#and Omega hangs with the others more equally

[ct-hardcase]

I have to say, the payoff for Echo and Wrecker being my favorite batchers has absolutely sucked so far

[fratttymatty]

Blaked

(All characters are 18+)

Evan Brooks had always been a quintessential college nerd. Tall, lanky, and bookish, he could usually be found with his nose buried in a comic book or his laptop, discussing the latest political developments or arguing about LGBTQ+ rights with his friends in the campus coffee shop. He was proudly gay, proudly liberal, and made no secret of his beliefs, often wearing rainbow pins and t-shirts with witty slogans about equality and social justice. His unruly, curly brown hair and round glasses were as much a part of his identity as his progressive values.

He was no stranger to ridicule from the more traditionally minded students on campus, particularly the jocks. But Evan didn’t care. He had his circle of friends, his own nerdy niche, and an ever-growing list of political science lectures he was excited to attend. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was his.

That all changed one fateful night in late spring, when Evan made the unfortunate decision to join a party hosted by one of the most infamous fraternities on campus: Omega Sigma Alpha.

The frat brothers were the quintessential jocks—blond, muscular, straight, and with a penchant for mocking anything that didn’t fit their idea of “normal.” They were, as Evan liked to think of them, the very embodiment of the type of people he didn’t get along with. So, when Evan was invited to the party, his first instinct was to decline. But after some peer pressure from one of his friends, who assured him it was "just for fun" and that he wouldn't have to interact with the jocks too much, Evan reluctantly agreed.

The moment Evan stepped into the house, he felt a strange energy. The music was loud, the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and sweat, and the entire room seemed to pulse with an almost aggressive energy. He tried to stick to the edges of the room, chatting with his friend about politics and avoiding eye contact with the muscled guys who were throwing footballs around and challenging each other to drink shots faster than the other.

But it didn’t take long before he caught the attention of the fraternity's president, Jake, a tall, handsome blonde with a cocky grin. Jake was a textbook alpha—popular, confident, and straight as an arrow. He spotted Evan standing alone by the punch bowl, eyes narrowed in a mix of curiosity and disdain.

"Hey, nerd," Jake called, his voice mocking but playful. "You lost, or just looking for a safe space to hang out?"

Evan stiffened. "I'm fine, thanks," he replied coolly, trying to turn away.

But Jake wasn’t finished. With a confident swagger, he made his way over and clapped a hand on Evan’s shoulder, almost knocking him off balance. "You know, we could use a guy like you," Jake said, nodding to his frat brothers who were huddled nearby, grinning at Evan with barely concealed amusement. "Maybe if you’re willing to take the right steps, we can teach you how to actually fit in around here."

Evan’s heart pounded. He didn’t know what to make of the offer. He’d heard the whispers about the “jock transformation,” a rumor that had been circulating for a while but seemed too ridiculous to believe. No one ever took it seriously. It was said that a group of the frat’s most powerful members had developed some sort of mystical or scientific way of transforming people—changing them into ideal versions of themselves that fit their world. It was all nonsense, of course. Magic wasn’t real, right?

Jake leaned in closer, his grin widening as he spoke in a lower voice. "We can help you change, Evan. You could be one of us. You could be… like me."

The air around them grew colder, the room suddenly feeling very distant. The music seemed to fade as Jake’s words echoed in Evan’s mind. A sharp sensation shot through him—something hot and heavy, like he was being pulled in every direction at once. He tried to step back, but his body didn’t obey him. The room spun, and he suddenly felt incredibly dizzy.

Before he knew what was happening, his clothes began to tighten around him, shifting and morphing to better fit his changing form. His body felt as if it were being compressed and re-shaped—his limbs shorter, his chest broader, his waist slimmer. His once gangly form thickened with muscle, his posture straightened, and his once nerdy demeanor was replaced by an unshakable sense of confidence.

His curly brown hair straightened, growing longer and turning a rich, slightly sun-kissed blonde. His face reshaped—his jawline more chiseled, his features sharper and more rugged. His glasses vanished, replaced by a sharper, more intense gaze that reflected the physical transformation that was happening to his body. He could feel it all happening—his body, his very identity, changing at the molecular level.

Jake’s voice cut through the fog in Evan’s mind. "There you go, buddy," he said with a grin. "You look perfect now. Welcome to the new you."

Evan—or rather, the new person he was becoming—looked down at his hands, now large and calloused. His fingers flexed involuntarily, testing the strength he hadn’t had before. His breath caught as he saw his reflection in a nearby mirror.

The guy staring back at him wasn’t Evan anymore. He was a new person entirely—a tall, muscular guy with dirty blonde hair that was slightly curly at the ends, strong features, and a confident, almost arrogant expression. He was wearing a form-fitting t-shirt that stretched across his chest and jeans that hugged his legs, perfectly fitting the look of a college jock. The shift was total, all-encompassing, and irreversible.

For a brief moment, a flicker of confusion passed through Evan’s—or rather, his new self’s—mind. But it was fleeting. His mind quickly adjusted. The panic, the loss, the identity crisis—none of it seemed to matter anymore. This was who he was now. And he liked it.

"Nice," Jake said, slapping him on the back. "You look like a real man now."

Evan smiled—no, he smiled. It felt natural. "Yeah, I guess I do," he said, his voice deep and steady. It felt good to speak with authority. To feel... in control.

The transformation was complete. Evan Brooks was gone. In his place stood Blake Walker—a straight, athletic, cocky guy who loved playing sports, who reveled in his newfound masculinity, and who couldn’t care less about the political causes that had once consumed his life. It wasn’t that he hated them, he just… didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the gym, his frat, and the weekend parties where he could show off his new look.

As he turned to join the group of jocks, he felt a thrill surge through him—a rush of excitement and belonging. It was easy to fall into the rhythm of this new life. The frat brothers cheered as he walked over to join them, already welcoming him into their fold.

Blake Walker didn’t think about who he used to be anymore. He didn’t care that the change was irreversible. He was happy now—at least, that’s what he told himself. And for the first time in his life, he truly believed it.

Blake Walker had fully embraced his new identity—muscular, confident, cocky—and with that, his political and personal beliefs had shifted drastically. In the span of a few short days, the liberal, progressive Evan Brooks he had once been seemed like a distant memory, a faded echo of someone else's life. He had no use for the old ideals of social justice, activism, or questioning societal norms. The world was simple now: men were strong, women were women, and life was about winning, not about understanding.

It was a Wednesday morning, a few days after the transformation, and Blake was sitting in the campus quad with a couple of his frat brothers. They were lounging on the grass, tossing a football back and forth, and discussing what to do with their upcoming weekend. The conversation quickly veered toward politics, as it often did after a few beers.

Blake wasn’t exactly sure why, but the more he listened, the more he found himself irritated by the mention of any "liberal" policies. One of the guys, Brett, was talking about how his sister was protesting for women’s rights, and the mention of "equal pay" set off a spark in Blake’s mind.

"Equal pay? You mean that whole 'pay gap' thing?" Blake scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips. He shifted his weight, throwing the football up into the air with a quick flick of his wrist. "That's such a joke. Women have the same opportunities, and they don’t need to keep whining about it. If they worked harder, they’d get paid the same. It’s not about being a woman, it’s about performing."

The words slipped from his mouth with ease, and Blake didn’t even hesitate. His voice was full of conviction, the kind of boldness he’d seen in the more traditional, alpha guys who had molded him into who he was now. The frat brothers around him nodded in approval, some chuckling. "Exactly, dude," said Marcus. "I can’t stand the whole victim mentality. Like, the world doesn’t owe anyone anything. You have to earn it."

Blake grinned and slapped his hands together, feeling a rush of adrenaline as if he’d just made an important point. "Exactly! These people need to toughen up. The world’s not gonna hand them anything. They should be out there working, making their own way, not complaining about what they don’t have."

His words were met with approving nods. But deep down, a part of Blake felt a strange satisfaction in the way the conversation had shifted. The more he spoke, the more comfortable he became in his new skin. It was clear now—he wasn’t just another college student fumbling through his beliefs. He was a man—a man who understood the way the world worked, and he wasn’t going to apologize for it.

The conversation soon turned to the upcoming election. The group’s mood grew more animated as Brett began talking about a local politician who was pushing for "progressive" policies that Blake knew he couldn’t stand.

"You know, this guy keeps pushing for free healthcare and all this socialist crap," Brett said, his voice growing louder as he leaned in, clearly fired up. "It's like they want to turn the country into one big handout."

Blake’s blood boiled at the very mention of socialism. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah, it’s unbelievable. People don’t seem to get that nothing in life is free. Someone’s gotta pay for it, and it’s always gonna be the hardworking people who get screwed over. You work hard, you get rewarded. You sit on your ass and wait for a handout, you're just part of the problem."

The words felt almost natural to Blake now. It was like he was channelling the very essence of the conservative mindset, and it felt good. The anger, the frustration at what he saw as a broken system—he had been living in that system, but now he understood. There was no place for weakness in the world he wanted. Only strength. Only the ability to succeed on your own terms.

The group around him nodded eagerly. Greg, another frat brother, grinned widely. "Hell yeah, man. You’re right. It’s the hardworking men who keep this country running. These liberals? They just want to hand everything to people who don’t deserve it."

Blake’s smile widened, a deep, satisfied chuckle bubbling up from his chest. "Exactly," he said again, his tone dripping with certainty. "It’s time we took the country back from these idiots. It’s time for real men to step up and start calling the shots."

It wasn’t just politics now. It was everything. Blake could feel the weight of his new beliefs settling into every corner of his life. Even the way he looked at people had changed. The nerds, the activists, the people who still talked about “equality” and “inclusivity”—he couldn’t fathom why he had ever cared about them. In his world, there was no place for weakness, no place for division. There was only strength, unity under a banner of tradition.

His classmates who had once talked about LGBTQ+ rights, feminism, environmental justice—they seemed so... irrelevant to him now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared about those issues. He didn’t want to. Why would he? He was a man now. A strong man. And that meant taking charge, not discussing issues that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. The things that mattered were simple: success, strength, and the preservation of the things that had always made America great.

Later that afternoon, as Blake and his frat brothers prepared to head to the gym, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of superiority over the other students on campus. He looked around at the other groups of people—the arts majors, the environmental activists, the overly polite, overly sensitive students—and couldn’t suppress the sneer that twisted his lips.

"Man, they’re just so soft," he muttered under his breath. "They wouldn’t last a day in the real world."

One of his frat brothers, Jake, grinned. "Yeah, dude. They wouldn’t even know what hit them."

Blake let out a low laugh. "Exactly. If they knew what it took to be a man—if they knew what real strength looked like—maybe they’d understand."

As he turned and walked toward the gym with his brothers, his dirty blonde hair catching the sunlight, Blake realized just how much he had changed. The old Evan would have never spoken like this, never thought this way. But Blake Walker? He was part of something bigger now—part of a brotherhood, a worldview, a system that prized strength above all else. And he knew that he would never go back.

His days of progressive politics and social justice were behind him, along with the nerdy, gay college student he had once been. The new Blake Walker was confident, straight, and unapologetically conservative. He had found his place in the world, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged.

And that was all that mattered.

Blake Walker was becoming unrecognizable. Not just in the way he looked—though his new broad, muscular physique, complete with messy, slightly curly dirty blonde hair, was a far cry from the skinny, nerdy Evan Brooks he once was—but also in the way he thought. The change had been fast, but it had settled deep, like an invasive seed that had taken root in his mind. Blake felt comfortable now, in a way he hadn’t felt before.

He was a jock, an alpha. And to be an alpha, you had to project dominance. You had to push boundaries, show people you were the top dog.

It was Friday night, and Blake and his frat brothers were winding down from a grueling week of tests and workouts. They’d thrown a party at the house—loud music, red Solo cups stacked in corners, and girls swarming around the jocks in an attempt to be noticed. The air was thick with the smell of beer and testosterone. Blake leaned against the kitchen counter, one hand on his beer, the other hanging loosely at his side as he surveyed the room.

The conversation, like most of the night, revolved around two things: who was hooking up with who, and who was the "weakest" link on the football team.

Greg, a tall, lean guy with sharp features, was ranting about some kid in the engineering department who had the nerve to “act like he was better than everyone else.” Blake could already tell where the conversation was going.

"Dude, I swear, I was walking by the student union today and I see this nerd sitting there—one of those guys who's always talking about 'gender fluidity' and all that liberal crap." Greg laughed, shaking his head. "Like, what the hell is that even? You’re either a guy or a girl, dude. Stop trying to make yourself special."

Blake took a long sip of his beer, his lips curling into a half-smirk. He didn’t need to think about it—he knew exactly how to respond.

"I know, right?" Blake said, his voice dripping with that new, self-assured confidence. "It’s like they want attention or something. Just pick a side, dude. You can’t change your whole identity every week."

He threw back his head, laughing with his brothers as they all chimed in with their own jokes about the so-called "gender confusion" they saw in their classes. Blake’s tone was dismissive and casual. He didn’t even feel the need to elaborate. The fact that this kid was trying to “be different” was enough to trigger his distaste.

"I bet he’s just another attention-seeker," Brett added, with a grin. "I mean, dude’s probably just mad no one’s looking at him unless he says some dumb shit like that. Like, just be a normal guy. No one cares about your weird identity crisis."

Blake nodded approvingly, feeling a rush of satisfaction. He didn’t get it—he didn’t care to get it. Who had time for all that? In his world, being a guy was simple. You played sports, you lifted weights, you dated women, and you didn’t apologize for being a man.

"Exactly, man," Blake said, tossing his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin with a clink. "I don't know why people make things so complicated. If you’re a dude, then act like it. Don’t go around talking about all this 'fluid' crap and expect me to give a damn."

The frat boys around him cheered in agreement, their voices loud and drunk with entitlement. The women in the corner seemed to laugh along too, though Blake could tell they were mostly laughing because they had to. It was what the cool guys did, and if they didn’t want to be “excluded” from the circle, they had to pretend to be on the same wavelength.

Blake glanced at one of the girls nearby, a sophomore who had been flirting with him for the past hour. She caught his eye and smiled, a little too brightly. He offered a quick, cocky grin before taking another sip of beer.

"Man, I swear," Greg continued, "people like that are just looking for an excuse to cry about everything. They wanna be all ‘sensitive,’ but life’s not like that. You want respect? Earn it. You don’t get to cry about your ‘identity’ and expect the world to change for you."

Blake couldn’t help but agree. His mind had changed so drastically from the Evan he used to be. The Evan who was afraid of offending anyone, who stood up for people’s rights no matter how difficult the argument. That guy was gone, replaced by Blake, a guy who didn’t just accept things the way they were, but demanded them to stay the way he liked.

"Exactly," Blake said again, this time with a bit more edge. He wasn’t even sure what had happened to him. The old Evan might have felt guilty, might have been conflicted over what he was hearing, but Blake? Blake felt nothing but clarity. "These people think they deserve special treatment just because they’re different. Like, no one owes you shit for being ‘unique.’"

The guys laughed again, but now it was a little more sinister. They were pushing boundaries, making the atmosphere more charged than it should’ve been. Someone mentioned a rumor about a student from another fraternity who had come out as bisexual, and that seemed to set Blake off.

"Ugh, I heard about that dude," Marcus chimed in. "Some guy in the next frat came out as bi, and now he’s all about being ‘proud.’ It’s like, bro, just shut up. Who cares? I’m not gonna sit here and listen to some dude talk about his ‘struggles’ with his sexuality."

Blake’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stared at Marcus for a moment. He couldn’t help it; he was getting agitated. "Exactly, man. Just keep it to yourself. Nobody needs to know about your ‘struggles’ or whatever. It's not like being gay or bi is some big revelation." He felt a sense of superiority creeping in. "Just stop trying to force it on everyone. The world doesn’t revolve around your sex life."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the conversation shifted, but the damage had been done. The guys had made their stance clear—they didn’t have time for “weak” people, and they certainly didn’t have time for anyone who didn’t fit into their idea of what was normal. Blake wasn’t even sure why it bothered him so much that people were “out there” being different—he just knew that it didn’t sit right with him anymore.

He glanced over at the girl still lingering by the corner. She was staring at him, her smile a little less enthusiastic than before. Blake felt a flicker of unease—an old Evan-like twinge of guilt—but it passed quickly, like a fleeting thought.

"Yeah," Blake said again, feeling like he had the last word on the subject, as if it settled everything. "Just be a man or don’t bother. The world doesn’t need more confusion."

The frat brothers all agreed, and Blake let out a breath. For the first time, he felt like he could finally relax. He had his brothers, his strength, his new identity—and that was all he needed.

The rest of the night passed with more jokes, more trash talk, and a general atmosphere of “being a man” that felt intoxicating. Blake didn’t think about it much. He didn’t need to. He was on top of the world now, and anything that threatened that world—anything that threatened his new identity—just didn’t belong.

And Blake was more than happy to let them know that.

Blake Walker had fully embraced his new life. The frat, the muscles, the confidence—he was a man now, and everything felt easy. But with that confidence came something even more exciting to him: Stacy.

Stacy wasn’t just any girl. She was the quintessential “valley girl”—the kind of blonde, perky, ditzy sorority girl that every guy in the frat would have killed to date. But Blake? He wasn’t like the other guys. He deserved Stacy. She was exactly what he needed to match his new identity.

It was Friday afternoon, and Blake was lounging on the frat house’s back patio, having just finished another grueling workout at the gym. He was wearing a tight, white tank top that showed off his impressive biceps, his signature messy dirty blonde curls falling over his forehead in just the right way. As he cracked open a bottle of water, his phone buzzed with a text from Stacy. He grinned to himself as he read it:

"Hey babe, totes wanna meet at Starbucks for a little pick-me-up before our dinner tonight! 💅💖"

Blake rolled his eyes, but in the way that made him smile. He’d been seeing Stacy for a few weeks now, and while she was everything he shouldn’t want—a little airhead who lived for shopping, Instagram, and the latest gossip about "who’s dating who"—there was something about her that he loved.

"Sounds good, babe. I'll pick you up in 20."

He shot off a quick reply before tossing his phone down on the table, feeling the usual rush of excitement that came with hanging out with Stacy. She wasn’t just pretty—she was fun. And for Blake, that was all that mattered now. They were a perfect match: his strength and confidence, her bubbly, ditzy energy.

When Blake pulled up to the Starbucks parking lot, he spotted Stacy immediately. She was standing outside, balancing on high heels, looking like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her platinum blonde hair was perfectly curled, and her pink crop top clung to her body, showing off her toned stomach. She waved excitedly when she saw him, a wide grin on her face.

"Babe, like, oh my god!" Stacy squealed, rushing up to him. "I totes missed you! I was, like, just texting my girls about that new hot guy in the bio class. Like, he is SO cute, you have NO idea."

Blake chuckled, reaching out to pull her into a hug, his muscles flexing as he enveloped her tiny frame. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her words, but it didn’t bother him. Not anymore. Stacy was just... Stacy.

"I bet he's not as hot as me," Blake teased, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

"Like, NO way!" Stacy giggled, pressing her lips to his cheek before pulling back to look him up and down, clearly admiring the view. "You are, like, totally the hottest guy I know. You’re, like, so perfect, it’s unreal."

Blake smirked, loving the compliment. He felt invincible, like he was untouchable.

"I know," he said, his tone oozing confidence. "I work hard for it, babe."

They walked inside Starbucks together, Stacy chattering non-stop about everything she had done that week, her voice high-pitched and almost like a sing-song. Blake didn’t really listen to the details—he never did—but it didn’t matter. Stacy wasn’t saying anything of importance, just the usual girly stuff, and for Blake, that was exactly how he liked it.

"So, like, I heard that Brad from Kappa Chi totally hooked up with Jenny from Accounting last night?" Stacy went on, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned in. "And like, she was wearing this totally amazing dress, but I, like, can't even imagine how they, like, did it in the back of a cab. That's SO ghetto, right?"

Blake smirked and leaned against the counter, pretending to listen. He was starting to feel like a real man now—someone who had it all. A hot girl, a killer body, and a world that was bending to his will. It was a far cry from the shy, nerdy Evan who used to spend hours arguing with people about the importance of social justice and LGBTQ+ rights.

"I dunno, babe," Blake shrugged, his voice low and deep. "I don’t really care about that kind of stuff. I got everything I need right here." He gestured to himself and then to her, giving her a wink.

Stacy laughed, throwing her head back. "Like, OMG, you’re such a bad boy," she said, practically swooning. "I totes love it when you, like, act all confident."

Blake’s chest swelled with pride. This was the life. No more thinking about the struggles of the world or trying to please everyone. Stacy didn’t care about his past. She didn’t care about the "old Evan." She liked Blake, the confident, strong jock who didn’t have time for politics, social causes, or even, it seemed, deep conversation. Stacy wanted someone who made her feel good—and that was exactly what Blake was giving her.

"Yeah, babe," Blake said, his voice dropping into that deeper, more commanding tone he’d learned to use. "You like that, huh?"

Stacy giggled, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Totes! You’re, like, the perfect boyfriend. I’m, like, so lucky to have you. You're, like, sooo much hotter than all those other guys at the gym. They don’t even have, like, a clue."

Blake’s lips curled into a smug smile. "I know, babe," he said again, taking the coffee she’d ordered and handing it to her. "But it’s not just the looks. It’s about who you are. And I’m one of a kind."

Stacy laughed, nodding enthusiastically. "Like, I KNOW, right?! You’re, like, totally the best."

As they left Starbucks, walking hand-in-hand toward his car, Blake couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. He didn’t just have the looks, the body, or the confidence—he had Stacy, the perfect "girlfriend" for his new life. She was everything that fit into his new worldview: pretty, ditzy, and obsessed with appearances. And Blake was okay with that. He didn’t need anything else.

They got in the car, and Blake started the engine, glancing over at Stacy, who was already texting someone on her phone, probably telling her friends how amazing her boyfriend was.

As he drove through the campus, past the other students, Blake couldn’t help but feel like the world was at his feet. His life had become simple, uncomplicated, and perfect in its own, jock-ified way. There was no more questioning his identity. There was no more confusion about who he was. He was Blake Walker—the strong, straight, conservative man who had everything he wanted, including the perfect girlfriend.

And nothing was ever going to stand in his way.

[lexirosewrites]

Slick Sunday idea!

Years ago I read an Avengers MCU omegaverse fic where omegas were courted and gifted with jewelry/finery as a show of love and appreciation and I always thought it was such a great concept and it stuck with me and it made me think of omega Steve in a universe like that.

He has boxes and boxes of jewelry that people have gifted him to try to court him and make him happy, and since he's a Harrington his parents only accepted the finest jewelry for their shining omega. But what no one knows or realizes is that the little rope braid bracelets and anklets he wears and never takes are his actual favorite gifts as they were made and clumsily presented to him by the Party to show him they loved and appreciated him, and when they gave him the bracelets and anklets in a little handmade box apologizing that it wasn't as nice as other jewelry they had seen him wear, but the bracelets were made out of his favorite colors, Steve burst into tears because he was so happy that he received and actual thoughtful gift for once and not just something with the highest price tag. He wears them proudly and the kids always get so happy when they see them on his wrist and ankle when they hang out and it makes their bond that much stronger.

I've also been mulling the idea of Eddie being an alpha but breaking societal norms because he wears courting jewelry (he received it from his friends/pack and wants to proudly wear them too) but it's very non traditional for the alpha to wear it. He also wants to start courting Steve but falls into a similar hole of fearing that he isn't wealthy enough for Steve's typical courting gifts, and one day clumsily makes a Daisy chain bracelet and gifts it to Steve during a group hangout half-joking that it's the beginning of a courting but Steve takes it completely seriously and absolutely loves it, and demands that Eddie make him a new one each time the flowers die or break apart, or else his gift wouldn't count (Steve himself was joking about that but thought it was the perfect push for him to finally get Eddie to court him as he'd been waiting for ages) or another way for them to start courting is Steve seeing Eddie's jewelry and realizing he's more non-traditional, and Steve goes through learning how to buy a courting gift and ends up presenting one to Eddie to court him and Eddie being completely floored that Steve Harrington wanted to court him, and was up for doing a more non-traditional courting.

courting jewelry is such a neat concept and i don’t see it used very often! occasionally i’ll hear a mention of collars for omegas, but that’s usually the extent of it. and you know rich suitors would for sure lavish pricy gifts to impress omegas from well-off families (which would naturally make steve care more about handmade cheap trinkets instead because he knows money does not equal love)

[hxyleswritesthings]

Alpha!Katsuki and Omega!OC

They're the couple that you look at and you just KNOW they're having freaky good sex 😇

Minors DNI

Katsuki’s omega who growls in his face at a party after he asks her to get off his lap so he could stand. She's full on straddling him now, knees pressed to each side of his thick thighs as she bares her fangs at her alpha.

“Hah?” He cocks his head as he meets her eyes, “I'll be right back, you territorial woman.”

Katsuki grins when she growls again at him, her demeanor tugging on his alpha to the forefront of his mind. “That's cute, little Omega, but don't forget who you belong to.” He lets out a growl of his own, the guttural sound making the other alphas in the room tense. Deku, the head alpha of their pack, finds himself sitting up in an effort to keep a close eye on the interaction, knowing nothing was wrong but his more primal side itching to be on watch.

Now most Omegas would cower at his tone, but not her. His stubborn girl was used to his attitude, and knew how to give it right back. Katsuki believed his omega was nothing short of his equal, but the two of them loved a power play. He sometimes feigned annoyance at her antics, but they both knew that he loved how strong and outspoken she was. He loved his Omega's attitude, and he especially loved that she chose to allow him to put her back in place. Because that's what it always was, a choice. A personal game between the two of them. His girl quickly learned that goading his alpha out was the quickest way to get exactly what she wanted in the moment.

“You're full of disrespect today, Omega.” Katsuki tuts, completely aware of the shift in the room as he noticed her scent turn sweeter, the arousal evident in her body language as she shifts so that she's resting right where she wants him.

“And what about it, alpha?” She's murmuring in a challenge, cocking her head as they stare each other down.

Katsuki sucks in a breath as he feels his cock stir right where she's sitting. He grips her waist in his large hands, sitting up to meet her halfway so that their lips rely brush as he speaks.

“Run.”

It comes out as a whisper, the tension in the air snapping almost instantaneously as his omega jumps up. She's unable to help the goofy grin on her face, navigating her way through their pack that had been hanging out in the living room. Katsuki’s hot on her heels, shoving todoroki out of his way before he's chasing her up the stairs.

“That make anyone else flustered?” Denki pipes up at the same time Kirishima speaks, “Yeah, they're definitely gonna be up there for a while.”

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hey, Frost! Congratulations on reaching 200 followers!!

This is Carol (@clonethirstingisreal), just asking on anon rather than my main account.

For my request, I was wondering about a fic focusing on Hunter & Omega with a father & daughter vibe (or just siblings is fine too.) I really don't have anything specific in mind. It could be after everyone (including Tech) is living safe on Pabu. Maybe Hunter comforting Omega about something...or vice versa. I don't know...sorry! If you need more to go on, let me know. I'm blanking...

Thanks!

New Night Routines [Hunter and Omega Family Fic]

Warnings and Information: Officially settling into island life after everything they’ve been through since the emergence of the Empire will take time, Hunter knows that. Patience is paramount in times like these, and the people of Pabu’s limitless generosity and neighborly nature make light work of helping all six members of Clone Force 99 lay down roots. Now, the biggest battle for him, his brothers, and Omega is getting a good night’s sleep.  TBB AU where everyone gets to live happily ever after. Reference and allusion to canon-typical injury and violence. Mainly fluff and feel-good family moments. Minimal Star Wars and real-world swearing. Limited Mando’a. Fictional sea creatures. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. 

Word count: 4,020

When the decision had been made to carve out a comfortable life for themselves at long last, Shep Hazard was all too happy to provide the Batch with a proper Pabuan house. He’d been insisting upon it for some time now, but the offer had always been turned down, saying the same thing each occasion.

“There’s still a lot to sort out. We need more time to come to a proper decision.”

They had the Empire to contend with. Brothers to help. Sowing the seeds of a growing rebellion.

So when the time finally came, Hunter was thrilled to take Shep up on the next offer. No more living on the run. No more sleeping and living out of the attack shuttle. They would have a safe roof to sleep under, and a steady supply of surf and sun to fill their days. The island community came together when news broke that they were here to stay, rolling up their sleeves to repay a multitude of favors from repairing Lower Pabu following the last sea surge. 

Without the whip-smart fishermen, rewiring the house would have taken Tech many long weeks of steady work in order to bring everything up to his standards on his own. 

Wrecker had the help of the community’s woodworkers in replacing anything suffering from wood rot and constructing newer, sturdier furniture. 

Artists pooled themselves together and slung paint in every room of the house under Crosshair’s watchful eye; by lunch every room had been given a base coat, and by dinner, detail-work began once it was agreed who slept where, giving those spaces tailored touches. 

Echo, though he would often be away assisting Captain Rex and the Clone rebellion, found ways to contribute to construction, incorporating hidden compartments and caches in their eventual living space for safekeeping their old armor and weaponry. 

Omega had grand plans to decorate not just the room she had all to herself, but the whole of the house all on her own if Hunter didn’t insist upon helping between his own odd jobs. The prospect of having more than just the barest of bare essentials, but now the ‘basics’ was entirely thrilling to Omega, and perhaps more than a little overwhelming at times for Hunter. 

There’s just so much… stuff.

Blankets and pillows had been small familiarities with the GAR, but patterned bedding and special linens? Decorative pillows? Was that all really necessary?

Maybe not to him, but making sure Omega felt like an equal contributor to putting together their home meant entertaining her enthusiasm in other ways when there were no tasks suitable for her to assist with. If there were heavy shelves to hang, Hunter helped her find the best baskets offered by the island’s artisans to use for storage. When the sturdier bed frames were carefully squeezed into the house, he went with Omega on a walk to collect the blankets that had been set aside for them by the many fibercraft artists. 

And every evening after dinner, Hunter promised to do whatever she wanted for an hour to reward her for being so patient throughout all of this. Occasionally, one hour often bled into two, sometimes three before both would be thoroughly worn out and ready to turn in for the night. 

Sometimes she wanted to sit under the weeping maya tree, gazing at the star-crusted indigo skies together. Other nights, Omega wanted to roam the Archium and proudly show off all she had learned from Phee, or Layana, or Tech about each of the valuable items stored here. They’ve crawled through several of the island’s coves in the growing twilight, collecting enough sea glass that Phee offered to find a jeweler who could turn the frosted fragments into beautiful sun-catchers for them. 

Enjoying this nightly routine with her, Hunter considered making this a weekly thing once the house had been finished, which wouldn’t be much longer now. While he and his vode were accustomed to sleeping in the Havoc Marauder during the Clone Wars, he was growing tired of it long term. 

Maker, he couldn’t wait to get into that house. 

As hard as it could be to accept, her brothers knew Omega wouldn’t stay little forever. She was a growing girl who needed more room to grow, to decide what kind of life to make for herself, to simply live. And a gunner’s mount was no place for any of that. 

Laying down roots on Pabu would be good for her. 

For all of them. 

After two weeks of continuous construction and regular after-dark adventures, the morning finally came that the Batch’s new house would be complete by lunch time. Perhaps even before, depending on how many members of this selfless community came together to help the vode furnish each room. 

Omega woke shortly before dawn, too excited to sleep, or think about trying. 

Hunter found himself roused from a comfortable slumber by a bright-eyed pre-teen, her pale, curly hair an adorably bedraggled mess as she gingerly shook his arm. 

“Hunter. Hunter!”

Crosshair, ever the light sleeper, began to stir in the bunk across from Hunter’s just as the other began to sit up and work feeling into his limbs. They had all promised her long ago that if she ever needed anything, and they meant anything, from one of them for any reason, she never had a reason to hesitate waking her brothers.

“What’s wrong?” 

Hunter tugged the blanket over the sniper’s head, chuckling warmly. “Go back to sleep, Cross. I’ve got it handled.” He didn’t even know what it was, but it didn’t matter. By nature of his engineering and training, Hunter had a life’s worth of experience in waking up suddenly and quickly. Alert in just a short time, he came up with something to do to let the others get as much sleep as they could while tugging on his boots. 

“Think we can find something new in our favorite tide pools that Tech hasn’t seen before?”

It should be enough to keep them occupied for an hour or two before joining the others in putting the finishing touches on the house. 

Omega nodded, enthusiastic and eager. 

“Atta girl.” 

Hunter ruffled her hair before sending her up to the cockpit to collect the beach bag Lyana had gifted her. This would give him more than enough time to shimmy out of the shirt he slept in and into something different. Once dressed, he rounded up a few more things around the Marauder he thought they might want - a drybag for when Omega inevitably wanted to splash her feet in the water, the datapad she used for her studies, and laid a change of clothing out for each of them at the foot of his bunk. Just in case. 

They met at the gangplank, Hunter keying in the appropriate sequence to lower the ramp. 

“All set, Havoc Five?”

Omega grinned, giddy and full of energy. “Ready, Havoc One!”

“Good,” Hunter returned the smile with one of his own. “Race you down to the water, then?” 

Scuttling down the ramp together, Omega tore off in a burst of gleeful giggles, Hunter close behind. 

Having been on the run for so long, living hand-to-mouth and facing peril after peril with the bravest of faces, Omega had begun laughing less and less. As their arrangement with Cid crawled to a boiling point, tempers flaring in the backroom of the Parlor, Bolo and Ketch found less and less success in making the adolescent laugh. After their treacherous ordeal on Ipsidon was met with complete apathy, it wasn’t much longer that the Batch parted ways with the Trandoshan without so much as a word. 

Phee selflessly sharing her safe haven had given Omega back her laugh. 

Pabu and the generosity of her people were giving Omega a chance at a normal life, with normal experiences. Making friends her own age exposed her to many new things. When Lyana and other girls their age invited her to her first sleepover, Tech helped her prepare for it the day before with research and reassurance. 

“If, in the event you miss us, just remember that you have Lula. She’s been with the team for a long time. She’ll help you be brave, Omega.” 

It wouldn’t be beloved tooka dolls alone that brought Omega her new-found bravery here in Pabu’s safe harbor. It would be her brothers, too. 

Patiently learning to act less like a team, and more like a family, they were navigating this new life together. Hunter would certainly never take this for granted after everything the Batch had been through to get to this point. 

Just as Omega claimed she was going to reach the beach first, Hunter would catch up in a burst of speed and swoop his sister into his arms. Both of them would reach the beach at the same time this way. The laughter shared between them felt good. Freeing. Racing down to the water without a care in the galaxy, still new and novel to each of them, would become a memory more valuable than any vault of credits he could ever imagine. 

He had wanted that kind of life, once. As a cadet, likely younger than Omega had been when they first met, the prospect of living lavishly with his rowdy band of brothers after the war had been among the grandest dreams. A distraction, really, from the growing pains that plagued him and the endless hours of rigorous training, testing and tweaking of his enhancements. 

Now, settling into an easy life from the Imperial forces that poisoned a predator with fear and slowly turned him into prey was his dream. A dream free of being faced with situations so dire and desperate he would be forced to gnaw off a part of himself to escape, or keep Omega safe. 

Safe to create new routines of poking about the deeper tide pools for shells and strange, quad-eyed crustaceans with her brothers, her family. 

“Look at this one!” 

Omega carefully plucks a large crab out of the saltwater pool, keeping her hands behind its largest claw. She holds it out to Hunter, showing it off like a trophy with the proudest of smiles that she could catch one. They were often lightning-fast, scuttling down to the surf in a flash. Crosshair had figured out how to catch them to make it less challenging for Tech to study them, but not without several pinched fingers, first. 

Once he’d mastered the technique, Cross taught it to Omega and encouraged her to show Hunter the next time he and Omega went down to the cove for their after-dark adventures. (Probably in hopes of scaring the hell out of Hunter, the little shit.) Crosshair had always been talented at finding ways to catch things that didn’t like being caught. It had been a useful pastime during the war. 

“Looks very nice.” Hunter said, verbally applauding her accomplishment. “Can you tell what it is, Megs?”

“This is a false flotsam crab!” she declared, indicating the lack of splinter-like spikes lining the smallest claw. 

Hunter had to stifle a chuckle over how much she sounded and acted like their bespectacled brother. After the sea surge, they had seen a lot of flotsam crabs and the pretenders in the wreckage of Lower Pabu. Upon identifying them, Tech declared both species were perfectly edible - though they would want more of the flotsam crabs than the false ones - and basketfuls of these crabs were collected. People may have lost their homes, but there would be enough food to prevent anyone from going hungry. 

It was like the sea’s way of apologizing. 

It was also the first time the Batch had seen the scale of Pabu’s generosity, and resilience. No wonder they had fled the Empire and come to Pabu; these were good people. Good people who were helping him give his sister a good life. 

Omega brought the false flotsam closer to her brother, holding it out to him.

“Do you want to hold it?” 

Hunter shook his head, smiling. “That’s okay. Maybe another time, Omega.” There would be plenty of chances to catch crabs in the future. Endless opportunities to splash in the cool coastal waters, and bask in the salt-laden breeze and island sun. 

Placing the cranky creature back in the water, Omega returns to the task of finding something new to show Tech before they return to the others, where together, they’ll make their house a proper home. 

When the sun has risen high enough, Omega leads the way to their new house, a large shell clutched tightly in her hands. Wearing her pack, Hunter follows behind, listening to her excited babbling of all the things she thinks her prize find could be. 

Found further down the beach by his sister, it had recently washed ashore, glimmering in the young sunlight of dawn the way Hunter had heard rumors of the appearance of kyber. Opalescent, clearer than ice. Some surfaces were smooth to the touch. Others, jagged and unpleasant. It was unlike anything the siblings had seen before. 

Omega called out their return the closer they were to the house. 

“Tech! Look what we found!” 

Hunter thought ‘we’ was being generous, but he did nothing to correct her. Tech, putting away his tools, takes the shell and examines it for all of ten seconds before announcing what they found. “Another glacial turban. That’s a rather remarkable specimen, Omega.” Omega pouts in disappointment to hear that they did not find something new, but it is soon forgotten as Tech spurs her youthful curiosity with a simple question. 

“Would you like to know what makes it so remarkable?”

“Yes!”

He asks her to wait there while he ducks inside a moment, collecting his datapad, most likely. When Tech returns, he has a second shell in hand rather than his trusty technology. “This is also a glacial turban.” he explains, kneeling beside her. Comparing the two together, he shows her how the first shell has far more opalescence and clarity than the other, and the color is stronger. 

Textbook perfect, he calls it. 

The others have crowded around to see, only opting to hold it once Omega says it’s okay. “S’beautiful, kid,” Wrecker says, carefully turning the turban over in his hands, “A real keeper!” Once he’s had a good look, the turban is passed to Echo, and the ARC trooper says the shell’s a real stunner. Crosshair says nothing, but the way he smiles as he studies the way the light warps and shifts on the surface explains more than enough. 

A teasing smile works its way free when Omega takes the shell back from him. 

“So? Do you like it?”

“Can’t get any better than textbook perfect, I suppose.” he replies, smiling wryly around a toothpick. 

Hunter lays a hand on one of Omega’s shoulders, looking down at her with a soft smile. “Sounds like we should find a special spot for you to show it off, then, Megs.” Now, looking up at his brothers, Hunter says the three words they had become very familiar with before all hell broke loose, once upon a time.

“You boys ready?”

Many hands make light work. Taking it room by room, they lay down rugs, make the beds and fluff up the pillows, and wrestle furniture into place. It would go a lot quicker if there was less fooling around, but making these new memories on what will soon be their first official day in a new house trumps efficiency. 

Phee drops in around mid-morning to check on their progress, finding the six of them piled on the floor, taking a short break in Tech and Wrecker’s room. “Getting tired? Neighbors have said you guys sound like you’ve been having a great time for several hours now.” Arms folded loosely against her chest, their friend is all smiles as Phee gives her report.

Tech adjusts his goggles before he replies. “Decorating a domicile has been more fun than I anticipated.”

Omega’s room is left for last out of the bedrooms, and every item within is a testament of love the people in her life had for her.

They started with the gifts from Phee and Lyana first. The sea glass sun-catcher was hung in a corner of the window, and a soft moon-yo toy was added beside Lula and her trooper doll on the bed. Next, each brother helped Omega fit his contribution to the room in only the most perfect places. 

The traditional telescope Crosshair had found and restored was tucked by the window, alongside other tools for stargazing. The bed frame that Wrecker had worked on longest of all was well worth the splinters when Omega lovingly awed over each embellishment that had been added by hand. The beaded curtains hung around her bed had been fashioned by Echo, worked on each night after she had gone to sleep. Tech gifted her a small set of shelves to display the special specimens she had collected in their travels. And adorning the bed laid the quilt Hunter had commissioned from one of Pabu’s reclusive-yet-crafty artisans, combining the common gray and red tones of Clone Force 99’s armor with the brighter hues found in Omega’s favorite colors. 

In spite of her excitement over her first proper bed since Kamino, Omega avoided climbing on it for fear of getting sand in the freshly-laundered sheets. Besides, they still had parts of the house to finish, chiefly the kitchen and living area, and Omega didn’t want them to lose the current momentum. If they wanted to have things finished by lunch, then they had less than an hour to do it. 

She would have the chance to find out just how comfortable the sleeping arrangements would prove at bedtime. 

Since the two of them had gone down to the beach before dawn, Hunter and Omega opted not to do a part of their nightly routine in favor of making their first night in a proper house an early one. Instead, they stayed with the rest of the Batch, playing a few short rounds of Sabbac or doing other things while waiting on their turn to shower. 

Wrecker would kindly offer to help Omega finish getting ready for bed while Hunter had his turn, but she declined. Her answer was less surprising than she might have expected; Hunter was already halfway to the refresher to get the water going before she had the chance to finish.

“I wanted to ask Tech to help me organize my specimens while waiting for Hunter…”

In good humor, Wrecker chuckles warmly before offering his sister’s hair a careful ruffle. 

“Alrigh’, ad’ika.” 

Ordinarily, Hunter never took long to wash up, but tonight he dawdled a bit more than usual to give Omega and Tech the opportunity to make decent progress. By the time he had dried, dressed, and detangled most of his hair from itself, he found the two of them sitting in the middle of Omega’s room. 

She had changed into a fresh pair of brushed-cotton sleepwear at some point, and was now allowing Tech to finish her haircare for the night. Joining this rather sweet scene, Hunter waits by Omega’s bed, quietly listening as they talk over her collection. Tech, kneeling behind her, is mostly focused on the instructions he is reading over her shoulder on how to start taking better care of the hair-type they have inherited from Jango Fett, the Clone template. 

“This appears to be mostly in chronological order, now. But a few items appear to be… missing.”

“I think some of them are still in your footlockers.” Omega replies, patiently enduring an unpleasant tug from the brush as Tech finds a rather stubborn knot. 

Promising to help her take care of getting the missing items in the morning, Tech asks Hunter to carefully set everything aside on the desk for the time being while he finishes up. He obliges his brother’s request, working quickly as both of them can see how drowsy she’s becoming. Being up before dawn will do that. Once he’s finished, Hunter lifts Omega from the floor, carrying her to bed.  

“C’mere, Megs. Bedtime.” 

He tucks her in, pulling the quilt up to her shoulder after making sure Lula is secure in Omega’s arms. It shouldn’t be long before she’s asleep, so Hunter and Tech don’t linger longer than it takes to say goodnight and shut off the light. 

“Jate ca, Omega.”

There’s little more than a sleepy hum in response. She is well and truly tuckered out. 

Omega sleeps soundly for about an hour before being stirred awake by something outside her window. It’s nothing more than playful moon-yo chatter outside, thankfully. Once they scamper off, she settles back down, but something feels… off. Not necessarily the room itself, but how quiet it is. After living on the run for so long, little more than a curtain between her and her brothers, the utter silence of the room is uncomfortable. Unsure what else to do about failing to fall asleep, Omega climbs carefully out of bed, and slips down to her brothers’ room. 

Hunter stirs before she’s gotten farther than the foot of his bed, waking easily with his keen sense of hearing. “What’s the matter, Megs?” His voice, low and sleepy, is partially muffled by his pillow before sitting up to address the situation. 

“It’s… it’s too quiet to fall back asleep. It’s making me feel uneasy.” she admits in a whisper, squeezing one of Lula’s paws to try to soothe herself. 

“... too quiet?” 

Hunter furrows his brow, wondering why a room being too quiet would make it hard to sleep when you’re sharing a room with someone. Then he remembers that she’s not sharing a room with anyone. She’s been given her own room, and she’s likely not used to being by herself anymore. Of course. All of them, for one reason or another, had forgotten to consider what might happen when she would be sleeping on her own for these new night routines… 

That was their fault, his fault, more than her’s. 

“C’mere, ad’ika. I have an idea.” 

Pillow under one arm and Omega in the other, he carries her back to her bedroom, giving her a choice. “Until we can find a sound machine to help you sleep, I’ll stay with you to help you get used to your room. Now, where do you want me to sleep?” Unsurprisingly, Omega quickly makes space so he can share both her bed and new quilt.

As she pulled it over them, she noticed the backing wasn’t just any old material. Her brothers had taken portions of their old bodysuits, carefully washing the material before donating these pieces to the blanket. Designs dear to them had been stitched in contrasting thread so she would know who particular patches came from. 

In the dark, fingers traced out the words “We’ll always have your back” at the very top of the blanket. The artisan’s neat work made her brothers’ collective loyalty and a promise all the more tangible.

As Hunter lay next to her, it wasn’t long before she was able to settle down again. Holding her close, he listened as her breathing evened out, eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Omega would be asleep before long, but not before she had one last thing to say. 

“Thank you, Hunter…”

“You’re welcome, Omega. Sweet dreams.”

Once she had drifted off, tucking her head under her brother’s chin, Hunter would carefully lay a kiss in the crown of her hair, bidding her to sleep well for the rest of the night. He listened to her for a while longer, quietly grateful that this instance of being unable to sleep was so easy to remedy. Grateful too, in a sense, that that was now among their biggest battles. 

Until their roots were firmer, settling down on Pabu would have a few growing pains. Adapting to change could be hard. Adjusting to new routines could be hard, too. 

But they didn’t have to be, so long as the Batch had each other’s backs.

Thank you for making such a sweet request for this little event Carol. I tried to include most of your ideas without rambling too too much, haha. I hope you enjoyed it! 🩷 (And apologies if the pacing feels a bit "off" in places as things were cut for brevity!)

Fic taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: OPEN]

[forlorn-crows]

kinktober day (lucky) 13

not many ghouls can make a beast such as mountain feel small. omega's there for him when he needs a good dicking-down >:)

Mountain is not a small ghoul, in any sense of the word. Well, maybe he’s a little scrawny around the hips, but his stature surely compensates for it. He’s easily spotted from across the abbey, wide shoulders and broad chest standing tall above the rest, even when hunched over. He’s adorned with tall, pronged horns that scrape against the shortest ceilings in the cellars and a tail as long as some siblings are tall.

Not to mention that long, thick cock hanging between his legs, framed by equally big and fuzzy balls. Nudging against the seam of every pair of pants, and the envy and delight of many a ghoul whom the earth ghoul takes to bed.

Mountain always gets a twinge of pleasure watching them take it. Seeing holes stretched wide around him, feeling them clench around the shaft like they aren’t sure if they want him in or out. Makes it hard to not blow immediately every time. 

But big ghouls have desires to be small, too. To be overwhelmed, overpowered. Thrown around like they weigh less than the masks they’ve all worn. And Mountain? Well, Mountain likes being small just as much as he likes being big. 

There’s very few ghouls who know just how to do it, though. Sometimes, it takes someone very specific, someone well-versed in playing dominant—and similarly well-endowed. Someone refined yet elegantly filthy. A ghoul to take him with hands as ancient as the earth herself. 

That ghoul is Omega. 

Omega, who warmly welcomed the earth ghoul into his chambers this chilly autumn afternoon, stoked a modest fire in the hearth, and bent Mountain’s half-naked body over the back of his armchair until his toes barely brushed the hardwood. 

Mountain fruitlessly humps against the upholstery now, cock pulled down between his legs where he can barely get any friction. Omega’s fingers scissor him wide open, four thick digits pressed deep inside him. A bead of precum dribbles onto the floor, and he whimpers. 

“I know,” Omega coos. “You’re doing well for me, Mountain. Think you’re ready for me to take this pretty little ass?”

Mountain digs his fingers into the armrests. “Need it,” he groans. The quintessence ghoul pets against his prostate and he keens, knees twitching towards each other and tail kinking up at the end. “Satanas, ‘mega, please.”

“That’s it,” he says at length. Slowly pumping his fingers in and out until Mountain whines again, clenching around him. The earth ghoul cranes his head around to look up at him through lidded eyes. Omega grins at his pleasure-slackened face, the sheen of a fresh trail of drool at the corner of his mouth, the rosy blush staining his freckled olive skin. 

Mountain’s dick kicks under his gaze. His dark irises seem to swirl, little nebulas drawing him in and sparkling with fractals of ultraviolet—just his eyes send a spark of heat up his spine. He has to fight himself not to let them drag him under. 

Omega’s having none of it. “You can let go, little lamb,” he says, removing his fingers. “There’s no shame in that.”

Mountain makes a small noise in the back of his throat and drops his head back down. He looses a louder moan straight into the backrest, hips humping forward. And again. And again, needy little thrusts that make the head of his cock graze against the upholstery. 

“Restless now, are we?” Omega asks. He smoothes a thick palm up and down his spine, teasing at the base of his tail before coming to rest on his hip. “One more ‘please’ for me, lamb, and then I’ll give it to you.”

“Please,” the earth ghoul wimpers, face still pressed into the chair. 

Omega tuts. He reaches over and pulls Mountain’s head back by the horn, delighting in the yelp it earns him. “No mumbling. Again.”

“Ff—” Mountain’s eyes roll back, lids fluttering. “Please; please, fuck me,” he begs, a little slurred, mind sufficiently reduced to mush. 

“Very good, Mountain,” he praises. The earth ghoul can’t help the moan that falls past his lips, unbidden. Omega releases his horn, and by some unholy intervention he keeps it up, biting his lip as he watches the older ghoul slick up his cock. Root to tip, root to tip in a slow, torturous rhythm. But he doesn’t make him wait long, pressing the wide head to his rim after a few strokes and gripping Mountain’s hips with enough strength to bruise. 

He nods his head furiously, groaning as Omega pushes in deep. “Oh—oh oh oh,” he pants, unable to keep his head up any longer. 

“Shit,” Omega hisses through gritted teeth. “Always so perfectly tight for me.” He gives a sharp thrust that has them both gasping. “You love taking my big cock, don’t you, little lamb?”

“Uh huh,” he whines. The quintessence ghoul snaps his hips again, jolting him further over the back of the chair. It’s holding his weight now, feet fully dangling off the floor. Mountain groans when he realizes the only thing keeping him from teetering off is Omega’s grip on his hips. 

“There you go,” he lilts, folding over Mountain’s back and brushing his lips against the shell of his ear. “Take it all.” He starts up a bruising rhythm, each thrust purposeful and deep enough that Mountain swears he can feel it in his teeth. 

The friction of the fabric against his dick rides on the border of too rough, too scratchy, but it’s more than he’s gotten all night. So he takes it with a slack mouth, voice bouncing as Omega’s name spills off his tongue and his claws sink into the upholstery. 

[scribespirare]

Do you think you could write an a/b/o for omega Miles babysitting Mayday at HQ, and tsundere alpha Miguel doesn't know how to cope? The way you write these two is just *chef's kiss*

Nonnie i could kiss you for this request i love it so so much. i kinda...went a little nuts with it lmao. first its sappy then it gets sad and it ends very horny. its 2k long ajdfkdj;a. i think im gonna write the sex scene later and post it as a full fic.

There are very few things that can stop Miguel O'Hara in his tracks these days. He's been there, seen it all, got the goddamned spider suit to prove it. Surprising him is nigh impossible and he likes it that way.

For some reason, Miles Morales seems to be at the top of the list of things that can get to him though.

Miles, with his big dark eyes and his sneer and his inability to listen to common sense or reason. The Omega superhero who defies every stereotype about his gender. Who smells absolutely amazing and is stunning in action, lithe body built perfectly for his acrobatics.  

Miles, who is currently sitting in HQ's control room with Mayday in his lap, his face bright and smiling as she babbles at him. He's got her little hands in each of his own, lifting them one after the other as she stamps her feet.

"I know!" he says in response to her babbling, attention completely on the little girl. "It's crazy, right? Tell me more about it."

Mayday obliges, her babbling raising in both pitch and tempo like she really is going on a diatribe of some kind. She seems to be enjoying having a captive audience and isn't going to let it go to waste.

It's...well, Miguel really and truly has been stopped in his tracks. It's the first Omegean thing he's ever seen from Miles. Normally he's so contrarian and difficult, not to mention eager to jump into danger and equally as capable of actually handling it. You'd think he was an Alpha the way he behaves, small, lithe form be damned.

Seeing him like this, soft and sweet and smiling, his scent bright and nearly floral, is...doing things to Miguel. Bringing up feelings and urges that he's known were there, but which he'd been successfully keeping under lock and key.

Miles suddenly seems to become aware of Miguel's presence, and he looks up. His smile fades a little but it's a smile all the same, and Miguel's pretty sure Miles hasn't smiled at him since...well, everything. It looks good on him.

"Hey, wasn't sure when you were going to be back. Peter asked me to babysit for him though and I figured hanging out here would be better than taking her home with me. Not sure how I would explain that one to my folks."

The idea of someone mistakenly thinking Mayday is Miles’, that the Omega has a child, has been mated and more, makes Miguel’s nostrils flare. He clamps down ruthlessly on the reaction, knowing that if he doesn’t his interest will undoubtedly be noticeable in his scent.

“Just keep it down,” are the words that come off of Miguel’s tongue. They’re better than Do you want a child? or You’d make a good mother or, even worse, I could give you one of your own, if you want. 

Miles’ smile turns into a frown and then an unhappy twist. He clicks his tongue, says, “Whatever, man,” and goes back to Mayday. He’s speaking quietly to her now but Miguel can pick up his own name and big meany and assh- wait I can’t say that to you.

Miguel just heads for his central computers, waking them up and logging into the system to check on how everything is running today. But he can’t help the way he watches Miles’ and Mayday’s reflections on the screen. He can’t pick up many details like this but he can still smell them. Happy, pleased Omega, and the young, innocent scent of a child unpresented. Of babe and mother.

Christ, Miguel is going to hell for this.

It’s been about an hour of Miguel pretending to work but actually getting very little done, when Miles speaks up. “Hey, Miguel, you know stuff about kids, right?”

Miguel’s shoulders hunch and he breathes out slowly. Of course he does. He turns, glaring back at Miles. Mayday has been dragging him around the room with her crawling and right now they’re both hanging upside down from the ceiling, Miles sitting cross legged and her on his shoulders.

“Yes,” Miguel says sharply.

Miles’ mouth twists, but for once it doesn’t seem like it’s directed at Miguel. “Sorry, that was kinda insensitive, huh? I was just curious, ya know, about parenthood and all.”

Another bolt of longing shoots through Miguel. It’s part arousal, part wistfulness for his lost family.

You could start again, part of him says. Children. A mate. It’s not too late for you. He’s right there.

“What do you want to know about it?”

Miles shrugs, which causes Mayday to wobble dangerously and laugh delightedly about it. “Just, is it good? Like, hanging out with Mayday is great, but I can’t imagine having one of my own.”

You don’t have to imagine, Miguel thinks, but says, “It’s different, when they’re yours.”

“How so?”

Miguel sighs and holds out his arms to Mayday. Even though she’s halfway across the room she immediately lets out an excited shriek and climbs her way down a protesting Miles’ body. It takes only a minute before she’s dropping into Miguel’s arms and then crawling all over him.

“Kids are work and energy,” Miguel explains. “When they’re someone else’s, you’re happy to give them back after a certain point. When they’re yours, even when you’re annoyed or upset with them, you still know it’s all worth it. You can’t imagine a life without them.”

“Oh,” says Miles. He watches quietly for a moment as Mayday continues her excited quest to make Miguel look as ridiculous as possible, before he too crawls across the ceiling and drops down. Sadly it’s not into Miguel’s arms like Mayday had.

Gingerly, Miles’ takes the little girl back, and she goes willingly enough. “Sorry if that was like, rude or anything. And don’t kill me for saying this but you sound like you make a really good Alpha, mate wise.”

Miles is halfway across the room again before Miguel can reply, like he really is expecting retaliation. Miguel just shakes his head and pretends to go back to his work.

I am a good Alpha he thinks. I could show you. We could have a whole litter of kids. You’d love it. And then inevitably Miguel’s thoughts turn lascivious. He ends up losing himself to a daydream about exactly how he wants to breed Miles (facing each other, his fangs buried in Miles’ throat, Miles’ flexible, coltish legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging in to coax Miguel into fucking him harder) while watching the Omega’s reflection.

He doesn’t come up for air until Peter makes his appearance. The man gives Miguel a quizzical look but is distracted quickly enough by his daughter. He sticks around long enough that Miguel does actually get some work done, and when his voice finally fades away Miguel figures he’s alone.

That is, until Miles clears his throat directly behind him.

Miguel doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. He turns and looks down at the Omega in annoyance, raising one eyebrow in a silent question.

Miles looks shifty, transferring his weight from one foot to the other like he’s thinking about running, but he’s got that mulish jut to his chin and a hard glint in his eyes that Miguel recognizes at the stubborn streak that’s lead them into more fights than he’d like to admit.

Is regularly wanting to throttle a teenage Omega better or worse than wanting to fuck him?

“Spit it out, kid,” Miguel eventually snaps.

Miles juts his chin out even further. “I’m not stupid,” he says, which, well he’s just inviting a scathing retort with that. Miguel’s expression must convey this because Miles rallies and goes on quickly, not giving the Alpha a chance to cut in. “I’m not! I saw how you were looking at me today, with Mayday. And then your scent…you were looking at me through the reflection on the computer screen.”

Miguel stiffens all over because fuck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grinds out.

“The hell you don’t! Even Peter smelled it. You’re into me, you smell like you want to jump me.”

There’s one of two ways Miguel can play this; deny it till his dying breath, or agree and pretend it doesn’t matter. His panicked brain picks the latter, because Miles isn’t stupid, and he’s tenacious as hell. He’ll hound Miguel until Miguel gives him an answer the Omega is satisfied with.

“So?” Miguel says.

That makes Miles pause, his eyes flicking back and forth between Miguel’s. He clearly isn’t seeing what he wants to though, brow knitting in confusion. “What do you mean ‘so’? So, you’re horny as hell for me.”

“You’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha,” Miguel explains slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. “It’s biology.” Which of course just ruffles Miles’ feathers and makes him puff up even more.

“That’s bullshit. You’ve never smelled like that before around me,” Miles insists.

Miguel is butting up against almost the exact same decision from before. Does he own up, or does he keep denying it means anything?

With a faint snarl of annoyance at having been put in this situation to begin with, Miguel says, “Most Alphas seeing an unbonded Omega with a young child are going to be affected.” The word horny will absolutely not be crossing his lips. “It sparks an instinct in us.”

Miles narrows his eyes, a faint smirk curling at his mouth. He thinks he’s won. “A breeding instinct,” he accuses.

Miguel turns his gaze skyward, giving a quick prayer to whichever poor saint is watching over him today to give him patience. “Yes, Miles. A breeding instinct.”

“I knew it!”

“Congratulations,” Miguel says dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now will you go away so I can do some work in peace?”

And there’s the chin jut again. Stubborn ass Omega. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip twitches of up into an involuntarily snarl. “Well I’m done with you, malcriado. Vete.”

“No. I want to know if this was a one off,” Miles demands. “’Cause like, sure seeing an Omega with a kid might work for you, but my theory is that you’re already into me and it just pushed you over the edge. You’re too uptight to let your scent go wild like that unless you’re like, close to losing it.”

How the hell is this kid so damn perceptive? Clearly Miguel’s going to need to work on his defenses if Miles is reading him like a damn book. He sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying to figure out how to get out of this.

Well, he’s dug this fucking grave. Time to lie in it.

“Fine, Miles,” he says wearily, dropping his hand and making direct eye contact with the Omega. “Yes, I have more than a passing interest in you as a mate. Seeing you with Mayday made me think about having children with you myself. Are we done with this line of questioning now? Are you finally satisfied?”

Miles smiles slowly, then wrinkles his nose. “Having children with me, huh? That’s an incredibly boring way to talk about breeding. Why so family friendly? Just say you wanna fuck me. And no, by the way, I’m not satisfied yet. You gotta make good on all that before I let it drop.”

Silence reigns as Miguel’s brain just churns through the words, understanding them individually but failing to grasp the big picture.

“Not, like, immediately though!” Miles rushes to add, oblivious to Miguel’s plight. “I’m not ready for kids yet, not to mention my parents would kill me. But we could, you know, practice?” He looks stupidly hopeful, staring up at Miguel with that little smile on his lips, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.

“You…want me to breed you,” Miguel says slowly.

Miles snorts and rolls his eyes. “Well, practice breeding me. But yeah, that’s what I just said didn’t I? Get with it, old man, we’re wasting daylight here.”

Miguel’s never been one to follow orders. But how’s an Alpha supposed to resist?

[yuwuta]

Is megs an alpha or omgea to you? Son of toji and gojo would equal in an alpha kid but gojo also fits the omega vibe soo well. I also like the idea of megs having a nest and bringing you to it. Not letting you go <3 covering you in his scent, doesn't stop even after you're all doppy and completely out of it <33

Any hc on what this nest would look like?

Honestly, I can see him as either alpha, beta, or omega, he’s just a little bratty and reluctant to admit he likes attention no matter what lolll. As an alpha, he doesn’t really care for the status that comes with it, he doesn’t intend to lead a pack, or be dominant in any sense of the word. He just happens to be an alpha, and sometimes it comes in handy; warding off touchy strangers, intimidating. But, he can admit that he does like when you cuddle up to him, when you seek him out for comfort, when you hang off of his arm and don’t let go.

Omega also suits him because, again, he doesn’t really… care LOL. He’s pretty though, so the attention he gets pisses him off sometimes, he hates that other alphas assume he wants or needs them, but his prickly attitude comes in handy. He tries to be conscious to not publicly fall into any of the omega stereotypes, but at the end of the day, it’s part of who he is, even if he doesn’t want to admit it; and sure, he’s not the kinda person to throw himself into the nearest person for the sake of comfort, but there are always little signs. Wears hoodies that are a little too big for him so he can sink into the comfort of the extra fabric, lays his head on your lap, drapes his body over yours more often just to feel you against him and rest his chin on your shoulder, sprays your perfume on his shirts… he can be sooooo cute, but if you mention that he’s doing any of this, he denies it and pouts a little, but goes right back to it anyway.

He’s very deliberate and sort of sneaky about building his nest. He’ll buy Yuuji that new sweater he saw in a store and tell him he should try it out, wear it for a few days to make sure it fits. When Nobara is nagging him about how to accessorize her outfits, he feigns disinterest, nonchalantly telling her she needs more bracelets, or maybe a necklace. He’ll wrap you up in blankets, and even if you tell him you’re not cold, he’ll insist you use it. Remind you to wear an apron when you’re cooking, even though you’re only making a simple pasta dish. Give you his jacket even though it’s not that cold outside.

And then, when the time is just right, he collects all of the items, and makes his nest and it’s almost perfect, all he needs now is to put you in it and have the sheets smell like you, and the room smell like you, and make you smell like him <3 it does make you very loopy, it’s overwhelming; Megumi has planted everything perfectly, has made sure he has the perfect ratio of scents to keep him calm, and comforted, and collected, but it’s too much for you, but that’s okay, that’s why he’s there <3 to keep you under him and covered in him and keep his nose in your neck and keep you and nice and warm in bed until he heeds to let you go 

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair and Omega's dynamic

Spoilers for episode 4

Out of all of Omega's relationships with the Batch, I have to say my favorite is the one with Crosshair (and it's not because I'm biased towards him). Even though they only had like two full episodes to work off each other, they do it so well. It's peak sibling relationship. But why I think it works so well is because of how they work off each other. In my eyes, Omega and Cross see each other as equals or at least on similar levels. This is evident with how they guide each other when fleeing from the Empire. There's no clear leader between them, the pair listen to each other depending on the situation.

Crosshair's skills are basically fighting and playing lookout. Both are very handy to have. Whenever a fight breaks out, Omega lets Crosshair take the lead and he works to protect her and himself. That's not to say Omega can't hold her own, but when the going gets tough, the tough get going (credit Lion King 2 for that cheesy line). Cross also takes a natural protective stance around her. While she does the technical stuff, he keeps watch. He might say it isn't part of his skill set, but believe me, it is.

Then, we have Omega. She's much better at hustling and seeking alternative ways to get things done. It's true that blaster fire will draw more attention to one's self. Thus, Crosshair lets her guide him in situations where they need to be more low-profile. Omega is also better with social situations imo. She's a smart kid who learned a lot from her other brothers and Cid. I love that the show gives both characters to exercise their unique skill set while not undermining the other.

The other reason why I love their relationship so much is because of how it's changed Crosshair. In the months that he and Omega have been imprisoned, he's truly grown to care for and respect her. First off, he uses her name. The only other people he does that with is Hunter and Wrecker. Secondly, he follows her lead with almost no question. He does complain and make comments. BUT, he still follows her. Crosshair in season 1 mocked Hunter for listening to Omega. Little did he know that he would follow her over 6 months later (yes, I did the math).

And then there's the emotional piece of it. Crosshair is so open with Omega in his body language, facial expressions, and words. She brings out the best side of him and I am here for it. Compare that to when we first meet him in Clone Wars. He's quiet, hangs back, and usually wears a stern look on his face. Now look at him with Omega. He's much more talkative. His face emits so much emotion from being fed up to genuine concern. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves Omega. He encourages her and openly voices his concerns. I myself struggle with opening up to others about certain except for a few people. Seeing Crosshair opening to someone who he feels comfortable with is truly beautiful and heartwarming. Between Mayday and Omega, you can see just how much Crosshair has changed.

Finally, the imperial officer casually calling Crosshair Omega's dad and her not saying anything proves that Crossdad is real. It's so on the nose, but it's so obvious that Crosshair cares for her and is good at keeping her safe.

[hamcatspamacc]

Not putting this on main but have some Dndads S1 actor au ideas/headcannons in these trying times! They all just headcannons so I would love to hear other interpretations or ideas that you might have!

Might draw some of these later if i feel like it

lark and sparrow irl are the same menaces as they are like they constantly confuse the cast by swappin places and pulling pranks

Willy is actually a super nice guy out of acting, and has to constntly check on cast members if theyre feeling alrght. Keeps buying food and feeding the cast memebers and the stagehands. Very good at acting scary that sometimes they cant tell if its real or not.

Daryl is not beating the bisexual allegations after the oakson kiss scene or the glenn daryl car argument. I need to animate that so badly actually.

Cern cgi shenanigans

They keep running out of fake blood

Ron is as equally weird as he is both irl and in acting. Just a weird little guy. Love him. He's literally just ron reincarnated holy shit. Like he keeps saying stuff that people think is supposed to be in relatance to the script but its actually just him being him.

Glenn has a huge fanclub and he can actually play the guitar. He puts on impromptu shows for fans during meet and greets. Bud loves the attention. Attention wjore

The kidadas are all good friends. They have lots of sleepovers and play games and stuff. Grant is actually really good at gaming in real life as well, which added to his resume. Goth terry. Goth terry. Socially awkward kid but talented actor. Nick can skateboard because I say so and teaches the others some cool tricks, which lark and sparrow instantly take to it.

"Yeah, you should just die or something."

"Sniffle (goes compeltely off script i dont remember what was supposed to be said)"

"Cut- Wait ron i didnt actually mean that-"

Some cool ass fight scenes like the barry oak confrontation behind the scenes with the props and rpatical effects. The twins have a field day with the blood effects.

The omega daddies are actually good friends outside of acting and they are gossipy old men. Cunty ahh. They like to hang out at cafes and gossip about people. They have quite the fashion sense lmao.

The tower of terry scene actually went through in one take, surprisingly. Ron kept going off script on accident and total awkwardness but it actually made the whole scene more complete.

Red carpet moment with the dads in cool looking suits and ron looking like well, ron. Im sorry ron is my favourite dad.

Henry is actually a vegan in real life, barry oak is not. Man just chomps on chicken wings in front of henry for fun. I hc that barry oak looks like belos toh dont at me.

The deez nuts joke went over so well that everyone constantly tries to deez nuts willy afterwards and he gets insanely paranoid about responding to people. When Willy hit Glenn back with the dragon deez nuts across the floor joke no one was as impressed like "its not the same"

Jodie and glenn arent siblings irl but they get on so well like one even out of acting due to their vastly different methodologies. Lots of fun sibling banter. I hc that jodie just looks like jimmy irl but more cop and buff looking.

The deck of many things episode with the reaper was probably really fun to film with all the effects and stuff.

The FREAKING PYRAMID. Of course they had to film that within the studio but they built a couple of steps for them to stand on. They actually got a water jet of apple juice in the studio. 2/4 of the dads got sick after filming that day.

Scam likely irl is a funny cool uncle archetype. His other roles involve wizardry and funkiness so this one was right up his alley.

I want a couple of shots of just the cast members breaking out in laughter after a particularly insane set of lines. they take SO many shots just to finish filming that scene. Bloopers my beloved you will always be famous.

Paeden bennets and Walter aren't acually related in real life but i hc that the kid playing Paeden is also an orphan and Walter irl adopts him in after filming and developing a bond with each other. Paeden being a giant zombie was probably fun to film like he would make jokes about how small everyone is even though its just cgi and dude is still tiny af irl.

I would like to think that the game at balls deep stadium was filmed at an actual nearby stadium that they rented out and they got to play an actual game of football after all of the shenanigans of filming.

Yeet bigly is actually disabled in real life, both of his lower legs are prostethics and made the attachment to skateboard pretty cool even though it took many, many tried and attempts to not fall flat on his face with some lessons from Nick on how to skateboard.

Glenn's trial arc of course took place in a real courthouse and they made a lot of ace attorney memes and bloopers but also ouch emotional damage. When Glenn read the script about the meth bay prison arc he was woah kinky

Erin o niel is a pretty cool and chill lady who does in fact love nature and would take walks to feel her role out. I hc that she was supposed to die at first during that library fight but she was so popular they overturned the script and look how that worked out for the better.

[gemini-sensei]

Just a random thought, but imagine they had a service for unmatted people or alpha couples with no pack omega where when their ruts or heats started they could hire someone to match them with someone?

Can't stop thinking of someone, probably Miguel or Tory, deciding to make a “joke” out of it and sign Poly! Hawk & Demetri up for it. They're super pissed about it at first and think it's a stupid and horrible joke. Their both start their ruts and are just ticked off about the whole thing but still go through with it because the match-making service has already been paid for and it would kinda be a waste.

Insert them in full-blow ruts being thrust into a room with an equally as heat-riddled Chubby!Reader. Her friends also set her up with the match service because she's a single omega who had never gone through a heat with anyone. She's super shy but as soon as the alphas start spreading their scent she opens up to them. She's whimpering and chipping at them.

The next week is hazy as the two alphas take turns stuffing her full with their knots. Creaming her fat cunt until is bubbling out of her used hole.

And by the end if the week they end up wanting to court her, even after their rut is over.

This is so perfect. I can't get over it.

The way Demetri and Hawk were mad about it at first but it ended up working out a favorite trope of mine. By the time they get to the place and are in the full swing of their ruts, and they smell the shy omega's heat, they're ill concerned with how the whole thing came to be. Someone else paid for it, they might as well go, and there's an eager and heat riddled omega waiting. Surely they couldn't leave her hanging.

Hours of just going at it with the omega broken up by big cuddle piles with her in between the two big alphas. She's drowned in the scent of their ruts and musk and they are practically soaked in the smell of her heat and slick. Her heat makes her clingy, so she's hugging on them all week long and seeking out their attention a lot more than she usually would on a normal day.

By the end, they want to walk out with her and just take her home. They're so smitten with each other, they might as well claim her now and she'd happily mark them as her mates. But they're a little more sensible out of their ruts and heat, so the guys start courting her almost immediately.

Ugh this gives me so many ideas 😩

[the-genius-az]

Just saw your Omega Azula post and that spurned up some ideas/promps. I hope you find the ideas interesting!

In a Yue lives, Tyzula/Yutara A/B/O Au.

Ty Lee and Yue are hanging out with Suki on ember island during their vacation. The three were talking about the recent happenings at Ty Lee’s circus when the sounds of shouting and fighting interrupted their conversation.

Rushing out, they found Azula and Katara in the middle of a brawl. Fighting first to fist, and with their powerful but equal bending attacking the other Omega erratically. The two master benders were both heavily brusised and had to held baxk by their alphas from trying to attack each tooth again. Azula and Katara were the bonded Omega’s of Ty Lee and Yue respectively.

Ty Lee and Yue try to get to the bottom of just why their omega’s started fighting. Maybe it was simple dislike spurned into fighting, maybe it was pregnancy haromones for both Azula and Katara. Maybe it was just one teasing the other till they snapped.

After that they (Ty Lee and Yue) try to force their Omega’s to “get along” with one another. They are the two most powerful Alpha/Omega couples after all…

How do you think that goes…? And what exactly would Ty Lee and Yue do, to get Azula and Katara (their Omegas) to make nice.

&&&&&

Another A/B/O idea is an Azutara one. Where both Azula and Katara are Alpha’s and defying nature or logic they are a bonded pair.

During the chase, the two get up close and personal to fight and accidentally mark each other has mates.

What do you think happens from there?

Thanks for the ideas/proposals, Amor!

I LOVE IT WHEN YOU SEND ME IDEAS, KEEP IT UP.

Obviously Ty Lee and Yue "threaten" them to no longer give them pampering and affection so that they get along, both Omegas did not worry about it until their Alphas declared that they were no longer going to fuck for a long time until both Omegas get along , that immediately caused Azula and Katara to get along in "wonder".

And I bet Suki was laughing her ass off at the whole situation.

(By the way, maybe they both will finally get along when some guys threaten their Alphas and they both team up to burn/drown the world for their beloved Alphas)

[...]

When both Alphas mark each other, they are surprised to do so, they never knew Alphas could mark each other.

Maybe after that Azula completely avoids Katara completely, always running away and running away from her Alpha, until they both meet and fight again until they realize that their routine begins, and they both fall into temptation and do it, and I don't know, maybe over time Azula accepts her Alpha and Katara accepts that her destined one is Azula.

(I especially liked this idea, I would like to talk about it a little more. Personally, I have always liked Alpha/Alpha and Omega/Omega couples more than Alpha/Omega).

[losersroom]

state fair posting over. unhinged omegaverse posting time.

thinking about, like. alpha jonas trying to court omega brock and running up against weird cultural differences in how the a/o stuff is approached. in sweden everything is very modern and casual and egalitarian; they have a solid omega rights movement and a long history of equality, and no real fundamentalist contingent to speak of.

so it throws him for a loop when he casually asks if brock wants to get coffee after practice one day and brock seems excited but then says, "hang on, i have to call my dad first."

because he has to get permission to be alone with an alpha. even though they're not really going to be alone, they're going to be at starbucks. and even though jonas is his teammate. brock's dad wants to talk to jonas and be assured that they're really just going for a good christian cappuccino, which jonas thinks is sort of insane, but he likes brock, a lot, so he's willing to go along with this stuff. brock is pretty traditional, from an american defintion of "traditional", which means getting his dad's approval to court him. there are purity rings involved. it's made very clear that there's to be no casual sex before mateship, which, fine, jonas can sort of deal with that, the fact that he's going after an omega for the first time ever means he's pretty serious about it. ...but no kisses goodnight? no premarital hand holding?

brock tries to explain to him how important it is to stay chaste for your alpha but the more he says it out loud the sillier it seems, especially since. well, he loves jonas. he always thought he was meant for jonas. so would it really be so wrong to just... let jonas have all of him, right away?

anyway like omegaverse is about raw, overwhelming desire overcoming social boundaries for me and this is just an excuse to crank it up to eleven. jonas is going to deflower that boy in a sicknasty way and ruin him for any other alpha. and they both want it like that.

[warblingandwriting]

I can't listen to these star trek podcasts anymore, these people whose ostensible job is media analysis apparently have absolutely no reading comprehension.

I was listening to this one podcast-made by people who are actually employed by a magazine/podcast network and not just some friends hanging out (in which case I'd be more lenient) and they just seemed to not understand certain episodes at all?

The two in particular were The Omega Glory and Let That be Your Last Battlefield, neither of which are particularly good, to be fair. BUT! A part of the reason they aren't great is because their messaging is so on the nose! Like It should be impossible to miss the messages these episodes are sending but somehow these folks do, in what I feel like is a truly idiotic way.

This podcast, in discussing these episodes, was assuming that the humans on the enterprise are the representation of contemporaneous (ie-60s) society, while the aliens are supposed to represent... other cultures I guess? Like on of them literally said that the point of Let That be Your Last Battlefield was that humans had reached equality (in the 60s, to be clear) and were now teaching aliens the same thing. Like what???

In that episode the Cheron are very obviously supposed to represent present day humanity and the inequalities and hatreds that tear us apart, and the fate of their planet is what, star trek says, will happen to use if we can't get over our prejudices to reach the idealistic future TOS provides. It's not saying we're already there! It's saying we have to work to get rid of the same prejudices the Charon have to reach that.

Now it doesn't do this very well I'll admit, it's too heavy handed, and the reactions to the Charon are far too 'both sides'-y for my liking, but to claim the episode is trying to say that humanity has already achieved balance indicates a lack of ability to analyze that is is frankly baffling to me.

And the same with the Omega Glory! Yes, Kirk reading out the constitution at the end is stupid, but again this Podcaster seemed to think he was saying that the United States as it was in the 60s was perfect when that is so clearly not the case! The episode is saying that, once again, we, as in present day humans, are not living by the values we set out for ourselves, and we'd do well to remember things like freedom for all.

Again, the episode is far too heavy handed, and weirdly America centric, but to claim its intention is to show off how good present day America is compared to a theoretical alien species is just ridiculous to me. THE ALIENS ARENT REAL they are us, the federation is what we could be if we choose to let go of prejudices and war, and the aliens in these episodes are what we become if we don't, other episodes of course handle this a lot better, but these two are still saying the thing.

They are demanding change, not claiming the status quo is right. And I don't know how anyone with a lick of actual analytical skill could see it otherwise.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Alright so a lot of people wanted to see more ‘hey Imma be an equal opportunity asshole’ from me. So here: Kirishima Eijiro.

Now, I half discussed this with @anastasian-dreamer because I have a half fic idea. But anyways:

Kirishima being the kind of Quirkist who is shocked but so happy when people he judges as having worthless, weak or whatever Quirks win things. They're not as good as people like Bakugou or Todoroki oh no but hey they tried their best. (His confusion when Hagakure beats him, his bafflement when Bakugou is put on the ground by Kouda. Oh well, Bakuhou had to be going easy. He says that and the class kind of frowns at him. He doesn't notice.)

Kirishima with a slight hint of toxic masculinity you Dont notice until you talk to him. In the idea I had its A/B/I and he's an alpha who makes comments about crazy Omegas because wow they take things so seriously and are like so sensitive, should Midoriya be a hero like that? (Izuku glaring and making sure to beat him harder. Classmates drawing away. He doesn't see, he's just worried for their Omega classmate right?)

Then there's the willing blindness to Bakugou. Because Kirishima can't be wrong right? He has to be right cause he would never be friends with a bully. So everyone has gotta be like taking things to seriously with Bakugou. He's just joking around, just playing. Kirishima isn't in the wrong for being the guy’s friend. (Kaminari stops hanging around first because he's tired of being the stupid one, the person always getting insulted. He’s just done with it all. The others follow.)

Basically: I want to take Kirishima and emphasis parts of him I noticed. Him calling his own Quirk weak and not flashy- minor Quirkism. The manly talk? Hints of toxicity. Refusing to see how Bakugou is a bully? Willingly blind because he can't be wrong.

The story would have all of these things building up until Kirishima is alone in the class. He's confused and asks, only to get these facts presented to him. Maybe he shapes up and realizes what he did. Maybe he doesn't. All I know is it would be interesting to explore Kirishima as someone like this. He's the dumb Himbo we love. But exploring him as being someone who is like this is fun to.

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Happy 28th everyone!! Here's my list of fics that I've enjoyed over the past month!

in this world, it's just us by larryftnoctrl / @the-larry-way

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Teen and Up Audiences | 2.8k | Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Harry returns home from the Brits with his 4 awards happy and very drunk. Louis is super proud and extremely in love with his boy and more than happy to show it in any way he can.

Just a little taste by lunarheslwt / @lunarheslwt

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | General Audiences | 3.6k | Human/Vampire Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"Little dove," Louis crooned, making Harry shiver a little, affected, "you're shaking. Do you want to bite?" Harry stilled. He knew what Louis was asking. He knew Louis probably could sense how in dire need of comfort he was. He knew Louis was offering. And yet- "No," he whispered, even as he felt the strong urge to let his lips trace the well-known path to the spot he usually bit into, "I could hurt you." "Harry, my darling, you haven't hurt me once in the numerous times you've needed to bite. Today will be no different. You know it'll do you good." Harry sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, torn. In the end, it was an offer he was too weak to resist. "So...do you want to? Little taste?" "Yeah," Harry rasped out, "please." Or, Harry is a vampire that comes home one night, grappling with the darkness that comes with being one. Louis offers him unwavering love, acceptance and the one thing he needs but is reluctant to ask for; permission to bite for the sake of comfort and safety seeking.

Can't keep my hands to myself by DaddyAlphaLouisBabyOmegaHarry @bottomhaztoplou

Explicit | 2.5k | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry and Louis try something new in bed

ti dedico le autostrade che portano al mare (i dedicate to you the highways that bring you to the sea) by me_her_themoon / @greeneyesfriedrice

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Explicit | 87k+ | Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, OT5 Friendship (One Direction)

"Simon, please. I need a break." Louis speaks softly into the phone. "I've been working constantly for the past 4 years," His voice strains. "I suppose you've earned it." Simon reluctantly sighs. (Louis goes on hiatus for six months to a small coastal town in Italy where he doesn't expect to fall in love with the charming baker.

Quiet People Have The Loudest Minds by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Mature | 38k | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mute Louis, Alpha Harry, Omega Louis

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight. The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying. Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

it's a long shot just to beat these odds by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

Zayn Malik/Liam Payne | Teen and Up Audiences | 14k | Famous Liam Payne, Non-Famous Zayn Malik, Awkward Dates, Strangers to Lovers

Zayn: how many years in prison would I get for murdering a popstar??? He scrapes the plates clean, resists the urge to kick the trash can, his breathing still feeling shallow and high in his chest. He wants a cigarette. And a cuddle from Louis. But a text is the most he can realistically ask for now, and luckily Louis doesn’t leave him hanging. Louis: ????? Okay, so it isn’t that helpful, but Zayn knows his anxiety well enough that just distracting his mind is usually enough to keep from having an actual attack. It doesn’t matter that the subject he’s discussing is the one thing his brain is actually panicking about, just trying to formulate words into a text is helping. Zayn: I served him raw chicken. RAW. And he was kind enough to want to try and eat it too. I could have killed him!!! That would’ve made headlines for sure. FORMER BOYBANDER GETS POISONED ON FIRST DATE, more on the ten p.m. news. Louis: well that’s one way of making sure he’s not going to go on any of the other dates. Bit drastic though mate.

Coffee, Kisses, and I Love You's by wemadethishome / @wemadethishome

Zayn Malik/Liam Payne | General Audiences | 429 | Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship

Liam's always loved the mornings. And they get even sweeter with Zayn by his side.