#alpha phallus

[hiddenincommand]

“Command is not worn; it is embodied. Every button, every stitch, every fold of leather is a testament to the power that radiates from within. To wear such a uniform is to assert dominance, authority, and control—effortlessly. The leather binds not just the body but the will of those who kneel before me.”

[hiddenincommand]

The Apex of Authority: The Unrelenting Power of Fall-Fronted Leather Breeches

In the unassailable hierarchy of dominance, power is not merely an attribute—it is an absolute state of being, a force that consumes and commands. Fall-fronted leather breeches are not garments; they are emblems of an Alpha’s supremacy, molded exclusively for the one who leads with an iron will. Only a true Alpha, unyielding and devoid of weakness, is worthy to wear them. For these breeches do not accept mediocrity; they repel it, scorning any lesser being who dares to even dream of such privilege. To suggest that a coward, a faggot, or a lesser creature might adorn these symbols of absolute power is not just laughable—it is a crime that warrants immediate and merciless correction.

The Infallible Fall Front: A Weapon of Readiness

The most defining feature of these breeches, the fall front, is a testament to the Alpha’s unparalleled control. It is a barrier that both conceals and grants access, an instrument that exists solely for the master’s command. The Alpha, who always goes commando, requires no hindrance when the moment arises to exert his will over those who submit to him. The fall front opens with ease, a seamless, calculated act that signifies readiness—an Alpha is never caught off guard, never waiting, always poised to claim what is his, whenever and wherever he chooses. To witness this act is to understand one’s position: under his power, bound by his dominance.

The breeches are not designed for comfort or frivolous indulgence; they are built for supremacy, engineered to remind both the Alpha and his submissives that the power to take and command is ever-present. When the fall front yields, it does so to reveal authority in its rawest form. It signals that the Alpha is prepared to demonstrate his dominance with brutal efficiency, a display that leaves no room for defiance or doubt.

Leather: The Second Skin of Supremacy

The leather is chosen with purpose—thick enough to command respect, supple enough to move with the precision of its master. It encases the Alpha’s body like a second skin, polished to a gleaming surface that reflects the eyes of those daring enough to gaze upon it. Each step taken, each shift of the leather, serves as an audible warning: the one who commands these breeches is a being whose authority is absolute, whose dominance cannot be challenged.

The cut is unforgiving, accentuating the strength of the Alpha’s form with meticulous detail. The flared hips and tailored seams are not mere aesthetic choices; they are statements, declarations that scream power and masculinity. The breeches adhere to the Alpha’s thighs and flanks, reinforcing every sinew of strength, every movement a reminder that the man within them is poised to take what he desires without delay or compromise.

The Symbolism of Command and Consequence

Statistically, only an infinitesimal fraction of men would dare even to touch fall-fronted leather breeches, and among them, the number who could wear them as they were intended—as the weapon of an Alpha—falls to near null. These breeches do not tolerate pretenders. They are a tool of subjugation, a declaration that the man wearing them holds the power to break and dominate without hesitation. They are built to reject weakness and to punish the insolence of any lesser creature who might dream themselves worthy.

The fall front is not merely an accessory; it is a strategic element of control. It opens only by the Alpha’s hand, a gesture of dominance that renders the submissive powerless. This act is not just symbolic; it is an assertion of superiority—an Alpha can take what he commands, whether in private chambers or in an open display of supremacy. The world conforms to his will, not the other way around.

A Relentless Display of Readiness

These breeches, molded to the Alpha’s form, serve a singular purpose: to broadcast unchallenged readiness and superiority. When the fall front opens, it reveals more than flesh; it reveals an indomitable spirit, a readiness to act and claim in a manner that is unmistakable and absolute. The Alpha does not hesitate; he dominates. The breeches enable this seamless execution of power, ensuring that when he decides to take his subs, there is nothing in his path—no barrier, no delay. The sub understands their place beneath him, knowing that the command can be delivered with unflinching immediacy.

Personal Command from Sir Cedric:

These breeches are not mere clothing; they are a forged testament of my command, an emblem that signifies who dominates and who is subjugated. The fall front is mine to open, revealing my authority whenever I choose, asserting a power that knows no restraint. Let no lesser man, no coward or unworthy creature, dare to approach this garment as anything but an object of their own submission and inferiority. The Alpha wears these breeches as a warning and a promise: he is always ready, always capable, and those in his presence are there to serve or be forgotten. To question this, to entertain even a whisper of imitation, is to invite an unyielding reminder of one’s place—at the mercy of the true master.

[hiddenincommand]

The Ruthless Supremacy of Riding Boots: A Symbol of the Alpha Master

Riding boots are no mere accessory. They are the embodiment of absolute power, the unyielding insignia of an Alpha Master who strides through life with unmatched authority and unshakable control. These boots are not crafted for common feet, nor for unworthy souls. They are a weapon, a statement, a throne upon which the true master of all stands—towering above the pitiful, trembling masses who dare to call themselves men.

The Sole Dominion of the Alpha Master

To wear riding boots is to declare oneself a god among insects. Their gleaming leather, their unbending form, and their commanding presence are the exclusive privilege of those who rule with an iron fist. An omega, or any lesser being, would defile such perfection simply by proximity. Riding boots are reserved for the elite—those who dominate, conquer, and break others for their own amusement. They are not merely shoes; they are the instruments of supremacy.

These boots announce the arrival of power, leaving no room for doubt, no space for weakness. When the polished toe enters a room, all heads lower instinctively. When the heavy sole strikes the ground, its sound alone is a command, a warning to every trembling omega to bow lower, submit harder, and beg with greater desperation.

The Formalities of Power

Even among symbols of mastery, there is hierarchy. The choice of riding boots depends on the occasion. For moments of refined cruelty—dinners where subordinates are reminded of their place or formal gatherings where the Alpha Master reigns supreme—towering black boots, shined to a mirror finish, are mandatory. Their immaculate surface reflects not only light but the pathetic, groveling faces of those beneath them.

For the exquisite act of discipline, a more rugged boot may be donned. Scuffed leather and reinforced soles hint at their history—a legacy of crushing rebellion, both figuratively and literally. The heavy tread of these boots leaves its mark, not only on the ground but on the spirits of those foolish enough to require correction.

Then, there are the spurs. Oh, the spurs—sharp, gleaming instruments of subtle and overt torture. For formal occasions, understated silver spurs whisper of control, their gentle jingle a quiet reminder of latent cruelty. But for moments of brutal correction, heavier spurs are chosen. Their weight and sound add gravitas to every step, and their bite against soft flesh ensures obedience laced with pain and humiliation.

Boots as Instruments of Subjugation

The true beauty of riding boots lies in their duality: they are both a symbol of power and a tool of domination. For an omega brought to his knees, they are a stark, unrelenting mirror. Every gleam in the leather mocks his inferiority, every inch of the towering boot a reminder of the insurmountable chasm between master and subject.

When an Alpha Master raises his boot to rest on a sub’s back, it is more than a gesture. It is an act of ownership, a declaration that this creature exists solely for the master’s amusement. And when the boot presses down—on the neck, the spine, or the face—it communicates a single truth: resistance is futile, rebellion is laughable, and submission is absolute.

Spurs, too, serve their purpose in this ritual of subjugation. A tap against the cheek is enough to send a chill of dread through the most defiant omega. A scrape against the skin leaves more than a mark—it imprints the master’s will onto the body and mind of the sub. Each jingle of the spurs, each flash of metal, is a cruel reminder that the Alpha Master’s control is omnipresent and inescapable.

The Legacy of Dominance

Riding boots are not a mere fashion statement; they are a weaponized art form. They are forged for destruction, crafted for conquest, and worn by those who rule without mercy. They carry the weight of history—of generals who crushed empires, of kings who ruled with unrelenting authority, and of Alpha Masters who turned the groveling cries of their inferiors into a symphony of submission.

To wear riding boots is to stride above the petty concerns of mortals. It is to walk with the confidence of a man who knows he is untouchable, invincible, and utterly dominant. No other garment carries such weight, such command, such ruthless authority.

In every step, in every glint of polished leather, the Alpha Master’s message is clear: You are nothing. I am everything. Crawl at my feet, worship my boots, and know that your existence serves only my pleasure.

For the Alpha Master, riding boots are not simply worn—they are wielded. For the omega, they are not simply seen—they are feared. And for all who dare to look upon them, they are an undeniable truth: supremacy is not claimed; it is taken, enforced, and embodied. And it wears riding boots.

[hiddenincommand]

“A slave’s existence isn’t merely for my pleasure—it’s to satisfy every one of my whims, whenever I desire. A good slave understands that their sole purpose is to serve, to sweat, and to break under my demands, not just in moments of lust, but at all times. Their life is for my convenience, their obedience is my right. Worthless without my command, they exist to grovel, to clean, and to ensure my world runs perfectly, while they remain insignificant in comparison. Their greatest reward? Knowing they are useful enough to remain in my service.”

[hiddenincommand]

The Art of Going Commando: An Introduction

For those who truly understand power, going commando is not simply a choice—it’s a declaration. A declaration of control, mastery, and the undeniable truth that I live above the rules that govern ordinary men. Going without undergarments is not a matter of convenience, nor is it some trivial decision—it is a display of dominance. A subtle, yet potent reminder that I do not need the comforts others cling to. I shed layers, I shed weakness, and what remains is the sheer strength of my presence. The mere act of going commando elevates me far beyond the common man.

Beyond Comfort: A Commanding Decision

Ordinary men might see going commando as a quirky or practical choice. They misunderstand the depth of it entirely. For me, it is a calculated demonstration of my superiority. I have no need for unnecessary barriers between myself and the world. I strip away what’s useless, leaving only the refined product of control, power, and authority.

Every decision I make reflects my unwavering dominance, and going commando is no exception. It shows that I live free of limitations—both physical and societal. Where others hide beneath layers of fabric, I reveal my true self, unapologetic and indifferent to their petty judgments. I stand tall, unbound by the trivial concerns of lesser men. Going commando isn’t about feeling good—it’s about reinforcing the fact that I am above the mundane, that I control my body and mind with brutal precision.

The Philosophy of Absolute Mastery

Going commando is not just a lifestyle, it’s a philosophy that reflects the core of who I am. It is the embodiment of self-mastery in its purest form. Every day I choose to forgo what others believe is necessary, asserting my mental superiority over those still confined by societal norms. I do not follow their rules; I set my own. And the moment I discard the need for undergarments, I remind myself, and the world, that I am untouchable.

This isn’t about rebellion—it’s about order, about discipline, and about bending reality to my will. Only the weak need the comfort of norms and expectations. I defy them not for attention, but because I know they are beneath me. I’m not like the rest, and I make sure that’s understood without needing to say a word. My control over myself is absolute. And that is a power few will ever know, much less wield.

The Power of Unseen Dominance

There’s a certain pleasure in knowing that I carry a secret—one that sets me apart from everyone around me. When I go commando, it’s not for validation or recognition. I don’t need others to know because their opinions are irrelevant. What matters is that I know. I walk into any room, fully aware that beneath the surface of my perfectly tailored attire, I am untethered, raw, and completely in control.

This unspoken superiority makes every interaction more potent. Those around me may not realize it, but they feel it—my authority, my command. I carry myself with the quiet arrogance of someone who needs no validation. The fact that I’m always a step ahead, operating on a level they could never reach, is what gives me my edge. The secret is mine, and it enhances my power tenfold.

Stripping Away Weakness

Most people are bound by conventions, confined by societal expectations. They cling to layers for comfort, for security. Not me. I have no need for such things. Going commando is about shedding unnecessary weakness. I strip away what I do not need, reducing my existence to its core, to the essence of power and dominance. It is a constant reminder that I am the one in control, that I dictate how I present myself to the world.

And make no mistake, every step I take, every move I make without the burden of undergarments is a calculated act of superiority. Others may hide their vulnerability beneath layers of fabric, but I have no such need. I am who I am, unapologetically. The absence of undergarments isn’t about comfort—it’s about confronting the world without a shield, standing in full command of every situation, and knowing that no one can touch me.

Elegance in Command: A Gentleman’s Rebellion

I do not shout my defiance. I do not need to. The act of going commando is a quiet, elegant rebellion. It is the gentleman’s way of saying, “I make the rules. I am the exception.” There is power in subtlety—power in refusing to conform. The world expects men to follow, to obey, to hide their true selves behind layers of unnecessary conventions. I do the opposite.

Every decision I make, including going commando, is a deliberate rejection of their expectations. And I do it with grace, with the unshakeable confidence that defines me. There is no need for rebellion in the form of noise or attention-seeking. The power lies in quiet defiance, in the knowledge that I am above their judgments, above their small-mindedness.

Conclusion: A Statement of Pure Authority

Going commando isn’t just a choice—it is a declaration of superiority. It is the act of stripping away weakness, of asserting control over body and mind. In choosing to forgo undergarments, I demonstrate my mastery over myself and the world around me. I am not bound by their rules. I make my own. This act, though unseen, carries with it a power that is felt in every step, every word, and every interaction.

I am Sir Cedric. I do not need comfort, I do not need validation. I am in control—always. And going commando is just one more reminder of that unshakeable fact.

[hiddenincommand]

„Perfection is not given; it is earned. A body carved through discipline, a presence that demands attention, and an aura that asserts superiority. Only those who embrace relentless rigor and control can claim such mastery. For the weak, it remains an unreachable ideal; for the Alpha, it is the standard.“

je me lave avec du gel douche à la grenade, pour avoir l'impression d'être une bombe

[solar-wing]

☀️ Omegaverse AU Structure/Headcanons ☀️

⚣☀️ A/N → Once again, I have redone my Omegaverse headcanons. Some things were added, some edited, and others taken out! Hope you enjoy them and can incorporate them into your own stories! If you do, please re-blog this post and also tag me so I can see it! Thanks! Also, if you have questions or suggestions to add, feel free to leave them in my asks!

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

☀️ | Asks | ☀️

ALPHAS

Body Features

Alphas typically possess large, strong, tall physiques with sharp facial features. They can have piercing gazes that convey a sense of authority and confidence. They can have thick and rugged hair generally and they can have deep, commanding voices.

Each individual Alpha has a distinctive scent that is never exactly the same as another's. But, as a whole, Alpha scents tend to be described as earthy and musky. They can have overwhelming spicy and warm undertones, though it depends on the Alpha themselves and their genetic and personality traits.

Like their physical nature, Alpha scents are strong and potent in a domineering manner. They can be long-lasting and intense, enough to leave an impression on those around them, even Betas if they're strong enough leaving them almost on edge or at attention. The strength of their scent tends to showcase or represent their dominance which can add to their possessive natures.

Their strong physical natures compared to the average individual give them an advantage in certain matters, especially those pertaining to facets of strength, speed, and or stamina. Many see it as an essential component of an Alpha's instinct to protect their mate and families.

Instinctual/Personality Traits

At their most basic and primal instincts, Alphas desire respect and recognition among their peers, families, and mates. This tends to translate into a craving for power and influence, any kind of leadership position that gives them influence and domination over others.

They value strength and mastery, always looking to improve their skills and capabilities to prove themselves as competent and worthy of respect. Also, so they are better equipped to protect and care for those around them, creating safe and stable environments for their loved ones.

They strive to protect and provide, which adds to their desire for any leadership status they can achieve that gives them the ability to make decisions and guide others.

They are also extremely territorial and possessive beings. Due to their dominant nature, they can and often create conflict or challenges with other Alphas if they feel threatened by them or if they're moving in on something they feel belongs to them.

Biological/Anatomy Features

Varies by sex and gender. Alphas males will traditionally have complete phallus genitals, while female Alphas will have a mix of both phallus and vaginal parts. This gives them the ability to impregnate Beta and Omega females and Omega males while also still being able to be impregnated, though with a significant reduction in chance.

Alphas possess knots, which form at the base of their penis during sexual intercourse and penetration that locks them into their partner once ejaculation has been achieved. It's essentially meant for mating between an Omega to increase the chance of conception/pregnancy.

Knots are not to be confused with regular orgasms, as they produce more semen from the inseminating Alpha and, again, cause them to be locked into their partner until it deflates and they're able to remove themselves without risk of injury.

Ruts are the Alpha's equivalent of a heat in their reproductive cycle. It is a physiological and hormonal phase that entails a heightened libido and desire to mate with a partner. More specifically, to knot someone, particularly an Omega.

They occur every 30-60 days (1-2 months) and last anywhere from 3 days to a week. During this time, the Alpha as mentioned becomes more sexually aroused and triggered by the presence of a desirable partner or Omega, especially an unmated one.

They can and tend to experience heightened senses and sensitivity to their environment and aggressive changes in behavior that border territorial and possessive. They also have enhancements in anatomy, with sizeable changes in their genitals and larger and more potent knots, among other things.

Lastly, an Alpha Voice is the ability of an Alpha that gives them the power to impose their will over others (typically Omegas), forcing them to do as they say even if it's against their will. In the past, it was something all Alphas have possessed, but over time and with evolution, most have lost this ability.

Only Apex Alphas possess this ability now.

Apex Alphas

A unique and rare, almost extinct form of Alphas that is stronger and more powerful than regular Alphas. They are closer to what Alphas used to be before evolution and time dwindled their genetics and instincts.

They possess everything a regular Alpha does, times ten, with additional abilities and enhancements. They are much more physically stronger and dominating than the regular Alpha, giving them almost colossal and beast-like body frames.

They are much more in tune with primal instincts, giving them a status one would consider feral when they give in to those instincts. Their scents are very strong and their knots are 10x more intense.

They possess enhanced abilities compared to the regular Alpha such as heightened senses, stronger physical attributes like strength, speed, and endurance, as well as unique abilities such as access to the Alpha Voice and the ability to deliberately control and manipulate their scents to affect those around them. They also experience more frequent and intense ruts which can be a downside.

BETAS

Body Features

Betas are the most like regular humans that don't have a second gender or dynamic.

Depending on their parents, they can exhibit some traits of an Alpha or Omega alike, depending on which parent they take after more. They have moderate or similar body types respective to their biological sex. Their builds can be in between the robust Alphas and curvy Omegas. They can also have adaptable features that are influenced by their genetics from their parents that can help them pass for one or the other.

However, their scent will always give them away. Betas have a natural scent that is not repulsive, but also not enticing to either Alphas or Omegas. It definitely leads to some insecurity issues due to them not being seen as desirable as their Alpha or Omega counterparts, but some benefits do come along with it.

They tend to neither pose a threat towards Alphas or Omegas, keeping a calm and level-headedness to them. They're also somewhat immune, or resistant at least to the effects of an Alpha or Omega's scent. Some Betas however can still be affected if the scent itself is strong enough (which typically from Alphas it tends to be), and also if they possess more Alpha or Omega genes from one of their parents despite their Beta status.

Think of it like a dominant gene versus a regressive one. The gene is still there, it's just not as strong as the other one, but still strong enough to affect them. But it heavily depends on the Beta and their parent's genes themselves.

Instinctual/Personality Traits

Betas are just like regular people. They aren't solely driven or influenced by their most primal instincts which tends to give them a lot more autonomy and freedom compared to that of Alphas and Omegas.

Their desires and goals can vary widely between each individual Beta, but commonly, you'll find many competing for one thing; attention and validation.

Since they're not typically seen as desirable by their Alpha and/or Omega counterparts, they have to work and do things 10x harder with much more grandeur to grab the attention of their peers, especially if it's someone they're interested in. You'll find that Beta males tend to typically clash with Alphas in general in pursuit of Omegas and Beta females will have it the hardest since they're overlooked by the males dynamic as well in favor of Omegas.

In essence, Betas contribute much to society, especially considering they hold the majority in society. They have varying personalities and are not limited by the dynamics and natural functions of heats and ruts like their counterparts, but they sometimes find themselves wishing they did, since it would mean they would get a lot more attention than they did before.

Biological/Antamoy Features

Beta males have phallus genitals and can impregnate Beta females or Omega females and males.

Beta females have vaginal genitals and can be impregnated by Beta males or Alpha females and males.

They don't have any special or particular reproductive cycle outside of the regular menstrual cycle for Beta females nor do they have a rare and more unique version of their dynamic.

OMEGAS

Body Features

Omegas typically possess smaller, shorter, and slender physiques. They have softer facial features, with their eyes having a gentle gaze and being more expressive. Their hair can vary in texture and style but is more refined and delicate.

Each individual Omega has a distinctive scent that is never the exact same as someone else's and is heavily influenced by their genetics and personality. In general, however, Omegas tend to have sweet and intoxicating aromas, like those of fruits or flowers. They can have subtle musky, spicy, and/or earthly undertones.

Similar to their physical nature, Omega scents are strong and potent, but more inconspicuous and gentle. They can leave a strong impression that can have a calming effect, putting those around them at ease, especially their loved ones and mates even if their Betas if the scent is strong enough, showcasing their nurturing sides.

Some may see Omegas as weak due to their lack of physical strength compared to Alphas and Betas alike, but what they lack in physical capability, they make up for in mental, emotional, and in some cases, spiritual capability. Their submissive nature, often taken advantage of, tends to put them at an advantage over others as they get to observe and learn about those around them and their environments. They excel at mental, emotional, and even spiritual challenges.

Instinctual/Personality Traits

At their core or primal instincts, Omegas do want to be respected, but, stronger than that, they desire personal fulfillment. This can manifest in finding what makes them the happiest whether that's pursuing a certain career, indulging in certain activities and hobbies, or finding a mate and having a family. It's not limited to just one thing, but is much more broad than what society tries to paint it as.

They value knowledge and wisdom just as much as they value companionship and love. It can make them slightly obsessed with personal development, seeking to challenge themselves and make sure they're never staying in one place mentally for too long. They want to be constantly learning, as that also helps them to better understand and care for those around them, adding to their natural nurturing state.

In essence, they want to be able to help and serve those around them, including themselves. They desire harmony and unity among many things, which adds to their desire to learn and develop so they can best know how to handle and diffuse situations subtly.

Omegas are more submissive but can be jealous and protective beings as well. Their caregiving nature can easily be thrown aside if they feel someone or something is threatening someone they love or trying to take them away from the Omega.

Biological/Anatomy Features

Varies by sex and gender. Female omegas will traditionally have complete vaginal parts while male Omegas will have a mix of both phallus and vaginal parts. They'll have a full functioning penis but lack a scrotum and its place will be the vagina that sits between their dick and asshole. This allows them the ability to be impregnated by Alpha and Beta males and Alpha females while also still being able to impregnate others but with a significant reduction in chance.

Lactosecretion, or 'Dripping/Leaking' in slang, is when an Omega who is extremely aroused by a particular individual or partner, they produce and discharge a milk-like fluid from their nipples that is very sweet to the taste of others, especially Alphas.

Arousalin, or 'Slick,' is another form of fluid that is produced by Omegas during sexual arousal and intercourse from their sexual organs or 'holes.' More for male Omegas than female ones though. It has a very sweet and distinctive scent to it that is very attractive to Alphas and even certain Betas. Its primary function is to make penetration for the Alpha or penetrating sexual partner to enter the Omega during intercourse with ease.

Heats are phases of physiological and emotional intensity as a result of an Omega's reproductive cycle. It entails a period of time where an Omega experiences certain bodily and autonomy changes, leading to increased libido and desire to mate with a partner. More specifically, to be knotted by an Alpha.

They take place about every 90-120 days (3-4 months) and can last anywhere between 5 days to 2 weeks. During this time, the Omega as mentioned becomes easily sexually aroused and can be triggered by the presence of a desirable partner or Alpha, especially if unmated.

They can and will experience subtle to extreme changes in bodily autonomy and regulation, including spikes in body temperature, changes in their scent to entice those around them, and increased fertility. They will also experience heightened emotions, in some cases uncontrollable lactosecretion and production of slick, as well as heightened senses with an extreme sensitivity to touch, among other things.

Zenith Omegas

The equivalent of Apex Alphas, Zenith Omegas is a unique and rare breed of an Omega that is closer in nature to their earlier and more primal predecessors before evolution. They possess everything an Omega does, and even certain things regular Omegas do not have.

In comparison to a regular Omega, Zenith Omegas tend to be described as breathtakingly beautiful, or the 'picture-perfect' Omega. They are more in tune with their body's natural cravings and instincts which also adds to their desirability. While Apexes would be considered feral, Zeniths would be considered untamed or untouched beauties or primal, wild graces.

They have much enhancement compared to the traits of a regular Omega including higher natural fertility, even more desirable scents, and a natural ability to mask or hide their scent along with an effective use of charming others with their eyes and beauty, something Omegas of the present no longer possess once again due to evolution. They also experience increased and more intense heats which can be a downside.

Societal Facts/Norms

Presenting/Mating Cycles

Presenting is seen as the official start of puberty for teens in this world. Whereas regular Betas just ease into it and find themselves one day realizing their body is starting to change and act different, Alphas and Omegas have a marker for it.

They can show signs very early on in their childhood of what their dynamic will be like. Typically around the ages of 12-13, they will present either as an Alpha, Beta, or Omega. Some have been known to present earlier and later as well, but that is the general age.

Between the ages of 16-18 is when they most expect their first rut and or heat. Some have been known not to receive theirs until later on in their 20s and some none at all for certain circumstances.

In older and more traditional cultures, the first heat/rut was the first sign and confirmation that the Alpha and/or Omega were of mature and marrying age. In modern times, this has been mostly forgotten and disregarded, with some still keeping up the practice despite the negative reactions they may receive from their peers and the world around them.

Now, the marrying age is of course whatever the legal age of whatever country the individual lives in. But, some will choose to make different choices for their life.

Suppressants/Contraceptives/Mating Tools

Suppressants are very common, especially in more modern societies. They can be issued as early as when the individual first presents and are typically prescribed doctor, pediatrician, or specialist. There are over-the-counter measures as well, but not as effective as the prescribed ones.

For Alphas, two primary ones can be prescribed and an over-the-counter one, with more in development by scientists.

There are Feromexin and Fermoine-X that can be prescribed only by a doctor which fully suppresses their ruts and their effects, while RutGuard, the over-the-counter measure is typically only good for subduing the effects for a limited time, but not suppressing them completely.

For Omegas, three suppressants can be prescribed, and two that can be bought over the counter.

Sterilinex, Estrumod, and Sterilize-X can be prescribed only by a doctor. Each fully suppresses and nullifies the effects of an Omega's heat, though Sterilize-X is known to have a higher risk of side effects, some temporary and some permanent so it's not really recommended unless absolutely necessary.

HeatShield and LuteoBlock are over-the-counter suppressants that can douse the effects of a heat but won't completely suppress it.

Also, certain contraceptives and tools have been invented to help assist with matters relating to heats and ruts like pleasure toys that can simulate the feeling of getting knotted for Omegas and rut-durable condoms that are designed to accommodate knots to prevent unwanted pregnancies. Sterilinex also acts as an active birth control for Omegas as well which is why it's the most popular and purchased suppressant among Omegas.

Courting

Mostly still used in traditional families and cultures, courting is the active process/ritual for one to demonstrate a deep interest, affection, and commitment to a certain individual in hopes of gaining their favor and love.

Traditionally, courting is a means of asking someone to marry and is done primarily by Alphas looking to enter a relationship and/or marry an Omega of their desire. Its sole purpose is to give the two the chance to form deep emotional bonds, check compatibility between the two, and overall see if they truly want to spend their lives or at least a significant portion of it with them.

It can involve gifts, romantic gestures, dates, and other shows of affection to convince the one being courted to accept their love. It's not done so much in modern times as it is in traditional ones or cultures, but it's still something popular, especially among younger folk when looking to try and date someone of interest, especially if they come from a traditional family.

In general, Omegas will be courted by both Alphas and Betas. It is very frowned upon even slightly still in modern times for an Omega to court someone else or an Alpha to be courted at all.

| Alphas Courting Omegas | | Omegas Courting Alphas | | Betas Courting/Being Courted |

Bonds/Scent Marking

Bonds are mental and emotional links that form between an Alpha or Omega and someone they share a significant relationship. Depending on the strength of their connection, mutual love, and thus, their bond, they will be able to feel the other's emotions and feelings.

That manifests as marks on the individual's scent glands located throughout their body. One on each side of the neck located right at the curve where the neck and shoulder meet, one on the back of the neck, one on each wrist, and two located on the inside of the thighs.

The biggest scent emitter is the genitals, which is why some bonds are more easily formed through sexual intercourse. The individual does have the ability to block their bonds temporarily, but there can be consequences in blocking the link between them and whoever is on the other side of the link, depending on who they are and the type of bond they share.

Scent Marking is the practice of leaving one's scent on property, territory, and especially loved ones who a bond is shared with to communicate status and boundaries to those around them. Basically, sending a message through scent that says this thing, place, person, belongs to me, back off!

Different types of scent marking/claims can be done depending on the bond the individual has with someone. And it's always done on one of the various scent glands in the human body.

Parental: The first people one typically meets and is claimed by are their parents and/or guardians. They do this by rubbing their scents on the back of the child's neck, and in some cases on their wrists as well since that's typically a platonic area. A parental bond is generally limited to 2 as you mainly have two parents, but there can be more depending on certain circumstances. Breaking a parental bond is not easy, nor is it recommended as it can have harsh consequences. Typically, the only way to break the bond is if the child or the parent feel an extreme amount of disdain and emotional turmoil from neglect, abuse, or intense feelings of hatred that weaken the connection. They are the only bonds that don't fade over time unless death takes one or the other on the bond.

Romantic: Between a mate, boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, etc., they will tend to leave scent marks on the glands between the shoulder and neck on both sides. They also tend to go for glands on the wrist for extra coverage and in-between the thighs to induce a sexual bond along with the romantic one. It can become the most vital bond for a person and has the greatest risk of consequences if the bond is shattered or broken before it fades completely depending on the strength of the relationship and the connection created. It is possible to have more than one, but generally, the strongest one will subdue the others until they fade to nothing. These can fade and will need to be reinforced periodically.

Platonic: Between friends, associates, and other people that are not directly related to the individual, their mate, or their parents. These marks are exclusively made on the scent glands located on the wrists. They are the second easiest bonds to break and generally only leave one feeling sad and a bit hollow for sometimes, worst cases developing a minor sickness.

Sexual: Made between the thighs and obviously on the genitals through intercourse. They don't last long, typically only three days, so if one wants to keep a sexual bond, they have to reinforce it frequently. But, there are little to no consequences in breaking the bond as it's a very surface-level connection, allowing the connected pair to know when the other one is feeling aroused.

Scent marks can also be made through the use of clothing and various accessories. These are more obvious claims, ones that can be seen and used to deter any who wish to interfere with the bond or place their own mark on the person.

Bite marks are the rarest form of claims and are shared exclusively between mates. A claiming bite creates a bond so strong, that it doesn't fade until death, and breaking it before then can and will have dire consequences, commonly resulting in death unless extreme circumstances apply. With time and evolution, the only ones capable of performing bite marks now, are Apex Alphas and Zenith Omegas. Only one mark needs to be made to complete a bond (typically by the Alpha), but if both parties make a mark, their bonds become even stronger.

[lotus-tower]

somehow when writing all this I forgot about the prosthetic phallus. gintoki the true protagonist whose sword is made all the more sword-like because its non-literality conveys more efficiently that what it embodies is the swordconcept—prosthetic also because it’s being forged before our eyes (though without us noticing at first). gintama says “if you don’t have your own, store-bought is fine” about the great institution of the Cool Signature Shounen Sword, which is funny, but mainly gintama posits that in the end you have to craft your own with everyone’s help anyway.

it’s then really interesting for gintoki’s evil clone to have, quite literally, a prosthetic dick. and kintoki knows that the dick is the key, that the dick is fundamental to gintama’s language of worth and its basic fabric—and he clearly understands that non-literality, that prostheticness is okay. in fact, maybe from his perspective, being designed to be what he is, the cold “facts” of gintoki as a character are quite obvious to him—blueprint data he was given as part of his construction. he at no point seems to have any real investment in the idea of being a human vs being a robot. he’s here to usurp gintoki as an animanga character, as a protagonist, so it really doesn’t matter. whether he’s artificial doesn’t really matter—according to his instructions manual gintoki is also artificial. and so someone as arrogant and self-absorbed yet relationally aware as kintoki feels neither inferior nor superior for being a literal robot.

but he doesn’t understand it, not really. he doesn’t understand the whys of the prosthetic phallus or the gintama swordconcept in general. this is, of course, because he isn’t gintoki but was instead designed to be Golden Boy Alpha Male gintoki, and gintama is fundamentally a story based in loserspace. by which I mean not an “objective” space where all losers go (kintoki is obviously a loser too), but a space focused on, preoccupied with, and making productive, loserhood. every part of kintoki’s body was designed in a way that makes him fundamentally incompatible with this, so of course he doesn’t understand.

tama, like lake toya, is a character whose artificial nature only serves to make her thematic package starker and easier to receive. gintama is generally blunt in its messages. just like lake toya is more sword-like by visibly carrying the naked idea of the sword, tama is made more human by being a robot that gained sentience through the Magic Humanity-Granting Seed. gengai’s introductory episode also very effectively used a hollow robot holding a very tender and sincere message inside it for sentimental effect. this is also a reminder that the first time we meet gengai, he’s constructed artificial facsimiles of his son—not meant to replace him, though, but rather for him to project his emotions on, and to embody a certain kind of will.

so by the time of kintoki’s introduction, we know that robots can be sentient, and this doesn’t really require any real storytelling or justification. and we know that gengai isn’t the type of character to actually think a robot can replace a person, as that person—rather, he built kintoki because he agreed with shinpachi and kagura that gintoki was fucking annoying, and he built kintoki to replace gintoki instrumentally. and, to his credit, kintoki does what he’s designed to do. and he doesn’t want to replace gintoki as a person—he does understand his assignment, he understands the blueprint data, he understands the instructions manual. if he wanted to replace gintoki as gintoki, he would have killed him from the getgo. he wants to replace gintoki as the main character, instrumentally, and for this purpose making gintoki part of his harem serves to convey how effective he’s been at accomplishing his goal.

he reboots the world as a vapid moe harem because that’s the kind of series that is most straightforwardly built around how important, unique, and special the main character is. he has no use for loserspace—he reads the abridged gintama script and sees that the ensemble cast must trust him, rely on him, and have their hearts moved by him—and he’s like, well, okay, but why is he a loser then? it would be more efficient like this.

which is to say, kintoki understands that he must be the recipient of all these relationships and emotions, but he fundamentally does not understand Hole. many, many people project all sorts of things onto gintoki. gengai projected his grief over his son onto his (very much non-sentient, yet all the more endearing as a carrier for it) robot. no one can project onto kintoki. kintoki understands that he’s empty inside—he’s a robot, after all, and he’s like two weeks old, and he sees the script, he sees that gintoki is too, it all checks out—he sees that gintama is lame, that it’s stupid, that it’s gross, that time doesn’t pass meaningfully, that time can keep cycling—so why not turn it into an incel fantasy harem? What is the difference between his dick joke and gintoki’s (gintama’s) dick joke? It’s still a dick?

I think that gintama’s lack of interest in engaging with dichotomies like human and non-human (in the biological or racial sense), organic and inorganic, is a large driving force behind what gives kintoki an interesting, understated texture. again, he is not concerned with being a robot. if anything, he is assured by it, he’s certain in his purpose and his goals and his ability to achieve them. there is no insecurity over being a hunk of metal, there is no insecurity about his humanity or lack thereof (see, he can just take his head off to wash it), there isn’t even loneliness despite him being one android in a huge city of people unlike him, because the protagonist is inherently a lonely role anyway (and gintoki is human and still lonely among humans). he feels no envy or animosity towards flesh.

instead, you could almost argue that he’s secure in artificiality. he thinks that because his dick is prosthetic, he can succeed as the main character. because his dick is prosthetic, it will last when others wither. because his dick is prosthetic, the world will revolve around him. it’s a fascinating concept, to have a main character with a prosthetic phallus for the sake of an embodied spiritsword, and to then create an evil clone of him who fixates on the prosthetic, and literalizes the wrong part of the metaphor. or maybe, literalizes it in the opposite direction? rather than the prosthetic (wooden) sword being a vessel for the thematic spirit of gintama, it’s gintama’s spirit—understood here not incorrectly by kintoki as its places, relationships, and symbols—that are twisted in service of the prosthetic sword, to highlight how shiny and prosthetic it is, how golden and stainless and immortal.

all this because he doesn’t understand hole. classic straight man mistake

[hiddenincommand]

„In the world of indulgence and whispered luxury, there lies a fleeting moment of daring allure. The back seat, where elegance meets audacity, framed by the timeless silhouette of a noble setting. She sits, poised yet untamed, embodying both mystery and raw, unfiltered confidence. It is in these spaces—away from prying eyes and amidst velvet confines—that one glimpses the true nature of power and beauty entwined. A gentleman may seek discipline and control, but he is never one to overlook the mesmerizing dance of boldness and grace, which, when met with a sharp eye and a steady hand, only serves to deepen the resonance of dominance.“

[onlyfuckswgods]

Thinking about how omegaverse is usually done with werewolves, but imagine other options:

an alpha woman minotaur - lactation kink + breeding kink: she knots you and breeds you while you nurse from her.

Reptiles/snake-hybrids with two penises and both have knots.

Cat-hybrid alphas with barbed knots.

Tentacles with knots. Or seahorse it up: Their phallus sucks out an unfertilized egg, it gets stored in their knot and fertilized there - possibly in a way that it splits into many eggs, and then are laid somewhere external. Keeping your eggs in a fishbowl, watching them grow as your aquatic monster mate fucks you to steal another egg the next time you ovulate.

[hiddenincommand]

The Timeless Legacy of British Riding Boots: Foundations of My Supremacy

For me, these boots are far more than historical artifacts—they are an extension of my being, an unbroken link to a legacy of unassailable power and refinement. Each pair I wear, from the polished elegance of dress boots to the brutal authority of jackboots, reinforces my dominion over all who dare to stand in my shadow. Between 1900 and 1950, these riding boots were crafted not merely for function but to proclaim superiority, to embody the discipline, command, and control that defined the British gentleman and officer.

When I wear these boots, I do not simply walk—I dominate. Every step is a calculated act of authority, every tread a reminder of the crushing hierarchy I enforce. These boots do not conform to the world beneath them; they shape it.

The Commanding Elegance of Dress Riding Boots

The dress riding boot is the pinnacle of sophistication. With its sleek, polished black leather and flawless silhouette, it was designed for the grandest of occasions, a silent yet unyielding symbol of authority. For me, these boots are the embodiment of control masked in refinement.

When I step into a room wearing these boots, their gleaming surface reflects not only the faces of those beneath me but their place within my hierarchy. They bow not merely to tradition but to the man who commands it. These boots are my weapon of silent authority, exuding power without the need for a single word.

The Rugged Strength of Field Riding Boots

Field riding boots are the perfect blend of function and power. Their laced ankles and durable construction were designed for British officers in the field, and they carry the marks of dominance earned in action. For me, these boots are not tools of survival—they are instruments of my supremacy in any terrain.

Whether I am crossing the uneven grounds of my estate or delivering a calculated step upon a defiant omega, field boots serve me with unyielding reliability. They are not merely practical—they are relentless.

The Traditional Authority of Hunting Boots

Hunting boots, with their black leather shafts and tan tops, are steeped in the traditions of British aristocracy. For me, they are far more than riding footwear; they are a declaration of command over both land and beast.

When I wear these boots, I step into the legacy of fox hunts and equestrian mastery, where control is not granted but taken. Their polished surface and bold design are not merely decorative—they are a statement of my right to dominate all who stand beneath me.

The Martial Supremacy of Cavalry Boots

Cavalry boots are the ultimate symbol of battlefield authority. Their stiff shafts and minimalist design were created to protect and empower the mounted officer, ensuring that every step is taken with confidence and command.

For me, these boots are not relics of the past—they are tools of conquest. Whether worn in ceremonial grandeur or moments of personal discipline, they amplify my presence, projecting a dominance that leaves no room for resistance.

The Intimidating Weight of Jackboots

Jackboots are unapologetically heavy, their rigid structure and reinforced soles designed to dominate both terrain and spirit. For me, they are the boots of a conqueror, amplifying my presence with every echoing step.

When I wear jackboots, I do so to remind the world that submission is not optional—it is inevitable. Their weight is a burden not for me, but for those beneath them, their rigid authority crushing defiance before it even dares to rise.

The Resilient Command of Trench Boots

Trench boots, forged in the mud and chaos of war, represent resilience and unyielding strength. Designed for British officers in the harshest conditions, they are a testament to the endurance of true authority.

For me, trench boots are not about survival—they are about control. Every step I take in these boots is a deliberate act of conquest, their rugged construction ensuring that nothing—neither terrain nor rebellion—can hinder my dominance.

The Sporting Superiority of Polo Boots

Polo boots, with their reinforced ankles and durable leather, were made for speed, precision, and mastery in the sport of kings. For me, these boots go beyond their original purpose—they are tools of control in all aspects of life.

When I wear polo boots, it is not for leisure—it is for superiority. On the field or in private moments of command, their grip ensures that I never falter, their design tailored to support my every calculated move.

The Ingenious Versatility of Greenly Boots

The Greenly Boot, with its innovative straps and curved soles, was designed for officers who needed versatility in both the field and on horseback. For me, these boots are the perfect blend of practicality and power, adapting to every scenario with ease.

When I wear Greenly boots, they serve as a constant reminder that true authority is not rigid—it is adaptable. Their functionality ensures that no setting, no challenge, and no terrain can diminish my supremacy.

The Aristocratic Dominance of Wellington Boots

Leather Wellington boots are timeless, their tall shafts and waterproof construction designed to protect the wearer while maintaining an air of refinement. For me, these boots are not about utility—they are about mastery over all elements, whether nature or man.

When I stride through wet fields or command an outdoor assembly, these boots ensure that I remain untouchable. Their presence is a reminder that no storm, no obstacle, can impede my control.

My Legacy Through British Riding Boots

Between 1900 and 1950, British riding boots were crafted not only for function but for domination. They were worn by gentlemen and officers who understood that every step taken was an act of authority, every polished surface a reflection of their command.

For me, these boots are more than symbols—they are the tools of my power. Each pair in my collection reinforces my identity as a master, a ruler, and a conqueror. They do not simply touch the ground—they claim it. They do not merely leave footprints—they leave legacies.

Every step I take is calculated, deliberate, and unyielding. With these boots, I do not walk—I rule. And the world, as it always should, remains beneath my tread.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Want The Heat

(Kill Somebody Like You Part Two Chapter Fifteen)

🔪Previous Parts Here🔪

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, ruts, mpreg), past abuse, past SA, alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, baby fic, cursing, d/s dynamics, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of murder, descriptions of murder used as foreplay (this chapter is a bit fucked, just a warning), threats, voyeurism, top Dom, bottom Kells, talks of double penetration, talks of toys, playful insults, edging, pushing each other's buttons, dildo play, masterbation, control and submission, mating cycle talk, breastfeeding/kink, biting/marking, overwhelmed boys, sex, alpha/omega posturing, enemies to lovers ❤️‍🔥 Rating: explicit AF

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🩷

The Alpha watched as his mate walked across the room. More accurately he tracked his every move. Colson could feel his gaze like a weight and he wondered if James was even watching, he couldn't feel anything but Dom. When he reached the couch he walked in the space behind it instead of presenting and looked out the window to see if he could spot the other man. He knew he was pushing it but he still wanted his partner to dominate him. Make him do as he was told.

Dominic growled and pushed his boxers off before he stalked across the room and jumped onto the back of the sofa, crouching on the edge like some gargoyle with a monster cock. His eyes dropped, he couldn't help it. The boy's knot was already threatening to pop and he felt his thighs dripping wet at the thought. “I told you wha’ to do.”

Col leaned against the window and crossed his arms. “Yeah you did. Doesn't seem like I did it.” He sighed back and got the glare he wanted. “You look ridiculous sitting like that. Like fucking Gollum if he was hung like a horse.” That drew a laugh from the other but a look came over him, an arched brow, a playful glint.

“I know ‘ow much you like a monster. I seen wha’ you buy to use on tha’ pretty tight cunt of yours.” Dom purred.

Kells fought not to blush but he did glance away for a moment, his first loss in the game between them. He'd been collecting dildos of all shapes, sizes, and types but it was more to satisfy his old need for variety than anything else. He didn't want anyone but his fiancé but he was used to exploring his kinks with all types of beta girls. It wasn't just for him though, he had plans to use them on the Alpha as well. “They're for both of us. Gonna need something to fuck you with when you knock me up again.” That got a rise out of the killer, his dick visibly twitching and a bead of drool slipped down his chin.

Dom smiled and leapt off the couch to move for the toy drawer. They had different ones for different things but all the bigger toys were in the closet. He came back after a moment with a surprisingly manageable sized dildo and when he came closer he pushed the couch away with one hand. The show of strength was incredibly Alpha and should have bugged Col but did quite the opposite. When they were chest to chest Dom dropped to his frog crouch, and pressed the phallus between the omega's thighs. He made sure it was well drenched before he licked the suction base and stuck it to the glass behind Kells.

“What's the point of this?” He huffed but he was shaking. His lover was looking at him as if he were a whole meal.

“If you so uninterested in me you can fuck ya’self.” Dom shrugged as he stood up and leaned against the back of the sofa.

“I didn't say I wasn't interested.”

“No no. You was making fun. So... go fuck ya’self.”

It started to hit the omega what he was truly seeing. This was the killer. The predator. The side of his mate Dom was so careful to keep away from him. He couldn't hide it now that he was so consumed with his rut and murderous urges. He hadn't killed in too long and it was overwhelming him as much as his cycle was. Col watched as Dom pet over the faint scar on his chest. He didn't wear the elephant pendant anymore since they were being watched by the feds and that was Yungblud’s calling card but the last time he'd completed his ritual he'd put the necklace back on too soon and branded himself just slightly. The older man stepped closer and pressed his fingers there. “You never tell me about it all. How did the elephant start?” He always kept his ritual quiet but Kells wanted to learn more. He wanted to prove he'd love him no matter what. It was an inopportune time but that didn't matter. It wouldn't be hard to make it sexual. He was pretty sure it already was for his partner.

“It were a present from Blain before we stopped seeing each over. I never took it off.” Dom explained softly. It was mad to him he didn't realize who the boy was when he saved him. It broke him that he didn't recognize someone who meant so much. “When me mum died and I went back to save me girls… I didn't jus' kill ‘im. It started as a fight. I didn't plan it. He ‘it me first and I fell and smacked me ‘ead on the fireplace. He must ‘ave seen the necklace and been upset tha’ we lost such a good ‘mega. He ripped it off me and tossed it in the fire. It broke me. I destroyed ‘im. Made ‘im pull it out. I liked the way the burn looked on ‘im and it felt right tha’ it be the symbol of revenge. A gift from an omega.”

Colson nodded and kissed his mate's cheek before he stepped back and lined the toy against his core. He wanted to reward Dom for opening up. It wasn't what he needed most but he grinded against it, feeling slick drip down his thighs. “And when you kill… How do you do it? Like, what's the process?” He asked, his voice going soft. He'd already mostly forgotten they were putting on a show for someone else.

The Alpha smirked and moved closer, turning his lover around. Colson groaned when his cock pressed against the glass but he didn't move. He was becoming more pliant for the other too soon. He tried to look back but he couldn't see Dom very well. He felt him drop though from the soft rush of air. “I start wiv the tendons. Ankles. So ‘ey can't run away.” The killer purred, nipping Col's heels on both sides hard enough to make him feel weak. He moved next to the back of his knees and licked over them. “And ‘ere…”

The Alpha worked up Colson's body and spread him out, nipping or kissing anywhere he would cut on his victims. Once he'd covered every spot he laid against his fiancé's back and rolled his hips, his dick grinding between the older man's ass cheeks. “What next? How- mmm- how do you kill them?”

“Depends on wha’ I was after ‘em for. If it's for sexual shite I'd castrate ‘em first. Cut off wha' was used to cause pain.” He explained, his fingers groping the omega's balls before stroking lovingly and slowly over his cock. “I'd cut ‘em open, pull out ‘eir insides slow and show ‘em to ‘em.” His voice was barely above a growl as his hand pet over the inked expanse of Col’s belly. He ran his nails over where he'd make the cut before his touch ran higher, teasing over his chest. One of his wrist brushed over the omega's nipple and they both noticed when he got wet there and between his thighs. The milk was always tempting for Dom but now it felt almost impossible. He only kept control because he knew they were doing something important. He wasn't done playing with his lover.

“What about me? You were planning on killing me, right? How were you going to do it?” He knew it was a fact but it was one they barely ever talked about. They made jokes about how they'd begun but they never went into detail.

“Well you jus’ sold people. I fhought. So wiv you…” The Alpha trailed off and scratched his nails in the middle of Col’s chest again. “I would ‘ave cut you ‘ere, broken open ya ribs, and tried to show you ya ‘eart before you died. Ain't never made it tha’ far. Always die wiv the cut cause I can't ‘elp bleeding ‘em first.” He explained, licking over his mate's shoulder, up his throat, to kiss his jaw. “But ‘en I realized you got a tight pretty pussy and tha’s the only part of you I wanted inside.” He teased.

“Liar.” Kells whimpered back. “You want my mouth, my ass, and I think you'd fuck any hole you cut in me.”

“I don't want you ‘urt.” Dom growled as he stood back and turned Colson around with such force it almost knocked the wind out of him. It was obvious the words were true but scared him. He didn't want his partner hurt but part of him loved blood. He couldn't help it. Blood, sex, and pain were all mixed up in his head. The killer dropped his hand between the omega's legs and pushed the toy harder against his cunt until Colson moaned. “So wha's ‘ese for anyways? You say me but I fink you like ‘em too.”

“Double penetration. Or um… both my holes.” The man tried to be more honest because Dom had. He felt himself flush because he hated admitting he enjoyed being fucked but he was far enough gone to be open. He was aching hard and river wet and drenched in sweat. He knew Dom was the one in rut but he was starting to feel like the one out of control. Of course his mate would still have himself in check.

“So you want…” Dom didn't even finish his question he just picked his partner up and groped his ass, spreading him open and rubbing his hole against the toy.

“You picked this one for it didn't you? You wanna play with my ass?” Colson asked and his bitch grinned wide. He needed to stop thinking of him as that though, his lost boy was all man and seemingly beast as he stared up at Kells with his crooked fangs on display. “You can.” He sighed. He was partly terrified, they hadn't really tried anal on him much besides a finger occasionally. The dildo was small enough it could slide in without hurting him but he knew he was getting a pounding either way.

“Say please.” Dom demanded, his voice rasped and dark. It danced over Col's skin and made him shiver. “Say ‘please Alpha, fill me ‘oles.’”

The omega shook but he took a deep breath and tried to reply flatly. He knew his voice was trembling and needy though. “Please Alpha, fill my h-holes?” When that obviously pleased the younger man he added with a whine. “Fuck me full? Knot my pussy? Breed me?”

That fucking did it. That broke something inside the killer. He was trying so hard to keep a measure of control but even knowing he probably couldn't yet, that Colson's body was still healing from the last whelp, it still set off his rutting instincts until he felt wild.

He moved quickly and sure, holding Kells up with one hand and he dropped the other to hold the toy where it was needed. His lips slammed against his mate's as he dropped the older man gently and worked the dildo inside him. It always made Colson a wreck that his Alpha was so fucking strong he could control his entire body with one hand. He choked on spit when the toy jammed into his spot but he knew his fiancé wouldn't let him breathe and still had more for him to feel. “‘Ow’s tha’ feel?” Dom purred, his lips pressed wetly against his cheek.

“Mmm fuck- g-good. More? Need you.” He almost begged.

“I told you to fucking present but I guess you can ‘ave a taste of wha’s to come. Cause it may not be you yet.” The killer vowed.

Before Kells could speak again the blunt head of Dom's dick was sliding deep in his guts and hitting home. He felt fuller than he'd ever been and he swore he was bigger in rut. A noise escaped him, one he couldn't name but he knew it felt ripped from his soul. He couldn't move, he was pressed so hard against the glass and his lover, but he tried to wiggle and meet his rough thrusts.

Even though they were finally connected, Dom wasn't losing himself like his partner hoped. He wanted to be destroyed but the Alpha was controlling himself annoyingly admirably. He pressed biting kisses to his lips and clenched his inner walls tight, his heels dug into the killer's back. He made every move he could think, even sucking the other's tongue like he would his dick, but Dom was being so careful. Every hip roll was measured, every pound of his cock was aimed perfectly, but that's not what he needed. What he craved.

“I thought you were going to f-fuck me?” He stuttered out and the Alpha growled at him.

“You piss me off sometimes. Fucks sake you won't be ‘appy till I make you bleed aye?” Dom was scared to let himself off his leash entirely but he was close to snapping. His palm slapped hard against the glass next to his mate's head but he wanted to smash through it with his fist just to keep himself calm. “I told you wha’ the fuck to do. I bloody told you. You get wha’ you get when you don't- fuck- when you don't- mmm-” He was losing himself in the push and pull pleasure even though it wasn't what his cycle needed. He couldn't command the other if he couldn't keep his thoughts straight. The feel of his fiancé's cunt was always overwhelming, the omega was hot and so drenched they were squelching with every move.

His hand moved, his fingers tangling in Col’s sweat wet hair so he could tug his head to the side. His fangs scraped over inked skin and his tongue traced the sweet racing pulse before he licked over his candy adams apple. He was so far gone he was tempted to take a bite and the thought of crimson blood pushed him closer to the edge. His instincts needed the other to present but he needed to cum. His knot throbbed, his body shook, and with one gentle prick of his teeth-

One thing they'd both forgotten was the simple fact that they weren't alone. Punk had slept happily in his crib most of the night but as both men were about to reach rapture he screamed his little lungs out and where Colson had been rocking between his lover and the toy his mothering instincts took over and he pushed at his partner's chest. Dom was so close to release he growled out and nearly bit down on his omega's neck. For just a moment he thought about not letting himself be pushed off. “Let someone else get ‘im.” He demanded but Col just laughed.

“They can hear us. They won't come in while we're fucking. Give me a minute to feed him and I'll give you exactly what you want. Deal?”

Red eyes glared up at him but after a moment he of course gave in. His dick slipped free with a rush of slick and precum following it, and Kells pulled himself carefully off the dildo. His gait was unsteady but he forced himself to walk across the room to pick up his other grumpy boy. “Trying to be the best cock block you can huh? That was a low blow little one.” He cooed as he got the baby settled against his chest.

“I should make you fucking present right now while you feed me whelp.” The words weren't expected but they made the omega somehow even wetter. The thought was tempting.

“Will you?” He asked, he knew he could pull it off but it would make his own rapture harder to find.

The sticky sounds of self pleasure had him turning his head to find his mate doing exactly what he thought. His gaze tracked that beautiful strong hand as it stroked that monster cock. He wanted more than anything to jump on it but he had to calm their child first. Besides, that wasn't what would satisfy either of them. “Fink you can get off on jus’ me knot or are you slut enough you need the bloody toy?”

“Don't be a bitch. You know you do it for me. You're the one who got it out.” He huffed back.

“I should shove one in every ‘ole till you learn to fucking listen. You love making me desperate but you a right cunt when you need to be topped. Can't let go for even me?” The last was obviously a truthful worry but Colson was sure he had at some point. Their first few nights together he thought he was open and needy.

“Are you really gonna waste that on jacking off?” Kells asked instead of facing the point. His core was aching with the sound that felt louder than it should.

“Depends on ‘ow fast you get done. Best milk fast luv. Close. So fucking close.” The Alpha purred, the noises getting faster.

“And if I present anyway?” He was almost nervous at the thought. He wondered how fast he could get one of their family members to the door to take his happily feeding boy.

“You wouldn't.”

“Wouldn't I?”

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 💛

Sorry for the cliffhanger but... Maybe I'm not. I'm still not sure how this is going to go 🤭 Will Colson present with a baby on his chest or will he let Dom cum and try to get him hard again? I suppose we'll find out soon but I hope you're all still enjoying it 🖤❤️‍🔥

[hereticpriest]

Mercy Chapter 9.5 Knotted

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Read on AO3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

This chapter is entirely porn with zero plot. It is not necessary to read this chapter to continue reading the story. It may not be your cup of tea, so please move on to the next chapter if it isn't something you're interested in. This chapter contains very little science that makes any sense, and runs off the idea of inclusivity that all females and Omegas can get pregnant, and all males and Alphas can get someone pregnant. Thus, the reader is capable of temporarily (or continuously, if desired) growing a phallus. I believe that technically, if I were trying to adhere to existing science, Obi-Wan would be labelled as having a cloaca, but I did not put that much thought into it.

Chapter warnings: PWP, dubious science at best, alien dicks and description thereof, anal sex, rimming, anal fingering, knotting, handjobs (m and f receiving), blowjobs (f receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, body worship, muscle worship, discussion and contemplation of mpreg (male pregnancy), contemplation of removing protection for the purpose of procreation which has technically been previously discussed and agreed to but hasn't been agreed to in this specific instance (though this does not occur, it is just contemplated). Let me know if I missed anything please!

Chapter Nine Point Five - Knotted

The scent of starfruit and forest fires mingles throughout the darkened chambers, spice and sweetness blending in a heavy haze. The door to the chamber has been heavily scented, spice and smoke clinging to the frame to ward off anyone who might dare to come close. The windows of transparisteel have been switched to a frosted privacy film that allows light in while keeping out watchful eyes, and the door has been locked with an emergency code. There’s a dark, wet spot on the settee, and the door to one of the bedrooms is covered in a ray shield generally used for maintaining the sanctity of other bedrooms when some apartment occupants are going through their heat.

“You’re still sure?” You ask, your voice a harsh but desperate whisper as you guide your Omega back towards his nest. He lets out a broken whine instead of answering, frantic as he ruts against your hip, desperate for contact. His trousers are undone, the waistband of his underwear partway down his thighs somewhat restricting his movement and tucked under his balls. The head of his cock is flushed dark red and weeping a steady stream of slick, and your nostrils flare at the heady, sweet scent of his heat pouring from him. Your hands slip into the back of his pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass and parting his cheeks.

I need you to answer me, Omega.

Yes! Yes, I’m sure Alpha, I want you to knot me. Need it! Please, need you inside.

Obi-Wan shivers in your grip, leaning in to bury his face in your neck so he can kiss his way around your mating gland while his hands slide under your tunic to feel your bare skin under his palms. Your fingertips brush across his hole, and you chuff as you find it wet with slick, circling it teasingly with just the barest pressure. Your Omega whimpers against your throat, letting you pull him away from you so that you can turn him around and urge him up into his nest.

”Take your clothes off, baby. Then, I wanna see you present for me, and I want you to ask for it with that pretty voice of yours. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” You ask, and Obi-Wan eagerly obeys, kicking his trousers off his legs while he peels off his overtunic. You watch him as you strip off the remainder of your own clothing - an undertunic, brown trousers that still somehow weren’t dark enough to hide the wet patch on your thigh, and your underwear. With your rut came options unavailable to you at other times. Your last rut was unexpected, and you’d gone with the safest option at the time to avoid any discomfort, but this time you had plenty of time to plan. Female Alphas could, should they desire it, grow a phallus for mating purposes. You’d obviously never had the experience, though it truly wasn’t an uncommon thing at all. When you had discussed having a planned heat and rut together with your Omega when your vacation time lined up conveniently, Obi-Wan had shyly mentioned an interest in being knotted. Reluctantly, of course, blushing the whole way and promising that you didn’t have to if you weren’t interested.

Unsurprisingly, you’d jumped on the opportunity. Which led you to where you were now, examining yourself with curious hands. Your cock isn’t as thick as Obi-Wan’s, thankfully closer to average, but you were around the same length. The skin is a darker pink than the rest of you, flushed purple at the tip, and beading precum. A brief moment of panic overtook you at the sight of your cock when you realized that it didn’t look the same as your Omega’s. You’d never seen a Haelan’s dick before, for obvious reasons, and it only occurred to you while you were examining yourself in a panic that you wouldn’t look the same due to your species. Hopefully, your mate didn’t mind. It’s a nice cock, you acknowledge, despite the differences. The head is fatter than a human, with more of a smooth wedge shape than the typical taper, and three prominent ridges right underneath it. A thick vein runs up the base, and it curves more prominently than your mate’s, though you figure that’ll only help you rub against his prostate so hopefully he won’t have any complaints there.

The rough skin of your deflated knot feels a little odd under your fingertips, but it’s a nice kind of odd. Along the top of your cock are a line of softer, rounder ridges that you imagine will probably feel nice. Truthfully, your cock looks a lot like some of the sex toys you’ve seen in holoads around the lower levels of Coruscant late at night, and those ads always emphasize the concept of toys being ‘ribbed for your pleasure’, so clearly what you have going on is a good thing. Right? Your testicles are internal, but clearly functioning considering the thick drip of precum running down the base of your cock. You’re not as wet as Obi-Wan, but that’s to be expected, you think.

A sharp intake of breath draws you out of your quiet contemplation, and you look up at your Omega for signs of distress, only to find him finally naked and staring at your dick with blown pupils and a gaping mouth. Your cheeks flush purple, and you hesitate where you normally wouldn’t, suddenly self-conscious. Biting your lower lip, you stroke yourself from base to tip, and his gaze follows your hand.

“Is it okay?” You ask, and Obi-Wan purrs, glancing up at your face briefly before returning his gaze to your cock. You feel him reach out to you through the bond, letting you feel his desire, his hunger, and his pleasure at the sight of you ready to take him. You feel his intrigue, and his curiosity at the shape of you.

“Oh, darling. Of course it is. Look at you. Come here, let me taste you.” Your Omega requests, and you approach gingerly. You’ll have him present for you afterwards. For now, you want to know what it feels like to have his mouth on your cock, while you can still handle being gentle with him. Obi-Wan reaches for you the second you’re close enough, hand closing around you and stroking you from base to tip while he leans in to roll the flat of his tongue over the head of your cock. A quiet hum at the taste of you vibrates through him, and thus through you, drawing a groan from your lips. He moans as he takes the tip into his mouth, and you sigh as he begins to suck, running your fingers through his hair gently as he starts to carefully bob his head. You hiss as his tongue rolls over the ridges below the head, taking his hand away from the base so you can spit into it, and snickering as his cheeks turn red. Poor, shy little Omega struggling with lewd acts even when he’s lost in his heat. You know it’s at least somewhat because he’s ashamed of his own desires, and how much he enjoys indulging in them with you, though he’s been getting better at accepting his own sexuality. He begins to stroke what he can’t fit in his mouth, and you groan, running your fingertips over the bulge of his cheek. You’ve never felt anything similar, even when he puts his perfect little mouth on your cunt.

“You look pretty like this, baby.” You murmur, and Obi-Wan looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes as he begins to bob his head a little faster. His hand works eagerly over the base of your dick while he tries to figure out how to work his tongue while sucking, his cheeks growing redder at the obscene sounds his slurping causes. It takes all of your self control to keep yourself restrained, but you let every moan and growl out without shame, feeling through the bond how even the smallest sounds encourage your Omega in the same way that praise does. You can’t help but laugh as he takes a little bit more than he can handle and gags, the feeling of which sends pleasure racing like lightning through your veins. He sits back, coughing, and you stroke his cheek as you admire the pretty pink of his spit-slicked lips.

“You did so good, baby. Come on, up, present for me, Omega. I gotta stretch you open a little so I don’t hurt you.” You coo, and he lets out a little moan as he lays down on his stomach with his knees up, back arched to keep his bottom in the air. Humming to yourself, you crawl up into your Omega’s nest, giving his bum a gentle slap that makes him whine, then grabbing both cheeks in your hands to give him a firm squeeze. You use your thumbs to part him, breathing in the scent of slick while bending to run your tongue over his twitching hole. The taste of his slick is electric on your tongue, and he moans loudly as you reach between his legs to wrap your hand around his cock while you lap at him. Stroking sloppily, you spit in your other hand, rubbing it into his desperate little hole to mix with the slick that starts to leak steadily.

“Looks like your body knows what it wants, baby. I just licked you clean, and slick is already dripping down your balls.” You tease, lapping up his slick before it can drip on the nest and laughing as Obi-Wan jolts with a whimper.

“Please, Alpha. Want it in me.” He begs, and you smile, running your thumb over the tight ring of muscle. You’d done your research before this, desperate not to hurt your Omega even though you knew logically that his body was made to take you. It had been shameful to watch dirty holovids, but as soon as you noticed how embarrassed Obi-Wan got, it became less nerve-wracking for you and more a point of entertainment. Your shy but curious Omega would blush and stammer if you watched them next to him in bed, but he always ended up watching with you, often sliding into you from behind so you could watch together while he took his pleasure from you. The naughty research helped you feel more comfortable with taking your Omega in this manner, and you felt prepared. A low whine brings you back to yourself, and you smile, pushing the pad of your thumb against his hole just to watch him shiver. Your index finger slides in surprisingly easily, and Obi-Wan moans lowly as you breach him, digging his hands into the bedding.

I want to lay on my back. Need to see you. Please, Alpha.

Of course, baby, if that’s what you need. I’ll give you anything you want, my sweet little Omega. Anything you ask for.

You help Obi-Wan roll over and smile down at his flushed face, licking your lips at the sight of him. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and you still wonder sometimes how he could possibly be yours, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes full of love and lust. Your Omega spreads his legs and hikes up his knees so you have clear access to him, but you simply admire his perfect little body instead. His nipples are pink and puffy in his heat, and the left one is adorned with a bite mark around it. His chest hair is shiny with sweat, skin flushed pink with his racing passions, and his mating mark is purple from the kissing and biting you’ve been doing throughout his pre-heat. You stroke your hand over his tummy, tracing his treasure trail down to his pubic hair, pointedly ignoring the way his cock throbs for attention and oozes slick.

“Alpha, stop staring. It’s embarrassing.” Obi-Wan complains, and you grin down at him, ignoring his protests as you squeeze his pecs. Despite his soft whimpers for relief, you take the time to continue admiring him, stroking his sides, chest and stomach just to keep him from being too upset. His physical strength, evident in his musculature, has always drawn your eye. You could spend hours worshiping his body, kissing his biceps, leaving lovebites on his lats, and sinking your teeth into his quads. You love his little tummy, the meat on his pecs, and the softness over the muscles in his thighs. He doesn’t really show his age much at all, though he often claims otherwise, pinching at his sides and belly in the mirror like that isn’t one of your favourite parts of him.

A strong leg nudges against your side, and you snap out of your admiration, looking up into his pretty blues. He looks near tears, lips pink and swollen from kisses, panting with desire. You give him a faux pout, pushing his knees up so you could press your middle finger into him. It slides in easily, slick dripping out around your knuckles as you pull out, then push two fingers back in. Obi-Wan groans, throwing an arm over his face to hide as he rolls his hips down into you. You wave your hand and his arm flies away from his face, hands pinned above his head with the Force, though you release him immediately after despite the flush of pink to his cheeks and desire through the bond that says he definitely enjoyed that.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart? You’re nice and relaxed, making it so easy on me baby.” Your voice is low and syrupy, and you watch your Omega’s eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones as he rocks against you. Wrapping your free hand around his cock, you stroke him nice and slow, in pace with your fingers as you stretch him open.

“Feels nice.” Obi-Wan murmurs, though his entire body stiffens up when you crook your fingers and brush against his prostate. He gasps for breath, jerking beneath you, and you coo at him as you roll your fingers into his sweet spot, licking your lips hungrily. Your tail wraps around Obi-Wan’s thigh, yanking his legs open when he tries to close them, and you stroke him faster.

Good boy, baby, let me make you come. Wanna see you paint your cute little belly white. Give it to me, Omega. Then I’ll give you what you want, put my cock in you and breed you in your soft little nest. D’you want that? Want me to fuck a baby into you, Obi?

YES! Alpha, please, please, need you to breed me. Just your fingers feels so good, I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.

“Naughty little Omega.” You tease, adding a third finger just to stretch him out a little bit more. Obi-Wan cries out as your fingertips rub hard over his prostate, and combined with the firm grip on his cock, he can’t take it any longer. He jerks beneath you, sticky white cum splattering across his stomach and nearly up his chest. By the time he’s done, his cum has begun to pool in the dip of his belly, and you lean down to lick it out, drawing a whimper from your Omega. Gentle as can be, you pull your fingers free of him, wiping your hands on the towel you’d thrown into the nest earlier expressly for this purpose. Blanketing him with your body, you lay a couple of kisses across his throat, ignoring the throbbing in your aching cock in order to give him a breather.

Too quickly, he begins pressing down into the weight of it, eyes half-lidded as he purrs for you. You smile down at him, pecking his lips, then reaching between you to guide the head of your cock to press against his hole, rubbing gently to coat it in slick. Your Omega may normally be a patient man, but his heat clearly makes him lose his head, as he begins to roll his hips eagerly, trying to push you into him. You pet his hip soothingly, but give him what he wants, pressing against the tight ring of muscle until it begins to give for you. You slide inside somewhat smoothly, his insides parting around you as you sink in slowly, inch by inch until you’re fully sheathed.

He’s searing hot around you, wet and tight enough that it’s almost painful, bordering on overstimulation. For a second, you worry you might come early, but you grit your teeth and anchor your hands into the nest on either side of his head, your thighs under his, pushing him up a little to get comfortable. Obi-Wan clings to you, shaky moans falling from his lips as you grind yourself into him, then slowly begin to pull your hips back. You watch as the ridges of your dick catch at his hole, and he whimpers with every single one, his dick twitching to life against his tummy. When only the tip remains inside of him, you press a kiss to your Omega’s mating mark, then plant your knees and thrust back into him sharply. You start with slow, long thrusts that have Obi-Wan whimpering and clinging to you, trembling at the way his insides cling to your cock.

You don’t feel any pain from him when you delve into his mind, just pure, mind-melting pleasure. He’s so soaked that you’d be shocked if it hurt, dripping so much slick it makes a squelching sound with every thrust. You don’t know if all Omegas get as wet as Obi-Wan, but you love being surrounded by the salty-sweet smell of his slick. Each time your pelvis meets his ass, you feel his whole body shudder, his calves hooking around behind you to keep you from pulling out completely. His head is tipped back, lips parted around moans of your name, and his force signature is the same bright blue of his lightsaber, nearly blinding in his pleasure. You nuzzle against his mating mark, speeding up your thrusts despite the spine-melting heat of him, holding on as much as you can even as you feel your knot start to swell.

“I’m not going to last much longer, Omega.” You murmur against his skin, and he nods, unable to voice more than a moan in response. He’s a vision of pleasure, chest heaving with every breath, skin flushed pink from the rushing blood, his muscles twitching as he works to meet your thrusts. You love him. You would do anything for him, anything he ever asked, because you trust he’d never ask anything of you that you couldn’t give him with a clear conscience and the approving warmth of the Force. He’s perfect, and he’s all yours, but you know he holds all of the power in your relationship. Such is the truth of an Omega - you are a slave to his pleasure and happiness.

Me neither, Alpha. If you touch my cock, I’ll explode.

You grin, and he whines, knowing exactly what’s about to happen. You slow your thrusts as your knot starts to catch on his rim, digging your nails into the blankets below your Omega to keep some semblance of control, and you seat yourself fully within him just in time to lock together. Your hand closes around Obi-Wan’s cock as you start to spill inside him, moaning as you sloppily jerk him off. It takes nearly nothing for him to come in your hand, his mind a flurry of how good it feels as your hot cum fills him, hoping that it would somehow take, and the pleasure of being locked with you until your knot deflates.

It takes a moment to roll Obi-Wan onto his side, carefully so that you don’t pull on him or your knot too much, until you can curl up against his back. You nuzzle into his neck, kissing his shoulders, and using the Force to dip your towel in the water set on the night table so that you can clean the both of you up. Your Omega dozes in your arms, and you feel proud to have fucked him well enough that you could put him to sleep on your knot. He needs it. His heat will have him raring to go again soon enough, so it’s best if he gets some rest while he can.

You find yourself kissing along the line of his deltoids, pausing as you feel the soft metal line of his birth control implant under your lips. You could bite it out. Soothe the pain with the Force, make a cut with one of your obscenely sharp canines, then heal it once you’ve got the useless little thing out. It only takes 24 hours to lose effect. You could breed him this heat, if you wanted to. You would even let him breed you, if he preferred, since you were of more use while stuck at the Jedi Temple than he was. You’d tear your own implant out too, let him sink his perfect cock into you and breed you in his comfortable nest that he made for you both. He’d said he wanted children, hadn’t he?

A shiver runs down your spine, and something whispers over the roar of your instincts, a gentle urging to be patient. Not now. Soon, but not yet. You lean into the embrace of the will of the Force, closing your eyes and holding Obi-Wan a little closer to you, your lips against his mating mark. You fall asleep nestled against him, completely at peace with your Omega safe in your arms, your Force signatures blending together in a gentle but loving dance.

[skarlette1]

The Ynfiniti Phallus - Part Three

Libidos reveled in the power over reality she gained from the Ynfiniti Phallus. With a twitch of her cunt, she could have even her greatest foes at her mercy. Yes, she would do exactly that! Nudging the Phallus deeper into her dripping vortex, Libidos summoned the members of the Libido League before her. The heroines that had stopped  so many of Libidos’ grand schemes now primped and posed at her…

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Ooooh, Boyd asks! How about where the Boyd characters would be in the omegaverse? Like, I really headcanon Donald Pierce as a total alpha, and that's what drives the conflict between him and Logan.

Look SOMEONE has made me think about omegaverse a WHOLE LOT recently, leading to me having to personally figure out a whole genital arrangement/puberty situation with presenting, because I CANNOT abide butt-babies. I needed it to make sense! Anyway, now I get to make this everyone’s problem. Behold.

Steve Murphy: Steve Murphy is a beta and totally fine with it. He can’t imagine being any other way. In fact, he actively doesn’t want to think about that. Connie is a beta too, and he assumed this would make for a satisfactory match despite being le gay. He often assumes his lack of sexual interest in her (or his previous SO’s) is because he’s a beta and just Not Built That Way. Gets real confused when he starts getting horned up for Javi. Actually goes to a bemused doctor to make sure he’s not going through a very weird and delayed puberty.

Donald Pierce: I *personally* HC Pierce as a beta who is *not* okay with it. He’d much rather be either an alpha for the respect it affords (and the big dick that comes with), or - privately - an omega, so he’d at least have an excuse for feeling all these urges that he does. And omegas get to be kept and adored! He wants that!

Cap Hatfield: Aw, Cap is an asexual little omega who gets *so* confused about his first heat. It’s all these feelings and impulses he’s never had before, and it’s really uncomfortable and overwhelming. He’s got some stone butch energy, and it’s so weird having this intense period of time where he’s sort of out of his mind and wanting all these things he normally cannot stand (and still sort of doesn’t love!).

Clement Mansell: Clement is 100% an omega that pretends to be an alpha. He sprays on alpha pheromones, and packs with a truly ridiculous phallus to give himself the appearance of a big bulge. He almost exclusively tries to get with omega girls to prove to himself he’s just as good as an alpha, but doesn’t ever take his clothes off with them to let them see he’s not an alpha.

The Corinthian: Dream made him in the standard human mold, so beta it is! Sometimes in nightmares he can switch between types, but in the waking world he’s a beta.

Eli Klaber: Ooh Klaber is such a classic omega. He’s the stereotypical housewife type that wants nothing more than to nest and get bred up.

Ty Shaw: Ty’s an alpha, but sometimes he likes to go out, spray himself with omega pheromones, and have some alpha fuck his ass while they call it a pussy. He totally gets a kick of playing omega for his long term partners too, and might even prefer having alpha girlfriends and boyfriends that are vers like him.

Quinn McKenna: Quinn is an alpha. He takes suppressants so he doesn’t go into rut. He finds the whole thing really annoying. His ex-wife, an omega, used to complain that he acted like a beta in bed (ie, not being constantly ready to go and hyper-aggro). He replied she’d been watching too much porn. This developed into yet another ongoing argument.

[hiddenincommand]

No text needed!