pair of alphas, mated to one another at that, who simply never left your mind. 

Natasha and Wanda, you had found, shook your world upside down. All of the pain and suffering you had endured suddenly went away as they came into your thoughts. Soothing all your hurt, the two women just…made everything make sense for once. And for that you couldn’t be more than grateful whenever you spent even milliseconds around them. 

Even menial aspects of Avengers life such as training or even breakfast made your heart skip a beat at the sole thought. Each morning you woke up with a newfound sense of giddiness. At first you were unable to pinpoint the reason behind it. And yet each time your eyes feasted upon peculiar heads of red or brown, you shuddered with excitement. 

But you couldn’t do anything about it, not ever. The idea of reaching out to speak to either of them, or even stare in their general directions with the possibility of being caught put a strain on your actions. They didn’t like you, you told yourself each night, pushing away the possibility of ever finding even so much as a friendship in both Wanda and Natasha. They were mated to one another after all – two confidently righteous alphas that didn’t have time for a lowly omega such as yourself. 

Sighing, you couldn’t shake the images of them that came about as you awoke in what felt like a lifetime since you joined the group. They’d hate you even if they gave you an opportunity, the alphas that is. If they saw you like that, raggedly sitting up against your bed, arms wrapped around your legs as your knees were hugged to your chest covering all the deep scars on your body, they’d grimace with disgust. You were a freak, Rumlow used to tell you, a mistake of humanity that somehow got more than a handful of years to live. With all the memories that each cut on your skin carried, some given to you by others while the rest were self-made, they’d surely turn away. You were unwanted, the trash people threw away and never looked back to. 

Every single area of your body was covered before you went out into the world. The suit Maria had given you hugged every bit of skin, coating it in a protective blanket that allowed you to exist without the need to worry about prying eyes. Regardless of that, you were a shadow in the compound. Your teammates barely looked at you, let alone speak your way unless deeply crucial. Perhaps at times they didn’t want you there, and in your mind, they were truly validated as you didn’t even want yourself to be present. With all the struggles you faced, unable to properly fit in with both the language barrier and difference in dynamics with a room full of alphas, it was impossible to ever become a proper piece to their puzzle. 

“So, what did you do before coming here?”

Standing in what you believed to be an empty kitchen, you jumped. Clint had taken to leaving leftovers for you to eat once all the teammates were done with breakfast knowing of your fear of being around them. While alone you took to feeding yourself, something you had yet to become fully accustomed to. Rumlow’s men only ever fed you scraps, absolute trash they found for their own amusement in watching a weak omega ravage nothingness for the sake of survival. Pancakes and fresh fruits in your stomach felt odd, different, and new, yet delicious. 

Turning, you noticed a beaming brunette stepping towards you, her hands clasped together. Fingers fiddled nervously with rings around them, one being shiny with a rather big diamond you could tell was her wedding band. Wanda adored her jewelry much like she adored Natasha, the one who spoiled her with it all. 

“To the kitchen?” You frowned, not understanding her question. “I was…sleeping, Mrs. Maximoff-Romanoff.”

“Wanda,” the woman giggled at the formal title. “You can call me by my name, dear. I won’t bite,” she sultrily teased. “Well, unless I’m asked to do so…”

As her words died out, the innuendo she threw your way completely went over your head. The witch gazed at you as you dropped your plate on the floor, kneeling beside it ready to eat. It made her gasp, and as she did, her hands flew with a glowing red to grab the plate. She moved it from the dirty floor to the pristine kitchen island – one Steve prided himself of cleaning thoroughly after one of his big team meals – before rushing to you.

“What are you doing?” Wanda was worried, but you were unable to tell even through her exasperated voice. She reached out to you, hoping to comfort you only to be met by you flinching even at the slightest of touches on your shoulder. A whine came out, causing the brunette’s eyebrows to knit together with concern as you rose to your feet. “Y/N?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I forgot I don’t have to…never mind.”

“You don’t have to do what, honey? Are you- are you used to eating on the floor?” She hesitated with her question. As you took your place on a stool, Wanda made sure to sit on the one right across to ensure you would no longer be uncomfortable. “Sweetheart, what happened before you came here? To the Avengers, I mean.”

You knew she could read minds, Tony had let it slip weeks before during a debriefing session. So as hard as it was, you attempted to shift your thoughts far away from HYDRA as possible. Regardless of whether she listened in to your subconscious or not, you weren’t about to leave it to chance. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you flatly responded. Looking down at your pancakes, sugary syrup having been drizzled across it, you hummed with a grumbling stomach, but waited to dig in until after you spoke. “I worked right under Hill and Fury. My job was to seek out the remaining HYDRA operatives and bring them to justice. And, well, Maria told me this group was doing much better with that, so I thought you could use a hand.”

“Yes, we’re not big fans of HYDRA around here,” Wanda sadly stated. “They…they gave me my powers, but I feel like they took everything from me. No one understands but Nat.”

“Because of the Red Room,” you asked, remembering Maria’s words about Natasha’s past. “They didn’t have much to do with one another, other than Dreykov wanting HYDRA intel for his widows. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Wanda wanted to deepen the conversation, to crawl right into your mind as she pulled out bits and pieces of information she craved. The mysterious aura that surrounded you made her crave the idea of knowing you even more. Each day the woman longed to sit by and listen to you ramble about your life, even the most menial aspects or whatever you wished to share. Because although she was mated to her beloved Natasha, Wanda couldn’t help but yearn to have you as well. 

“Where did you grow up?” Wanda tried to dig in, but you wouldn’t let her. “I grew up in Sokovia with my twin brother, Pietro, and my parents.”

“I…” you hesitated, not only as it was the first conversation you’ve held with anyone that wasn’t Maria, but because it was also Wanda of all people. “I don’t want to talk about it, my apologies.”

A sympathetic smile was thrown your way, one you weren’t quite used to. “It’s alright, darling. You don’t have to talk about anything you’re uncomfortable with. Can I…ask you other things? If you feel alright with them, I mean.”

You remained quiet, but as you took a bite of your pancakes, you barely nodded. There was still much you were unaware of when it came to the world beyond the four walls of HYDRA, especially that in relation to societal hierarchy with you being an omega. But when it came to Wanda or Natasha, you didn’t feel that pressure to submit to them, to beg for pity as they greedily took whatever they wanted much like Rumlow had. No, they made you feel…peace for once in your life. And as scary of a feeling as it was, you were more than joyous to experience it with them, even if not directly. 

“Do you have a mate, darling?” She found you grimaced uncomfortably at the question, instantly regretting asking it before you shook your head. “You’re the first omega I’ve met without one. Aren’t you too pretty to be alone? I’m sure there must be hundreds of alphas, betas, and even omegas falling to their knees for you.”

“Not really, but it’s fine. My only goal and purpose is to rid the world of HYDRA’s horrors. I don’t have time to humor those things.”

“It must get lonely sometimes,” Wanda whispered, and you didn’t realize then just how badly she wanted to wrap you up in her arms and brush that sad look off your face. “You deserve someone, Y/N. We all do.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, suddenly not interested in your breakfast. “Maybe someday.”

And as avaricious as it felt, part of Wanda hoped it could be her and Natasha to have you. 

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“You should’ve seen her, Nat. She was like a hurt puppy sitting there all alone,” her voice was hoarse, tired of the numerous times she’d repeated the same story with no avail. Because at the end of the day, Wanda wouldn’t be sated until she alleviated the pain you exuded one way or another. “I…I needed to help her. Poor thing is all alone. She doesn’t have anyone! Not a single soul.”

Sighing, the redhead finished throwing on a shirt above her head. She waltzed towards the bed in the late hours of the night already hoping for a good night’s sleep. “I know, Wands. I saw her and Maria getting a bit close so I had hoped she was maybe befriending her, but Y/N spends all her time locked up in her room even when Ria and Pepper come around. I’ve even tried inviting her to movie night, but it’s like talking to a wall sometimes. She’s there physically, but almost checked out.”

“She doesn’t have a mate,” Wanda worryingly said as she watched her partner slump herself down beside her. “And her smell, Nat, it’s too much. I can barely contain myself whenever I’m around her.” Shifting uncomfortably, Wanda looked down at herself. Even through the sheets she could feel a tenderness around her breasts and crotch. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know that too,” Natasha hummed. “But we can’t push her. If she doesn’t want to then…we can’t push her. It just makes me sad knowing she’s all alone and doesn’t want anyone around her. Almost as if Y/N doesn’t think she’s worthy.”

Turning to her side, Natasha frowned. She watched her fellow alpha begin to pull at her shirt, huffing as it stuck to her chest where wet nipples poked through. Licking her lips, the Black Widow couldn’t help but feel an immense sense of hunger. Because whenever her mate, much like certain alphas, produced milk, Natasha’s senses spiked. 

“D’you need help?” Natasha motioned towards Wanda’s seemingly slick chest, eyeing it with longing before staring back into her similarly viridescent eyes. “We can forget about everything for a bit. You can pretend I’m here if you’d like.”

“You’d do that?” Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Well, I know you’d do it for me,” Natasha mused. “And even if we don’t have her, we still have each other.”

Nimble fingers, nails coated in chipped black nail polish, tugged at the dark fabric straining against Wanda. They pulled it off before throwing it on the floor, not caring where it landed as their owner focused on the beauty before her. She squeezed the breasts at first, whining at how tender and sensitive they were at the palm of her hands. Kneading them, both alphas groaned together. Neither cared much about pleasure, but instead basked in the relief and closeness of it all. 

“They’re full,” the redhead pointed out. She used her thumbs and index finger to oh-so gently squeeze the rosy nipples that practically cried for any sort of attention. And once they were stimulated, Natasha grinned at the sight of drops of milk beginning to come out. “Oh baby. I’ll take such good care of you, always. Gonna make you feel so, so good.”

Lips wrapped themselves around the buds. They were careful enough to not harm Wanda, ensuring that her whitened teeth didn’t graze them even slightly knowing her mate would only scream out of pleasure. Massaging her breasts, Natasha ensured that she calmly brought a smile to the face beneath hers, running her tongue around the nipples to scoop up drops of milk before alternating between them.

She nuzzled her face upon Wanda’s chest until her forehead grazed the flushed, heated skin. As Natasha suckled the buds, she drank up every single spurt of milk that was let out. It was delicious, she couldn’t help but point out while lustfully devouring the brunette. And at the feeling of a tent poking at her inner thigh, a certain Widow couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I’ll make it all better,” Natasha promised as she lapped at the creamy milk. “I always do, Дорогая.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Running missions with both Natasha and Wanda became comforting as time passed. Even if you were in the depths of your covers, or even fighting whatever enemy forces came about, the ends of your mouth would never fail to rise slightly. Not only did you get to spend all your time around the mated women, slowly building trust with alphas in general, but simultaneously you went around taking down whatever HYDRA bases were in the way, helping you all grow closer together.

You couldn’t help the jolt in your heart whenever they so much as stared your way, and while waltzing through an empty HYDRA camp, your boots clashing with the snow on the ground, your eyes never left Wanda or vice versa. The two of them acted as something of bodyguards for you, because even if your training from HYDRA gave you a similar fighting stance as Natasha, they’d forever see you as a small creature they wished to nurture and protect. Keeping their eyes on you has become nature and you were surprisingly not complaining. 

While you and Wanda secured the perimeter, it was up to Natasha to remain back and gather any intel she could from the leftover devices that remained after the HYDRA agents scurried off. She hummed to herself out of boredom knowing that much like the other encounters, their systems would’ve been wiped clean, but there was a part of her that could never be too sure. So she booted up laptop after laptop, clicking away to each file to find anything of importance. 

There was a peculiar set of documents that caught her eye. Natasha frowned at it, clicking on the file named ‘Project Omega’ out of curiosity. The contents made bile build up at her throat. There were countless images and videos, some written forms here and there, that archived the mistreatment they gave omegas, and certain alphas, who were under HYDRA’s claws. They were taken from a young age, the reports read, and morphed into soldiers for the organization to use much like the Red Room. Only from what Natasha could see, the treatment to their involuntary soldiers was somehow more demonic than anything she’d seen. 

Flipping through the pictures, the woman nearly pulled away. She was unable to sit through it, which made her wonder just how much worse it must’ve been to experience it firsthand. Surely enough most HYDRA bases had been taken down so the likelihood of such programs still existing was slim, but alas, Natasha kept looking to ensure that were to be true. 

And when she saw a familiar face all bludgeoned in an image, her whole world stopped. 

“Y/N,” Natasha mumbled, frowning as she inspected the bloody picture until she got sick. She had wanted to bring Rumlow to justice since he slipped away in Washington D.C., but now all she saw was a murderous red being targeted at him. “That’s…no…”

She had no word when she returned to you and Wanda, her lips formed into a thin line that made the two of you suddenly become alert. Her mouth opened for a second, being left agape as she tried finding the right words, but instantly closed once more as she eyed you sadly. Since the first day you had come into the compound, you’d never seen Natasha in such a state; if anything, it was worrying. 

The woman took a seat beside you in a beat-up log with flurries of snow sprinkled on it. Normally she was joyous towards the end of her missions, but it was impossible to find even an ounce of positivity in the pain she felt surging towards you. Sighing, Natasha scooted closer and thought her words through before spilling them. 

“I saw the files, the Project Omega ones,” she strained her voice with sympathy as she turned to you. “And I…I saw you.”

“Oh,” you didn’t know what to say because of all the ways you humored such a conversation to go, the gears in your brain couldn’t help but malfunction and how it ended up coming about. “That’s…okay.”

“What’s Project Omega?” Wanda interjected. “Nat?”

“HYDRA took you, didn’t they?” Natasha was careful, but she simply needed to get to the bottom of it. “Before SHIELD, they had you.”

It wasn’t a question, but instead a statement that had you nodding as you were cornered. “Hill saved me a few months back. She-” as the memories came crashing down, so did you with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Natasha jumped to action alongside her mate, both of whom instantly wrapped their arms around you protectively. Normally you’d pull back at the sole humoring of physical touch, but with them it felt right. If anything you relaxed against their hold as your tears fell.

“Shh it’s okay,” Wanda whispered reassuringly. 

Only for Natasha to pick up her words. “We got you, Y/N. You’re safe now, I promise. They’ll never get you again.”

And for the first time in your life, you could finally have trust in not only one, but two people who quickly had your undying adoration in a matter of moments.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Since the day she found the truth behind your past, Natasha was unable to sleep normally. She tossed and turned each night, being left wide-awake while her mate warmly cuddled to her side. Her legs hastily bounced on the mattress, shaking the sheets with her eyes boring into the bare ceiling.

Not a second went by where the woman wasn’t constantly buffeted by the images, videos, and retellings of Project Omega which HYDRA carried out. She was haunted by them, thoughts plagued by the horrors she forced herself to sit through for the sole sake of garnering information from the fallen organization. Natasha could be a revered agent, and Avenger at that, but she would still break at the sight of your suffering. 

Because at the end of the day, she knew you belonged with her and Wanda. Her viridescent eyes had turned pale at the sight of a small marking on your arm. It was a sun, moon, and a star hugging one another tightly in place, and only the star was colored in while the rest were left blank. Natasha found chilling similarities in it as she looked down at her own arm within the confines of the dimly-lit room. She and Wanda too had markings mirroring your own, only Natasha’s had the sun colored in while the brunette’s moon was dark. There was no surprise with it either, because from the moment she saw you, the redhead knew there was a connection between the three of you that could never be broken. Only now she had its proof. 

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Wanda’s groggy voice snapped Natasha out of her haze, and yet she didn’t budge. Instead the woman remained silent, still looking up unfocused as her mind was wrapped around you who lay asleep only doors away. She could go to you at any minute, but for the first time since she left the Red Room and Dreykov behind, she felt a surge of fear crashing through her body. 

“What’s wrong?” Wanda pushed when the silence became unbearable. She could barely hold her eyes open, but alas, she nuzzled her face against the crook of Natasha’s shoulder to bring her comfort. “Talk to me, любимая.”

Looking to her left at the term of endearment, Natasha hummed. “I’m fine.” But that was a boldfaced lie that even she didn’t believe. “Go back to sleep, Wands.”

“No,” she slurred. “Tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same for days. Not since you told me about-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Natasha cut her off. “Because…perhaps it’s for the best this way. She’s suffering. If I tell her about this, if I mention any of this to anyone but you, she’ll only feel more overwhelmed. We can’t do that to her.”

“I know.” She ran a hand across Natasha’s chest right underneath her loose shirt, carefully drawing comforting circles on her chest until it heaved calmly. “But I also know that she doesn’t hate us. Compared to everyone else here, Y/N has chosen us. She wants us.”

“She belongs with us,” Natasha mumbled. 

“What do you mean, Nat?”

“Our marking,” Natasha pushed her arm against Wanda’s holding them together as their soulmate markings were flashed. “She has the third, Wanda. I saw it when I was looking through the files. I didn’t notice at first, at least not until I rechecked them with Maria, but it’s the same one. She doesn’t even know!”

Wanda, unable to process such heavy information in a matter of seconds, only left her mouth agape. “Should we tell her?” 

Natasha had considered it, but there never seemed to come a proper time to relay the information. You struggled still to fit in with the rest of the group, finding difficulty in feeling safe around alphas at that. The last thing she wished to do was cause more pain. Because if she were to say something, maybe you’d never look at her the same.

But with each passing day, the Black Widow and her mate found it much harder to contain their need for you. It went to levels beyond sexual. They craved your being, your soul tied with theirs as you all swayed back and forth holding the other for dear life. Knowing you were to be together but being unable to immediately have it made Natasha huff with frustration. And while she could theoretically rush to your room, wake you up, and show you her own soulmate brand, you didn't have to carry more baggage. Only when she felt you were ready would she explain the truth. 

“No,” Natasha sadly responded. “I don’t think so.”

“But she has the right to know. Are we just going to pretend this never happened?” Wanda found herself to be annoyed by her partner’s antics. “Because it did happen. And every single day we’ll have to deal with the fact that that’s our soulmate, but we don’t have her. How do you think the poor thing feels about not having found hers yet?”

Oh Natasha thought about it beforehand, she really did. There were times where she needed to hold herself back as she walked by your room and heard you sobbing. Most nights it was due to nightmares revolving around your past, but a few moments occurred where she heard you begging for a soulmate, for someone to want you the same way you wanted them. If only you were aware of how much a pair of alphas longed for you. 

“Yeah,” she relaxed for once against the mattress. “Maybe you’re right. I just don’t know when to tell her. Can we just…wait? Until she seems comfortable at least?”

“Of course. I don’t want either of my best girls feeling uneasy, especially when it comes to something so beautiful as this.” Rarely did Wanda hold the position as the little spoon, but that night, much like a few previous others that Natasha was restless in bed, she took her place behind her mate and hugged her tight. Planting a kiss on the other alpha’s shoulder, she beamed. “Don’t you dare worry that pretty head of yours, baby. We’ll be together in no time, you’ll see.” Another lingering kiss. “We’ll never give up on her.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

There was never much you could push yourself to do apart from constant training, filling out reports, and daydreaming about Wanda and Natasha during missions. Keeping to yourself and ignoring any group outings became second nature. Your lips were thin each time you looked out your window, rarely ever left without curtains protecting you from the outside world. Because although the fear of being surrounded by numerous people, strangers or not, was instilled in you, you couldn’t help but crave the joy of simply…befriending others – of building normal relationships to bring a sense of normalcy to your life. 

Wanda and Natasha showed attempts to get you out of your shell, but they weren’t the type of people to pull or tug at your sleeve until you spent time with them. They were sweet, and you appreciated that wholeheartedly. Sitting in silence with them while carrying out menial tasks such as jogging through the forest or watching them cook was enough. They didn’t push you into conversing, and in turn you felt much safer around them as the days passed. 

Meanwhile the approach that other members of the team took was impatient, yet you chuckled at it with appreciation. 

“You should come hang out with us today.” You’d learned that Natasha had a sister, one in the Avengers at that. Her and a younger group of agents handled less intense threats that weren’t world-ending but still required enough attention. And while she seemingly was a different version of her sister, Yelena was still a pleasure to be around. “Kate wants to go shopping, you should too.”

The rest of the team was away on a mission when Yelena walked up to you in the living room, sitting by your side with a sympathetic smile. You weren’t close per se, but alas you sensed her heart to be pure much like her omega’s. If you could trust Natasha and Wanda, you surely could trust them. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with her.”

“You’re really not intruding. Kate asked if you could come and I didn't mind. You spend so much time locked up here, Y/N. We want to help show you the world a little bit.” She kept her distance, knowing already you shied away from any physical touch, but still hovered enough to bring peace with her presence. “Besides, Kate tells me you’ve never tried McDonald’s…”

Traveling through the streets of upstate New York with the two women was more entertaining than you had expected. During the first few minutes of the trip you giggled at how they fought for dominance over who got to drive, only for a pouty Kate to end up melting against the passenger seat mirroring that of a hurt puppy. She stared daggers at Yelena, but after a nonchalant ‘behave’ from her alpha, she settled down. 

The mall was fuller than you could’ve imagined with nearly hundreds of people walking from corner to corner. With your heart beating in your chest, you followed your teammates along, shuffling anxiously as you kept your eyes trained on them as you feared them leaving your sights. Only in their presence could you relax.

“Come on,” Kate squealed, shaking you from your thoughts as she grabbed your hand; to both of your surprises, you didn’t bother pushing her off. “Lena wants to check out other stores so you’ll be my shopping buddy for today.”

Kate resembled that of the sun. A big, glowing sunshine who smiled at just about anything that garnered her attention. She spent most of her time dragging you from store to store, asking for your opinion on different outfits and even wondering if you wanted anything. At first you said no, but with enough pressure she was able to get you to try at least one article of clothing. 

The wondrous world of hoodies was one you never wanted to leave once Kate showed them to you. You didn’t get paid much for being an Avenger, but then again you barely spend any money. With Kate’s influence you followed suit and tried different types of clothes, but ended up going home with quite a few pairs of comfortable hoodies. That way, as Kate explained, you wouldn’t have to wear your suits on the daily. 

“I’ve never bought myself clothes,” you commented as you sat in the backseat of the car, eyeing the full bag of clothes next to you. Yelena watched you through the rearview mirror and a part of her chest swelled up. While you were unaware of it, she had quite a similar experience when leaving the Red Room. Now that useful green vest with an ungodly amount of pockets was used for every mission she went on. “I liked it. Thank you for inviting me, really. I know you didn’t have to but-”

“But we wanted to,” Kate finished. “You know, I’ve never really had another omega friend. Well, not like this anyway. I’m the only omega in the whole team. It’s really nice to have you around.”

“It’s nice to be around, kitty.” You flashed her a smile, a sincere one with pure joy. “Sorry, you sometimes remind me of a cat. You’re very gentle and affectionate with people.”

With the edges of her mouth nearly reaching her ears, Kate nodded. “I like that a lot.”

The three of you soon sat in the car outside the fast food restaurant quietly chewing down your meals. Never had you tasted a burger, let alone their delicious fries or the nuggets Yelena let you have – while she kept some from Kate knowing how rowdy her omega got with too many nuggets. There was enough grease on your food to kill a man, but you found that you quite liked doing anything that didn’t remind you of your time under Rumlow. 

Because with kitty and her alpha being in such close proximity to you, you knew that, just like with Wanda and Natasha, you’d never return to HYDRA. 

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Within the confines of HYDRA, slacking off was not an option. On days that were not busy with countless operations they made agents run, you were to forcefully leave your bed to spend every hour tediously training. No amount of blood lost during it was enough, at least not until Rumlow spit at his feet where you lay writhing on the floor, mumbling a small ‘pathetic’ before dismissing you to eat scraps for the first time in the day during the afternoon. 

Being shoved into that empty room at what was your previous home became an escape. No matter how many hits and frustrated orders you endured, you began seeking comfort in it. Your mind shut off each time you went in, making you immune to the pain that came with being kicked to the stomach repeatedly until you coughed up red. And when you trained in the compound, the same peace overtook you. No matter how many punches Natasha threw your way, and how many landed, you didn’t feel or take them into account. 

“You’re very well-trained,” Natasha commented with a proud smile. It was the third time her back hit the matted floor. In the beginning she pulled her punches when it came to sparring with you, but even when she didn’t, the former assassin was surprised at how talented you were in hand-to-hand combat. “Finally I have a worthy opponent. Not even the human icicle can keep up.”

“Touché.”

The two of you went on for what felt like hours, alternating between pinning the other down before the positions were flipped. Even if you were an omega, when it came to your training, you never allowed anyone to underestimate you. Natasha was no exception. You’d heard of the infamous Black Widow even during your HYDRA days, but never let it deter you. 

The more you fought, the more intoxicated you became with her presence. You couldn’t help but daydream about how beautiful she seemed with her hair tied back into a messy braid while her body was covered with nothing more than a sports bra and yoga pants. There came guilt with potentially ogling her in such a way, one you knew fully well having been the victim of that gaze long before. But alas, yours came from admiration, not objectifying lust. 

Tiring yourselves out came quickly as the two of you eventually ended sprawled on the mats gasping for air. The only thing that was missing was Wanda. It felt wrong to think of them, especially as they were mated and bound to one another, but you so longed to be with them – to be wrapped up in the safety of their arms as you slept at night while they watched over you. Never did you have a mate, let alone a soulmate who shared the same marking on your arm as you. Dreaming of them was all that could make you happy. 

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” Natasha suddenly broke the silence as she turned to you. Those sharp green eyes dug into your skin, turning it hot as you refused to stare back. “Because you are. Anyone would be an idiot not to think so.”

Taking compliments was not your forte, but when they came from Natasha, you blushed. “Thank you. You’re…really pretty as well, and so is Wanda.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you tell her that.” You didn’t shudder when she moved her hand to allow it to land atop your own, her thumb brushing on the back gently. “It’s our weekly movie night date tonight. We, uh, would like you to join us if you’re free, котёнок.”

“I don’t want to be somewhere I don’t belong,” you shrugged. “It’s your date night, it isn’t my place to be a part of that.”

“Hey.” You were surprised by how she grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers together as she stared into your soul. “We want you there.”

And you took her words in, but as your gaze shifted down her body, it was the sight of something else that grabbed hold of your attention. Mentally, you slapped yourself in the head for not having seen it before, perhaps even refusing to take it in. There was a marking in her arm that you recognized to be the same as your own, only Natasha’s had the sun colored in while the star, the colored symbol on your own skin, was blank along with the moon.

When it dawned upon you what it meant, your eyes widened. It felt wrong, obscene even, to jump off the mat, but it was the first reaction you had. You left Natasha on the floor, your eyes never leaving her soulmate marking as she sat up with confusion. And when she came to realization of what brought the change in you, her features softened. 

“I know,” she said, and you believed her. For your entire life you’d been told you were a defect, that you’d live your days alone except for the numerous HYDRA operatives that surrounded you. Love, regardless of whether it was romantic or platonic, wasn’t meant for soldiers like you. All that existed was misery. At the first glimpse of that being untrue, of Rumlow’s tortuous words proving to be fake, you were unable to muster a proper reaction. “Wanda knows too. And we…we didn’t know when to tell you. She only found out this week. But we’re not angry, okay? We won’t hurt you the way they did. Hell, we don’t even have to do anything, honey. All we want is for you to be safe and comfortable, and we’re both willing to do whatever it takes to turn that into reality.”

“I…” there wasn’t enough room for you to figure out a proper response. “I don’t…”

So you ran, far, far away. 

Your legs took you to where you needed while your mind was in cloud nine, all hazy and otherwise preoccupied by the newfound revelation. For months since you joined the Avengers, you spent countless nights longing to have Wanda and Natasha. So why did the reality of it turning to be true feel so ominous? Why did you choose an escape that wasn’t them? Why couldn’t you allow yourself even a smidge of happiness?

Hasty movements came to a halt when you suddenly tripped. Crumbs of dirt buffeted your face, leaving you to spatter it out as you sat on your knees. Disoriented, you took notice of your surroundings. In your ragged race to leave the compound, you ended stranded in the woods, the large campus far away from sight. You could’ve ran for hours without noticing if it wasn’t for the fall, and for some reason that brought you a somber wave of fear – one forever present when you resided at HYDRA, but it was never around when you went with them . 

Taking a seat against a beat-up tree that held a few hundred years of life, you let out a sigh. It was the first time you were alone, really alone. Your entire existence was for the sake of others, to bring a service to both HYDRA and the Avengers, but never to yourself. Every hour of every day you had someone constantly standing by your side whether friend or foe. And now that you experience such quiet peace, you clung to it and refused to let go. 

“Y/N.”

Anyone sneaking up on you would receive a mean beating even if absentmindedly, but never them.

“Hey, it’s okay.” It didn’t surprise you that Natasha had brought Wanda around, and quite frankly you weren’t furious about it either. Instead you sat there staring at the atmosphere embraced by lush fauna, breathing in the cool air as the women sat by either of your sides. And knowing you, neither tried to reach out while you were in such a tense state, at least not without consent. “We’re here, sweetheart. You’re alright.”

They noticed you were sobbing before you did. Between your exhausted breaths and shaky limbs, you had been unable to process the tears that fell down your warm cheeks. You weren’t meant to cry , Rumlow told you many times when your training became too much, soldiers didn't cry, only stupid weak omegas did. No matter how many times you’d heard the same string of words slurred angrily your way while clutching your burning and bruised abdomen, they didn’t hold any truth with those women in your proximity. 

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Natasha hung her head low, ashamed that she hadn’t been careful enough to protect you. “We wanted to make it special, to actually give you a chance to choose us, not feel forced to do it.”

“Nat and I have been planning it since she told me.” Wanda’s voice was softer than Natasha, and although you adored them equally, it was just what you needed during that vulnerable moment. “Given, it hasn’t been a long time, but still. Our only goal is for you to be happy, darling. Ever since you stumbled in here we’ve been trying to find ways to connect with you. Your presence alone makes us so happy.” At the sight of your tear-stricken face, Wanda broke. “Oh Y/N, you have no idea how beautiful of a soul you are. There’s no one in the world quite like you, we know it.”

They were patient with you, lounging back and giving you much needed time to take in the situation. Neither spoke again, not until you wanted them to. For once in your life you had control over something. Even if you were an omega, the alphas didn’t push you. Because at the end of the day, you held all the power. Whatever you liked or disliked, they’d take care of. All that was required of you was…nothing. 

“I’m scared,” your voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do. Omegas like me, broken omegas…we’re not meant for this. The two of you are mated. I can’t get between that, please. And if I must die alone, fine, but the last thing I’ll ever do is bother anyone with my existence – I don’t want to be a burden. Especially to you two.”

“Listen, родная, you will never be a burden. Ever since you came into our life, everything has started to make sense. I love Wanda with my whole being, and she loves me too, but we’ve always been missing a little piece to the puzzle,” Natasha was sincere, suddenly throwing away her entire training as a spy to sit there and level with you, to treat you like her equal, not her prey. “You’re a part of our life now and nothing’s going to change that. It’s up to you how that’ll look like. The last thing we want to do is force you into something you might not want. But whatever you decide, know that we’ll never make you feel as though you’re a burden. You’re so much more than what you give yourself credit for.”

The nod you gave them allowed the alphas to move closer. While you didn’t trust yourself to speak without your emotions turning into overwhelming balls of tears, the silence that took over was more comforting than their words. You melted against them, their arms beginning to feel like a home you never had. The soulmates you’d always had, even if unknowingly, were still rather strangers to you, but in that moment they were all you knew. 

Neither let go, not even when they clutched one of your hands each as they dragged you back to the compound. They oversaw you in getting you to your room, not leaving even after they dropped you in the bed, pulling the sheets to your chest, and ensured you’d have a restful nap. You didn’t know it yet, but it was that moment in which both Wanda and Natasha realized they’d do just about anything to nurture and love you.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Since you’d found out where you stood with Natasha and Wanda everything was…different. 

There wasn’t much difference in how they treated you, if anything they were slightly more protective than usual. From the moment you stepped out of your room, all eyes were on you, because even the rest of the team knew. Your scent was all over the place, one mixed in with both Wanda and Natasha’s strewn all over you, making you dizzy with need.

When an alert was put out for a remaining HYDRA base, the three of you were sent off to find it. The middle of the snowy woods was not your preferred area to reside in. Sitting within the confines of a beat-up cabin you had found right after the empty base was searched, you huffed. Your knees were pressed against your chest, legs being hugged by your shaky arms as you blew yet another cool breath.

“You should really come here to heat up,” Natasha said from across the room. “You don’t look well, зайка.”

“It’s okay, I’m-”

“Nat,” Wanda whined, her voice stricken with pain as she reached out from her lying position to her mate. “It hurts so bad.”

Natasha had told you about it, about how certain alphas breastfed to feed their omegas, but alas, without an omega, Wanda could barely do anything to help her state. You were left to watch her writhing on the floor with a mixture of pain and cold. And you wanted to help, you really did. Because the way in which the redhead pulled at her mate’s suit until her breasts were released from its confines made you drool.

“I know, крошка.” Natasha leaned down, pressing her lips against Wanda’s forehead. “Let me help you, alright? I’m right here to make it better.”

“Let me help,” you said without thinking. “I want to. I should, right? Because I…I’m your soulmate, right?”

“Yeah,” Natasha smiled as she looked up. “That’s right, hon. Come here. Let me show you how to do it.”

Per her instructions, you were to straddle Wanda’s hips. At first you hesitated, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you clung to her hips for balance. Her body felt flushed with your own, warming your freezing body up instantly. Alphas were warm from what you’d been told, and you were glad for it as your skin was unable to withstand yet another wintry hit. 

“Lean down for me. You can open your mouth a bit and take it,” Natasha explained. Her hand was set on your back, carefully leading you downwards. “And you have to be careful. Don’t use your teeth, ‘kay? Start sucking softly. At first it’ll taste a bit weird, but you’ll get used to it. It’ll be delicious, I promise.”

The newfound taste made your eyebrows furrow. It was a strange sensation that overtook you as you wrapped your lips around one of Wanda’s rosy nipples. Never could you fully comprehend what your actions did for her. In your mind all you did was relieve the witch of pain stemming from her uncomfortably full breasts, but to her it meant everything.

“Oh Y/N.” Wanda’s voice was hoarse as she felt you beginning to suck her breast with more vigor. “That’s it, baby. Keep going like that. You have- ah! You have no idea how good you’re making me feel.”

The slick beginning to form between your legs, one still unknown to you, was warm. You ignored it, mentally smacking yourself for not having taken the heat suppressors you’d stolen to keep your cycle at bay. But even while taking them you could feel your body practically begging to have Natasha and Wanda. Now that they were in such close quarters with you, you didn’t want to guess what it would lead to.

Milk poured into your mouth at rapid speeds. Just as Natasha said, it was not an ordinary taste, but the more you drank, the better it got. Your hungry tongue swirled around the tender bud, lapping up every ounce of the glorious liquid you could find before moving to the other one. Hands found themselves squeezing each one as though they had a mind of their own. And while you desperately took everything a moaning Wanda gave you, the former spy sat back licking her lips with admiration. 

“Good girl,” Wanda muttered as she hugged you tight against her flushed frame. “You’re such a good girl for your alphas, darling.”

Normally you’d shudder at the sole mention of alphas, but when Wanda did it, your heart was set aflame. Her words motivated you to finish drinking her last bits of milk until her breasts were no longer sore and full. Natasha had to pull you back and hold your drunk self as her mate sat up, nodding in appreciation as you sagged against the redhead. 

“You did so well for us, принцесса.” Natasha hugged you for the first time that day – really hugged you with her arms fully wrapped around your body and your head nestled on her shoulder. “What a wonderful little omega you are. The very best, huh? Our perfect and beautiful girl.”

The mission no longer mattered afterwards, none of them really did. Your hunt for HYDRA was nothing compared to the sudden need you had to spend all your time surrounded by the two alphas. They nurtured you to sleep that night, each sleeping by your sides to protectively keep you warm as you calmly went unconscious. In the time where you had been both trapped and freed from the horrid organization, you never felt more at home than you did with Wanda and Natasha holding you. 

“You’re safe with us.” They both promised, and you believed them. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“You know, if you didn’t want to do this, you could’ve just said so.”

At those words you frowned. “It’s not that. I just…” staring down, you grimaced at the sight that met you. “...I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Not only were you dirty with a mess of flour over your arms, clothes, and face, but the areas surrounding you carried the same fate. Out of all the skills you carried under your belt ranging from the ability to speak over five languages to taking someone out with a sole pencil, baking was not one at your disposal. In the HYDRA buildings you knew as your home, food was not a necessity, but a reward. Never had you been able to prepare yourself a meal until you joined S.H.I.E.L.D., forever struggling with the tactics of it. But now when surrounded by a particular set of individuals, you find yourself confused yet enjoying it. 

“Oh honey, that’s not how you whisk it. Here, let me help.” As Natasha stood beside you with her eyebrows raised, Wanda moved from across the kitchen to your aid. Her arms were wrapped around you, the tattoo on her skin no longer hidden by long sleeves, as she grabbed the whisk from your hand. “Follow my lead, sweetheart. Let me show you how it’s done.”

In the midst of baking a cake for the simple fun of it, Wanda’s overprotectiveness came out. While Natasha wore a beat-down graphic tee with comfortable shorts that showed off her muscular legs, the other woman forced proper baking attire along with an apron and hat for you to not get dirty. But alas you did. And as amused as they both were, it was Wanda who set out to prevent any more of a mess. 

“See?” She rapidly spun the cooking utensil over the batter-filled bowl. Holding it with a slight tilt, Wanda maneuvered the items perfectly so that even if she went quickly, nothing poured out. “You have to be patient, Y/N, and learn from your alphas how to do it. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your body suddenly warm due to the close proximity with your alphas. Since you had accepted one another as soulmates and partners weeks before, it was nearly impossible to keep yourself from them. Your mind, soul, and body craved them with a desperation you simply couldn't keep down. Nights were spent in their room being warmly swaddled within the safe embrace as you slept. For the first time in your life, when with your mates you lacked any nightmares hunting you down. “I, uhm, I can leave you to it though.”

“None of that, малышка.” Natasha shifted towards you, a hand of hers landing safely at your hip. “We want to do this with you. You’re the one who said she’s never baked brownies before. So, be a good girl and help your alphas with the yummy treats, huh?”

At the soft tone you nodded. They each had their strengths when it came to exerting their dominance. While Wanda was much stronger with her commands, forever watching over every little step you took, Natasha’s approach was nonchalant yet loving. Both took their time in letting you leave your hardened shell, coaxing you through it all with smiles on their faces. 

The three of you spend your afternoon in each other’s presence. There wasn’t much avail to your lack of culinary knowledge, so by the time you threw the confined batter into the oven, you were covered head-to-toe with egg-yolk, flour, and trace amounts of chocolate rushing down your face. Under the gaze of your soulmates you believed yourself to be scrutinized, but as you turned and noticed their beaming faces, the heavy breath you held was let go of. 

“Why don’t you go pick out a movie with Nat, sweetie?” Wanda told you as she began cleaning the communal kitchen, thankful that the rest of the team was out and that you had the quarters all to yourselves. And when you attempted to tag along and help her, she playfully slapped your hands away. “Go, baby. I’ll take care of this. Don’t you worry your pretty little head off. I want you to relax for the rest of the night, ‘kay?”

And that’s exactly what you did given that whatever Wanda says, always goes. 

Sighing, you comfortably nuzzled against Natasha’s side. It had taken you long to trust them to such lengths where you welcomed physical contact. Between the numerous missions you ran together, the exhausting training sessions, and the ungodly amount of dates they took you on, you easily began holding them close to your heart. 

Once the brownies were done and cut out, a task Wanda disallowed you from carrying out quoting that ‘I don’t want my beautiful omega to hurt herself’, the three of you sprawled yourselves over the couch. An animated movie played in the background, a Disney one Natasha picked out knowing how many you’d missed growing up within HYDRA’s grasp. Surely it was childish, even you were made aware of it, but alas, you found it comforting as you sat between your alphas, snuggled happily while chewing on a soft, warm piece of brownie – the milk provided coming from Wanda’s full breasts. 

“I think I’m ready,” you grumbled against the rosy nipple that you momentarily pulled away from. “For…you know.”

Both alphas stared at you in confusion, yet found themselves amused at how quickly you began suckling on Wanda’s breast once more. A shared, knowing look left them with agape mouths. Of course they longed to finally mate with their newfound omega, but their protectiveness over you was rather strong – the idea of possibly bringing you discomfort by rushing a mating session was one they did not want to humor. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda cautiously asked. 

Natasha clasped your hand as she followed along. “We don’t mind waiting however long you need. Even if you never want to do it, Y/N, we’ll care for you the same.”

“Yeah,” you were sure of something for the second time in your life since choosing to be theirs. “I’m ready.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Since the first moment you saw them, you knew being theirs was all you longed for. 

There was always an innate need to have them close, but as your relationship grew further, that need grew into a carnal one. You could barely stand by them without your legs quivering, skin turning madly hot as you leaned in to your partners. And they knew how much you desired them, because of course it was a very mutual feeling. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda’s eyebrows were furrowed. Normally she was a rather confident woman, but as she stood before you, her gaze shifting down at you where you sat by the edge of the bed, she felt anxious for once. “We can wait, Y/N. It’s more than alright. Anything you want, we’ll give to our sweet girl.”

The three of you were in their shared bedroom, one that had quickly become yours as well, where you sat as they stood before you. Both sulked, lips stuck between their lips as they waited for your green light. They were ready to pounce on you at any second, but only if you allowed them to. 

Since you stopped taking your medication to suppress your heat, it came out in full-force. You could barely speak a word without it coming out as a whine. Your lack of experience with the cycle made it difficult for you to get through them without constantly rubbing your slick-coated thighs together, but alas, you could tell they felt the same. Their hypnotizing stench which came with their ruts filled your parted nostrils. It was delicious, almost intoxicating and left you with your mind all hazy. 

“Please?” You reached out for them, each of your hands grabbing one of their own. “I can’t wait, I need it now.”

They took their time in helping you off your clothes. Each alpha was sweet enough to take it slow, eyeing you questioningly, and waiting for your nod of approval to begin shedding your outfit. Your skin was victim to the cool air from the room that buffeted you as you grimaced, but with each frail touch they gave you, it wasn’t hard for it to warm up. 

Lips found themselves trailing your frame as your clothes were thrown on the floor. They clung to you for dear life, groping your breasts with a need they were finally able to humor. For months they longed to have you, and now that they did, the women let all their inhibitions go for the sake of giving you the best time. 

Wanda disrobed herself first, then came Natasha. They were well-aware of your aversion to alphas, so when their layers pooled at her feet, they were careful to let you adjust to the sight. The well-endowed Avengers pulled back, smiling gently as you shockingly ogled them before they kept going. 

“Lay down, darling. Get nice and comfortable for us,” Natasha mumbled, softly caressing your stomach and guiding you towards the mattress. And when you dropped on it, she was quick to kneel between your legs. “If at any point you want to stop, you let us know. Am I clear, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you husked out knowing that none of you wished to ever stop with heightened cravings for the other. “I understand.”

The two women mirrored the movements of lionesses who sought out their long-awaited gazelle. As Natasha spread your legs apart, her fingernails digging into your smooth skin as a means to hold her animalistic desires back, Wanda took to laying beside you. She held your face in her hands as though life itself was at the tip of her fingers – a life she’d forever cherish and dote on until the end of time. You let her kiss you, your lips falling victim to her captivating shows of love towards you. 

Your slick drove them wild, but even more so as they feasted their eyes upon the drenched mess that was the area between your legs. It was puffy, gleaming with juices that coated your thighs and drooled down to the sheets. Natasha was the first to touch, but then followed her mate who rubbed her fingers across your lips as a means to make your breath hitch. 

“You’re beautiful, honey,” Wanda whispered, her lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Your alphas are so lucky to have such a perfect kitten like yourself.”

She kissed you once more, this time harder than ever with a sudden urge to take your tongue hostage with her own. Hands explored your body, learning where every self-described imperfection lay to stroke it lovingly. Wanda devoured you as though you were her last meal. She wasted no time in getting to know the outline of your frame, one she deemed a piece of art, as though it were the back of her hand. 

“It might feel a bit strange, зайка, but soon enough you’ll enjoy it so much. I promise. I promise.” Natasha was steady with her movements. She ensured you were drenched enough before lining herself against your cunt, her bulbous fat cock barely fitting in her hand as she pushed it forth. Never had she felt such immense warmth than she did when inside either you or Wanda. It made her wild, turning her into an uncaged animal whose eyes turned dark as she watched her penis oh-so slowly sink in you. “Fuck.” Her words were practically grunts. “Oh baby, you feel amazing.”

All three of you watched in awe as Natasha’s dick disappeared into your cunt without much fight. Surely you were tight, never having mated with anyone unless against your will, but with the amount of slick forming as your heat was at its peak, your body gladly took the alpha in. Her gentle movements did wonders to help you relax, that along with Wanda’s soothing words thrown by your ears which steadied your breathing. 

Natasha felt right at home with your walls surrounding her, practically clinging for dear life to her member. Surely she’s mated with Wanda numerous times, but nothing could compare to the deliciousness of having an omega in heat all for herself. It made her growl, letting out the sound which came from the depths of her throat as she grabbed your hips roughly. Your breaths matched with how ragged they were. Never did she let go either, but instead pressed her body on yours as much as she could until she could finally move. 

“You’re such a good girl,” Natasha found herself stuttering. For such a confident agent, it was amusing to see her succumb to pure, unadulterated need without a second thought. “Our perfect little pet. Oh, you’re everything, Y/N.”

The cries you let out were drowned by Natasha’s similarly strangled ones. The two of you were equally frayed creatures. You held onto one another while Wanda simple stared with widely enamored eyes. Her hands were on you, still gripping you as though you’d ever have the nerve to escape her grasp. 

“That’s it. Take your alpha’s cock,” Wanda giggled as she spoke. She inched closer until her heavy breasts rubbed on your face. Although her aching cock was similarly erect and waiting to be in you, her chest felt the most pain due to the milk throwing pain her way. “Here, honey. You can have some milk while Natty makes it all better. I promise it’s delicious, just how my girl likes it.”

Wanda inches herself closer than physically imagined, and like the good omega you were, you opened your mouth to taste her. 

Surely you’d had her milk numerous times since you first officialized your relationship, but in the midst of your heat and her rut, it somehow tasted better than any of the previous times. The sweet nectar poured past your lips, several drops even falling down your chin due to the necessity to drink it. Her nipples were erect and severely tender with your lips wrapped around them.

Sucking her breasts was a true wonder. With her milk, you needn’t have food. Wanda – your alphas – were all you needed as a means to survive. With them by your side, you’d never worry for a second. You were their prey, and the predators would forever protect you as a means to only have you as theirs. 

“I won’t last long,” Natasha sobbed. Her thrusts were gentle but you knew she heavily held back as a means to not harm you during your first mating session. She had yet to even mark or knot you, something that did not seem so ominous when having them as your alphas. “Oh my sweet girl, the things you do to me…”

Your insides were churning with Natasha balls-deep in you. She was rather big, so even if she could inch deeper without causing you immense amount of pain, she was far too large to not draw mewls from you as your cunt was delightfully stretched out. The more you took, the better you were trained by your mates. 

As you sucked on Wanda’s breasts, the redhead pulled you up. You mewled at the lack of milk being poured down your throat, but as you turned to Natasha, you realized she had other more delicious plans. She held you close, forcing a scream from you as you sat up and felt the entirety of her dick being rammed in you as her face went to your neck. 

Wanda and Natasha swooped in for the kill. They each took a side of your neck, pressing their lips against them before biting down harshly. Surely you knew it’d hurt, but never were you told about the wondrous feeling that’d shoot through your body as you were marked by your alphas. They’d previously scented you, rubbing themselves on you so as to forever share the stretch of your desires on one another, but nothing came close to the beauty of carrying their bite marks on your neck. 

That somehow made Natasha’s motions even more violent. She poured her heart and soul into destroying you as her cock pulled out before pushing all the way in – even if it caused a small bulge by your abdomen. And with the more she moved, the bigger a previously-small bulb on her shaft got. 

There came no warning as Natasha’s suddenly huge knot inched itself past your lips and into your cunt. Your slick allowed it to comfortably fit, but alas, a rather loud scream escaped the depths of your throat. The heaving of your chest only grew quicker as you felt hotter than ever, almost ready to let go knowing Natasha was too. 

You failed to notice Wanda’s dominant hand quickly making itself up and down her own cock, jerking it off until it was rosy and begging for permission to cum. She masturbated happily as she watched how Natasha knotted you, stuffing you to the brim with her penis and bulb until you cried out. Knowing you were close, and at times having gotten the same treatment from her mate, she could only give words of encouragement. 

“Let go, princess,” Wanda’s voice was dark and low. “I know you want to, so do it – do it for your alphas.”

And that you did, but so did your partners.

Natasha came simultaneously, embracing you tightly as she grimaced. Never had she gotten the pleasure of receiving such an earth-shattering orgasm. It made her body sagged as she fell limp on you, whose back hit the mattress in an instant. Her knot prevented any of the cum to seep out, instead maintaining it deep in your guts as you squirmed happily. 

“Good girl,” Wanda had a similar worn tone as she too climaxed. “Oh baby, you’re the perfect girl for us. Look at you letting Natty turn you into a proper omega. Hm, now that you have your mates, nothing else matters.”

The three of you were sprawled messes across the bed, clutching one another and never daring to let go. You were unmoving, instead enjoying the feeling of having Natasha still in you, being so warm around her with a tight grip, while Wanda once more gave you her milk to drink. Even if they were spent, they’d do just about anything to care for you. 

It came Wanda’s turn to claim you. She was much gentler than Nat, murmuring tired yet comforting words as she slipped in your cunt before oh-so slowly moving her hips. Even beyond the four walls of your shared bedroom you’d forever have the power. Because by the third time they attempted to keep it going, with a sole shake of your head both alphas ceased her actions and jumped to cradle you in their arms. 

“We’re so lucky to have you.” Natasha was the one who stood in front of you in the shower, ensuring that the water was the perfect temperature for you to enjoy. She’d picked you up from the bed and carefully held you as you were placed to stand on the shower with wobbly legs while Wanda fetched clothes and towels. “You’re even more perfect than what we imagined.”

You didn’t need to tell them the same as they simply knew. No one had been able to get you out of your shell quite like they had. Maria, Kate, and Yelena surely had their attempts, but your mates were the only ones you’d confide in that manner. They could see you in even your rawest states and upkeep their promise of protecting you – of protecting their one true love from harm’s way. And for that they were synonymous with perfection. 

The two alphas made sure to clean you up. Wanda even went as far to wash your hair, smoothly massaging your scalp as a means to both rub shampoo over it and help you relax. There was no carnal need involved, no urge to suddenly claim you. Just…love being poured out of their hearts and into your hands. 

And when Wanda noticed the scarring across your skin, she could only bring you more comfort. 

“So long as we’re alive, we won’t let anyone hurt you ever again,” her tone was serious, yet you could hear a hinted edge of sadness in it. Most were the product of HYDRA handlers, but some came at your own hand with your hints of self-hatred and disdain of the life you were forced to lead. “They can’t have you, not while you’re ours. Sweet girl, you are so brave and strong. You never let them take your heart and we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Thank you,” you were at the verge of tears – luckily happy tears – that you weren’t so averse to showing them. “Both of you. I…I can’t think of better mates to have. You two have given me so much. I can’t even begin to think how I could thank you for all you’ve done.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Natasha interjected. She began sliding clothes on you, her own oversized hoodie and a pair of Wanda’s fluffy socks matched with your underwear. Her hands were like molten as they took tenderness to a whole different level by carefully breezing against you. “Oh sweet girl. You need to understand that all we want is for you to be cared for. We don’t expect anything in return that isn’t your safety. Do you understand? When you’re with us, you never have to worry about anything.”

That night those words finally solidified in you. You were worthy of a place on Earth – in their arms at that. It had been the exact opposite you’d been told at HYDRA, but with them surrounding you, you didn’t allow your previous life to catch up to you; you never would. 

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Nightmares consumed visibly every attempt you gave at sleeping. During your days at HYDRA you were buffeted by both the waking-nightmares and ones faced while unconscious. And you didn’t dare do much about it either. Fighting against them, whether real or not, would only earn you a mean beating. 

“Do you want to sleep here today?” Natasha always asked. By then you called their room, your room , home, but still kept up your quarters as a means of storage. Regardless, she knew to give you a choice so you’d have control of the situation. “You don’t have to, but Wanda said she could read you a bit. It’d be nice to have you.”

That’s how you ended up, like many others nights, squeezed between the two alphas. Natasha was a true fanatic of sleep, so after dropping the sleep-mask on her face, she dropped a kiss on yours and Wanda’s lips before peacefully growing unconscious. Meanwhile you were able to lay closely to your other partner’s side with your head on her chest, very lovingly suckling on her full breasts as a means to feed yourself her milk. 

“...he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, ‘I never dreamed of such happiness as this while I was the despised ugly duckling,’” Wanda made sure to do hilarious voices for each of the characters. She had the book propped up on her stomach, smiling down at how intently you eyed it. “The end.” 

At the sound of that, you grumpily grunted. “That’s it?”

“Yes, sweet kitten, that’s it. I just spent the past twenty minutes reading you this,” Wanda frowned. “And now it’s time for my darling girl to get some sleep. Can you do that?”

“Not sure.”

“Oh baby, I know you’re scared of the nightmares, but I promise they won’t get you this time. You got your big, bad alphas here to keep you safe if you need anything. They won’t get you again,” Wanda reassured you, putting the book away before setting a hand on your head to keep you drinking her milk. “And if you get a nightmare, you know we’ll help you through it. I know it’s not easy, Y/N, and it won’t be for a long while, but you’ll be able to somewhat heal from this. I know you can make new, beautiful memories that you’ll always treasure instead. We’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled at her. She was the moon to your stars and Natasha’s sun. “But can I stay up for a bit longer? I don’t want to sleep just yet, please.”

Normally Wanda wouldn’t be too keen on allowing you to break any of the rules she set out to place for you, but those wide puppy eyes you flashed her way were far too enticing to ignore. 

“Fine,” she sighed, but there came a smile from it. “But you are going to bed early tomorrow. Does that sound like a good deal, kitten?”

“Hmm sure,” you giggled before nuzzling yourself against her giddily. “It’s a deal then.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Being a mated omega was much more comforting than you could’ve imagined. Not a day passed where you didn’t feel safe around them. You’d often stare at yourself in the mirror, for the first time without disgust, and carefully caress the set of matching bite marks on your neck. They’d long faded, only an outline remaining, but alas, you’d forever wear them with pride. 

“If you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late.”

It was Natasha’s warm voice which shook you from your trance. You frowned before turning to her, a beam instantly coating your features as you stood there awaiting her reached-out hand. And when it came, you didn’t wait a second to grab it. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” Natasha pulled you close enough that her lips practically ghosted over your own. “We have a date to catch.”

Often the three of you made sure to spend time together. Between the countless missions you went on and reports you spent hours filling out, the days barely left you a few minutes of freedom. Your jobs were of high importance, but your love for one another meant much more – a shared sentiment by the three of you. 

Natasha helped you in hopping in her car, sitting in the backseat facing your two alphas who took their places in the front. Upstate New York didn’t have much ambiance let alone for the lush forests and lazy rivers. And yet you’d been able to find little gems across the green that you made your own. 

“I made you something special,” Wanda let Natasha carry a picnic basket and a large blanket once you reached the destination. All while she squeezed your hand, brought it to her lips, and planted a sweet kiss that would forever be marked in place. “Chocolate-covered strawberries for my best girl. I’ve been awfully mean and haven’t let you have them for a few days, but now it’s time I spoil you rotten. And don’t worry, I made enough to make your tummy sick from all the sweet chocolatey goodness, baby.”

“You’re so good to me.” You walked beside her towards a bare spot overlooking a valley. There was a sole, exuberant tree which hung around providing the utmost shade as you threw the blanket on the floor. “I’ll try to share this time. Well, only if Nat promises to let me win our next spar session. I can’t believe she promises to give me princess treatment only to purposely beat me.”

“It’s not my fault I’m better,” Natasha teased. “But you got a point. I guess I can let you win, but this time you have to share more than three strawberries. I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you eat two whole steaks before we went out?” Wanda had been with Natasha for years, but she’d never get used to the bottomless barrel that was her mate. 

“What? I get hungry. Especially after I’ve gone through a long rut. You can’t blame me for wanting food after all the energy I spent trying to make the two of you feel good.”

The three of you shared a hearty laugh as you sat atop the red and white blanket. Picnic dates had quickly become a favorite of yours. There was something rather soothing about the idea of being alone with your mates. You adore the rest of your teammates, but the quality time spent with Natasha and Wanda simultaneously was nearly not enough. To be one with them was to live and if it meant that, you’d forever crave to be alive. 

Laying against Natasha’s front between her legs, you could finally feel at peace. It was a constant thing with them, the complete opposite of what you’d experienced with HYDRA. Even with the memories of all the years Rumlow constantly tormented you alongside his peers being crystal clear in your mind, they could be washed away and replaced by new ones formed with your partners. 

“How do they taste?” Wanda sat before you two alternating between feeding either you and Natasha the delicious strawberries. At times she paused to force you to drink from your water bottle – of course she was rather focused on getting you to remain hydrated. After all, it was her job as your alpha to ensure your health.

Before you could speak, a moan left the depths of your throat. “That tastes amazing. God, I want another one.”

“It’s my turn.” Natasha playfully slapped your side. “Give me one, Wands. Come on. Don’t you remember that time I saved your ass in Sokovia?”

“But our beautiful kitten wants more.” Wanda grabbed yet another strawberry, ignoring the other alpha and instead zeroing in on you. “And who am I to deny her? Open up, Y/N. You deserve all the treats I got to offer.”

Hours were spent staring off into the sunset devouring not only the desserts Wanda made and the snacks Natasha stole from the compound’s cupboards, but also one another. There'd be days where you’d spend them raggedly crying for the memories to finally come to an end, but your mates would be there when they occurred. After all, you were bonded for life and eternity as a whole. 

[obsessivevoidkitten]

(Just a random idea that popped into my head. Has noncon, gn reader, a/b/o)

1000 years in the future. Humans have developed secondary sexes alpha, beta, and omega.

The Olympics still exist for betas but are not as popular. Instead they are outshined by a new event for alphas divided into mated alpha and unmated alpha categories.

Unmated alphas tend to be the fiercest competitors, but only when there is an omega to impress and win over.

And thus, in every unmated category event, a rebellious unclaimed omega who doesn't believe in the social hierarchy is put in their place. They are used as the ultimate prize in every competition and bred on the spot as an example to all omegas that they belonged on an alpha's knot.

Once an athlete has optained an omega they can still continue their career in the mated alpha events.

Unfortunately for you, you were caught trying to hide your omega nature and refused to submit to finding a mate. Then you were involved in a high speed chase. Omegas weren't even supposed to know how to drive. It was very televised.

So of course you were put up as the prize for the strongest alphas to fight over. Wrestling. You were kept on the sidelines of the wrestling tournament, your heat was induced, and your pheromones left to waft into the ring.

A huge alpha named Jace was the winner. Drenched in sweat and driven damn near feral by your scent he wasted no time at all in ripping your clothes off and shoving his cock in you, biting up your neck and soaking you in his musk as he did so.

[twinterrors29]

Alpha-17 is returned to the past, at a point a few years before his creation, from soon after Order 66 and all that ensued

his first step, naturally, was to kill Jango Fett

from there, it was only logical for him to step into the man's life as a bounty hunter (he's got to eat somehow, and it's not like he doesn't more than live up to the Prime's reputation)

but then, despite refusing the bounty on Vosa, is still cornered by a very recognizable Sith and ominously offered the Kamino job

he cannot let himself hesitate to accept it

his first task is to recruit a group of 'trainers', ones he believes are loyal to him (or can be made so)(and, if not, that he can easily dispose of) and brings them all to Kamino, and bides his time

he waits until the first batches of his siblings are born, playing along about just long enough so that his supporters can watch and learn how to continue their operation without requiring the Kaminoan's involvement

and then he strikes, removing them from the picture, and immediately modifies the cloning contract on record:

the clones he's raising are all for the Jedi, and in the name of the one Jedi he actually trusts them to

so when Kenobi is lured to Kamino by the Sith's machinations several years later, it's only Alpha-17 waiting for him in the rain on that landing platform

and all he says in greeting is, "Kenobi, good, you finally made it. Here's the boys, we're killing the Sith, are you coming or do you need any more time to prepare"

and proceeds to not wait for the man's answer as he drags him along through the final preparations for their mass departure for Coruscant, dodging meaningfully addressing any of his questions by fobbing him off onto his curious and delighted younger siblings who only have vague ideas of Alpha-17's plans

when they arrive, he plays along with the Chancellor just long enough to get close so he can cut the head off that snake directly, along with several other key Imperial Senators and ambitious would-have-been military personnel

he immediately declares Kenobi the Emperor to a crowd of aghast politicians (and an equally shocked Kenobi)

Anakin, hearing this news, swiftly returns from the solo mission that the late Chancellor had dispatched him on, furious that his Master has taken over the political system without inviting him to help 💔

he's equally swiftly mollified when, upon his arrival, Alpha-17 intercepts his impending meltdown by immediately turning him back around to be dispatched on missions important to securing their new Empire

[quarterlifekitty]

apparently there's an item called mating frame for cats so they can mate comfortably or something idk i just saw it in a glance.

thinking about reader being put in a mating frame built for her, on her hands and knees just with more support and comfort and easier from price to pin her down, keep her from squirming too much, trying to wiggle away from overstimulation.

or have the whole team going at 'er why not, maybe omega reader being bred by all 4 alphas. maybe maybe... thoughts thoughts...

You know, stop me if this is too freaky, but uhhhhh.... I'm on my hybrid shit right now. really playing with my fucking dolls rn. I'm once again getting real weird with it.

Laswell who's in the business of training cat hybrids for show. Nikolai and Price are her golden boys-- they're in their retirement now, but they're still treated like absolute princes. Their ribbons and trophies are all over the walls.

Simon is her current champion. Prized for his even temperament and unique coloring.

Soap and Gaz are in the wings, a bit immature still, but fully grown and waiting for their time in the spotlight.

Like a lot of people, Laswell marries within her field. She met her wife when she was attending shows-- more of an amateur, just one little kitty she enters in some more local events and showings.

You.

You have a few ribbons of your own-- mainly for your sweet disposition.

So, when Laswell and her wife move in together (I'm gonna give her a name for clarity-- let's call her Amara), Laswell sees it as a great opportunity to break into breeding-- something she's always had the intention to do, but never really found the right fit for any of her boys. But she has a feeling they'll like you.

And they do. My god they do. Soap and Gaz are all over you first, still very much energetic and playful, eager to prove themselves. Simon is a bit more aloof, but it doesn't escape the others how he allows you to curl into him when he naps in the sunny spot he's quite territorial over.

Nikolai has you as a little shadow. He takes a lot of pleasure in showing you around the property, and hearing the little bell jingling on your collar behind him as you curiously follow after him.

Price is the most openly affectionate. It makes Soap and Gaz a bit jealous, to be honest-- Price's approval had been harder to earn for them. He's constantly grooming you, pulling you against him to settle in his bed (tells you to humor an old man, hm?)

At first Kate and Amara wanted things to happen naturally, but it became clear after a short amount of time that it wasn't going to happen. Not because you didn't get along with them, but because you're just too skittish and nervous. You take the courtship just fine, but squirm and panic when it finally comes time to get mounted-- so the frame becomes necessary.

But then, of course, they have the difficult job of deciding who gets to break it in with you.

[dmitriene]

based on the ask from my inbox.

cw: omegaverse, intimacy without smut.

simon ghost riley finds out there's pleasures in things that always seemed as something irrelevant to him, what is completely mundane for someone, for him was a reason to avoid it almost on the toes of his feet, turning away from the proposed touches, recoiling and bending so as not to fall beneath a squeezing hand, pretending that he did not hear this or that voiced proposal, to unwind, to go somewhere, to communicate in more than guns and missions.

you teached him that there's more to every waking day than just going through it, that there's more to your bond, than just strong, providing alpha and a sweet, breedable omega, there's no need to always force his body in doing something, nor searching of thing or two that will keep him busy, so the day would pass faster, nor the nagging in the pit of his stomach that growls on to lose himself in between your legs, as driven by the instincts as nature expects to.

now, simon is the one to be splayed limp in the heaped mess of pillows and blankets of your nest, which is, your shared bed, a place he has any right to be laying on, but you know that he's here for you, corded muscle and fat filling out every line of his heavy body that turns on the sound of your fluffy slippers tapping down the floor, his arms pulling forward, gripping on the headboard loosely as he stretches out, exposed chest and firm walls of his abdomen flex and quiver, and you mirror his hum, not as sleepy, but appreciating.

there's no need to call for you with a rumble or a name, but still, you hear the croaked, gravelly call and paddle closer step by step, tickling his nose with the scent of you, spreading out to fill every corner of the bedroom from the scentgland on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tender and branded on with long faded mating bite, an sharp, round imprint of his teeth, and you can count each one at the sight, as his hand reaches out, long fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt, tugging you close and then wrapping a hold around the curve of your waist, making you lean and slump down on the mattress below.

the sooty, delicate wisps of simon's pale eyelashes tickle at your cheek, when he nuzzles in with a movement that makes your throat constrict and rumble over with a happy, contented purr, slumping back in the weight of his body behind, supporting you with an expanse of his expanding back, rumbling, mirroring the same purr that vibrates through both of you, now, as he cradles you closer and closer from the edge of the bed and into the middle, where sheets and blankets are rumpled, unfurled, warmed by the sun and your interlocked limbs.

a kiss back over his carven, stubble prickling jaw, to match the smudged, lip chapped one that sears in the goosebumped skin at the nape of your neck, up close, the scent of him, woody, spicy, light giving off a citrus sourness, punctures deep into the nooks and crannies of your mind and gets clogged there with a stowing haze, and you obey it, letting your eyelids weight heavily and quiver shut, hand creeping, sliding and looping around, until your fingers tangle in and entwine with mussed, haphazard locks of simon's hair.

you press closer, fit in the slope of his body with your curling back, a puzzle, his heavy hands closing around the middle of you, calloused fingers sneaking in beneath the fabric of your shirt to place wide palms down the flexing, supple front of your tummy, warming and thumbing in a tender caress with short, soothing circles, and there's no other need, no duty, than to be in each other hold.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[cutehoons02]

Puppy Love: The Hybrid's Heart

*pairing: Golden retriever puppy hybrid Jake x human popular bratty Girl

*trope: oppositive attraction

*synopsis: What if you were to do a project on the economic boom that brought hybrids into the human world in terms of love and sex with Jake a golden retriever hybrid who at first glance looks like a puppy but slowly becomes obsessed with you, and you with your shameless insolence propose to write an essay on the overselling of sexual protections against hybrids? This idea of yours might be brilliant academically but on the plane between your relationship with the hybrid Jake could bring some spicy consequences

*tags: a lot of fluffy and fun, a lot of tension, Jake is a shy fake boy, the protagonist is quite bratty and spoiled but also has a tender side, teasing, territorial animal instinct and possession, kisses, sexual tension, masturbation (f.receives) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) fingering, knot filling, pet names (baby,princess) (puppy,jakey)

7.6k (🐕)

(English is not my native language,)

The world was no longer just for humans.

Since hybrids became an integral part of society, each sector had to adapt to their presence. Medicine, law, food, and education; the world has now normalized the presence of hybrids, who coexist with humans in every aspect of society. Some are still considered "tools" for certain purposes, but others, like Jake, want to prove that they are more than what they were created for. At school or university, hybrids have mixed classes with humans, but there is still some prejudice against them. Some see them as merely trained life companions, others as true peers, instead, you were extremely skeptical, saw them as beings too perfect to be true, always kind, always smiling... which you suspect but your friends always told you to charge one or to feel the thrill of being filled by one of them but you in a sense also hated the male human gender; Going with a hybrid would have been even worse and you firmly believed that the hybrids had repressed instincts and that all their sweetness was just a mask to hide their true primordial nature of possessing someone.

In the human world, there were various forms of hybrids the most common ones were those of dogs with then the sub-species and the same thing was for cats, then there were rabbits, hamsters, and then birds but if you thought that there were only these species you were mistaken. There were hybrid wolves which were the rarest especially if they were Alphas, foxes, deer, bears, snakes, and so on.

The auditorium was full of students, and the hum of whispers filled the air while the professor was busy with the projector. The door snapped open, and a figure came in steadily without the least embarrassment of delay.

Jake barely looked up from his notebook and saw you dressed in tight jeans that tied your legs and a sweater that slipped on your shoulders.

He had never spoken to you but knew you by hearsay in the halls of the university that you were one of the most popular girls, but he noticed you immediately. Not so much for your appearance - even though it was clear that you were aware of pleasure - but for the way you moved: confident, almost cocky, as if you challenged anyone to tell you something.

Your eyes set on the only empty place next to him and with a theatrical sigh, you approached and stopped right there in front of him.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" you asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Jake looked at you for a moment, then tilted his head. An involuntary gesture, almost canine, that betrayed his hybrid nature, and felt his tail bursting more than it should.

«Not too much,» he replied, with a relaxed smile.

You raised an eyebrow, then dropped down on the chair with a studious ease and pulled out the notebook slowly, as if you were doing the professor a favor by attending the class.

Jake looked at you again, out of the corner of his eye and that’s when he heard it.

Your perfume, my lord. Sweet, with a vanilla note... but also something fresh, almost pungent. It was rare that a smell hit him like this, the hybrids had a developed sense of smell, sure, but after years among humans he got used to ignoring certain things but this... was too good.

Too persistent.

He barely shook his head, trying to ignore him, but at that moment you spoke again.

"I’ve never seen a hybrid in an advanced course," you commented, crossing your legs under the bench and Jake barely smiled.

«And I have never seen a girl arrive late with so much confidence and boldness»

You smiled amused because you knew how the hybrids could always be perfect in everything, never late, always right at every deadline was a thing that united their species.

"It’s a natural talent that in just a few years!" you said as you flicked through the pages of your notes.

«It must be difficult to perfect, in the human world there are clocks for this, alarms, and reminders but maybe you don’t know that.» He said looking at you with a suspicious smile that made you get on your nerves

"Oh, yes, it takes years of practice, in my house as you may have deduced there are no alarms or maybe I’m just too careless."

Jake chuckled. You liked to tease, this was obvious but not aggressive... it seemed more like a game for you.

"Anyway," you said, getting a little too close for Jake’s taste "Mine wasn’t a joke. I have never seen a hybrid in such a course. I thought they would give you more... practical courses."

Jake stopped tapping his fingers on the bench and turned slightly toward you.

«Practical?» he said intrigued by your question and felt his ears curl up with curiosity.

You smiled, just tilting your head to look at him carefully and he was really beautiful: he had black hair slightly fluffy, his ears were golden and deduced that he was a hybrid of a Golden retriever, wore a black shirt where you could see he had nice muscles and a black leather jacket, of the ripped jeans where you could see his toned legs and the only contrast was his slightly long tail that since you were sitting next to him did not stop moving and was extremely adorable but there was also a darker side: an intensity in his eyes that you had noticed immediately, a smile with perfect teeth that seemed more clever than it should be.

"Yeah. You know, things like obeying, being affectionate, devoted..." Jake laughed softly, his elbow resting on the back of the chair. «If by "practical" you mean that, then I suppose so.» But you shook your head, snapping your tongue.

"No, I mean other things." Jake looked at you with a shadow of curiosity in his eyes.

«What other things?»

You didn’t hesitate for a second to speak and Jake understood that you were extremely cheeky and had no hair on your tongue.

"Obsessing about people. Being territorial. Being perverted from morning to night. And, of course, to breed in mass, I have a friend who has a hybrid at home and is extremely territorial with her, I would never be able to take home a hybrid if then in your nature you become so obsessed and territorial with us» Jake’s smile froze for a moment and for the first time since he had met you, he was speechless.

You had said it too naturally, with too much confidence, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and for a second, Jake felt the heat rise. He was not angry, no but... he felt strange.

He knew well that there were still people who thought so, who saw the hybrids only as beings programmed to satisfy the humans and to satisfy themselves but to hear it in his face, with that almost contemptuous lightness, struck him more than he would have wanted to admit.

He passed his tongue on his teeth, then cleared his throat.

«... And tell me,» he said with a smile that he was trying to mask the irritation. «Do you want me to do these things?»

You burst out laughing, god also he had seriously the taste of humor at the stars and no doubt knew how to tease you and always had the ready answer, maybe his master had trained him well for life as a hybrid mixed with that human being.

"Are you serious?" Jake just stared at you, waiting for your answer and you shook your head, crossing your arms with a haughty little smile.

"No, not even in my worst nightmare would I sleep with a hybrid."

Jake looked away for a second.

Okay, that sentence... had more effect than expected.

Not that he was interested in that way - he said - but the way you had said it, with that absolute confidence, had left him a small, annoying scratch in his pride and passed a hand through his hair, then came back to look at you with an ironic smile.

«Ah, well...» he said, lowering his voice. «I’m sorry to break your heart, but even in my worst nightmares I wouldn’t dream of jumping on you.»

You laughed again, but this time his eyes shone with satisfaction and Jake stared at you for a moment, then barely shook his head, returning to focus on the professor but your scent kept invading his senses and was damn good.

The teacher clapped his hands a couple of times to get the class’s attention.

— Well, guys. For future lessons, I want you to work in pairs with those next to you. You will have to write a short essay on the economic and social boom that occurred after the integration of hybrids in our society, especially in the sentimental sector and... - paused, putting his glasses on his nose, - sexual.

In the courtroom, there was a murmur mixed with some suffocated laughter. Someone turned to look at his sidekick with funny or embarrassed expressions.

Jake ran his hand through his hair, letting go a slight sigh. Fantastic and his new sidekick snorted and laughed.

"Well, I guess you won’t get rid of me that easily then," you said. Jake turned to you, finding you with a clever smirk on your lips. There was something mischievous in your tone as if you were enjoying every second of that situation.

What about him? He wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, the idea of spending more time with you meant dealing with your cheeky attitude and sharp tongue.

On the other hand... your perfume, it was absurd, sweet, and pungent, insinuated itself in his senses in a way that he could not ignore.

"That might be a problem," he thought, his tongue in his teeth.

You meanwhile stretch out your hand, with an almost bored expression, as if you were simply doing your social duty.

"My name is Y/n." Jake looked down at your hand for a moment, then did the same.

«Jake,» he said in a low voice smiling at you, and as soon as your hands touched, both of you felt a slight electric shock. You withdrew your hand after a second, barely clenching your fingers, as if you were unsure of what she had just felt. Jake, on the other hand, stood still, his face as relaxed as ever... but something inside of him had lit up.

He had felt the shock more intensely than he should. Like a shiver along the back, an impulse that had made his hair on the arms and clenched his jaw, trying to ignore it.

It was nothing, could not be anything.

Yet, as you turned to take your notebook and start working, he stood still for a moment too long, his eyes still fixed on his hand, as if trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

Jake nervously drummed his fingers on the table, trying to ignore the annoyance that twisted in his stomach every time you came into the library or private rooms to continue with the work your economics professor had assigned.

There were days that you worked together and, if possible, he found you more and more unbearable; you arrived late every time, as if it was your natural right and sincerely thought you did it on purpose to see him annoyed by you. And not a few minutes, once you had waited 40 minutes under the bus shelter and it was raining and when you arrived you looked at him as if you had before you not a human and animal half but a puppy left alone. Although to be honest, today ten minutes seemed almost a miracle, and then the way you dressed... always those little skirts that seemed to come out of an anime for under 18 years old, always those soft sweaters where you let see your skin smooth and perfect that slipped on your shoulders, and the loose hair that framed your face with almost irritating ease.

And your perfume, damn it, your perfume. Every day it seemed to get more intense, more enveloping, as if she wanted to drag him inside without anything he could do about it.

Jake strove to look away while you sat beside him with the usual carelessness, pulling out your notes with exasperating slowness but then saw you take something out of your bag.

A small box and he felt his breath stop for a moment, Jake recognized it instantly.

Anti-hybrid contraceptives. In pill format for girls. In condom format for boys. He felt the blood go to his head instantly, and a burst of heat rose on his cheeks before he could even control himself. Instinctively, he also felt his tail flutter hard, too hard and forced himself to stop it, clearing his throat in a desperate attempt to mask his reaction.

You noticed immediately and, of course, you made you laugh.

"Oh? What’s this face, Jake? You’re a little too reactive to be such a smart hybrid, aren’t you?"

Jake put his hand on his neck, trying to ignore the way his body was reacting against his will.

«It’s nothing,» he mumbled, trying to appear indifferent but you did not let yourself be fooled and you leaned at the table with a mischievous smirk, making the box swing between your fingers.

"Ah-ah, I wouldn’t say. You lit up like a light bulb. What, you’ve never seen one before?"

Jake stared at you. «I know what it is,» he said, trying to keep her cool. «I just didn’t expect you to take it out so... naturally.»

You laugh again and open the box, taking out a pill and swirling it between your fingers.

"Oh, honey, I always have an escort with me. You know, just to be safe. You never know, with all these hybrids around, so obsessed, territorial, and..." you got a little closer, looking at him provocatively, "perverts from morning to night."

Jake clenched his jaw and thought you were a damn problem and the worst part was that you knew exactly how much you were causing it.

You laughed and slipped the pill back into its wrapper.

"I guess your master didn’t explain to you what it means to be ironic, I’ve never taken one of these pills in my life sincerely; I just wanted to make fun of you a little bit," you said, putting the box on the table. " We can talk about it in our essay."

Jake raised an eyebrow and did not understand what I wanted to say sincerely.

«Contraceptives?» he said in a low voice as his cheeks warmed.

"Sure." You leaned on the back of the chair, fiddling with the box. "Come on, think of the gigantic market that has been created since hybrids entered our lives. The anti-hybrid condoms and these pills are very popular. Sometimes they’re even sold out in whole cities. It’s a multimillion-dollar business and thank God they are used to protect us from diseases and becoming mothers too soon!"

Jake nodded slowly, acknowledging that the argument made sense.

«It’s true. We could also talk about the condoms that we hybrids can use to release our seed and knot inside.»

You smiled and clapped Jake’s hands and sensitive ears rose with speed as he heard you slap them and smile.

"Perfect. So let’s try to put down our ideas and see that they are not as bad as you thought!" You gave him a slight elbow in the side and he nodded slightly feeling for a few seconds your skin in contact with his.

You worked, exchanging ideas and writing the first few paragraphs. As much as he found you annoying, Jake had to admit that you were brilliant had a lot of ideas for the head, and knew how to connect concepts, and how to make the essay interesting.

But he... he had a problem.

Since that little box appeared on the table, his body seemed to activate without his permission.

His golden tail did not stop moving, slamming against the leg of the chair. His ears were always on alert, picking up every sound or movement. And then... the heat on his cheeks. He needed to run his hand through his hair, to fix the collar of the sweatshirt as if he could find some relief.

It was a disaster and every time you talked to him you noticed that there was something strange about him and after two hours of notes thrown down in the computer you tore yourself into the chair and cleared your throat and watched him for a moment, narrowing your eyes.

Jake was... beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of beauty that made hybrids seem even more dangerous than they already were. His face was sculpted but soft in the right places, and when he smiled he had that vaguely mischievous air that made the weak college girls knee-deep, and now, as he stirred, it was even more obvious that his body was reacting strangely.

You bit the inside of your cheek, then, with your usual insolence, you asked:

"Jake... have you ever laid a litter?" He suddenly froze and his eyes opened wide, surprised and passed the drink that he was drinking and you gently shook your hand on his back to make him recover

«What?!» said slightly incredulous of having heard that phrase coming out of your mouth that you couldn’t keep quiet for more than two minutes and you laughed amused.

"You understand very well. Have you ever had a litter?" Jake was speechless for a second, then burst out laughing, incredulous at the blatant question

«No!» and you stared at him, shocked.

"No? What’s not?!"

Jake crossed his arms, shaking his head with a funny smile.

«What surprises you so much? I can not inseminate and tie puppies from morning to night» he told you in a funny way

"You’re a hybrid!" you exclaimed. "I thought it was... boh, part of your instinct. Like, that’s what you were made for, right?"

Jake raised an eyebrow, this timeless amused.

«Wow. Is that how you see it?» said Jake in a somewhat sad and annoyed way, and you shrugged your shoulders, not breaking up.

"I see reality, Jake." He looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head with a half smile.

«Not all hybrids are obsessed with reproduction, you know?»

"No, but most do."

«I don’t,» he replied firmly

"Really?" you said curious

"Y/n. Sooner or later I would like to have a family of either single hybrids or half hybrids but for now, I want to make a career as you are doing, I would like to graduate and then find a job that satisfies me, and who knows also a companion to be with and not only to breed puppies!»

You looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, Jake was really a good guy and you could see that he tried every day to be respected and not fall into the traps of humans and then you bowed your head and smiled again.

"Well, then you’re an anomaly but I like this more "human" side of you that you want to make a career and live a normal life. We are bombarded with stories of hybrids that mate just for pleasure!"

Jake chuckled, returning to writing.

«Or maybe I just have high standards of life and love» he said looking at you and smiling.

"Ah yes?" you said curious

«Yes, Y/n. Go back to studying» You stared at him for a few seconds, then you just laughed, shaking your head.

That afternoon you were writing on the computer all the different types of contraceptive pills for hybrids and read there was a lot for any knot that filled you with animal and you were curious but also a little shocked and wanted to ask too much Jake if he had ever filled some. Nobody at school talked openly about what it meant to be with them in a physical sense. It was a taboo subject in sex education classes, yet, in the real world, everyone talked about it.

Many of your friends had fun with the hybrids at least once, and they all said the same thing.

"It is amazing."

"Being filled with them is an absurd feeling."

"The knot... is the best thing you can feel."

But you were always skeptical, you couldn’t stand certain humans, let alone hybrids. They were stronger, more instinctive, more... Unpredictable yet, sitting next to Jake, curiosity tickled you.

He was so beautiful that it hurt to the eyes, and yet it all seemed almost... Embarrassed when you provoked him you slightly turn towards him, resting your chin on the hand.

"Jake..." He didn’t take his eyes off the notebook, but his ears moved slightly.

«Mh? What other uncomfortable question will you ask me today?» he said laughing.

"Have you ever knotted anyone?" Jake instantly stuck his fingers on the paper, and his tail, which had been moving slowly until then, suddenly twitched and turned to you, and for the first time, he saw something he’d never seen in your eyes before.

Embarrassment, serious, genuine embarrassment.

«What?!» he asked, almost as if he had not heard well.

"You heard me very well, don’t be shy with me. Have you ever knotted anyone?" Jake felt the heat rise to his head in a flash. He ran his hand through his hair, as he always did when he felt nervous and looked away.

«I..» He shook his head and you flashed your eyes.

"Oh, come on!" you exclaimed with an incredulous laugh. "You’re a liar. You’re too good-looking to have never been with anyone."

Jake gnawed his cheek inside and heard his tail churning for your appreciation of him, he didn’t like where he was going to end that conversation, not with you so close, not with that perfume that invaded his lungs and clouded his thoughts.

«It happened only once,» he finally admitted, with a lower tone. You stared at him carefully, grasping the tension in his body, the way he seemed to... restrain himself.

"So? How was it? Did you like it?" Jake put his hand over his neck, undecided whether or not to answer, and finally sighed.

«No.» You stopped laughing and looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?" you said in a low voice and Jake looked down slightly.

«It was not... an act of pleasure.» he paused, clenching his hands. «They used me only to make me lose my virginity, both hybrid and animal.»

You felt something gripping your stomach and you didn’t expect it, not from him.

You had always mocked him, convinced that he was like all the other hybrids, that he was just another boy too handsome and too sure of himself but now, seeing him like this... You wanted to say something, to fill the gap that had been created between you.

You approached him cautiously, looking at him with a mixture of hesitation and displeasure. You had never seen him so... Vulnerable and without thinking too much, you reached out your hand and gently caressed his golden ears. Jake froze for a second, surprised by the contact, then unintentionally relaxed. It was as if his body reacted by itself as if your gesture had a calming effect on him. His tail, which until then had been agitating nervously, stopped.

"Sorry," you whispered, in a tone you had never used with him before and Jake shrugged, looking away.

«You can even stop pretending to be sorry,» he said, with a half-bitter smile. «I know very well that you don’t care about me. You just like to tease me.»

You looked at him for a long moment, then shook your head.

"No. I won’t make fun of you any more about these things. And I won’t ask you any more personal questions." Jake turned to you with a cheeky smirk, his usual cocky attitude coming back to life.

«Oh? Then it’s my turn to ask personal questions?»

You raised an eyebrow. "Depends on the question."

Jake leaned against the table with a relaxed look, then looked you straight in the eye.

«Have you ever been with a boy?» Did you get stuck for a moment Jake tilted his head slightly. «I mean, did you lose your virginity?» And at that moment you realized he had asked you the exact same question. And you were bad with him and looked slightly down, then nodded slowly.

"Yes. I had... a kind of boyfriend" Jake stood in silence, waiting for him to continue and you were fiddling with the pen between your fingers as if you were unsure what to say.

"But I didn’t enjoy sex with him so much, maybe because I didn’t love him or to be honest I never loved anyone" Jake heard a slight growl forming in his throat, Almost imperceptible when he heard that you were not in love with that boy and that you did not like the sexual act.

«Did he hurt you?» Asked in a low voice and you felt that there was something in his tone that made you shudder, it wasn’t just curiosity, it was protection, it was territoriality and Jake felt the urgency grow inside of him uncontrollably. A primordial need to protect you from having you for yourself.

You looked into his eyes and shook your head.

"No, it didn’t hurt" but you saw that Jake wasn’t the same anymore, you were furious with yourself, you had used too heavy words with Jake, and now he was looking at you with a hidden wound and without thinking,

You grabbed it by the collar of the sweatshirt and pulled it to you, the lips that collided with hers in a kiss full of emotion and repressed anger.

God, what were you doing?

Jake stood motionless for a moment, surprised, but his animal instinct overwhelmed him soon after. His hands slid on your hips, holding them firmly as he lifted you with ease and seated you on the table. Her kiss answered yours with a mix of sweetness and pure possession, the lips that devoured yours with growing hunger.

«Y/n...» he murmured against your mouth between one kiss and another, the warm breath that touched your skin. «You are a little pest. Always teasing me, eh?»

Smile at his lips, nibbling on his lower lip before answering. " And you’re a golden retriever always too loyal... but maybe you have a wild side after all."

Jake growled quietly, amused and provoked by his words. «Oh, Y/n... you don’t even know what trouble you’re in.»

His hands went up your thighs, making you feel the warmth of his touch even through your clothes and you stroked his ears, knowing exactly how sensitive he was at that point. A shiver passed through Jake, who closed his eyes for a moment, panting softly.

«Damnation, Y/n...» he whispered with a crooked smile. «If you continue like this, I will not answer for my actions.»

You slowly recline, sinking your fingers in his hair. "What if that’s exactly what I want?"

When you left, Jake’s tail couldn’t stop. He felt so good, but at the same time excited, and whispered to you: «You are driving me crazy from the first day.» you smiled maliciously and tried to kiss him on the neck. When Jake heard you lightly sucking his skin near the ear, he groaned softly but immediately broke away from you.

«We can’t continue,» he said in a roaring voice and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Why not?"

Jake sighed, lowering his voice. «Why would I stop. I’d fill you with my knot several times,Y/n. Your perfume makes me go crazy. And I know you’re still reluctant about hybrids... If I gave you to me, everything would change between us.»

His look was serious, intense. «For me, it’s not a game, and I know it’s not for you either. You act like a cheeky little girl, but I know that you have respect for me and the other hybrids. First, you have to figure out if you really like me or if I’m just a hobby. When you find the answer, you’ll tell me. But until you know, I can’t take any chances. I want to be just one person. I don’t want to get hurt again.» And with these words, he gave you a little kiss on the forehead and made you stand up from the table.

In those weeks of study, you were still a cheeky and popular girl with Jake you loved to tease him but at the same time understand him. You had first seen him in his animal form as a golden retriever and he was beautiful and playful with you, Jake had made you meet Sunghoon a friend of his hybrid snow fox, and Jungwon a hybrid Bengal cat. At first, you were strange and anxious about this thing but over time you had made friends with them and well Jake every day that passed could not stop touching you.

You kissed a little too much even though you weren’t engaged. He explained everything about him and the sexual part of the knot and slowly you realized that he was really starting to like you and becoming more and more important to you.

The research you and Jake had done on the economic boom of hybrids using anti-hybrid contraceptives was a success. The professor even complimented you. But that victory also had a downside: you didn’t have Jake as your work partner anymore. You noticed it, he seemed a bit down in morale, even if he never admitted it openly.

Fortunately, you both studied economics, so over the next few months you would have had more classes together.

The students of the course had organized a party and you were there with your friends, dressed in a dress perhaps a little too succinct for Jake’s standards. He looked at you with that territorial gaze, every interaction you had with some human being, especially male, seemed to make him tremble with irritation. He knew you were popular, but not that much. He noticed how some guys looked at you all night and, at one point, he got fed up.

With his tail wagging slightly and his ears raised, he approached you with a grin.

«Baby», he said, tilting his head with fake innocence, «are you aware of how many glances you attract with that little dress?»

You gave him a mischievous smile, sipping your drink. "Oh? Are you worried about me, puppy?"

Jake snorted, getting even closer. «Worried? No. Tired of seeing all these idiots staring at you as if you were a succulent meal? Absolutely yes.»

You laugh and enjoy his jealousy. "What’s the problem? It’s not my fault I’m pretty."

He clenched his jaw slightly, then leaned towards you, his voice getting lower. You know, you could be a little more discreet. Don’t you mind being looked at like that?»

You came even closer, your lips a few centimeters from hers. "And you don’t mind?"

Jake looked at you for a moment, then his hand touched your side with an almost imperceptible but possessive gesture. «It depends. If you want all those guys to know that you’re out of reach, I can make it clear to them.»

You raised an eyebrow, nibbling your lip. "Oh? How would you do that?"

Jake smiled, tilting his head. «Do you really want to find out, Y/n? Because I don’t know if you’ll like being claimed in front of everyone.»

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept the cheek.

"Maybe you should try it, then. Let’s see if you have the courage."

Jake laughed softly, his eyes shone with a dangerous light. «You’re playing with fire, baby. And you know it.»

You smiled, caressing his ear distractedly, making the poor hybrid shudder. "And then burn me, Jake."

Late at night, the music was still pulsing in the disco and everyone was dancing. You were having fun too, but Jake, tired of the whole situation, came up to you with a look full of tension. «I can’t take it anymore," he murmured in a low, hoarse voice.»

You smiled maliciously and, caressing his soft golden retriever ears, mocked him. " Oh, does the little golden retriever have to sleep?"

Jake growled softly, approaching you with a predatory look. «I’m not tired of sleep,» he hissed, his eyes fixed on you. «I can’t stand to see you dancing with those idiots anymore. I want you so much, Y/n. You’re driving me crazy.»

Without thinking too much, you took his hand and together left the disco, walking quickly towards your university room. The journey was quiet, charged with electricity, and as you closed the door behind you, Jake did not waste time. His hands squeezed you firmly as his lips pressed against yours in a possessive but sweet kiss, laden with desire held back for too long. His tongue explored his mouth with greed, while one of his hands crept into your hair, squeezing it lightly to hold you close.

It was only for a moment, the breathless breath. «I want you, Y/n. I want to make you mine.»

You looked at him with bright eyes, your heart beating like crazy. Annuisti, but Jake was not satisfied. He touched your face with his nose, his warm breath on your skin. «No, I want to hear your beautiful voice tell me. Tell me you love me. Tell me you want to be mine... that you want my knot to fill you.»

You shivered at the sound of those words, feeling the heat enveloping you more and more. He looked at you with devastating intensity, waiting for your answer.

"I want to be yours, Jake." When Jake heard these words coming out of your mouth slightly pushed you onto the bed and without thinking began to smell you and then give you small kisses on your neck mixed with small pacifiers and light bites to claim you that made you crazy and moan his name, You began to rub yourself in its length covered by his jeans and at the same time caressing his hair and his ears and felt it more and more excited and the same thing happened to you.

There was something almost intoxicating in having him over you, his wide body looming over yours, his dark brown eyes with heavy eyelids peering at you as if he wanted to devour you completely and to have you all to himself, continued his kiss trail along your body, Stopping only when you pulled the top over your head, leaving you with only your underwear and saw his cheeks warm up when he took off your breast-rest and began to tease with one hand your right breast and the other began to suck your bud; It was a beautiful feeling and while he sucked you and left some trail of saliva you pinched him slightly and stuck your back to the feeling of his hands in your breast and his tongue that was doing a dangerous game just to tease you and make you go away the head.

«Fuck, you’re so sexy but at the same time sensitive to my touch». Jake panted as his hand touched your breast, the nipple creaking against the cold feeling of his tongue making you groan. You were so sensitive, the feeling sent you a jolt, gasping as Jake smiled at your skin and thought if you were so sensitive with only his tongue in your buds, he couldn’t wait to see you go crazy while he’d innocence you to him and push himself inside of you.

His other hand slid between your legs, touching the wet stain that had formed on your underwear as you pushed into his hand with a moan.

«Fuck, you’re soaked for me, baby». Groaning to the feeling of your excitement covering his fingers, the lips meeting yours once again in a hungry kiss, Jake detached himself from your lips, quickly lifting his shirt off his body as he threw it somewhere in the room, The sound of his belt unbuckling hit you right to the heart.

You watched him in just his boxers and he was definitely beautiful, his hair was messy, his cheeks were red, his body had beautiful abdominal ridges and you licked your lips when you saw his V-line go down to the stuffing of its length.

"I want you so much." Whining.

Jake smiled as he hovered over you again, his hands meeting your full boob again and the other hand traveling to your inner thigh, snapping his finger under the hem of your panties, caressing your clitoris, and ripping a jolt.

"Jake..." you panicked, hands clenching on his shoulders as the pleasure slowly invaded you. He smiled, bowing down to kiss your neck with warm and moist lips. «Calm down, baby...» he whispered in a tone full of possessive sweetness. «I have to prepare you well. I too can’t wait to fill you up, but I want you to be ready.»

You could feel the redness rising up your neck as her touch made you shiver, your thighs trembling with desire.

"Please..." you said in a low voice as you heard him take off your wet panties

«Please, what?» His thumb caressed your clitoris, the sudden friction made you groan, and Jake moved away slightly, his lips brushing your lobe as he murmured. The heat that accumulated in your stomach overwhelmed you as you felt that with one finger he was tickling your clitoris and with another had filled your pussy pulsing around him, You felt that it was pumping and at the same time, it was teasing your clitoris and pinching it just to make you arch your back and beg you to have it inside of you.

God, where was the shy boy who would be embarrassed if you teased him?

"Fuck me, please Jake, I need you" As you came in his fingers he lifted up slightly and your hands fell down, finding their warm and pulsating length between his delicate fingers.

Jake moans softly to the touch, his breath accelerated as his fingers sank deeper into its wet center. «Damn it, baby... You’re so perfect...» he mumbled against your skin, nibbling at her ear lobe.

You barely moved, the hands exploring him with curiosity and need, while your body was tending more and more under his caresses. "Jake... I can’t wait any longer..." You whispered with a supple tone and lowered his boxer shorts and saw his lengthy erected and full of slime liquid and you couldn’t wait to be tied to him and feel it inside you.

"Fuck." You whisper, wondering how beautiful his cock was, which was clinging around your hands and you pumped it slightly and Jake looked at you softly as he put it on top of you. «God, you’re so fucking beautiful.»

You both groan simultaneously at the feeling of his cock touching your clitoris and moving again, aligning with your entrance.

«Ready?» he asked, with a roaring and stinging voice and with a tail that was rumbling for joy and anude, biting his lip.

"Use your words, princess.» he flicked his toe along your folds

"Yes! Yes, please. Fuck me."

He shoved his cock tip into the heat, rubbing it provocatively against your folds and Jake groaned as he pushed his length inside you, your body twitching at that feeling.

It was hot. Big. Deep. The knot was filling you in a way that you would never have imagined; now you understood why human girls were crazy about hybrids. It wasn’t just pleasure-it was the feeling of being held, tied, branded. There was no escape, and yet you didn’t want to run away. Every movement of Jake made you shiver, his knot pulsed inside you, and the mixture of pain and pleasure sent you crazy.

Jake’s dark eyes devoured you, full of desire, with a visceral lust that made him almost savage. The hybrid instinct in him roared, calling you, asking to brand you, to bind her to himself permanently.

When he finally pushed himself inside you, a deep growl escaped from his lips. The feeling was overwhelming, perfect.

"Jake..." your voice trembled, and your eyes were bright as the knot pressed inside you. "It’s so... intense."

He stopped for a moment, inhaling your scent, that sweet aroma mixed with sweat that was driving him crazy.

«Shh, baby... » he leaned over you, the tongue that touched your neck, tasting you. «My knot is trying to tie you to me.»

He pushed deeper and you held your breath as he felt the knot swell, and expand inside you. The mixture of pleasure and that subtle burning made you shiver.

"Jake... the knot..." anxiously, the nails slid down his back, scratching him slightly. "It’s too much... it’s driving me crazy."

He kissed you with force, suffocating his groans in your mouth, the tongue that explored yours with a primitive, possessive hunger.

«You’re almost there." His breath was warm against your skin, his ears flattened for pleasure. «Your body is adapting to me... do you feel it? You are perfect for receiving me.»

It moved again, and the pressure within you increased. You trembled when the knot swelled further, locking it inside you, and preventing it from coming out.

"God..." whispers, clenching at him. "You’re driving me crazy."

Jake smiled at your skin, the tail moving slowly behind him like a satisfied predator.

«Fuck you, baby feel how it grows inside of you.» With each push, you felt the knot getting bigger and bigger and the pleasure penetrated you completely as you felt Jake always pushing himself inside of you and at the same time tickling your clitoris to make you come.

«You know what it means, don’t you?» His voice was low, seductive, almost hypnotic. «It means that my body is trying to tie you to me. He’s trying to... put my puppies inside you.» Your eyes pounded, the heart pounding in your chest. He touched your cheek with his lips, then dropped down the neck, leaving little bites everywhere, imprinting his mark on you.

«I know you’re taking the anti-hybrid contraceptives, baby.» His smile was almost smug. «But sooner or later my knot will fill you in the way it should.»

A shiver passed through you. Those words should have frightened you, but instead, they lit something inside of you, something deep and primordial; you felt the rush of chills and adrenaline take you in the blow and came and after two more pushes Jake filled you completely with his knot and his sperm came out of you and he licked you while you felt that it was still hard and him with those puppy eyes but mixed to territoriality and perversion you looked and nodded slightly as you felt that he sank his cock inside you again, Jake sank his face into the hollow of your neck breathing in your sweet and intoxicating scent while his knot still pulsed inside her. He felt you tremble, your body still shaken by the waves of pleasure that had swept you both away.

«You are so perfect for me... feel how your body is holding me back? As if it didn’t want to let me out...» He said in a hoarse voice, kissing your jaw softly

"I feel it, Jake... God, I feel so full..." you said with a sigh of pleasure

Jake moved slowly inside of you, feeling the pressure wrap him even more, the swollen knot that was still glued to you.

«And you will always be. Always full of me. Of my knot... and my seed.» he said whispering in your ear, with a satisfied smile.

You visibly shudder at his words, a mixture of excitement and total surrender in your dark eyes.

"Yes... yes... I want to be all yours... filled by you..."

Jake kissed you ardently, slowly sinking again «Good, baby. Tell me how much you like it.»

You were anxiously, clinging even more to him. "Jake... you make me feel so good... it’s too beautiful... I still feel the knot throbbing inside of me..."

Jake laughed softly at your lips «Because my body knows that you are mine. I will never have enough of you.»

He moved again, this time more deeply, and moaned, feeling the heat spread everywhere.

Jake with a satisfied sigh, caressed your face sweetly as he looked into your eyes «Do you want some more, baby?»

Bite your lip, clenching your legs around his hips with a mischievous smile: "Yes... yes, Jake... I want more."

Jake growled softly, with a satisfied smile as he kissed you passionately. «Then let me fill you up again. Cause I’m not done with you.»

When Jake broke away from you after you came, he helped you gently clean himself by caressing your face. «Did I hurt you?» He asked with a thread of concern in his voice as he saw you still shaken.

You laughed, shaking your head. "No, you were incredible... just a little intense!"

Jake hugged you, like a real puppy looking for affection, and kissed your head with sweetness. «You’re perfect for me,» I murmured, clenching myself. «You drive me crazy every time... and I think I’m starting to love you."

You looked at him surprised, your heart beating faster in your chest. " I have never loved anyone... but when I am with you I feel something strong," you admitted, looking down.

Jake smiled and, jokingly, whispered: «I can’t wait to hear it for real.»

You chuckled and replied with a fake bored tone: "Yes, maybe in a couple of years."

He burst out laughing and, without warning, began to tickle you, making you laugh and trying to shake off his loving hands. The room was full of laughter, and complicit looks, something that was growing between you, stronger and stronger.

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[estrellami-1]

March Mating Madness

Day 10: Rejection Sickness

Maybe (I’m Yours)

Ao3 Link

“It’s as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen!” Eddie exclaims, and something in Steve flinches hard at that, enough he nearly stumbles. Plays it off as a tree root, or the bites, or anything except what it was, and he’s not entirely sure why it hit him the way it did.

Except maybe he does know.

Maybe he can’t think about the way Eddie had leaned in, murmured big boy to him, eyes glinting.

Maybe he can’t think about the way Eddie had given him his vest, and Steve’s omega is shouting courting gift even though he knows it’s not, it can’t be.

Maybe he can’t think about the way Eddie anticipated his movement, handed him a flashlight, negating the echo of Dustin’s voice, do you have to be told everything?

Maybe. Maybe it’s all of that, maybe it’s none of it.

Maybe it’s the way they defeat Vecna, almost too late. Max has a broken leg but the doctors swear she’ll walk again. Almost too late in the way he runs, slides like it’s home fucking base, fucking up his side even more but that doesn’t matter, can’t matter when his pup is screaming, crying, his name then the Alpha’s name, begging Steve to save him.

Almost too late in the way he strips Robin’s jacket, the remainder of Eddie’s shirt, staunching the flow and making sure he doesn’t have to mentally sing fucking Stayin’ Alive type of almost.

But it’s almost, not is, so Eddie makes it to the hospital, unconscious but alive, and Steve all but collapses as soon as he’s out of his arms, as soon as he doesn’t have to hold it together anymore.

The room goes echoey, too-bright-too-dark, and he wakes up in a hospital bed.

Blood loss, the doctor said, and shock. Miracle he didn’t go septic, apparently, and yeah, Steve can see that, the Upside Down isn’t the most sterile place, but what about Eddie-

And, huh. There’s that flinch again. Smaller, almost expected, but not what should be happening, he thinks, and then he thinks coincidence. He probably breathed wrong, aggravated the bites. Maybe moved, or tensed, in a way that physically hurt.

Maybe it’s nothing.

And he thinks that maybe that’s right, because it doesn’t happen again for a while.

Eddie heals, and they go back to almost how they were except that was trauma, plain and simple, and they’re all changed from that, they’re all some type of bonded from that, even if it’s from fangs that aren’t Alphan or omegan, that are distinctly different in nature. It’s a bond, of sorts, so Steve sees Eddie more than he ever had before, and… he likes it.

Eddie’s lame, okay, he’s a nerd, but so are Steve’s other friends and at least he’s closer to Steve’s age, isn’t fucking fourteen, pre-presentation. So Steve likes him, likes hanging out with him, has fun.

He just… has less fun when they’re all in a big group. Especially when Nancy and Eddie are both there. Because Nancy and Jon are still dancing around each other, she doesn’t have eyes for Steve anymore, if she ever did, and Eddie nudges Steve her direction like it even fucking matters, and-

There’s that flinch again.

He feels strangely emotional about it, like he’s going to snap at Eddie, like he’s simultaneously too hot and too cold. He must be coming down with something, he thinks, and makes his excuse, and goes home, collapses into bed, barely toes his shoes off.

He falls asleep quick, but doesn’t stay asleep for long; he’s up in the next hour, shivering and disoriented, body aching in a way that it hasn’t since sixth grade when he was sent home with a fever, diagnosed with the flu by the school nurse.

He calls Family Video, forgets it’s Robin who’s working. “Robbie,” he mutters, because of course his head is pounding too. “Can you- uh. I need off the schedule for… two days? Three?”

“Sure,” she says, light scratching coming through letting Steve know that she’s writing it down. “You feeling okay?”

He hums. “Think… think I have th’flu?”

She pauses. “In May?”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, I don’t think anyone has the flu right now… and you only hang out with, like, three people anyways, and none of us have the flu, so… are you sure?”

He sighs. “I’m freezing,” he tells her. “I’m achy, I have a headache, what else could it be?”

“No, I guess you’re right, just…” she sighs. “No, never mind, it’s fine, you’re off the schedule for the next week, get some rest, I’ll be by tonight with some soup, okay? Just get some rest.”

“M’kay,” he breathes. “Thanks, Robbie.”

“Take care of yourself, Dingus. I’ll see you tonight.” Then, all in a rush, “shit gotta customer gotta go!” And hangs up.

He blinks, hangs up, burrows under his covers, and goes back to sleep.

He wakes later to someone gently shaking his shoulder. “‘Lpha?” He asks into the pillow, before squinting open his eyes and seeing Robin. “Robbie,” he croaks. “Why… why’re you-”

“Hey, Steve,” she whispers, carding a hand through his hair. He whines, ducks his head into her hand. She obliges, scratches a little with her nails. “Said I’d come check on you, remember? I brought soup.”

Just the mention of food has his stomach turning traitorously, and he makes a face, burrowing back into the covers.

She sighs, but thankfully keeps scratching his head. “I know you don’t feel well, Steve, but you should really eat something. It could help you feel better.”

He moves his face out of the blanket to stare at her. “Food is from hell,” he informs her.

It startles a snort out of her. “Well damn, Steve, guess I’ll put it in the fridge then. Promise me you’ll eat something soon?”

He makes another face. “Think I’ll throw up if I eat.”

“Maybe after you sleep more, then.” She moves her hand to his forehead, brows creasing in worry. “You feel really warm, Steve-o. Got a thermometer anywhere?”

He blinks at her for a few seconds. “Under the sink.” She nods and pulls away. He whines, loud, desperate, scared. “Don’t go!”

She immediately moves closer, puts her hand on his cheek. “I’m just going to get the thermometer.”

He shakes his head, sniffles, moves a molasses-slow hand to grab her wrist. His grip is weak, but the message is clear. “Don’ wanna be alone.”

She worries her lip. Glances around the room, comes to a decision, nods. Stands to slip her shoes off, then looks him in the eye. “Steve. Do I have your permission to enter your nest?”

He nods, so she does, sitting against the headboard and pulling him closer, tugging and rearranging until his face is pressed up against her hip, and his arm is over her legs. She drops a hand back in his hair. “Go to sleep,” she tells him. “I’m gonna call my mom, okay? Tell her I’m staying the night.”

He hums in agreement, snuggles in. Catches some of the words, hears rejection sickness, vaguely thinks she’s talking about someone else. He just has the flu.

He falls back asleep, feeling a little better now that Robin’s here with him.

He wakes up later, aching and shivering, more nauseous than before. Whines to himself before he opens his eyes, startles when his pillow moves. Right, he thinks, Robin’s staying the night, and he probably just woke her up. Great going.

“Steve,” Robin whispers. “Are you awake?”

He mumbles something nonsensical, tugs her a little closer, though he feels so weak the tug doesn’t do anything.

“Steve,” she whispers again. “You should take some medicine. And eat something.”

He nearly cries at the thought of food, vehemently shaking his head into her hip.

She sighs. “I know you’re not feeling well, but you need to eat. You might be nauseous because you’re hungry. Try something? Please? Just a small bowl of soup.”

He sighs, but releases her. “Small bowl,” he says, voice rough.

“The smallest,” she agrees, and slips out of bed.

Like before, he immediately whines when Robin moves away. She stops, shrugs out of her flannel, and drops it in front of him. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she promises him.

He nods into her flannel, shutting his eyes before he can watch her walk away. Even still, the flannel cools quickly, and the room cools quickly, and soon he’s shivering worse than before. He whines, coughs, and whines again, subconsciously calling for an Alpha who’s not coming.

Robin comes back a minute later, carrying soup, water, and some pills. If Steve were feeling any better, he’d wonder how she carried all of that without dropping any of it, but as it is he just blinks tiredly up at her, trying for a smile when she sends one his way.

He tries to sit up, but collapses back onto his side with a whimper. “It’s okay,” Robin murmurs. “I’ve gotcha.” She’s so gentle it brings tears to his eyes, and he sniffles as she helps him sit up. “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” she tells him when she notices the tears. “Mostly ‘cause if you cry, then I’m gonna cry, and then where will we be?” She grins at him, and he sniffles again, trying his best not to cry.

He manages a few bites of soup, then sips the water and takes the pills she’d gotten him. When she offers the soup again, he shakes his head and turns away.

She sighs, puts the soup on the nightstand, and pulls him in, this time laying down so he can nuzzle directly into her scent gland. “Steve,” she starts, then changes course. “Omega. Who rejected you?”

“He didn’t,” Steve mutters. “‘M being stupid.” He frowns up at her. “‘M sick?”

“‘Fraid so, babe. Who’s the he in question here?”

Steve shakes his head, burrows back into her neck. “Don’ wanna talk ‘bout it.”

“Want to or not, we need to,” she tells him, then sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

Just his name has Steve whining. “Don’t call,” he begs her.

She sighs. “I won’t yet,” she promises. “But if you feel the same tomorrow, or if you feel worse tomorrow, I’m going to. Anyone can see how he looks at you.”

“He tried to get me back with Nancy.”

“He stuck his foot in his mouth, big time, but that doesn’t change how he looks at you, dingus.”

“How?”

Another sigh. She cards her hand through his hair again, scratches at the nape of his neck with her nails. “Like he’s halfway in love with you and only just met you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she promises, pulling him a little closer. “Now get some rest. Something tells me we’re gonna call him tomorrow regardless of how you’re feeling.”

It turns out to be a moot point. As much as Robin telling Steve may have helped, it still wasn’t Eddie himself saying it, and Steve wakes up feeling worse. He bolts to the bathroom the second Robin brings eggs up. He trips over his blanket, trips over the threshold, and stumbles down in front of the toilet. It’s blind luck that the lid is lifted and he doesn’t spew all over the closed lid, leaving more to clean up.

As it is, Robin hurries to bring the eggs back downstairs, then runs back up to help Steve back to bed. Once in bed, he’s moaning, clutching his stomach, in so much pain he shouldn’t be in. He’s still so cold and achy too, can barely open his eyes.

It’s no wonder, he vaguely thinks, some people are hospitalized because of rejection sickness.

He can hear Robin talking, but can’t process any of the words; can’t take the energy to figure out words that aren’t even directed at him. He blearily figures out she’s on the phone. Part of him hopes she’s calling the hospital.

Another, bigger part of him hopes she’s calling Eddie.

A small part of him doesn’t want to see the person who inadvertently caused this much pain in his body.

It was Eddie, though, and a few short minutes later he’s running up the stairs, two at a time. Robin meets him at the door to Steve’s room, probably threatening him, maybe explaining a little, definitely panicking some. Steve wants to apologize for making her worry, but considering he can barely lift his head, he thinks he gets a free pass.

Soon enough Robin moves aside, and Eddie takes two quick steps to the side of Steve’s bed, kneeling at the side of it. “Hey, Stevie. I’m so sorry I put you through this, but I want to make it right. Do I have your permission to enter your nest?”

Steve blinks bleary eyes open. He can’t focus on Eddie, but he knows it’s him; recognizes his voice and strong pine scent. His eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep breath. “‘Dee,” he mutters, twitching a hand out towards him. “C’m’in.”

Eddie clambers in, slots himself right next to Steve, pulls him closer to scent directly from his gland. Gets to work scenting Steve too, doing his best to pump out safety and love, and it feels so good, such a relief after the pain, that Steve begins to cry.

Eddie’s movements stutter to a stop. “Stevie? What’s wrong?”

Steve sniffles, pushes his face into Eddie’s neck. “You didn’t want me,” he murmurs. “Pushed me towards Nancy.”

“I was an idiot,” Eddie tells him. “And it’s probably not the last time I’m gonna be an idiot. I have the tendency to lose my head around ex-jock pretty boys with fantastic hair.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest,” Eddie swears. “You kiddin’ me? C’mon, you know it, you just want me to say it, don’t you?”

Secure in Eddie’s arms, Steve giggles, then finally, truly relaxes for the first time in the past two days. “Thank you for coming.”

“It shouldn’t have come down to this,” Eddie tells him. “My fault for not making sure you know exactly how desirable you are.” He runs his hand down Steve’s spine. “Can I court you?”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He pulls back to look at Eddie, eyes shining. “You really want to?”

Eddie runs a hand over his hair, slides it forward to cup his cheek. “More than anything,” he whispers. “I just… I never thought you’d want me.”

Steve leans into his touch. “How could I not?” He asks. “You’re fun, and funny, and energetic, and so good with the pups, and…” he takes a deep breath. “You’re the prettiest Alpha I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie instantly blushes. “I am?”

Steve nods. “I noticed you my first day of freshman year,” he admits. “I was just too nervous to talk to you.”

Eddie chuckles. “What a pair we make, huh?” He pulls Steve closer, presses a soft kiss to his forehead, and guides him to lay back down. “Rest for now,” he murmurs, “you still look tired. We can talk when you wake up.”

“You won’t leave?”

“Never again,” Eddie swears, and Steve believes him.