#non traditional reader

[tojisun]

price catches it first — that whiff spreading in the den, clogging up his throat like ratafia. it makes him pause, words failing him now, and he snaps his jaw shut at the start of a rumble pulsing from his chest.

he turns just as the others do, watching as you rub on your throat and grumble to yourself. it is bare, the first it’s ever been since you’ve arrived at the base, and his eyes drop to your collar in wonder.

he’s heard of those before — collars that conceal scents. they’ve become a privilege, not quite a necessity, so only a few are found with them. still, rarer are those who would wear them for hours on end, and in the base, you happened to be the only one to do so.

intriguing, if not at least worrying, because price had seen your file. you’re an alpha. an alpha prime, it seemed, based on your presentation records, and yet you came to him with a collar on your throat and your scent heavily suppressed. he didn’t ask, this is not the line of work where one can, and just demanded for your loyalty and skill.

so this is the first that they’re smelling of you. it is overwhelming, like all other alpha scents usually are, but it curls at the end. sweet but burnt. crackling firewood and smoke. it is pleasant but not just; like at every turn, there has to be something that gives. something unexpected; something unusual.

john breathes in sharply, his muscles going taut underneath the fatigues when he realizes what it is. the rest of the squad follow — they sit up straighter, their shoulders drawn higher, and their scents rap against each other, mixing in dizzying blends. the den becomes packed with worry, apprehension, horror, anger, protectiveness, protectiveness, protectiveness.

still, you only look at them with a cocked brow, daring them to go. to speak of what it is weighing down on their tongues.

it is kyle to do so. kyle who you trust more than anyone else.

“you’ve been bitched.”

he says it with no malice, but just as a fact rolling off his tongue, one that makes your fingers twitch while your face stays frozen, still a mask of normalcy. of measured strength and quiet fortitude.

“i have,” you reply, also void of emotion. any other day he would commend the control you have of your emotions to not even let it slip into your scent, especially after having relied on your collar so much, but tonight isn’t the right time. tonight, john’s mind swirls, his tongue heavy with the things he wants to say.

so he tries.

“was it—”

you blink at him. then, you laugh. “oh! yes, of course. i wanted it.”

your reply fills him up, stuffing him with cotton. he realizes that your tension was of worry; you were afraid that they would judge you. and john feels lighter, elated and calm now, but also he feels disjointed, like he is floating, and john, he–

he tries.

he tries not to imagine the weight of your words. he tries not to give them shape. but his mind is faster than his conscience, and john now thinks of you, alpha prime, begging for another alpha to turn you. to fill you up and drown your scent glands with their own before gnawing on your skin. biting. biting. biting. until it takes root, upending every fibre within you to make room for the submission. for the delicateness. for the heat.

john’s thoughts only grind to a halt when the new scent is snuffed out from the room, extinguished in its entirety, leaving no trail. his eyes find you fastening the collar on your neck again, your roughened fingers unlatching the buckle to loop the leather.

he swallows like he is a man parched, but his throat only grows dryer. there is nothing for him to feast on.

it goes by so slowly; your familiarity with the collar does not aid you in fastening its loose end, and john wonders if you might need help, after all. only, just as the question is building on the tip of his tongue, he realizes what you’re doing.

what teases you are leaving.

“so,” you say like you have not just presented an opportunity for them to latch onto. “can i be dismissed?”

john hums his ascent, and ends the meeting for tonight. they watch as you gather your files before waltzing away with only the sound of your boots following you. the rest of the squad stays, awashed by the… offering.

because it was everything and that.

it was a proof of your trust, and a question of their own, one that john knows that they will eagerly prove to you. but it was also an invitation; a revelation and now a question.

john watches the way simon’s knuckles turn white as he balls his hands into fists and wonders if his boys would allow him to be the first to you.

——

this is nothing and everything alike; experimenting on omegaverse in hopes that i’ll get out of my slump </3

[doctorho]

this one is for eveyone who needs some extra love around these times.

Viktor knows better than he'd like that life isn't always...pretty. Or simple, or easy, or fair. No matter how hard most of Piltover seemed to pretend that there was something magical in the midwinter turnpoint that made everyone suddenly forget the suffering and misery and the complexities of real-life situations, he knows that's not the case.

Which is why he doesn't ask stupid questions when you stay at the Academy over winter break. He doesn’t pry; he doesn’t need to. It's evident enough in the way you preoccupy yourself with work that it's something you'd rather not discuss. You're focusing harder than usual, and he's familiar enough with what that precarious, tight-knuckle grip on being okay.

And Viktor?

Well. Viktor's more than happy to be a distraction.

When he gets to the lab, mid-morning, you're already there. He's not exactly surprised; he'd anticipated this. Maybe even hoped for it. He'd worked with you for a while now and grown exponentially more attached to your company - not that he'd told you the extent of his affections. But he'd get to that. Hopefully.

He came prepared with two warm drinks and still-steaming pastries, and he silently starts unloading those to the common desk that had been designated as the makeshift kitchen of the room.

"Good morning," he says casually, "I brought breakfast." He thinks of adding if you want some, but upon reflection, doesn't. There's a fine line between respecting someone's free will and pushing them to make good choices, and he's currently erring hard to the side of I don't know if you've eaten anything yet today but you definitely should.

You only hum in response, not lifting your eyes off your current project.

In response to this, he hums back and tilts his head, studies the organized mess on your desk; circuit boards, either half-assembled or half-taken apart, he's not sure, stripped wires, a steaming soldering iron. Your hands, shaking a little.

He places the drink intended for you on your desk, just annoyingly out-of-reach, and waits for you to look up.

"When was the last time you ate something?" he asks, holding up the pastry now that he has your attention.

"Why does that matter?" you ask, reaching for the takeaway cup on the edge of your desk. Viktor leans the handle of his cane to block your reach, which makes you look up at him. Properly.

"Just trying to determine if I should make you take a lunch break while I'm bothering you, or if the pastry will suffice."

He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

You shift in your seat. He can hear your back crack in several places, and not in the pleasant type of way.

"Last night," you answer, leaning back with a sigh, then quietly add, "I think."

Viktor reaches over to turn off your soldering iron. "Lunchbreak it is, then. These can be dessert."

"I'm fine-" you start, and he lifts an eyebrow.

"I don't believe you," he says, completely casually, "I think you're pushing through low blood sugar to get this-" he gestures towards the desk, "finished, and I can tell you it's much easier to make mistakes when you aren't thinking clearly."

When you're quiet, he continues, picking up your coat and offering it to you. "You can trust me on this," he says, "I have more than enough experience."

You take a deep breath and sigh it out, feeling somewhat like a toddler.

"I promise you can go right back to poking at this later." He adds, and you slowly take the jacket from him.

"Good," he says, "I know a place."

It's a careful dance, and he knows this; he doesn’t want to push you. But he's been there, and he doesn’t want you to suffer more than absolutely necessary. And he really does know a place.

He re-packs the drinks and the pastries, and you follow him to a nearby cafe-and-drink-cart that's serving small steaming dishes outside. They're serving small steaming cups of - stew? Soup? And warm bread filled with different things, and you hadn't really noticed it before, but now that you were looking at - and smelling - the food, you were starving.

By the time you've registered the selection, he's already ordered for the both of you, and then the guy at the cart is offering you a brown paper bag and Viktor is moving again, and you take a few hurried steps to catch up with him.

"Where are we going?"

You can see him smile before he answers.

"Well," he says, "I was thinking we could take advantage of the great hall being empty, and eat there." He turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised, "I can only imagine how displeased the Academy Staff would be if we risked dirtying their marble floors with common food."

"Oh, really, you can only imagine?"

He shrugs, grinning. "Are you insinuating I have experience with matters such as these?"

"Yes," you answer, opening the paper bag to study its contents while you walked.

He hums in answer. "I am shocked by your accusations." He says, then, clearly fighting a smile, "I would never get caught breaking such a boring rule."

You smile now, too. "Right," you answer, "only the interesting ones."

The way he glances at you and smiles is more than enough of a response.

He stops at one of the long tables at the grand hall, and as he shrugs off his jacket and sits down, you place down the paper bag and do the same. He starts unpacking the contents of the bag, focused, placing down steaming bowls with a spicy scent to them, paper-covered wraps of something, utensils, and smaller bowls of... something colorful. Spices? Toppings?

Viktor opens the containers one by one, making the contents of the single takeaway bag look like a pretty impressive feast.

And you study him as he moves. Careful, confident in his movements, calm. While your insides felt like they were trying to hide, and had felt like that for... a good while now, he was calm like any other day. A rock-solid presence in the otherwise empty room.

"Are you not going to ask me?" you ask, "why I'm working through the winter break."

Viktor's only imminent reaction is the gentle lift of a single eyebrow.

"No," he answers, casually, and it sounds simple when he says it like that.

He meets your eyes, and that feels simple, too; because he is here, too.

It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that. He unwraps a folded paper napkin with careful fingers, and then places a steaming-soft bread in front of you.

You look at him for a moment, and then take a bite of the bread. It is soft and warm and heavenly, and when you taste the stew-soup-something, it's like it warms you down to your soul. You eat in silence; but it feels like there's a gentle bubble of understanding surrounding you.

You hold the warm bowl, and slowly, your hands shake less and less. The tension around your head gives away a little, too.

"Do you like the snow?" Viktor asks, and you follow his gaze out the window.

"I probably shouldn't," he continues, "the cold isn't exactly gentle on me. But it is pretty, I can't deny that."

You hum in answer. "Yeah," you agree with a small sigh, "it is beautiful."

His eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head.

"Do you want to break another rule?" he asks, something michievous curling at the end of his words.

You tilt your head in response. "A more interesting one?"

"Infinitely," he responds with a smile, and you're already on your feet.

And that's how you end up breaking into the roof of the Academy with him. Or, it's probably not technically breaking, since he has the keys, but you definitely aren't supposed to be in there, so that's what it feels like.

It also feels... breathless. And not just because it feels illegal, but it's... it's beautiful, and he holds your hand in the dark stairway and doesn't let go when he guides you to the expanse of the roof, and there's snow floating down all around you-

and for a moment, it feels like you're the only two people in the world, surrounded by a gentle blanket of snow and silence.

Or... not-silence. There is a song softly floating through the air, like it's being reflected in the snowflakes all around you.

And Viktor is offering you a hand.

You furrow your brows as your head catches up with your heart. "Are you asking me to dance?"

"Would you say yes if I was?"

And that was the question, wasn't it;

would you?

Your head tries to butt in with should you, but... something still-soft and light in your heart comes in way too solid with a yes.

Yes, you would.

So you take his hand, and meet him halfway to an embrace. He pulls you close to his chest, and the dance is as gentle as the snowfall around you; just a soft sway from side to side, breathing in sync with the music.

And Viktor isn't sure if this is a good idea, but... you look like you're further away from that edge now, no-longer shaking, and... he hated seeing you in your head that deep, and if he could do anything to help you find your way back to yourself, he'd do that.

It feels a little selfish, this dance, but... it was difficult to justify that when you were in his arms, breathing calm and even.

"I really am fine," you tell him quietly, and he runs a hand up your back slowly. You swallow. "Or I will be, at least."

"I know," he breathes out, and he means it.

You close your eyes, and believe it.

[stcrmade-illusions]

been going feral over pathetic and needy omega!sylus…

I’m hoping to post this by end of the week, I keep tweaking it but also adding to it.

[nasty-quillz]

Pounce On That Shit

AO3 Mirror

Summary: What if Alpha's were the submissive sex

tags: non traditional omegaverse dynamics, breeding, dirty talk, knotting

John woke up with a soft moan. Soft wet insistent heat wrapped around his dick, pulling the Alpha further from his. He looked down to see you ravenously swallowing his dick and massaging full balls, trying to coax the man to orgasm quickly.

“Y/n—Sweetheart—” John choked out as you swallowed him down to the root, throat working around him. He curled deadly fingers into the silken material of your dark red bonnet making sure to   not disturb it as he tried to pull you off.

“Baby c’mon. You’re i n heat, let me—,” 

You growled deep in your throat, making him shudder and whine. He felt your tongue run along the underside of his shaft, before running it over his balls.

“Shit! Omega—!”

John thrust into your throat, eyes never leaving you as he came deep down your throat.

You growled, pleased  that your Alpha gave you  what  you wanted, before pulling away.

His dick is \was still twitching, spurting thick rope rope of pre cum as his knot forms painfully at the base of his dick. You let it cover your face, needing the primal  sign of ownership over the older man. He always whimpered and moaned needily when you fucked him, face covered in his nut.

You wrapped a hand around his knot as you sank tiny fangs into the meat of his muscled thigh. Sweet blood filled your mouth and you moaned at the taste. You unlatched from his thigh, blood smearing down your chin, as you stared into his eyes and began stroking him from knot to tip.

“Gimme Alpha,” your left hand joined the fray and your right focused on rhythmically squeezing and stroking his knot. “Want your cum on my tongue again, before I use this big pretty dick.”

John whimpered, mesmerized as pleasure radiated from where you toyed with his knot. He’d cum but it seemed his dick didn’t get the memo with your heat pheromones filling his nose. He leaked as stroked him, precum running down his shaft in thick rivulets, slicking the way for your filthy torturous knot job.

You looked so pretty between his legs, face glistening with his cum and  blood, controlling Omegan instincts on full display. John couldn’t tell you no.

“Yes Omega,” he breathed out breathily as he bared his neck submissively.

Apleased rumble left your throat, before kissing his leaking tip. A thick white glob coated plumps brown lips and connected you as you pulled away.

You massaged his knot as you stroked him and watched John writhe on the bed. Watch him beg and plead for more as you worked him over with your mouth and hands. Kissing and licking up his pre on each down  stroke. It made the Alpha wild.

“God Baby—Sweetheart I—Need it! Need to give it to you. Let me give it to you. It’s yours. All of my cum is meant for you. To taste. To bathe in. To take.”

Utterly enchanted by his horny Alphan frenzy, slide down the bed and take his heavy sac into your mouth. His scent was thick here. Dark and heady. Alphan pheromones made you press your nose to the crease of his pelvis. You lay there face buried in hit crotch, sac weighing on your tongue, hand working his knot furiously.

“Want your scent all over me, Jardani. Gunna make you nut over and over until you start cumming dry. Then I’ll drag my pussy from your knot to your face and ride it ‘til I cream.”

The hand working his knot squeezed as you said this and John keened as hit dick erupted in heavy torrent after torrent of cum.

Levering yourself up you notched the turgid flesh between the soft pillow of round brown breasts, You worked them around him relishing each powerful spurt of cum that splashed over your face and chin.

“God, that’s my good Alpha, Jardani. My good perfect Alpha. Know just how I like it.”

John nodded, fucking  up into the softness of your tits and replaced your hands with his own. His pace only faltered when you formed a loose fist around him to fuck into. He moaned as you milked his knot kissed at the spurting tip each time it crested the apex of your titties.

“It’s mine, isn’t it Alpha? This big pretty uncut dick. This fat fucking knot? It’s all mine.”

John nodded, delirious and wanting nothing more than to belong to you. To please you. For you to milk him of all his thick potent cum, covering yourself in his scent. Letting anyone who got too close that you claim him. Wanted nothing more than for you to use his big useless cock to breed on.

Tears formed in his eyes as his orgasm finally came to an end with a final spurt to your luscious waiting mouth. He watched you move up the trembling line of his body. Admired the way sweat and cum made your darker skin glisten under moonlight filtering through the curtains.. You straddled his waist letting the length of his dick press between your pussy lips and leaned over him.

Hre stared up into your cum covered face in awe.

You looked at John’s flushed face and caressed his lips. He opened without a second thought and you opened yours to feed the hitman his own cum. You watched his eyes dilate and his scent fill the bedroom.

“My perfect Alpha,” you said as you began to drag your sloppy pussy up and down his shaft, teasing when the fat tip threatened to penetrate you. “My precious Alpha’s gunna let mount, aren’t you Jardani.” On the last drag you let the head catch and sunk onto it in one slick cant of your hips.

“Fuu-uck,” came John whine. He loved the way your heat made your cunt hotter and wetter than before. Hands shot out to gasp your thighs and pinned them to his own as he ratcheted up into your soft pillowy hole.

“God Sweetheart—Pussy’s so perfect—,” he stuttered out as he fucked you desperately.

You moaned  as he stroked your cunt out. “You fill me so good Baby.” You moved your hands to stroke up his chest to tweak dusky nipples and reveled in the way his dick jumped inside you. “Look at you. You take everything I give you and still beg for more. My Sweet lil’ Alpha.  You love when I mount you. Love this pussy, Jardani?”

He nodded frantically, whining as he fucked you.

Dark eyes looked into darker eyes. “Tell me.” Sharp nails dragged across abused buds. “Tell me who this dick belongs to.” 

John cried out at the pained pleasure and the possessiveness of your words. “It’s y—yours. My dick was meant for you. Only you, Omega.”

John was losing his mind to the hot wet clap of your ass filled the room with his whimper as you rode his dick.

“Only you could ever make me feel like this. Nothing feels better than being inside you. Thank you for claiming me, Y/n. P—Please don’t stop, Sweetheart. I can give you anything you want.” He humped up into you, maddened with the need to feel you around his not. With the need to be a good Alpha.

“Can be your good Alpha dick to breed on.”

Moaning at the man’s words, savored the way each downward stroke met his desperate one. John was such a hopeless slut when you gave him Heat pussy. He was so precious trying to prove himself.

You leaned down to kiss him, deep and languidly, tongues slid together as you fucked him. Pulling away you saw the saliva that connected you. Wanna gimme  what I want, John.” Kissing along his neck, licking and sucking hickies across his throat.

When you got to his scent gland you latched on biting and sucking as his pheromones filled your mouth directly. They were intoxicating on your tongue and forced you to ride the man harder, desperate for him to pop his knot.

It drove John’s mind to a gooey mess as he drove  his girth into you. “Please Sweetheart, anything. I’ll give you anything,” He whined pitifully. “Just give it to me. Cream on me and make me pop a knot!”

His pleas filled your ears and you loved that you had trained the Alpha so well. When you pulled away from his scent gland, you admired the lurid bruise on his pale sweaty throat.

“You can have it, Baby. I’ll give it all to you, but you know what I need you to do?” You purred the question, mouth breathing out his rut pheromones as you looked into his eyes. 

John shook his head, but listened, ready to give you anything as long as it meant he was a good Alpha.

Stroking his face sweetly, you bounce on his dick, to drive home your point. “Put a baby in me. Take this perfect knot and’ lemme breed on it, Jardani.”

The noise that left John's throat was wrecked. Animalistic and needy.

You were a vision on top of him. A dream around him. Soft and wet and fever hot around his swelling knot. Staring down at him, bathed in his cum, his blood still smearing staining your lips, taking everything he had to offer.

John could picture you, heavily pregnancy, pulling him away from cooking or cleaning. Him putting you in the countertop and getting trapped between your legs as you encouraged took his knot just the way you like. 

He imagined you pressing his hand to your heavy belly and praising him. .

“Look at how well you did, Alpha. So strong it took on the first try.”

John shuddered at the daydream and his body responded before he was conscious of it. . He buried himself in the soft perfect clutch of your body, as he fell into a stream of senseless begging and toppled you over to pin you to the bed.

“Y—Yes please, Y/n,. I’ll be your perfect Alpha and knot you full. You’ll be so breathtaking, pupped up.”

To say you were shocked at John’s zeal and sudden change in position would be an understatement , but the way his tip knocked into your cervix and the way his half formed knot spread you wide, made a sufficient distraction.

John threwyour legs over his shoulder and pulled you to him until your pelvises were flush together. Deadly hands planted on either side of your head, as your mate steadily fucked you. 

Only with him pressed so seamlessly into you, each stroke battered at your cervix. Your eyes rolled as ecstasy overtook your senses.

John’s face was flushed as he gazed down at you, Alpha gold shining in his irises, as he worked your pussy over. A litany of sin left his mouth.

“You make my knot ache, Omega.”

“God you’ll look so pretty when you’re pupped full, Y/n.”

“Breed on it—Need you to breed on it. Tell me mu knot is good enough, Omega.”

You reached up and cupped his jaw making him look into your eyes. “You feel amazing, Jardani. So good. Feel you against my womb.” You clenched around him to emphasize your praise. 

You pulled him in, ignoring how it caused strain in your thighs and kissed him thoroughly, tongue licking up the taste of him.

Kissing him heated your blood and made your walls gush around him. You moaned low and long against his mouth

John shuddered at the feeling of you cumming around him. He whined open mouthed and ragged against your own panting mouth.

Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pushing your foreheads together to talk him through it.

“That’s my good boy. Feel me creaming on this dick. Love giving you this pussy. You’re so good for her.”

You kissed him feverishly. Smacking, biting kisses as your pussy continued to milk his dick. Golden eyes shone with unshed overwhelmed tears and you gripped his neck reassuringly. “Don’t hold it back , Baby. Go ‘head and pop that knot so Omega can breed on it.”

Finally John let out a completely wrecked noise and his hips stuttered. Thead of his dick pressed to the spongy ring of your cervix and his knot drove home, before expanding to plug your pussy as he shot thick white fertile seed into your womb.

As John’s cum filled you, Alpha fangs dropped, large and sharp in the gaping mewling cavern of the man’s mouth.

You kissed him regardless. Sloppy and messy, licking over them, knowing to give into the obsolete urge to sink into your neck. Something bred out by evolution, but it always made a reappearance during and heats and ruts.

At least for Alphas.

Dainty fingers ding into your mark on John’s neck, causing him to whine submissively to your mouth. Pulling away you kissed his mating mark.

“You’re such a good stud for me, Jardani.” You fluttered your muscles around his knot, moaning at the dead end thrusts against your cervix. “Bet I'll be pregnant by the end of it,” you murmured into his ear as you basked in the afterglow of your orgasms.

[shalomniscient]

alpha!reader x omega!yanagi OR alpha!reader x alpha!yanagi………… urghhhh decisions decisions

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

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

Word Count: 759

Warnings: A/B/O, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, leering, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, murder conviction, parental dominance

*Additional warnings will be added

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

Square filled: @spnabobingo - Alpha Challenging Alpha

A/N: Each part follows in sequence

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Part II

“I need one under 18.” 

Sam’s head snapped up in shock..that wasn’t the plan. The Omega was to be older than Dean, preferably one that had been sold before, making them cheaper to purchase.

“Dad, why are you wanting..” 

John cut him off with a low growl provoking Sam’s inner wolf to reciprocate, neither noticing Helms studying their interaction with interest. 

Alpha Winchester can’t completely control this beauty like the other one..the boss will be pleased to learn about these developments. 

“House O would normally do as your eldests property on paper,” Helms interrupts, “but I know this judge, they will not be satisfied with that alone.”  Both Winchesters have matching, confused expressions and before John can ask what that meant he continues, “so I have to take into account your packs unusual dynamics, a Pack Omega, while as scarce as Phoenix ash, would be perfect but alas, there’s your social standing.” 

Sam snorted. It wasn’t the first time someone brought up their social standing, not so sly code for being a dirt poor pack. “The best option will be a Feral. Lucky for you, we have a fair selection of resales, this way gentlemen,” he leads them deeper into the building.

Deans his wolf whines watching his pack move farther into the building while all he could do was stand there as ordered to and observe these unfortunate creatures being bartered over like the livestock society considered them. His sire knew it would eat at his ingrained, perpetual guilt and was part of the penitence he had to endure it because, once vexed, John Winchester never forgave or forgot.

Sam's wolf was getting more restive the longer they were in this den of iniquity. 

He couldn’t see Dean from where they were study’s the O who’s caught his sires' interest instinctively knew she was all wrong started vocalizing his displeasure without realizing it.

 “What’s your problem now?” John barked at him.

“These O’s are your type sir,” Sam replied with his usual bluntness that made John's jaw clench, grudgingly reflecting on his youngests observation.

As Dominant Alpha of his pack it was ultimately his decision regarding how they functioned, including matings, internally cringed remembering an inadvertent confession he’d made awhile back.

It was a typical night.

Sam was sitting at the rental kitchen table finishing up some calculus homework while John lay sprawled on a couch between drunk and passed out drunk. 

He started talking about the House O’s, how Mary wanted to get one when they found out she was pregnant with Sam, saying that Dean was a handful to deal with and, as an Alpha herself, didn’t possess the natural instincts to properly care for multiple pups and he could pretend to be happy with his pack, she knew all the times he’d left was renting out one.

The purchase never happened.

Sam’s skin felt uncomfortable finding out the mother he never knew, the one his brother practically worshiped, tried purchasing one. Then John started drunkenly lauding the pleasurable attributes of O’s have, and as his details became more graphic Sam grabbed Dean's CD player, pumpin up the volume and continued working even though they would be leaving soon. 

When John passes out, Sam shoved the books into his backpack and went to the shared bedroom retrieves his cobbled-together, black market laptop Dean secretly got him and fired it up, researching this century’s history concerning O’s, learning of twisted truths and obscure provisions in the Hibbins Procurement Act the government schools purposefully omitted bolted to the toilet.

Dean came rolling later finds the laptop on the bed immediately starts worrying. His brother never left it out when their dad was around, catches a wif of sick and finds him laying on the bath floor thinks he’s picked up an illness fusses like always, tucking him into bed and stays up rest the night keeping an eye on him.

Sam knew the only reason John wanted him near was an additional jab at Dean, to emphasize his failures. Fuck, he hated their sire using him to guilt Dean whenever he displeased him.

Surveying the area for hidden trouble Sam grabbed his chest feeling his inner wolf hurl itself against its cage of skin and bones then frantically pacing around growling home home home in his mind flicks an eye towards his sire, who hadn’t noticed his reaction, too distracted by another O Helms is talking up. 

Following its instincts, he slowly backs towards the door marked private that someone left ajar and slips through unnoticed.

Part III

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @b3autyfuldisast3r  @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

Sam/Jared:  @idreamofplaid Dean/Jensen:  @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @akshi8278  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl  @siospins2

[mae-i-scribble]

Summary:

Dokja has to stay where she can see him, preferably somewhere nice and warm and comfortable with lots of food and water. Everyone else can join too, she supposes, but that seems like it’d be a hassle to arrange, so just Dokja is fine for now. She’s fulfilling most of the list already; it’s warm and comfortable here, along with being right next to the kitchen where she can go and fetch supplies. “Yoosung-” Ah right, Hyunsung is talking to her. She pulls her focus back to him, yawning despite her best efforts. “There you are,” he says with a light chuckle. “Now, I know you’ve settled here on the couch, but wouldn’t it be better to make your nest somewhere cozier?” She blinks at him, brows furrowing. “I’m not making a nest? You’re the only one who does that. They’re very nice, by the way. Very cozy.” Bemusedly, Hyunsung says, “Yoosung-ah, you’re presenting. You’re trying to make a nest. Or: Yoosung's first heat, with her family

Relationships:

Kim Dokja's Company & Shin Yoosung Lee Hyunsung & Shin Yoosung Lee Gilyoung & Shin Yoosung Kim Dokja & Shin Yoosung

Rating: Teen & Up

[jayce-black]

hey! looking for rp

Im Jayce!

im looking for some consistent roleplay partners! Any age just dont be under 13(if you are, get off, your to young to be on social media-) and dont be over 21.

I want to do some A/B/O dynamic/ omegaverse. (i pref to play omegas)

!I ALSO AM LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO DO ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK ROLEPLAYS WITH!

[tonycries]

The Initiation - G.S.

Synopsis. From now onwards, you’re the madam of the Gojo clan - and your clan leader husband is going to prove it to everyone.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, EXHIBÍTIONÍSM, initiations, aphrodísiacs, wedding nights, oraI (fem + male), face-sítting, p talking, BRÉEDING, creampíes, matíng presses, first times (Gojo), use of “my wife” and “ma’am”, spítting, cúmplay, MARATHON S, overstím, Gojo is FÉRAL (and slightly ínsane), the elders are awful, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.0k

A/N. This was NOT supposed to be this long but yk what I’m not mad.

“I vow to love. I vow to heal. I vow to stand by my wife with a respect not deserved of even myself.” Every single elder at the shrine shivers when their clan leader’s blazing gaze narrows. Gojo Satoru. Death, himself, in his hauntingly beautiful form. “And I vow that everyone here - everyone - will know that.”

---

“A-an initiation?”

The sweet older women surrounding you don’t look even the tiniest ounce as confused as you feel right about now. They hum a low tune, bustling around you in a whirlwind of hands that tug and pull at your decadent robes. 

“Ah, it’s just a long-held Gojo tradition, madam-” Madam - the word seemed so strange still. “-and the young master will make sure to take good care of you.”

“But-”

“Very good care.”

Maybe it was the way the fussing crowd around you burst into titters, maybe it was the way your silky yukata was left ever-so-slightly open - in a way you were sure the elders would cry scandal at. But, somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different to this clan initiation.

Something more. 

And it’s something that plagues your mind over and over even by the time your make-up is finally perfected, and your reception robes brushed down for non-existent dust. 

“Beautiful.” your attendants breathe, gracing you with a synchronized bow so low that it almost looked painful. And with a few more appreciative nods, they’re guiding you out of the sweetly-perfumed dressing room, wordlessly leading you into the uproarious traditional meeting hall. 

“You’re not following?” you turn to ask, once you had almost one foot stepped cautiously into the room. 

At this, the woman stood at the very middle of your entourage flushes. A bright, blinding red that matches the way her lips sputter helplessly, “I- I’m honored, madam. But this is er- as far as I can go.”

Strange. 

And with that, the sliding mahogany doors shut. 

Despite what you may think about the council of elders, you had to begrudgingly admit that they’d decorated the chamber lavishly. Fit for a king - or, more likely, fit for the new leaders of the household, after your marriage today.

Dimly-lit with lanterns, and already heady with the smell of expensive sake, your eyes dart around the seated upon seated of clan leaders, elders, and prominent officials you couldn’t even name. All positioned around a long table encircling a strangely raised platform in the middle - as if a stage - it seemed that everyone and anyone was here to assess the new Madam of the Gojo household.

To watch. To wait. 

And at the head of it all - your husband.

Gojo Satoru was known by none to be a soft man, not even by those foolish enough to claim themselves close to him. More accurately fabled as the most vicious young clan leader in history; an angel of death that you’d be lucky to so much as even snatch a glimpse of before you never can once more. 

Yet, the way he beams once his summer blue eyes lock on yours made him seem like anything but. 

“Ah- my wife. My wife is here.” Gojo’s deep baritone sounded so reverent - out-of-breath, like he’d been whispering those very words to himself like a mantra all night. In the middle of it all, you hadn’t even noticed the way the hall had quieted deafeningly - not until his words echo throughout your ears. Rich blue yukata rippling when he’s patting softly at his chair, and you notice with a jolt that there’s no seat next to him. 

Damn elders. 

“Hah? Elder Tanaka really did it!”

“You know I never wanted the riffraff to sit at the table- not a place for-”

“Well what else? A madam should be as a madam is.”

You’re gritting your teeth, making determined strides past all the withering stares and hushed whispers. Stepping closer and closer up to your shifting husband-

“Take-”

And then you sit. 

Plopping yourself down unceremoniously onto the clan leader’s lap - from behind you, you’re hearing Gojo suck in a feverish breath. Panting. You’re washed over with his piney, syrupy sweet scent when his strong forearms immediately wrap around your waist to steady yourself comfortably onto his large, manspread lap. 

And in front of you, you stare defiantly back into every wizened snarl shot your way. If looks could kill, then this would be a massacre. 

It takes him a few gulps to regain his senses - hell, it takes you a few more. And Gojo was so warm, practically burning when he whispers in a rasping voice against your ear, “I was going to tell you to take my seat but…whatever my wife wants, hm?”

“The look on their faces,” you try to hold back what would be deemed an utterly unlady-like smirk. Back pressing up against every hardened curve and ridge down Gojo’s washboard abs through his clothes. “But, I-I’m sorry if-”

His arms around you tighten. “Why would you ever be sorry?”

CLAP! CLAP!

“The reception shall now commence.”

Perhaps it was to stop your quiet muttering, but soon enough your vision is promptly being filled with delicacies that make your mouth water. 

“I would advise you not to drink the sake, pretty.” Gojo waves off an attendant that offers another chair, starting to sift around the steaming contents of his own plate. And despite how you seemed to be the main scrutiny tonight, you let him feed you tiny bites, anyway - all for the haughty council to scoff at. Their master being so happily used by his wife “Seems we’ve been gifted with something special to drink for the initiation tonight.”

Something about his tone was strained. It makes you bat your lashes up at him in a way that has Gojo adjusting his lower robes with a gulp. “Something special? Is it poisoned?”

He chuckles out, “No- even worse-” Lowering. And you jolt when his gleamingly sharp canines sink into your earlobe. Dangerous. “-one sip of that for both of us and I’ll be showing this scum here exactly how you’re mine.”

Oh.

Oh. 

Shit, your spine sits ramrod straight at that purring little undercurrent in his tone - the implications. And just that slight jostle of your hips makes Gojo urgently dig one set of his slender fingers into your waist. It makes him hunch over, it makes him gasp, “O-or we might not even need that sake, heh-”

Eyes drifting to the platform, “I want to, though.”

And for just a second, the entire meeting hall stills. 

Every figure around the table barely even bothering to hide their blatant staring right now, some covering their gaping mouths - because the infamous leader of the Gojo clan was smiling. 

Smiling. A humorless, crazed little smile directed at you. “Then…” Barely drifting an inch even when his own free digits clasp around a tiny sake bowl, he cheers his sake cup with yours. Echoing over the twinkling clink! “-whatever my wife wants.”

And yet, you feel nothing out of the ordinary in the first few minutes - nothing but those billowing stares and Gojo’s warm proximity to you. Huffing out tiny bouts of laughter that tickle the crook of your neck, and your face burns at the stray peck or two he’s leaving down your exposed skin.

Not even in the first hour.

Or the second, and you’re half-wondering whether this initiation was nothing but a hoax. 

But veering into the third-

It happens. 

Something snaps. 

“S-Satoru?” you breathe out unsteadily when he’s suddenly growing quiet. Head craning to take in just how pretty Gojo looked right about now - robes hanging off his sculpted deltoids. A sweet strawberry blush taking over his high cheekbones, his collarbones, down further. “Are you okay?”

Of course, he wasn’t. Right now, Gojo Satoru felt so ruined he thinks he could faint. 

“Shit-” Gojo hisses from above you, snowy brows knitting together. You can’t even react before his muscular thighs bounce ever-so-slightly, shifting you just a degree higher on his lap. Just enough for him to seat you prettily by the edge of something big. Curved. Rock-hard. “Shit- shit shit- m’- m’feeling so-”

Gojo’s chopsticks clatter onto the tatami mats with a soft thud! And those fingers find themselves latching onto you. 

You, you, you - burning down the curves of your waist, sliding up your trembly thighs and just below where your robes were hiking up. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Sa-toru-” your words come out wobbly. Clutching at the slight opening of your yukata to drag in a useless attempt to drink in some cooler air. You felt like you were melting, and so were your words now. “Toru, I feel so-”

“What did you say?”

It takes you a few syrupy moments to even realize that it’s your husband speaking - because Gojo’s voice was several octaves higher than usual. Husky, like he was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Spitting a pained, “What did you say, honey?”

You bat your teary lashes - shit, when did you even get so stimulated - up at the thoroughly drunken elders that were sneaking peeks at the two of you.

Just for a split-second - barely enough to catch anything.

But enough for Gojo to curl the thick pads of his fingers around your throat, pulling in a roughened tug to have your back hugged even more flush against him. “Hey hey hey- look at me, pretty. Look at your husband.” Flexing his powerful back muscles in a drool-worthy way, bowing over in two to practically shove you into the cool surface of the table when he puffs up against your ear. “S-say that again?”

You’re pinned on top of the mahogany with his full body weight - and you can barely breath, barely even think before uttering out. “T-Toru?” 

And that makes Gojo Satoru shiver. 

Entire body wracking so violently, his nose buries into the tender column of your neck. Not just breathing you in - basking in you. 

Muffling out, “Again.”

“Toru.”

“Again.”

“Toru–”

It makes the strongest snap his glassy, cerulean eyes almost-comically open in a flash - winking his droopy gaze through molasses once, twice at the platform right in front of him. 

And Gojo’s barely even in control of his limbs when the mountains of his palms glide hurriedly underneath your thighs. In only a split-second, you’re carried in his arms in the easiest princess carry - but Gojo doesn’t stop there. 

No, he doesn’t simply walk out of the room like you’d expected him to - he does the complete opposite. 

Every widened eye in the room can only watch as the clan leader steps swiftly upon the now cleared-out table and onto the raised platform in only two treads. Splaying you out gently onto the firm tatami, you’re gazing up at a heaving Gojo.

Because despite the rich dinner tonight, Gojo was starving. 

The soft yolky glow of the lanterns overhead illuminates that greedy glint in his eyes - the way that his lips glisten with the slightest trail of translucent drool at the very ends of his parted, rosy pink lips. 

He’s never looked more ruined. 

“Please.” 

And it’s all but whimpered out into your mouth - pathetic and raw. 

You’re gasping sharp heavals of air when his candied lips attack yours, and through that delicious thumping between your legs that you could feel in even your ears - you hear the gasps. With a sweet, sweet whine you’re blinking your eyes open enough, “Th-they’re watching.”

“Oh.” But Gojo’s more worried about losing contact with the heaven that was your lips, chasing after to press wet peck after French peck. “S’what? You wan’ me to kill them all?”

The room drops a few chilling degrees in temperature for everyone but the two of you.

He could - he would. If you hadn’t shaken your pretty head frantically, that is, not quite ready for a bloodbath on your wedding night. Yet, you needed him so bad.

“Then- m’only gonna show them who ya belong to- who I belong to.” Calloused, rounded tips of his fingers bearing down your yukata, Gojo’s slipping in one of his cold digits between your robe to snap! snickering at your low keen. “And you’ve made it so oh- easy f’me to.”

He was so greedy. 

Stealing little spying looks down at the way your legs were splayed out, Gojo utters out a guttural, “Open- open up f’me, my wife. Show them how wet your husband’s made ya.”

And shit, you didn’t know whether it was that sake acting out on behalf of your limbs, or whether it was the way that you were so needy right now. But you could feel your thighs jittering open as soon as those humming syllables were out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“S-so embarrassing-” you whine, one hand swiping away your thin layers to show him that glistening wet plump of your pussy. Drenched. Seeping through the useless fabric of your panties to wink up at him- and oh, that makes Gojo groan.

It makes him throw his head back with a hiss - for only a split-second, as if he couldn’t take it. Before drunkenly shifting back to your pretty cunt no matter what. 

“Oh, shit.”

THUD!

The body of the one such rowdy clan heir that’d dared speak up right now hits the ground faster than your eyes hit their target. 

Fuck, you didn’t even see Gojo pull out one of his famed daggers from beneath his sleeves - but the thought of what more might hide underneath made your thighs clench. 

And Gojo notices - of course, he did. Why the fuck wouldn’t he?

“F-fuck. What a naughty pussy gettin’ drenched from just that.” he shrills - before bursting out in a bout of laughter. Laughter, humorless and feral. “Gonna be the death of me- f-fuck- you’re gonna-” For a second, you feel your skin burn in embarrassment, and your legs cross. Only for his eyes to glow a burning blue in disagreement, tutting out a low, “Tell me- hah- tell me what you want.” He’s burning up with every slow kiss down the edge of your mouth, thumbing open your glossy maw further to wrap his lips around your tongue and suck. “Anything- I’ll get ya anything.”

You’re pretty sure that everyone is gaping at the worshiped leader of the Gojo clan on his knees and begging. 

But you didn’t care - not when his solid index was drawing a slow line down the middle of your sopping slit. Bucking your hip up into an arch off the platform that makes Gojo’s achy cock twitch, and the aphrodisiac rush back to him with full force. Mewling, “Wan’ y-you, Toru-”

Eyes twinkling, “Me what, honey? The madam’s gonna hafta use m-more hah- big girl words than that.”

You want him.

You need him now. 

“So mean.” you’re huffing and puffing, yet Gojo only grins at the way he can feel your sloppily wet lips down there kiss him even wetter. Dribbling a soaking sheen down to his wrist, “Want you t-to touch me- p-”

You don’t get to say that magical word “please” because Gojo Satoru would never have you say it. 

He’s plunging out his long digits to hold up to the attractively dim lighting - yet, they’re already dazzling with the slick coating from your pre-soaked cunt. And he’s looking at a few elders right in their downturned bows as Gojo sticks his long, tender tongue out and licks. “W-whatever the madam wants. Dontcha think, elder Tanaka?”

You were the madam, and you’d be treated as such.

And shit, what that old man’s response was - whether he even responded - Gojo doesn’t give a shit. 

Because just one ounce of your sweet, sweet juices on Gojo’s tongue shoots his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Hips bucking up with a low moan, a few slurring swears falling from his lips when he feels his achy cock gush-

“Need you-” he’s gasping wetly, shuffling urgently down the expanse of the platform. Moves frantic - needy. Down, down, down until you feel his hot pants down at your cunt. “Need to- wanna- gimme a lil’ peck, m’kay?”

The syrupy ends of his sentence are slurped up down a long glide of the very edges of Gojo’s tastebuds down your swollen folds. Through your panties.

Barely even shifting them even an inch to the side when he lets your glissading juices down his tongue, drawing a sultry circle. He’s letting his eyes droop half-closed, murmuring a little growl at the very back of his throat. “Just one more-” Gojo’s voice cracks, two sets of nails pressing crescents down into your thighs with just how hard he pulls. Kisses. “-and me more-” And another. “J-jus’ one more- oh-” Another. 

And you’re barely even realizing it before Gojo’s latching his pretty lips with yours, squelching wet noises ringing in your ears and throughout all four corners of the room. 

“Th-tha’s” you manage to scoff, fingers threading into his cloudy locks and pulling. But not even that’s enough to get Gojo to part even a millimeter, in-fact he’s pushing himself even more nose-deep, rolling his tongue down your slit - like he’s trying to push through your panties. “-more than one.”

And fuck - he titters out a pussydrunk giggle down into the edges of your sloppy hole. Teasing tongue dipping just barely to circle around the very edge and then-

“Can you blame me?” Gojo smiles with his rubbed-raw lips. So fucked-out that you hear yourself gasp. Your slick was already drip! drip! dripping down his curved chin, smearing a wet gloss that sits all prettily on his features. “M’gettin’ practice to do this fer the rest of our lives.”

And everyone could see just how addicted the clan leader was. 

Everyone.

Slack-jawed and moving like he was mindlessly drawn to your pretty cunt, you’re being faced with a wet drawl of his lips down your sodden folds. Pressing the pointed tip of his nose against your plump clit he’s breathing you in all filthily. 

“Could get used ta th-this-” he spits. Once. And then literally, salivating down a wet glob right inside your snug cunt that makes you shiver. “-heh, fuck that- s’too heavenly to. I need-”

And then you’re flipped.

So fast - so sudden that you barely even register what’s happening before you’ve got Gojo Satoru smushed onto the tatami platform. Bleary eyes gazing up at you and fixating right onto your pretty face, your hips sat shamelessly on his face. 

“Toru what-”

“T-take those- off f’me, honey- please-” He couldn’t even bear to specify right now. You looked so unfairly pretty on top of him like that, even prettier when your soft, luxury robes are hitting the floor. Well, everything except those panties-

“Toru, those are gonna rip-” you yelp when you feel the stinging clench of his teeth biting down the plush of your thighs. Resting onto the sopping wet fabric of your underwear, it smears down a wet glide at his cheek. “-they’re so expensive.”

RIP!

Gojo spits back the tatters of your flimsy excuse of panties beside him - and then another saturated wad of saliva up into your cunt. “Have ya forgot that you’re the ah- madam now?” He’s snickering, curved fingertips swatting a wet smack! onto your ass, cold wedding band branding. “-jus’ use my black card ta buy the whole fuckin’ store. Dip into the hah- council’s funds fer all I care.”

And for those shocked elders snapping their eyes up - they’re met with the most obscene sight of Gojo’s gleaming tongue spreading your puffy pussy lips wide and proudly open. 

“Shit-” he’s bursting out in whiny keens. Spitting and sloshing the wet waves of every pearlescent slick that beads of you - and there’s so much of it. “Gonna get my face s-so soaked heh-” So much that Gojo was utterly ready to feed with his sliding tongue, swirling past your wet rim of muscle and fucking up into you languidly. “-didn’t even need a fuck- ch-chair, anyway.”

Your cunt sloshes all around his tongue, dragging up and down up and down up and- Thoroughly done teasing out your hole pliant, he’s dragging his lips up to suck around your peaked clit - before pinching it in a light bite. 

“Oh!” you yelp. Searing a grip into his scalp, “S-so mean-”

“Mhm— m’your big, bad mean husband- fuck-” Such syrupy, desperate whines that Gojo really can’t help but babble - over and over. “-that sake…feels like m’burning- m’dying-” He can’t stop, won’t stop, roughly attaching a hand onto the globes of your ass to help you ride. “-n’ m’fuckin’ addicted- so won’t ya toy with this hah- p-pretty pussy a lil’ n’ get even wetter for me? Please?”

God, it’s so subconscious the way that your fingers toy over your clit - tight, pressurized circles just the way you like it. 

“Like this?”

“Ohhh, yeah, wifey- let it all down m’tongue-” And Gojo’s in a hypnotic trance at how much more of your honeyed glosses of precum that soak and travel down his tongue. It works. Even more. More and more. Maddeningly. 

Until he just can’t fucking take it-

“S-stop that f’me. None of that t-touchin’ anymore oh-” he gruffs out, throat dry. “Let me-” Fucking jealous of you that he’s pushing his fucking sanity to gritting through his teeth. Gojo meanly slaps away your hand before taking it over with his own. Absolutely no warning before feeding your drooling pussy with inch after inch of his fingers. 

Two at a time. 

Three. 

Your gooey depths are clinging to him so tight, taking him like a fuckin’ champ when they’re curling at the very knuckles to press deeply. “Oh yeah- makes me w-wonder jus’ how nicely you’ll take my fuckin’ cock, too, hm?”

You’re barely able to even babble out a few incoherent moans before the very tips of his digits brush up against the bulging bullseye of your g-spot. Hard. 

“There-” you gasp. You all but cry. “R-right there, Toru-”

Swat!

“I love you, honey- oh, I love you- but right now…” Gojo’s petering his voice away, too in a heady trance with the sight of that rapidly thumping pulse at your cunt to focus on stringing any sentences together right now. And he’s licking back into your snugly-filled entrance, squeezing past the jostlie of his thickened digits to doubly penetrate you. “...jus’ wanna hear this c-cute cunt speak.”

It’s like Gojo couldn’t decide where he wanted to be next - licking up every wet dredge of your juices smearing down his wrist, hollowing his cheeks out when he sucks on your neglected clit, or drawing out the prettiest moans when he joins back in to fuck your quivering hole ragged. 

Every movement bruising - claiming. 

They’re cold inside your toasty walls. Reaching mushy nooks and crannies inside you that you didn’t even know were possible, rolling his tongue into your tight channel to drape your gummy walls with a sheen of his spit. His six-inch fingers pressing harsh against your sweet spots, you could scream-

“Oh she’s real talkative- s-so cute-” But your swashing cunt was doing all the talking for you, wringing out drippingly wet slurps and squelches that Gojo nods along drunkenly to. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was the way he was squeezed oh-so-tightly between your thighs - a lightheaded way to go that Gojo definitely wouldn’t mind. Because he was agreeing. “Mhm- I agree- hah- oh, I agree with ya, cutie-” Thick, white lashes bat innocently up at you, “-my wife would look s-so pretty when she cums, hm?”

And he’s right.

Drunken. 

Because when you do, the sight is so pretty that Gojo himself thinks that he could cum right there and right now in his boxers - the only thing holding him back being the stabbing need to cum inside you more than anything.

Your thighs are desperately attempting to close around his ravenous head, greedily slurping up every bit of your juices. Every bead, every splatter, every slow gush with your mess of an orgasm.

“D-didn’t even ngh- see it-” you whimper, wave after wave of white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and making your spine arch in such a slutty way. “-didn’t even think I’d- oh-”

“S’quite alright-” he’s murmuring wetly. Head lolling all the way back to let you fuck your high on Gojo’s pretty face, convulsing cunt slobbering a translucent pathway all down the middle of his face. “Heheh- could never get mad- c-could never- oh fuck- use me.”

You’re gasping over distantly shocked mutters, “W-what?”

“Use me-” Gojo’s crying out, hips rutting up into the air like an animal. And he’s dangling helplessly onto the curve of your hips, jostling you desperately to fasten your vice-like grip on his hair. To ride him faster. To use him. “M’begging, my wife- fuck- let em’ see- let these fuckers see the way you u-use me.”

Voice breaking pathetically, eyes fighting not to scrunch shut, gasping and gulping for you to grind your dribbling pussy in smooth, sultry gyrations down rougher across his mouth.

And when you do, Gojo thinks he could faint. 

He’s letting out a rasping ah! ah! ah! curdle at the very back of his throat with every jolt of your hips, with every push of your cunt down his mouth that has him gasping for air. Every drawn circle making his fat head swell even girthier. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. 

It’s everything he could ever think about even when your high evolves into mere tingles, when the twitches of your legs slow down, and you find yourself lifting ever-so-slightly off of Gojo’s red, red flushed face. 

He looks so wrecked underneath - happily, so.

Flashing a brilliant smile that was dripping with all the coatings of your sloshing wet slick towards that little audience that you’d even forgotten you had. “Heh, next time my madam wants a hah- s-seat, she’ll have one. One way or the other.”

“T-Toru–” you’re whining, clamoring off to seat yourself down on his painfully hard lap. “-think they got the ngh- point.”

But, oh, the very moment your glossed pussy lips were meeting the thick bump of Gojo’s angry head through his clothes, you feel the syrupy rush of the aphrodisiac boil through your veins once more. You couldn’t even imagine how Gojo felt right now without even cumming once. 

Slotting over to resound a damp schwf! of skin on fabric. Barely giving you a moment to even recollect before you need him. You want to ruin him.

Purring lowly, “Toru…”

And the strongest gulps - Gojo Satoru gulps - a shiver thrumming down his hulking body and onto his gushing cock. It twitches up in a sodden little perk underneath you, and Gojo’s fingers attach themselves to your waist. “Y-yes, ma’am?”

“Really wanna taste you-” your lips drag across his and he keens with a slow suck on your bottom lip. “-wanna see if the r-rest of you is just as sweet?”

“Fuck!” You bounce up precariously when Gojo bucks up wildly, like he’d rip through his wedding robes and fuck you right now if he could. “Such filth from such a s-sweet mouth- ya really are gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

And to hear the most notorious clan leader admit shamelessly like this. To hastily untie his yukata and let it fall to the side, hear him break out in a sullen whimper when you kiss your way down his toned body, down, down, down his bulging pecs, his heaving abs, all the way to those soaked tufts of white at his pelvis-

“D-don’t tease-” 

Gojo just gasps at the hit of cool air when you’re shuffling down his stickily wet boxers in a fluid, sudden pull. Head throwing back before meeting your own widened ones - he was so big. 

You don’t think you’d ever get used to the sight, to the way that his swelling hot girth expands up a few sizes fatter at the hot puff of your feverish breath. Thumping veins prominent and blushing strawberry pink in flavor. Reddened and bulbous tip already slick with a gleam of precum, and one swipe with your thumb makes him gush out in a stringy gush of more and more-

“Shit-” 

Gojo’s letting his pathetically drooling lips sag open, eyes widening when your deft digits circle around that creamy white ring down Gojo’s length - down his underwear. 

He didn’t even realize. 

Curling his fingers around his thick base to glide over your lips like he was painting it in a pretty white lipstain. Letting your open lips drool and make a syrupy mess with his excess ribbons of cum. “Fuck- look what you do to me-”

You’re gasping with the realization that Gojo Satoru had cum in his pants from just eating your pretty pussy out - and it makes you grin. 

Pressing a sweet, sweet peck onto one remnant of his thick dredges of his slightly salty seed, it makes him rut at each of your kittenish peck after peck on his weepy head. Circular and hot. “Ya are sweet.”

And then you can’t speak anymore - because Gojo didn’t want you to speak anymore. Doesn’t think he could manage it without his hefty balls clenching dangerously once more - it was his first time, after all. 

“Handle- ah, handle me delicately, m’kay? Never done this b-before-” Biting down on his swollen lower lip when he’s watching your mouth stretch. Bulging out through your cheeks with the solid inches he was feeding you - throbbing length disappearing into your plushy mouth. 

Gojo’s so ridiculously big when the rotund ends of his cock kiss wetly against the very back of your throat. Branding a bittersweet bruise. You were sure that had it not been for just how needy you were with the sake, it would have been physically impossible to milk the entirety of his fucking soul out of him like the way you were right now. 

“O-oh-” he gasps - he pants. Chest caving it at how swelteringly hot you were inside, hugging around his sensitive cock so hard that Gojo sees stars. “Is- is this what it feels like?”

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru’s voice shiver just this way, you’ve never seen him so broken. Bouncing off the elders that see their precious leader this defiled. 

Thighs juddering up and flexing in a way that makes you salivate to lock around your neck. He’s practically headlocking you - whimpering out tiny pleas as if you could answer. “Can’t believe you’ve been holding out- can’t ah- A lil’ deeper- please? Please I know you can-” Shifting his hips up in a slow gyration of back and forths until your tongue was flattening to slide over every vein down his underside. Twirling over particularly sensitive spots at the jagged crevices that make Gojo whine. “-aww, tha’s right. My good girl- my good fuckin’ wife.”

He’s never felt like this before. 

And when you hollow out your cheeks and suck - oh, it has him hunching over rapidly. Shoving your nose up against that neat white happy trail, you’re breathing in his addictively masculine musk.

Moaning out a throaty, “Mmpf-”

“Shhh shh sh-” Gojo massages his finger down your neck, sneaking greedy feels for the outline of his thick cock down your throat. “Jus’ take it- fuck fuck fuck- don’ hafta do anything else, lemme take care of it, pretty.”

He didn’t even know what - he didn’t know how. 

But fuck-

You swirl your tongue over and underneath the sensitive bump of his slit, lathering it in a slow glissade of your salivating tongue that makes him jump. And he feels like he’s already seeing cloud nine and the pearly gates itself by the time you steady yourself into sultry, sucking bobs. 

Dancing a hand up to rub over his tight, cum-filled balls - and maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was just him - but it felt like he was about to burst already.

He was going to.

A slight hiss - not from you, not from him - manages to emanate its way into his melty mind, and Gojo’s finding it in himself to let his head throw back with a sudden laugh. Glassy eyes barely even focusing on the jaw-dropped figures around the table, “Y-your madam’s hgnh- taking me so well, isn’t she?” Head tilting drunkenly back at you, “Wontcha say she’s doin’ a damn good job-”

Only a few mutters - a few scoffs. 

And Gojo’s finding his digits twirling tightly to latch onto your scalp, hissing through clenched teeth. “Say it.”

A unanimous, humiliating “yes” echoes from all sides of the platform. 

And one from your wrecked husband right in front of you - “Yes- hahah-” he giggles. Brushing over the splattered mix of precum and cum that drips down the side of your thoroughly open mouth when you suck all his fat inches. Popping it into his mouth to taste. “-doin’ so well f’me I think- hngh- think I might-”

Of course, at this, you’re speeding up your greedy bounces. Fucking Gojo so heavenly with his mouth that he thinks he’s memorized every curve and twist of your tongue, every single tastebud-

“Naughty girl-” You’re being gifted with another smack! on your ass, and he’s having to haul you off of his reddened, angry cock with a tightened grip around your throat. With one, two slow pumps right in front of your face. And then up, up, up enough for him to hum into your mouth in an attacking French kiss. “-I like that.”

Gojo’s bulging biceps ripple when he seats you all prettily on his lap - just like earlier on tonight. Except, this time, you were facing him - and feeding your drooling cunt all angry inch by inch of his rock-hard cock.

“O-open up those hngh- pretty legs.” he murmurs in a heaving hot breath into your ear. Eyes blaring down at the way your squirmy legs were adjusting and readjusting around slender hips. “Open ‘em and t-take me-”

The way you do makes him gape, makes him gasp, makes him impatiently wrap two arms around the small of your back to fuck up past that tight little ring of resistence and into your walls depravedly. 

Just hitting the very back of your spongy cervix with the upwards curved tip of his head before gushing out thick, wet splatters of cum. The gripping cling of your cunt too good, the way you were sucking him up still fresh. 

And perhaps because of the aphrodisiac, but he was cumming so much. 

Such voluminous loads of seed that dump out into your gooey insides, it sloshes all around him and makes such squelches that reaches his ears. Drooling through the very edges of your sopping wet slit-

“S-see what happens?” Gojo’s whimpering in a way that a clan leader decidedly was not known for. Being the strongest, too. Driving a thumb along your bulging slit, he’s taking the opportunity to smear your pussy lips even wider to swallow more of him. To plug his cum back in. To show off. “See how ah- see what you do to me? Let everyone see-” 

And Gojo sounded so desperate, gasping out little utterances and praises into your mouth while he’s shoveling his swollen cock upwards into you. Taking the lewd advantages of years of combat to pummel every recoiling wall of yours with punishing, pressurized thrusts. 

“Wh-what do I do to ya, Toru?” you hum curiously, half-delirious. 

“Drive me fuck- insane, tha’s what-” he’s hissing, sparks behind his eyes. Swiping down to where he could feel the drilling nudge of his weepy cock, pressing down- hard. He’s mushing over the sensitive slit of his cock accidentally, “Oh- makes me wanna do this forever-” He’s nosing down the crook of your neck now, hiding away that innocent blush of his. “-to fuck you, make love to you, to breed you.”

You sputter out a sudden clench that has Gojo falling back down onto his elbows. Back hitting the tatami mats, your hands hitting his cushiony pecs. “Y-you wan’ to breed me? Hngh- you w-want an heir, Toru?”

An heir - an heir. 

An heir, an heir, an heir. God, it’s thundering throughout his mind and syrupy slowly turning into just about all he can think about.

“M-me? Want an heir?” He’s shuddering out, massive palms splaying out on the two globes of your ass to stretch your taut pussy further down his cock. “What makes you think- oh- what-” Until your perky lips were kissing his heated pelvis, your pulsing clit scratching deliciously down his tufts of white. And at this very second, peering up at you through hooded eyes, gaze half-curtained with his hair, drunken - all that Gojo can imagine is how pretty you are. And how much prettier you’d be as a mama. “C-can I get you hngh- p-pregnant- please, ma’am?”

Mere seconds of his thrumming shaft stretching you open pass as he looks dazedly to the side, “After all- s’what th-this initiation is for, right?”

And then you feel like you’re being spearheaded all the way to your lungs with all of Gojo’s girth. 

“Toru-” you whine, nails dragging little red lines down his broad neck and all over his shoulders. “-deeper. More please- it feels so-”

“More?” Gojo chuckles, hysterical. “You want m-more?”

He’s barely even answering his own question - let alone allowing you to answer. 

Because Gojo’s taking this as the cue to restrain your two wrists behind your back with one of his own, forcing you to whine and shudder out little sobs when your thighs strain to meet his jackhammering cadence. 

Ass stinging at the bruising slap! of his sharp hip bones, the way his heated cunt was swirling around your sweet spots so right. It felt like you were burning from the inside out-

“Ah ah-” Gojo tuts, snapping you out of your woozy reverie. Free hand coming to knock away one of your trembly palms snaking down to your neglected clit - when did you even start that? “Can’t ask me for m-more n’ do this. Move that hand so I can f-fuck you proper, honey-”

You barely even have the time to whine about it before he’s spitting a streaming waterfall of saliva onto his fingers, pinching at your clit. 

“Heh, don’t think I f-forgot about ya-” You whine at the way he was drawing dizzying circles, the cool burn of his matching wedding band. “Th-they say ya needa have the hngh- mother cum, too, ta make kids.”

Plural. 

“K-kids?” you muse. 

“Mhm-” he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “How about- six-”

Maybe from the shock, maybe from the way that he was filthily spearing against your g-spot so good, you collapse readily onto your elbows. Feeling every slick and slide of Gojo’s abs rubbing up against you.

Each singular thrash into your cervix has Gojo’s babbles running more nonsensical - more pussydrunk. “Thinkin’ wh-whatever ya want- hngh- to fill ya up- Have you all r-round and ha- glowing.” Like it pained for him to even say, like it hurt with every sloppily wet thwack! of his heavy balls on your ass. “Have you be m-my madam- the mother of my kids- hngh- all with your pretty eyes-” he’s sobbing now. Swirling around his rounded tip till it hits sweets spots you didn’t even know you had. “-n’ my hair and hah- your personality- c-can’t imagine fighting over them for ya- wh-what do you think, cutie?” 

But as soon as you’re cracking your mouth open to fervently agree - at least, as much as your hazy mind could at this point, Gojo’s raising his right hand to palm over it. 

With a drunken smirk, “M’askin’ her, my wife- dontcha w-worry-” Nuzzling your cheek, “-haven’t forgotten about the mother of my kids.” 

And the saccharine-sweet sloshing is enough to ring throughout Gojo’s ears like his favorite melody - and he’s memorized every note. Pumping out more and more spurts of hot precum to stain your insides and dribble uproariously. Sleazing a grin your way, “Almost there- almost- but first-”

Every single elder he’s glaring upon jumps when Gojo graces them with one of his looks - even as barely-lucid and fucked-out as he was. He leers, “How about it? Heh, wanted a-an heir so bad n’ now you’re gonna get it. Happy now?”

As expected, no answer. 

But Gojo didn’t need one anyway - not when your ringing slurps as you swallow up his cock thunder across his ears. “O-oh, she’s tellin’ me something-”

“Wh-what is she sayin’, Toru-” you whine, lips wobbling uncontrollably in much the same way that your pussy folds were right now. 

“She’s sayin—” Gojo’s voice takes on a whimpering lilt, and he has absolutely no idea how you haven’t noticed that determined clenching of your gummy walls, the breathless pants of yours. So he only smiles, teeth sinking playfully into your ear lobe, “-that my gorgeous wife’s about to cum.”

Stars flurrying behind your lids, your toes curl and hips slam with enough force to rock the platform rickety. 

But if you didn’t notice your high - then Gojo certainly didn’t notice his, either.

Too caught-up, too busy rutting up in solid strides into your dripping cunt to notice that he was splattering your squeezing walls to be sopping wet with oozes of cum. There are so many gushes of it that Gojo feels dizzy, he feels like he’s about to break. 

“Wait- wait wait m’cumming again-” he gasps. Pinching your clit with two fingers to feel the way that jittery convulsion has Gojo’s potent seed coating his cock a glistening white. Something marshmallow creamy that makes him swallow. “D-didn’t even know I could hngh- c-cum again-”

Didn’t know if he even wanted to but- but of course, he did. 

He’s hissing at the dredges of wispy white that drip from between your slit, the very sight itself tipping Gojo over to sprinkle out a few more velvety ribbons that knock at your womb.

“Heheh- think this t-took?” Those mere words feel so sinful on his tongue, and Gojo’s ears flush a ruby red. But he can’t find himself stopping when he plugs out of your snug cunt, whimpering at the sensitive cling of your cunt as if she didn’t want to part ways. “Whoops-”

You whine at the warmly wet gush of your still-convulsing cunt, “Don’t think it t-took if you’re pulling out-”

SLAM!

You don’t know who’s actually gasping - the elders, Gojo, or you. Still reeling from the way you’re immediately flipped over onto all fours, cheeks smushed against the tatami mat so hard that Gojo wonders whether it’ll leave a mark for tomorrow. 

Assuming the two of you get out of this alive, that is. 

“Let them see-” he’s hissing, cupping your pussy to leave a few wet smacks that smear your abundance of his cum down onto the platform. So much of it. “-let them see how th-their heir is made since they wanna hah- see so badly.”

And god, the sight was supposed to taunt those in the fucking audience - but it has Gojo’s slick-sheening cock twitching up in interest once more. Barely even knowing what he’s doing before spreading open your pussy lips with one swipe of his bawling tip, and then inside-

“You d-didn’t think we were done, ngh, did you, my wife?”

As if you could ever be done with him.

Pound after pound. 

Gojo was so painfully hard right now he felt like he was going to explode - and he wanted- no, needed to be deeper than he ever has inside of you. 

Which is what found him placing an unapologetic foot on top of your head, the slight jostle in angle making him swoon in a probing push against the very ends of your cervix. And every shaky thrust too hard made you feel like he was going to fuck an heir right into your awaiting womb.

“M’sorry-” he gasps, tearily. Wet splatters of the salty substance hitting the side of your shoulder as Gojo bends - and folds and folds you pliantly right along with him. “Don’t mean to- hngh- didn’t- fuck but I need it so badly- s-so deeply- don’t think I’ve bred this cute cunt ‘nough.”

Pushing you down with his utterly full bodyweight, you’re pinned to the platform. For every eye to see the snapping, creamy strings that connect his glossy cock to your overfilled cunt. It sprinkles across your ass and down your legs, and he’s eyeing down at the glossy pool of mess sticking between your two sweat-sheened bodies from before. 

So badly. 

It’s so much - too much.

Placing kiss after gliding kiss of his syrupy precum down the very bottom of your pussy, whining at the slight recoil that has him pushing back from the elastic depths of your cunt. Such a splitting stretch that bullies you wordless. 

And it could’ve been hours - it could’ve been minutes until all that you can manage is a tiny huff that leaves your pouty lips with every wet squelch, and only makes his fat cock bludgeon even harder. He’s fucking you thoroughly, almost as if he hates you. 

Yet, sounding so badly apologetic that you can’t help but crack a smile - at least, as much as you could when your sweet insides were being ravaged by him. “S’all f-for an heir, isn’t it, Toru–?”

God- and then he’s cumming. 

Embarrassingly, almost-painfully - but still so needily.

It’s splattering and overfilling you so much that you feel your elastic walls pull taut at the sheer inflation, making you strangle out a sudden moan. Splat! splat! splattering a thin sheen down your inner thighs, the wet pumps have him fucking it even harsher to coat your spongy womb with his cum, knocking- begging for any sort of entrance.

Messy. So fucking messy that you feel your skin burn.

He can’t help it - oh, he can’t control himself when he’s pulling out for just a split-second to shuffle downwards and press his face right into your sopping folds. Latching his spit-slicked lips around your sensitive nub of a clit. Humming, sucking-

And through it all - you can just barely make out Gojo’s voice. Raw, broken. “D-don’t think it took…don’t think my h-heir took.”

“...”

It slowly evolves into Gojo’s own personal little manga - the very same that he gasps out over and over into your open mouth on the third round. Just a few more tears, a few more of his sloppy strokes in a prone bone that his aching body can barely even hold up.

Now well past the aphrodisiacs, and the allotted time for your initiation. But your audience was still seated, and the fatigue setting into both of you as you both cum with strangled cries - and Gojo’s stream of sweltering hot seed now noticeably wispier than usual. 

But still - still it wasn’t enough.

And by the fourth round, you’re wondering how the hell it was that neither of you had broken any bones, yet. Especially considering the sloppy full nelson that your greedy husband had somehow managed to wrangle you into.

Slipping and sliding across one another in a way that had Gojo crying out in frustration, drool dripping down the side of his lips  - all he really wanted to do was stuff his angry cock into you again. 

The fifth and sixth rounds start before the previous one had even ended, you think. And you’re riding on a constant wave of high while Gojo’s weepy cock sobs out a few more spurts of seed all throughout. 

Teeth clacking against your own in a mess of a kiss, voice dragging in tiny breaks at the very end of his throat. Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the rounded divot at the end of his overstimulated cock shivers out nothing. 

And Gojo knows he should be cumming - he feels like he should be cumming. 

But all his poor, half-softening cock can do is let out a gush of nothingness. Big, fat tears glistening down Gojo’s cheeks when he cums dry in the meanest mating press possible for both your tired bodies. Yet, still fucking you like he was with his cum again and again-

“You all-” Everyone jumps at the sudden, hoarse voice coming from the leader, having resigned himself to mere whimpers of your name and “heirs” by now. And the elders can’t even hold his droopy, barely-there gaze. Dangerous. “Bow. Bow to your new madam.”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovelyyy day.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[venmondiese]

THE WARMTH OF BOTH BODIES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

✧Rating: +18 mdni explicit

✧word count: 3.1k

✧gif credit: aegon ✧ aemond

-ˋˏsummary: Dragons are greedy, and both of your brothers have perverted desires that you take no issue on entertaining. ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, mummy kink, lactation kink, breastfeeding, threesome (f/m/m), aegond, targcest, polyamory, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation (f and m receiving), aegon is the most submissive to exist, switch!aemond. ✧ this is a part from @targaryen-dynasty 's 3k celebration ! check all the other works too, and as always a pleasure to participate with my silly things and congrats to her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ✧ note: i added my own spice. it didn't say anything about aegond but i am... weak... #i tried

By no means had you known what being alone was like.

After Aemond, you were the fifth child of king Viserys to survive childhood. Daeron was your youngest by two years, and like your sister, you were dotted and cared for by your mother and father… unlike your brothers. 

Your mother had a weird way to demonstrate affection to them, you always thought. With Aegon was non-existent, and Aemond had this burden to be the reliable sibling amongst them all. 

When Aegon had to marry Helaena; you married Aemond. It was how the tradition dictates, and it was under your father’s wish, much to your mother’s dislike.

And just like Helaena, you recently had a daughter with Aemond, Rhaelle, who was the apple of his father’s eye. Yet, the only difference between your duty and Helaena’s is that she wasn’t the one who had to take care of Aegon. Instead, you took care of Aegon’s whims, alongside your husband’s.  

Aegon was greedy, whiny and clingy. He searched you whenever he wanted, following you around like a puppy for your attention. Whereas Aemond was quiet, reserved and embarrassed, but not less greedy. He often wanted comfort, praise for his action and the reassurance that he was doing no wrong in his desires. 

Both of them accepted the other, in a quiet agreement. You were a petulant person, and if you wanted, they knew this, all of it, would be over. So they shut up their differences for the sake of it.

Aegon was curled by your right side, lying on the bed of your chambers. Post coital bliss at its finest, as he was slightly sleepy, and even a bit grumpy when bothered. It had been some cold days, but the fire made it more bearable, and it gave some sense of cosiness to both. He was just resting, a bit sleepy, his head on your stomach as you read some silly book about Valyrian fashion, as his legs were pressed against your shoulder, as you slowly caressed his leg, soothing him like that.

You hear his soft yawn, as the laziness of the evening consumes you both as you are cuddled against the other for the warm. As Aegon draws slowly patterns upon the lower part of your chest, you feel the door of the chambers opening knowing it was your husband 

You lower your book, caressing Aegon’s heel and calf, as you look at Aemond, walking closer to the bed as he makes a slight face at seeing Aegon here, as if he wanted you all for himself. He takes his boots quickly, moving to take off his leather jerkin.

“Hi” You say, softly, and he hums. You can see it in the slight frown on his face. 

Aegon stirs a hit, not greeting Aemond as he sits on the bed, closer to you. Like a lazy cat, he yawns, and you feel his muscles stretching a bit. 

“Did you tuck Rhaelle?” Aemond asks, his shoulders tensed up as he takes off his eye patch and loses up his hair. He was tired, you could see.

“Yes, she is sleeping in the nursery…” You say softly, looking at him. “What is it?” You ask, seeing how Aemond wants something, yet he doesn’t know how to say it, looking at you a bit unsure. 

“Mummy” He whines softly, frowning as his tone was a bit sheepishly, sitting closer to you, by your left side. 

You press your lips together, looking at him as he seems so vulnerable, and tired, for whatever reason he probably will tell you later. Aegon nuzzles your stomach, his interest piqued on Aemond’s word, because if it involves Aemond, it will involve him as well. 

The unspoken words between you and Aemond are no obstacle to knowing what he wants. You know your brothers, surely, but Aemond was different. Aemond was your husband, and you knew him like the palm of your hand. 

Aemond nods shyly, as if agreeing with the thought on your mind, and he scoots closer once you sit better on the bed, leaning back properly on the pillows. Your nightgown is easy to untie at the front, more so when you are lactating and need an easy way to open the dress. Rhaelle would fuss and wail her little lungs out, so your clothes were always easy to undo. 

Now, if Rhaelle’s father and uncle enjoy the same, is another thing. 

You undo the laces in the front of your dress, and you know how Aegon reincorporates to sit, suddenly all woken up and interested in this. The dress is pure cotton, and it is comfortable to wear. You pull the fabric out of the way, and with their gazes following your each movement, you know it is a matter of time for them to hungrily latch onto you.

Aegon curls up to your right side, whereas Aemond does the same on your left. He always preferred your left, since the blind spot faces Aegon, so he doesn’t have to bear seeing him too. Aegon is much more shameless, clinging to you and moving his hips softly against your right side.

You feel both men getting closer, and their breaths hit your nipples as they nuzzle your blossom, in hopes of sucking hungrily.

 “Aegon…” you say softly as he was growing impatient, moving a bit as he pressed his face closer to your breast, restless and eager.

Aemond is never restless; he stayed still as he loved, caring. He always pressed faint kisses, around your tits, before suckling calmly. His left arm always found its way to wrap your waist, keeping you close to him as he delighted himself with soothing milk.

Instead, Aegon immediately latched onto your breast, suckling and trying to get all the milk he could, eagerly as he always seemed relentless, always craving more and more. He’d watch you with bright, purple eyes as he craved for your attention.

You comb their hair with your fingers, kiss the top of their heads and rub their back. They were your older brothers, but behaved like hungry little kittens that needed their milk.

Always was a bit strange, as they weren’t always amicable. It took a long time, for Aemond, at least, to join in. It was mainly due to the fact that Aegon rarely left you alone, even if you were Aemond’s wife. Little by little, they learned how to warm up to each other, and sometimes to your request, they’ll kiss.

The suckling sounds are loud, almost obscene, as you feel both swallow each drop from your leaking milk. Aemond had probably been tasting it since the end of your pregnancy, yet it didn’t tire him at all. And Aegon? He was always hungry, and he suckled and his tongue lapped your breast, milking more and more. 

You can feel how they swallow the milk, both eager. Aemond has a hand around your waist, as Aegon has his hand around your breast and squeezes it slightly as if to have more.

“Mummy” Aegon murmurs, pulling back as he looks at you, and he has wide purple eyes “are we being good?”

The reassurance is a must, you realise with time. “Yes, baby. You both are my good boys” you murmur, caressing the top of their head “Both of you, my best boys…”

They delight themselves in the praise; you hear Aemond’s faint moans, as you feel his body at ease. You caress the back of his head, feeling the loose hairs on your fingers. 

It always made you feel the arousal settle in the lower part of your belly, and feeling so turned on you had to press your thighs together a bit. Aemond loved when your breast grew larger, and full of milk. Aegon was not behind that feeling, as he was the one to propose the idea to ‘help you with the heaviness of them’.

Aegon gulps on the milk like a glutton, and his eyes are closed in the delight of nursing. You feel his cock hardening little by little by your side. Aemond instead, looks at you. His eye is deep and intense, watching your face as his mouth is still working on your nipple, his tongue pressing against the nub getting more milk. His hand on your waist loosens up slightly, slowly moving down all the way to your stomach, and little by little, makes its way to your centre. 

Aegon is oblivious to that, as he suckles and slurps loudly, with not a care for the world, nipping and licking all of the sweet milk that your breast can produce. He whines a bit, scooping closer and closer as he tries to get more and more. 

“Doing such a good job for mummy, darlings…” You say to both, as you feel Aemond’s hand almost innocently brushing against your womanhood. “So good…” You murmur dreamily, sighing as Aegon nuzzles his face closer to your right breast, his nose brushing the skin as his mouth slightly presses a bit harder, eager for more.

They could feel you moving under their touch, almost possessive as they fed from you, keeping you right there at their mercy. The sound of your praise stirred something in both of them, yearning more of your affections, more of mummy’s affections. 

Aemond is the first one to pull away from your breast, beginning to shift as his body moves higher, his mouth kissing all the way up to kiss you in the lips. You hum, feeling the taste of your own milk on his lips. 

“Mummy” Aegon protests, not wanting to be left out as always, as he pulls away from your breast, an obscene sound from it as he moves his head to nuzzle your cheek, kissing lazily to keep on worshipping your body. 

Aware of how his hand was still between your legs, Aemond pressed it harder against your core, rubbing more firmly. As if wanting to draw more sounds from you, Aegon moves his hand to grope softly, carefully your breast, not wanting to leave a part from you unattended. 

“You are such good boys for me, always wanting to please me, hm?” You say, panting a bit from how good your husband's hands on your pussy feels.

“Yes mummy” Aemond murmurs, and Aegon nods in agreement. 

It’s as if Aemond knows your thoughts, because he turns to watch Aegon, moving slightly his other hand to place it on the back of his neck, pulling Aegon closer to share a slow, yet passionate kiss between both of them.

They could feel the milky taste in the other’s mouth, and you could see how their tongues crashed against each other, making it as sloppy as possible as they made out for quite some time, as Aemond’s fingers tried to pry into your clit and pussy. 

You know that at the beginning it was more to put on a show for you, for your delight that they agreed to do as well. If they enjoyed it, you could never know. But now it’s different, watching how they hungrily seek each other’s mouth, and if one tries to pull away, the other is quick to lean, following their mouth to keep on kissing. 

It’s hot, to say the least, and it makes wonders for your arousal to see both of them kiss like this. You think, for a moment, if you could maybe propose the idea for them to follow this lust for each other further. Maybe for another occasion. 

As Aemond’s lips move to kiss Aegon’s neck, you see how your baby seems so aroused, you could always see it clearly with Aegon, how his cheeks turned pinker and he had that blissful expression. You feel Aemond’s hand moving away from your core, and before you could ask anything, they both pulled away from each other. 

Aemond probably murmured something in Aegon's ear, because they shared a look before the eldest slowly turned to you. 

 “Mummy, can we please you…? We wanna taste your pussy… please…” he asked, and you see how Aemond looks at you, awaiting your answer, as his hand caresses your thigh softly.

You caress Aegon’s thigh softly, as they both almost look at you with puppy eyes. 

“Yes, my darlings. Please mummy with your mouths” 

It does not take them long to accommodate between your legs, Aemond presses one hand to your left leg, keeping it still. Aegon does not bother to do the same for your left thigh, as he has other priorities. 

You feel Aegon’s mouth first, his tongue tracing along her slit. Aemond moves his hand to the back of Aegon’s head, pushing his mouth further into your cunt, as the eldest savours your wetness. And at the sound of your moans, he doubles his efforts.

Then it’s Aegon who pulls your husband’s face down to join his mouth, both of them licking and sucking your wet cunt. You can see both of them, their cheeks pressed together as they pleasure you with their mouths at the same time, licking and slurping in unison.

“Fuck, f-fuck, gods…” you moan, your hips moving closer, grinding against his tongues, grabbing Aegon’s hair, short and easy to grab (unlike Aemond’s)

Aegon seems delighted at that, and you feel his tongue darting out to suck your clit eagerly, and you feel your jaw moving at the motion, and he whimpers with need. Aemond is, as always, focused as he slurps and sucks on her entrance, obscene sounds fill the room as his expert mouth works on you. 

They both clearly relish both the taste and the privilege of having their faces buried between your thighs, moving to please you, and their tongues crashing together as they do so. 

“Mummy, you taste so good” you don’t even recognise the sound, the sound muffled by the little space between his mouth and your folds. 

“Fuck, so good…” the other agrees, and your legs tremble, as your hips try to get more and more of their wicked tongues.

Aegon is the one whining, you know that. As you pull his hair, you see his needy eyes looking at you. You press your heel on his back, as if pushing him closer to your cunt. He moans, closing his eyes as he goes back to feasting on your pussy.

Aemond moved to your clit now, and you can see how the sapphire glints on the dim lights. You imagine that both of their cocks are rock hard, throbbing impatiently. 

Maybe it’s Aegon or Aemond (maybe both) the one who drools, while the muffled moans still come and go. You, on your side, are a mess, as you try to keep both of them close to you, feeling Aemond’s hand caressing your breast. Your pussy can’t take longer, and your hips grind against both of their faces, as you roll your eyes back and lean your head back in the pillows, as you feel your orgasm so close.

 “Fuck, babies, so good for mummy, fuck…” you mean it, moaning loudly as you feel them whimper.

“Wanna make you cum so hard, mummy…” Aegon’s raspy voice is a bit clearer, as you clench on his hair.

“Hmmmm” Aemond hums, not separating one bit from your cunt.

As you start cumming, both of them press their mouth against your pussy, wanting to taste your cum as they try to be the one to get more. You are cumming hard, and their greedy tongues only fuel your orgasm even more. 

Feeling your pussy quivering and pulsing around their tongues it's probably one of their favourite things, along with the rest of you. The feeling of your creamy juices made them greedy, and they share it all

Their faces are shiny with your arousal, and even when you retreat, they lick their lips as if wanting more. You can’t exactly see in the faces of your brother’s what they are thinking, but you feel tired to think about anything but the great orgasm you just had. 

You are not exactly sure who started the kiss, but it's messy and sloppy, as you see their tongues sharing the last tastes of your cum, as their hands clenched to the other to keep him close, and keep on the passionate kiss.

It’s Aemond who groans, Aegon pressing his body to his, almost humping his cock to any part of your husband’s skin, who holds him close, one hand on his jaw and the other moving down to the eldest hips.

You move a bit, sitting better on the bed, yet your back still leans on the pillows, body relaxed as you accommodate to watch them devour each other as one does sit to watch men fighting in a tourney. But both of them were involved in different practices, which was a show for you to see and most importantly- enjoy. 

You can see their tongues pressing together, their heads moving to not break the sloppy kiss, messy and passionate. They surely are doing this out of passion and lust, rather than rational thought, but you are not complaining.

Aegon’s hand comes to caress the firm abdomen of Aemond, like you enjoy doing. Your husband is a creature of many sides, and he can be as submissive as he can be dominant. He moves the hand on Aegon’s hip to grip his short hair, and keeps him in place to keep on kissing him. 

“Aem… mummy” Aegon’s little whines come in a low tone, and a bit slurred, as Aemond does not give his mouth a break. 

It takes you a while to notice that Aegon is using his hand to stroke Aemond’s cock, using the side of his thigh to hump and grind his own cock. He was needy, but he was too much of a needy baby to fight for dominance. Aegon relished on being submissive, either with you, or Aemond. 

Aemond breaks their kiss, his head falling back to pant, groaning slightly as Aegon uses his hand on his cock. You know Aegon is the most lustful creature since he discovered pleasure, and he was always good with his hands. 

“Mummy…” Aegon whines, wanting you to help him with his cock, and you move on your knees closer to where they were having this exchange of pleasure, because both of them wanted to cum very badly. 

Your hands on Aegon’s cock make him go weak, whimpering as he leans closer to Aemond, moving his lips down on his body, his abdomen and the tip of his cock.

“Good boys, hm? You both are such good boys for mummy, pleasuring yourselves…” You say, that sweet tone of yours makes Aemond’s arousal explode. 

“Fuck-” Aemond mutters, groaning and whimpering as he cums one of his hands moving to grip your shoulder, and as your hands stroke the eldest’s cock, your hand over stimulating movements on his cockhead, as if trying to replicate his tongue movements on Aemond’s tip. 

Aegon is greedy, and he whimpers, still pleasuring Aemond, his hips bucking on your hand, as his own orgasm hits hard. Aemond is the one holding him, as your baby’s orgasm hits him hard, trying not to fall on the bed, panting loudly and whimpering. 

He makes a little sound when you kiss him, wanting to taste Aemond’s cum on his tongue. It was delightful, and you feel his body melting on your touch. You feel how your other brother moves to caress the back of your head, nuzzling your shoulder and kissing it tenderly.

You could get used to this new dynamic, surely.

[ancientroyalblood]

Exploring Non-Linear Narratives: Writing Out of Sequence

In the realm of storytelling, the traditional sequence is but one path to follow, a well-trodden road where events unfurl one after another, much like dominos carefully aligned, ready to fall. Yet, in the shadows, there exists another path, a web of narratives intertwined, where each word, each sentence, is a piece of a puzzle not yet complete. This exploration seeks to dissect the notions of…

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVIII

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER/violence/kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

What had once been a great fear of yours had turned into something akin to a comfort.

The basement was a lot of things—dark, isolating, and creepy to name a few—but in the weeks that you’d been exiled to it’s suffocating walls, you slowly found solace in being left with nothing but your solitude and your thoughts. At least it felt that way. In truth, you didn’t feel much of anything at all and had grown content in that feeling.

Or lack thereof.

The days blended together until it was one long endless stretch of darkness, and it gave you so much time to think. You thought about every decision that had landed you here, all the way from your first conscious memory to that fateful day when you and your friends stopped in some seemingly unassuming town for food. If you thought about it too hard, you could feel a chill creeping over your still form.

Lingering on the day your friends were murdered threatened to put you back in that headspace you’d been in when you were first brought to this house. Your breathing would become shallow at the memory of your erratic emotions and your inability to hold your bodily fluids and the time you’d nearly lost your mind at the mere sight of blood.

You had quite literally lost your mind.

You’d been driven insane by the abuse you’d suffered and had been forced to witness, mind shattering and falling apart from the actions of the same person tasked with putting it back together in whatever manner benefited him. Peter had torn you down and built you back up like some demented caregiver and despite the fact that you knew this—recognized this—you were essentially powerless to do anything about it.

You were in too deep, this was your life now, and such a thought was both comforting and suffocating. On the one hand, you knew what was in store for you. The rest of your days were laid out before you so meticulously, a breakdown of what every single day would be like for the rest of your life. In a way…it was relieving to think that you’d never have to expend any more effort into planning a single thing about your life ever again.

…but in the same breath, that was so tragic.

The excitement of possibilities and opportunities was something you’d never feel again. You’d never have that wonder about what the next day or month or even year would bring. You briefly recalled fleeting thoughts of grad school once and possibly living abroad for a while. Peter would never allow that, and even if he wanted to, Steve would never allow him to even consider the thought.

This was your life now.

Such a simple sentence brought on far too many emotions for you to handle, and so you didn’t. Handle them, that is. You didn’t feel anything and it didn’t just start and end with the complexities of your heart. You didn’t feel the pillow beneath your head nor the thin sheets over your frame. You didn’t even feel the shift in the room when someone—no doubt Margaret or Christine—opened the door and descended the stairs to bring you food.

Surely you ate.

You were still alive, after all, but you didn’t recall eating. Truth be told, you didn’t even recall bathing or using the bathroom. If you thought long and hard about it—struggling with your memory so much that it made you frown in the darkness—you could recollect brief flashes of memories that painted a picture.

Sharon’s worried face before you as she held some orange juice in front of your face, Margaret standing in front of you in the bathroom, tone pleading as she encouraged you to empty your bladder, and even Tony and Pepper standing over your bed as Pepper said something to him, her stricken expression clear even in hazy memories.

The days and everything that happened in them blended together so seamlessly that it all started to feel like a dream. How funny it was that you once feared the basement so much it was enough to give you a panic attack, and now that you were down here you felt the calmest you’d ever felt in months. You felt unreal—untouchable even in a way—and it wasn’t long before you forgot that this wasn’t meant to be forever.

You forgot that a day would come where Peter would come down—likely with Steve in tow—and tell you that your punishment was over and you could finally rejoin him amongst the world above ground. You didn’t know how you felt about that, and you found yourself wondering if you even wanted that.

Of course, you wanted that.

You couldn’t live in darkness and solitude forever, but stepping out of this room meant going back to the problems the basement currently shielded you from. When you stepped through that threshold again, Steve and Bucky and all of the other husbands would likely still be upset with you with the mentioned being more cross than the others. You would have to step back into an atmosphere where you weren’t trusted—again—and you’d have to earn it all back…again.

You supposed you still had friends in the wives, but who was to say. Yes, you’d remained silent when you witnessed Nat escape, but you had a feeling that someone like Margaret likely wouldn’t agree with what you did. You recalled a conversation you had with her once about the needs and sanctity of the house coming first. Allowing one of the wives to escape and possibly ruin everything wasn’t exactly in line with that.

Nat didn’t seem upset with you, at all the last time you saw her, but you didn’t truly know verbatim what Peter had said to Bucky to get him to take her out of the basement. Sure, he could’ve insinuated that keeping her down here and punishing her in a harsh manner after they’d been trying for a baby wasn’t smart, but he also could have flat out said to him that according to you, Nat thinks she's pregnant.

You only wanted to save her, and while you liked to think she’d understand if she knew you told Peter, you also weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of a lot of things anymore, and your uncertainty about so much—the result of whatever truth you thought you were living being turned upside down—made you retreat into yourself even more.

“Y/N, you need to eat something…”

The familiar voice faintly reached your ears, and as you slowly turned your head, you thought to yourself that you hadn’t even heard Margaret open the door and walk down the stairs. She was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite name, and it was only after some time did you register the weight in your lap.

Your gaze landed on a tray of food, and as appetizing as the toast and eggs and sausage looked, you had no desire to eat. You felt lucid for the first time in ages, and you slowly blinked before shaking your head. The words to tell her you weren’t hungry were on the tip of your tongue, but the redhead spoke before you could find your voice.

“You barely ate anything yesterday. And the day before…and the day before,” she breathed. “Steve wants to see an empty plate.”

You blinked again at that, and despite the fact that she was repeating Steve’s words, you could see her own concern in her eyes. You struggled to recall just how long you’d been down here and just how many plates you’d barely touched. You couldn’t recall, and despite the nagging at the back of your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to eat.

Even so, you and Margaret knew better than anyone how Steve could be, and so you slowly reached out for a piece of toast.

“I’ll eat,” was all you said.

She seemed relieved as she left you—albeit reluctantly—and you nibbled on the bread in your hand. The taste of it on your tongue made your stomach twist, and you put the rest of it back down without thinking. You had every intention of finishing it later, but once your food was set aside, all you wanted to do was sleep.

Your sleep wasn’t dreamless, and it rarely ever was. Sometimes you dreamt of your mom and your friends and your life before Peter took you for himself like some villain. Those dreams served nothing more than to torment you, and you often woke from them with tears in your eyes, vision blurry even in the darkness.

More often than not though, you dreamt of Peter and your life here. Sometimes it was awful nightmares about Steve—and even Bucky sometimes—where his handsome face was contorted in that perpetual frown it always seemed to be in when he laid eyes on you. Only it would be so much worse.

Your brain liked to conjure up visions of him where he was absolutely murderous, and it was no secret as to why. There’d been the brief moment here and there where you wondered if Steve would just say ‘to hell’ with all of his rules and get rid of you—in the most violent and dismissive fashion—and force Peter to find a sane wife. 

A better one.

That left a bitter taste in your mouth…and you hated it.

You liked to think that the thought of Peter with someone else only upset you because you didn’t think any woman deserved to be subjected to this. You liked to think that righteously and noble of yourself, but the truth was much more demented and depraved and twisted. No woman did deserve any of this, that was true, but the thought of Peter loving someone else made your stomach churn.

You could say it until you were blue in the face that this wasn’t love—it couldn’t be—but it didn’t change how you felt. You couldn’t fathom the thought of being tossed aside and replaced, and being replaced by someone better would only add insult to the injury. It wasn’t fair that they got to break you until there was hardly anything left only to cast you aside because they didn’t like the inevitable results of their choices.

The thought made you want to be sick.

Peter would never, and you knew without a doubt that he would never, but for all that he put you through, the least he could do was remain by your side and look after you forever. Something deep within you hated him so much for what he did—the dark-haired man worse than you initially thought him to be—but a larger part, the part that had been carefully put back together by him, only wanted him to show an endless display of apologies for the rest of your days.

You deserved that.

You deserved to be free, but that was never happening, and as it were, could you even function properly if you were allowed to walk off of this property tomorrow? Your mind didn’t work the way it did before you were brought here. It had been taken apart and scrambled and replaced with one that wasn’t your doing. You feared that you would never be able to function right again, and who would want you?

Who would want you besides Peter?

You were an abused, broken, and genuinely unwell mess…and Peter loved you for it…in his own way. You could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at you that the thought of losing you would send him over the edge, and you knew you felt the same, but you were sure it was for entirely different reasons. At this point in your life…what were you without Peter?

When you weren’t dreaming of your friends and family, and when you weren’t conjuring up nightmares of a familiar blond, you were dreaming about the man who put you into this mess. Sometimes you dreamt about who he actually was and in those dreams there was no doubt about his motives and his actions and you felt the appropriate fear when staring into his eyes.

…but more often than not you dreamt about the man he manipulated you into loving. You dreamed about welcoming him home from work and kissing him and touching him. You dreamed about the days where he simply held you as you cried, conveniently ignoring that he was the reason for your tears. In this house of horrors, Peter was your safe place, and you knew that was purposely done, but again, you felt powerless to do anything about it.

It shouldn’t be that way, but your only other choice was to spend the rest of your days in torment.

“She hasn’t eaten properly in weeks,” the soft words reached your ears, and you knew they weren’t meant for you.

There was a beat of silence, and as you were slowly gripped by consciousness, you took note of the smell of food. It didn’t tempt you, and you almost turned your head away.

“Do you think it’s because of Peter?”

Jane.

You absentmindedly wondered why she was down here and not resting. You hated to think that she’d come down here just to check in on you when she should’ve been looking after herself. You felt her hand on your head.

“She hasn’t seen him in a month…and we know how she—how they can get…”

You squeezed your eyes tight at that, heart aching for the first time in forever at those words. Had it been that long already? Had you really gone a month without seeing him, talking to him, touching him? Was that the cause of this…numbness? You were sure Peter wasn’t the only factor here, but you couldn’t deny that you missed him. You weren’t used to being without him, and this was the longest you’d ever gone without being with him since you first woke up in this house.

…but you knew that this was as much of a punishment for him as it was for you.

What if he didn’t miss you at all? What if you were in hell while each day only brought him more peace not having to be around the crazy one? That thought made your heart ache more, and for a brief moment, you never wanted to see him again.

“Steve only thinks it’s been a handful of times, but she’s not eating. At first, we weren’t too alarmed, especially considering…”

You placed Margaret’s voice now as she trailed off.

“...but then every tray just went basically untouched, and she’s lost a lot of weight. I think we need to tell Steve to contact Dr. Banner.”

You recalled a familiar face with glasses and dark hair.

“She doesn’t use the bathroom every day either. She mostly sleeps,” the redhead added.

“Have you mentioned this to Peter?”

“So he can come barging down here and start a whole other thing with Steve? They’ve only just settled back into being civil with one another. If Peter finds out she’s like this…”

Margaret scoffed, and you detected the unease in her tone.

You had never thought about the aftermath that followed your punishment and how it might have affected things upstairs. You had never thought to, you supposed. You had just assumed that Peter would fall in line with what Steve wanted as usual. After all, no matter how you felt about what you’d done, the household—or more importantly the husbands—did not agree. You’d broken their rules, and rules were rules.

It had never occurred to you that this whole ordeal—and you being at the center of it—might cause friction between Peter and Steve.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your name, and you were loathed to admit that it took so much of your strength to open your eyes. Jane was as pregnant as ever and glowing, and she gave you a small smile when your gazes met.

“Do you want to try eating something today?

Her tone was light, but you detected a hint of pleading.

Your gaze shifted, and you looked at the tray of food in Margaret’s hands. You eyed it, wanting to eat for their peace of mind if nothing else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You swallowed, and Jane must have seen the guilt and conflict in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she assured you. “You don’t have to.”

You didn’t miss Margaret’s look.

“We’ll leave it here, and you eat when you’re ready.”

She touched your face, and with a few lingering looks, they left you.

It wasn’t long before you dozed off again, but it wasn’t a deep sleep, and you drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt like no matter how much you slept, you just couldn’t shake the feeling of being exhausted. Exhausted, not tired. Your whole body seemed to ache, and you dreaded the moment you’d have to get up and shower.

The next time you were even halfway lucid, you felt a hand at your back and a spoon at your lips. On instinct, you turned your head away, but the person’s hand was firm.

“None of that. You need something on your stomach,” the voice was just as firm as the grip, and it was comfortingly familiar.

Your eyes widened a bit at the familiar face, and you unintentionally parted your lips, allowing her to give you a taste of broth. It took you by surprise, and you coughed a bit, but swallowed it nonetheless. Nat gave you another spoonful, and so in shock at her presence, you accepted it.

“Sharon’s supposed to be in my place…but…Steve and Bucky are at work,” she shrugged, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. “...and I had to see you.”

For the first time in a month or so, you felt…something. For a brief moment, your perpetual numbness had lifted, and you both spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

It was said by two different voices, but it echoed as one.

“You’re sorry…?” Confusion filled you. “Why are you sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and Nat looked so like you were unused to seeing her. She was normally so strong and fierce—a great source of envy for you—but now she looked sad…and regretful.

“You felt more obligated to protect me than yourself…and had I thought for a moment that you’d see me…I never would’ve left.”

Your shoulders fell at that, and you hated that Nat felt…guilty over your predicament. Your own choices had led you here, and that was what you told her after clearing your throat.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I thought the best thing that could happen was I’d get help and we’d all leave this place…and the worst was that I’d get dragged back,” she fed you more broth. “Not once had I considered that someone else would get dragged into my mess.”

You didn’t quite know how to respond, because after all, you didn’t really agree with her. You hadn’t felt obligated to do anything. It seemed like a no brainer to you to not say that you saw her that night. It was never even a question, never even a consideration to tell Peter Nat had escaped.

You swallowed, only taking a tiny sip when she offered you another spoonful. The green-eyed woman frowned at that.

“Nat…”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but she merely shook her head.

“Bucky was practically ready to flog me for leaving him,” she lightly said despite the severity of the topic. “When they threw me down in here, I was prepared for it. Even with my possible delicate condition.”

Your eyes met hers, and she sent you a crooked smile.

“I knew only one person could talk them out of whatever they prepared to do to me…and I knew there was only one thing you could say that would change their minds…” you bit your lip at that. “Thankfully, I thought wrong, but even if I was pregnant, I’d still understand why you did it.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh.

“I may not have agreed with it nor been the biggest supporter of that decision…but I get it,” she shrugged. “After they found out what you did, I think I was scared for you more than I’d ever been scared for anyone…and I imagine that’s what you’d felt like.”

Your gaze found the sheet on your legs.

“If I had known something that could save you too, I might’ve done the same.”

When she offered you more broth, you sadly shook your head. A look passed over her features at that, and her face fell. She set the spoon back in the bowl with a small sigh before standing.

“I had to check on you,” she told you. “They said you haven’t been eating, and I didn’t realize how bad it was…”

You noticed the way she eyed you, and you suddenly had the urge to find a mirror. She set the bowl down, and she looked unsure about it.

“I’m going to leave this here. Just in case…” she trailed off, a bout of worry crossing her features. “I’ll come check on you again when I can.”

You nodded at her words, but the shock from Nat’s presence and the few sips of broth had taken more energy than you cared to focus on, and you were already sliding back down in bed.

It took her a long time to climb the stairs and shut the door behind her.

It could’ve been days later when you heard the low timber of a voice that wasn’t wholly familiar to you. It scratched some part of your brain, but not enough for you to pinpoint where you’d heard the tone before. Unfamiliar fingers were prodding at your face and neck, and the feel had you frowning in your semi consciousness. 

The man hummed to himself.

He was speaking, but you were in and out of sleep, so you couldn’t tell—nor cared—if he was speaking to you or someone else whose presence you weren’t aware of. A voice spoke back, and both sounded so muffled and far away to you.

You felt those same fingers on other parts of your body, as well as cold metal, and the intense temperature against your warm skin made you jolt a bit. You pushed at the hand, but a voice shushed you, but it didn’t sound close enough to have the intended soothing effect. Words were exchanged again, but you were already falling back asleep.

It was a dreamless sleep, the first in a long time, and it made the passage of time feel like a blink.

A voice so hauntingly and achingly familiar to you reached your ears, and you thought you were dreaming.

“I don’t give a fuck about what Steve would’ve wanted. His wife is healthy and coherent and probably getting ready to give him another Goddamn baby,” the voice hissed, interrupting a smaller more feminine one. “She’s been like this for weeks, and no one said a word to me.”

“Peter-.”

“Dr. Banner should’ve been here weeks ago. I should’ve known about this weeks ago. I should have seen her weeks ago…!”

Sleep was pulling you back in again, and the louder the voice got, the more it started to fade. The wrathful pitch grew higher and higher but also fainter and fainter until it was gone entirely, and sleep welcomed you again.

Your mind was struggling to put pieces together, and in your sleep, you thought to yourself that those words sounded like they came from some demented doppelganger, the tone sounding so much like Peter but not at the same time. You had never heard him so angry, and a voice in your head convinced you that you dreamt it, used to a sweet disposition from your dark captor, the dichotomy of which never failed to throw you into greater mental turmoil.

When your senses came to you again, you felt stronger than you had in probably two months at this point. You weren’t entirely sure, completely confused by the passage of time. The basement smelled different, and even the bed felt different, but as you shifted, you understood why.

The numbness that you had started to find comfort in was gone, and you could feel the bed and pillows and sheets beneath you…and they felt familiar. Too familiar. They felt like home. They felt like the place where you’d spent hours in Peter’s arms and hours sleeping and hours accepting the affections of the man who’d kidnapped you.

You thought you might have conjured the feeling up, but then you inhaled, and Peter’s scent filled your nose, and you thought of the nights he’d slept here alone in your absence. The faintest of touches disturbed the back of your hand, so featherlight that you could almost ignore it, but the slight pressure in your chest wouldn’t let you.

When you opened your eyes, his face was the first thing you saw.

His hair was a little longer, a little curlier and brushing his ears, and his face was as pretty as ever, but the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. Had you the strength to move, you would’ve reached out to touch them.

Peter was knelt beside the bed you shared and his hand was in yours and his brown eyes lit up at the sight of your own. His face shifted so suddenly and seamlessly that you would've sworn he’d been smiling at your sleeping face this entire time instead of with that pinched brow and clenched jaw you’d been initially met with.

“Hey,” he softly and slowly greeted, dragging the word out in a whisper. “...my pretty girl.”

You swallowed, blinking a few times before briefly glancing around to confirm you were where you thought you were. Your gaze caught onto the medical equipment by the bed, blinking at the bag two feet above you with unidentifiable liquid in it. You absentmindedly reached up with your free hand as you traced the direction of the tube.

“Hey, hey,” Peter softly admonished, taking your other hand too. “Don’t touch it.”

You looked down at the feeding tube going into your chest, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Confusion filled you, and you were just about to speak when Peter let one of your hands go to take your chin instead. Still in the process of escaping sleep, you could only blink at him, a million questions running through your mind that you didn’t have the capability to voice.

“You’re really weak and…you haven’t been eating,” you watched his face as he said this, and you took note of the dark shadow that passed over his features, and you thought to yourself that perhaps you hadn’t dreamt that interaction at all. “Dr. Banner gave you that because you need to eat.”

Peter appeared to get choked up, and your eyes widened a tad. Sniffing, he rose a bit to press his lips to yours, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“You need to eat, you need all your strength,” you felt his tears on your face. “...because we’re going to have a baby.”

He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his own looking between them as he spoke.

“My pretty girl is going to have a baby,” he whispered more to himself than you. “...and you want her to be healthy and fat, don’t you?”

His thumb brushed over your lips, but it was hard to focus on anything he said after ‘baby’.

“I need you both healthy,” he said, voice cracking, and he kissed you again. 

His arms circled around you, and you felt his wet face fall to rest against your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there that peeked through above the large shirt, his whispered happy words reaching your ear.

“My baby’s having a baby.”

[ranjith11]

Writers Need To Read | SummitPressPublishers

In this video, I will talks about writers should read because it helps writers to become better at their craft. Watch this short video, writers need to read, by the channel SummitPressPublishers, and get to know more about it.

[nasty-quillz]

Keepin' It Sleazy: The Stalls

Ao3 Mirror

A/N: The lines for Pov shifts didn't translate so if those small things irritate you like me, go to ao3

There is also an art commission, done for this fic. I used an OC for imagery and description of the reader. It's available on the at CinnaBun and on ao3.

tags: degradation, dirty talk, non traditional a/b/o dynamics

summary:

When an Alpha is without an Omega, they are sen't to Government mandated facilities, called "The Stalls".

Government funded Gloryholes for Omegas to access Alphas to slake their heat with.

John had lost track of his cycle since Helen died. He was mourning, then on a rampage. No one could expect him to remember his approaching rut. Or what it would mean without Helen.

No one except the Federation of Alpha Assimilation.

They were at his door a month after he killed the Tarasovs. They informed him he failed to register another Alpha to rut with and therefore he was being taken to The Stalls. 

He’d tried to argue, but without any family and with him being out and of practical breeding age, they weren’t trying to hear it. He thought he could just kill them, but knew The Table would take him calling the Cleaners again so soon after his…visit as a declaration of his return and he just wanted peace.

So he let himself be lead to the government issued transport wagon by leering Beta guards. They were rough as they solved him in and slammed the doors behind him.

Before John knew it he was in The Stalls. 

They locked him in a Stall that was only slightly bigger than a handicapable stall in most public restrooms, almost completely naked, save for the metal collar around his neck, that connected to a long steel chain that was fed through the wall at neck level.

A Water cooler and basket of protein bars and fruit sat on top a mini fridge John knew was stocked with fruit that were meant for good semen production and replenish the energy he’s expend getting fucked by Omegas.. A chair with restraints sat against the back wall and a small cot rested in the corner.

He stood there taking in the sparsely furnished Stall, before he let himself take in the wall the chain led to. 

John approached the wall slowly, stepping carefully over the chain, doing his best to ignore the heat beneath his skin and his throbbing dick and full balls.

Just below the chain was a one way mirror, that John could see his reflection in. One either side was steel hand grips, and below the was a round smooth hole level with John’s aching dick. It was big enough so Omegas could access all the Alpha had to offer.

The thought of an Omega waiting impatiently on the other side of the wall, ready to use him like a whore both set his teeth on edge and inflames his rut addled mind. He reach down between his legs to grasp at himself. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and squeezed the flesh where his knot will form. With his right he strokes his leaking erection, growling as the pleasure lit across his body.

He hadn't thought he'd have to deal with this ever again after he married Helen, but clearly he was wrong.

John stood in front of the one way mirror and tried to take a deep steadying breath. When that failed, he grasped himself firmly and beat his dick with abandon.He let the Rut wash over him with each stroke, feeling his climax build rapidly. That deep pulling bliss that mounted in his belly and demanded release like a snarling animal.

When he stroked back down his turgid flesh, he squeezed his knot and watched thick precum dribble from the tip of his dick, where it poked out from his foreskin.. He used it as lube as he roughly fucked his fist. Some savage part of John’s brain wished it were Slick— Wanted an Omega to fuck down on his dick, but he pushed that thought away as he tried to focus.

A sound echoing from the other side of the Stall, put a stop to that. 

John stopped touching himself to listen and through the gloryhole, heard steps grow louder, before a woman’s voice filtered through some hidden speaker.

“Don’t stop on my account Sweetheart. Sounds like you were having a good time, why don’t you keep making all those whorish noises for Omega.”

John growled, not wanting anything to do with the woman.

She “tsked” and suddenly John was yanked forward by the chain of his collar. He’d just about smacked into the glass if he hadn’t caught himself. When he tried to back away, there was no give. The slack of the chain was gone. 

Frowning he tried for a warning growl, but before he could, his senses were over run with heat pheromones. He let out an involuntary rumble in his chest.

“That better isn’t it, Alpha? No need to worry you pretty lil head. Just relax and let Omega breed on that big fat dick.”

Suddenly John felt a hand on his dick, stroking over it deftly. He looked down to see a delicate brown hand with pink manicured nails.

“God Baby you’re bigger than what I’m used to. My Alpha back home’s dick isn’t nearly as big and his nut isn’t as thick or as copious.” The disappears on the other side of the Stall and a loud smack is heard “Mmm and you tasted divine. Maybe I’ll just Sample you for now. Don’t wanna spoil my appetite for my favorite knothead, later.”

Before he knew it the woman’s hand was back on him and tugging him forward to feed himself through the gloryhole. John seized as he felt the familiar touch of a wet mouth wrapping around his tip, but there was not stopping the moan it dragged from his throat.

The unwilling noise encouraged the Omega. She slipped her tongue under the Alpha’s foreskin and licked around the head. He tongue swirled and lapped at the pre steadily flowing from the manhood in her mouth.

When she took him down half way, John growled and began thrusting into the Omega’s violating mouth.

He didn’t want to— Didn’t want her touch, but it felt so good. He knew the scent of her heat was muddling his ability to resist. He wanted to pull out. To shove away the strange Omega forcing her touch on him. In the end though, instincts won.

He fucked his faceless asailant’s mouth mindlessly, instincts letting him revel in the faux domination. His interrupted momentum from earlier returns quickly, mounting as the Omega used him.

Wet gurgling and glucking noises filled the space and John with a mean satisfaction. The arrogant woman couldn’t take him all the way and was forced to choke on his dick.

The Omega worked his hips forward until the sweet hot sensation finally broke and stars shot across hos vision. With a groan, John came in the Omega woman’s mouth. She moaned like it was the best thing she ever tasted and content heat pheromones burst from her as she sucked his cum down greedily.

John started to purr low in his chest, proud to have please the Omega— 

No! 

The hitman shook himself of that train of thought quickly, only noticing the Omega standing up at the last second. There was a tug of his collar and then the slack was returned to the steel chain.

“Hmm such a virile Alpha. Your nut tastes divine and you were so roughly enthusiastic,” her voice purred through the speaker, smug tone unaffected by the scratchiness of her  voice.

It set John’s teeth on edge with, with the urge to put her back on her knees, but he could do nothing as he listened to her exit the room.

John held a small sliver of hope that there wouldn’t be another Omega sent in, before it was swiftly put down, by the sound of heels clicking on marble floors.

As the person grew closer, Omega pre heat pheromones were all he could focus on, until the sound of a long zipper was heard. Rusling fabrics hit the floor and a gorgeous tawny rump pressed itself through the hole. It exposed her fat round asscheeks and the glistening swollen brown folds of the Omega’s pussy.

She was fully on display and John moaned at the fertile scent that permeated his Stall.

“Get on your knees and eat my pussy, you fuckin’ slut.” The demand was mean and desperate, accentuated by the soft rolling of her hips backwards.

John tried to resiste, but he was fully rutting now. He dropped down to his kness and and buried his face in the Omega’s lower half. His nose nudged at her ass crack, while he beard dragged across juicy cunt lips. It dragged a moan from her at the lewdness of it all.

John grasped bouncy flesh and pried them apart to reveal her slicked asshole. He opened his drooling mouth and  almost complied immediately, before a dark thought struck him. John spat on her glistening hole, because he could. A whine dragged itself from her mouth that broken into a keen when John’s thumbs spread his new abuser’s gooey pussy lips apart and dug in.

She was a swearing mess as she humped back into his mouth, filth spilling from her lips. 

“That’s it, you slick slut. Eat my pussy like the desperate bitch I know you are. Slurp all my slick up you whore.”

John groaned making stranger frantic in her pleasure.

“Your fingers use your finger! Put them in my other—”Ooohhh!” She trails off as three of JOhn’s fingers slip into her spit slick covered asshole. It leaked around his digits as he plunged them in, making a squelching noise that had John dick twitching between his legs, despite himself.

He shamefully reached to stroke himself as he fucks the Omega’s twitching hole and eats her pussy off the bone.

She’s not too far gone to not notice the thick scent of John’s cum get thicker as he drips onto the floor from his stroking.

“Fucking Alpha slut. Getting off on having my pussy on your face. ‘S’all you’ll ever be good for, being a mouth or a dick to fuck.”

The Alpha in John roared at being demeaned by an Omega, but the other part was drunk on the satisfaction of her pre heat slick and the satisfaction that came with pleasing an Omega. He added a finger and fucked her asshole faster, trying to get her off as fast swiftly as possible.

As he did, John pulled his tongue from her dark cunt and angled his face differently to pin under it. He gently but earnestly worked it over as his fingers drove in and out of her.

John revelled at rolling the sticky swollen clit under his tongue, letting the preheat scent dull his disgust , until the Omega was cumming on his tongue. Her pussy gushed against his face, smearing his beard and mustache in her cream, as her ass squeezed his fingers.

When she was done, she moved on wobbly legs, standing up and pulling up her Givenchy skirt.

John watched dark hands smooth the fabric out and looks up to see a silky black bob obscure the Omega’s face as she look down to right herself m. He dropped his eyes as she stood up straight and turned to leave.

“Thanks, whore,” was tossed over the deplorable woman’s shoulder as she walked out.

John kneeled there, unfulfilled, knot aching, knees in pain His head was foggy and st some point in the midst of eating the last Omega out his fangs had dropped. They ached where they sat in his mouth, longing to sink into Omegan flesh. 

His instincts  told him he wanted to mount and knot and breed, but he knew he wouldn’t get to for a while.

The Federation like to re-establish Omega Dominance with the Alphas brought to  The Stalls. They wouldn’t send him anyone who would breed on him for a while. It was going to be him being used and abused by any O with an itch to scratch.

Mentally, John tried to prepare himself for the biological torture he was going to suffer, as he was fucked through his Rut here. He took and deep breath and attempted to center himself. He could do it. He would Do it.

And suffer John did.

He spent days getting sucked and fucked by countless faceless Omwgas. Each one as degrading and deplorable as the last.

Some would suck his dick for hours, without touching his knot once. They just wanted to taste his potent Alpha seed. It worked like an aphrodisiac to heating Omegas.

Some stroked  and squeezed his knot, using their own slick, until he spurted on their tongue, laughing and squeezing harder when John started snarling at them through the mirror.

Some just forced his knot to pop, to suckle and lick at it, until they were delirious from the Rut pheromones it produced.

The worst of them, would bring the Alpha mates along.

There were some that just wanted another Alpha to spit roast them, while their Alpha knotted their pussies. Or stuff whatever other hole their Alpha couldn’t.

Others would have her mate knot them, with John’s cum in them instead of their own, berating them for not being as virile as John. For not being good enough to even knock them up.

They knew what they were doing. Two Alphas in such close proximity during heats and ruts? It set their instincts and the learned survival behaviors haywire. They enjoyed their distress. It wasn’t a surprise really. Any O that brought their mate to The Stalls weren’t the good kind of Omega to begin with.

The cruelest O’s made their Alpha’s dick. Made them swallow him down to the root and watch in sadistic horny glee as his knot locked behind their teeth, knowing how degrading it was to their instincts.

If they were articularly sick, they would use their own slick to prepare their mate, before they fucked John. Just as John’s knot was ready to pop, they would pull off and guide their Alpha’s untrained hole. He hadn’t realized whose hole was fucking on him— Hadn’t been able to stop. And when he did, it was only because of the gushy wet sound of the Omega’s pussy around the broken Alpha’s dick.

It was the ultimate last step to Bitching an Alpha. It guaranteed they’d be no use to any Omega outside the one who’s Slick was used. 

Otherwise they’d be on their knees begging crying for a knot. Those Alpha’s were never to be taken to The Stalls again.

John had knotted the Alpha, as she bred on their knot, moaning about them being good whoring Omegas who just needed an Omega’s guiding hand.

And the worst part of it wasn't the poor Alpha begging for his knot.

No, it was the fact that John actually got off on it. More than he wanted to admit. 

When that mated pair left John begged for another Omega to fuck him. Begged to for anything to erase the Alpha pheromones and shame from his Stall— From his mind.

That was days ago. No one had been let in since.

John was nearly at the tail end of his Rut. He was at the point where his biology was at its peak and they hadn’t let an Omega breed on his knot— 

John’s brain stopped that train of thought, before throwing it off the rails entire.

The hadn’t let him sink his knot in an Omega.

Keeping hold of himself— Of his nature desire to be dominant was important. John knew that, but….

He hadn’t been in Service in days.

No one was directed to his Stall. 

After that last pair, he’d been hooked in place as Beta attendants came in and scrubbed him clean, as others came in and restocked his Rut Provisions. When they left he expected to be back in Service, but still nothing.

It was well into the Evening and John was in agony. The skin where his knot formed was a violent purple and his dick hurt to touch. Being this far into rut after constant Omega stimuli was forced on him, only for none to be granted— 

Forced on him! John grasped at his head, tired of fighting warring instincts and the propaganda spouted at him.

He just wanted to let an Omega breed on his knot— 

John growled, head aching. He wanted to sink his knot into an Omega’s slick cunt!

He hadn’t been given the luxury of it during his tenure here and John knew it was pushing him into Faux Rejection Syndrome.

All he could do was sit against the wall, wishing for a way to empty his aching balls.

That is until he heard the door open on the other side of the wall. 

He didn’t even realize he was on his feet and snarling at the glass until he he heard your purring voice.

“Oooh such a dominating Alpha. It’’l be so much  fun breaking you in.” You voice was a silky purr through the speaker.

You admired the fruits of your labor, snarling and naked, collar gleaming around his neck. You sigh thinking of what he’ll look like in your collar, with your mark on his neck.

You worked hard to orchestrate his acquisition. Weeks of planning and constant checking with the Federation to make sure John didn’t register a new Omega for his Rut. 

As Director of Omega Health and Safety you were to review which Alpha’s were assigned to which level of The Stalls dependant upon the severity of their rut. So as soon as the man’s profile came across your desk, you ensured he got sent to your personal facility. You and you staff frequented these Stalls during your Heats and nothing .

You sent your personal team, who you knew would follow orders to remain untied as John Serviced them. You needed that knot untouched by another Omega’s pussy for your plan.

Now here you stood, completely naked , long waist length black and blue bejeweled ombre locs cascading down your back. You looked at his with dark lustful eyes, before looking down as he dick, that jutted through the gloryhole.

It was thick and long, just the way you like it, purplish head long exposed from it’s foreskin. Around the base was a matching purple that made you wince in sympathy. “My poor Alpha, not a single O bred themselves on your knot, did they? How could they be so cruel,” you purred with fake sincerity. 

Kneeling you take him in at a different angle. From your new vantage point you have a clear view of his nice full balls and can watch the cum bead and drip from the tip of his dick like a faucet. There was a small puddle forming on the floor, between your knees.

It was so obscene and made you slick between your legs.

You cracked your neck, gathering your hair to throw it in a messy bun atop your head, before a dark hand reached between your legs to gather some of your slick. You were almost leaking as much as John, heat freshly kicked off this morning.

You grasped John at the base, savoring the way he whined at your touch. “Doesn’t that feel good,” you murmured, leaning in close.  You released pheromones to sooth his frazzled psyche, as you kissed the tip of his dick. The feel of his cum glazing your lips is exhilarating as is his taste when you lick it from your luscious lips.

“God I can’t wait for you to nut in my mouth. You’ll do that won’t you? Like a good Alpha.” 

John growled at you, clearly fighting his disdain for his circumstance and his instincts telling him he wanted to please his Omega. Looking up at him, you saw his head pressed to the glass, as he tried to grit his teeth. Having none of that, you took him in your mouth and watched him shudder through the one way mirror.

As your mouth sunk down on him, your watched his eyes roll back. You hummed, tongue working him over, while you worked a slicked hand over the skin of his knot. John’s hips thrust forward, wanting deeper into your hot sinful mouth.

“Omega~” John’s voice was ragged as he moaned. “Omega p—please!” 

It sent a thrill through you watching this potent Alpha crumble. You pulled away and stroked him, taking extra care to focus on the place where his knot will pop. “Please what Alpha? Doesn’t this feel good. Or does my big strong slick slut want something else?”  You squeezed  his base, slipping your hand through, to fondle his heavy sac. 

They’re so full, I know he’s going to make a mess, you thought dreamily.

“F—Fuck! Omega please— I’m gonna— “

John erupted across your face, shooting thick sticky shot after shot of nut across your dark face. His groan filled your ears and you felt your own deadened instincts preen at pleasing your Alpha. It makes you smirk, licking the man’s seed from your lips, as before leaning up to lick and suck him knot.

The Alpha behind the partition shuddered as you toyed with his dick.

“Aww my poor Alpha. Can’t even wait for me to breed on you. Just wanna sit around and pop ya knot like the pretty whore you are.” You kissed his knot sweetly while you crooned at him. 

The noise that clawed its way out his throat became a whimper  as you toyed with oversensitive flesh. Your other hand pressed into a small panel on the wall. It released a circular band is released into your palm.

“I guess it can’t be helped though. It’s what you were made for afterall.” You stand, admiring his raggedly indecent appearance through the glass. Skin flushed and damp with sweat. Mouth panting and pupils blown wide. You almost felt bad as you slipped it on, around his deflated knot.

The noise he made was wretched.

Sighing, you turned around and nudged your ass into his still hard girth and grabbed the chain to his collar. Leaving some slack for him you locked it in place, before maneuvering his fat tip to the dark gushy lips of your pussy.

“C’mon Alpha. Prove to me you know how to use this pretty dick. Then I’ll let you knot my pussy.”

John grunted, but thrust forward, sheathing himself in your smothering heat. You moaned loud and indecent as you were filled to capacity. It felt good to be so full. Like you were complete. Your heat always left you feeling empty as if  you’d never be full.

But John’s dick? It was bigger than any Alpha you’d ever used. And he smelled so good.

You held onto the chain as the Alpha fucked you viciously, grunting and growling incoherently, as the scent of heat and slick filled the room. Each thrust left you near dizzy, the only issue was angling. The wall prevented the man from reaching the deepest parts of your gooey insides and you know if he could your see stars .

You would cum like this, but it wouldn’t be near as satisfying as it would with that perfect slut him out angle.

But that could be rectified.

You clenched gooey muscles around the hitman’s dick and reached down to rub circles into your slick clit. Pleasure build rapidly and you could tell John was close. Little did he know his orgasm was about to be vastly different than what he’d experienced since his captivity began.

You unclipped his leash in preparation, but kept a tight hold, with the hand not working your clit. “That’s it Alpha, surrender all that nut to me. Make a mess in me,” you moaned as your orgasm washed over you.

You creamed on the Alpha as his hips stuttered and he made a punched out noise, that morphed into a whine. As his cum filled you, you looked back as his eyes rolled and he wobbled.  You savoured the hot sticky feeling of being full, as John lost consciousness from knot denial.

You slowly allowed the chain to lower him to the floor, pressing a button on the wall to call for assistance.

What fun indeed.

John woke up hazily to a warm wet feeling wrapping around his dick and something harsh strapped to his face.  He groaned, head rolling from side to side as he pried his eyes open. 

As his eyes tried to focus, he made out the steel cage of a muzzle protruding from his face. He tried to remember where he was, when wet hot heat engulfed his cock. 

The delicious feeling snapped his mind into focus and on instinct, he reached to force the source of the sensation further down, only to find he could move his hands.

Yanking his arms he found they were held by metal restraints.

Vision finally clear, he looked down to see a dark skinned, blue haired woman staring up at him adoringly, mouth steadily swallowing his dick.

Suddenly John remembered where he was and growled at the intruder.

That only encourage you to take him all the way down, making John involuntarily fuck into your throat. John swore at the tight constrictive feel of your esophagus and tried to plant his feet to gain more leverage, only to realize, that they too were shackled into the breeding chair.

He snarled down at you and you only moaned, clearly not affected by his ire.

He can only sit there as you enthusiastically give him the sloppiest neck, he’s ever had. He takes you in since he can do nothing else.

 Long blue and black locs fall from the bun atop your head. Gold jewelry is littered throughout. He can see a gold septum ring in your wide nose. 

He only caught a glimpse of it, because said nose meets his pelvis when you deepthroat him.

He came, without any warning, shooting down your throat with a groan, watching you pull away at the last second, to avoid getting your jaw knotted.

He watched his cum spray across your dark face, blue lipstick tinged saliva connecting your smirking mouth to his twitching cock.

He tried to fight the whine that left his mouth at his aching knot taking form again. It was agony. He wished you would stroke him with your slick again. If he could just feel your warm slicked palm on him, he’d be able to think clearly—

John shook his head, but it did nothing to clear his thoughts.

His odd behavior didn’t go unnoticed either.

You stood, smiling beatifically, caressing the muzzle. “Oh John, it’s so hard isn’t it? You haven’t been bred on your entire Rut.” Your hand runs down from the cage to pet over his unmarked neck, glad to see his previous Omega didn’t mark him.

You massaged over his bonding gland and reveled in his intoxicating scent, as it filled the Stall. “It’s ok Alpha. I can make it all better.”

You  watched his dazed pained face, knowing that the last two knots just about broke him. You won’t need to do much anymore. His instincts are drowned out by the most prevalent one and that’s the need of an Omega on his knot.

Wasting no time, you climbed into the Alpha’s lap. John was disoriented, but he felt l the wet lips of your pussy, grazing his dick. He tried desperately to fuck up into your gooey warmth and almost gave in immediately, but you wanted him submission first.

Grabbing the muzzle, you made him look at you. “Tell Omega, what you need Alpha. Tell me what I want to hear.” His eyes were hazy and instead of that deep growl he’d been giving you, it was a subvocal whine leaving his throat.

“P—Please.”

The word leaving his lips was like pulling teeth.

You pressed white coffin nailed fingers between your legs, avoiding touching the Alpha at all. With slicked fingers, you massaged them over his bonding glands, mixing your scents and staking a claim. 

John’s voice was wrecked and the dark eyes managed to be fever bright. “Please. S—Sit on my cock. Need you to breed on me.”

You grinned at him, before giving him what he wanted. 

You slid down his dick, savoring the new angle the man’s dick penetrated you. It hit split you open and in a wonderful revelation you realized that it still wasn’t all the way inside you. Groaning, you looked at John as his head dropped back against the breeding chair. His mouth was open in a bliss behind the muzzle, black hair  He was a sight to behold.

 “It’s ok, John. We’re gonna make it fit,” you said as you worked your fingers under the straps of the muzzle.

You steady your knees as you bounce up and down his dick. Its feels amazing, being filled to bursting. And him stroking you out fiercely made your legs shudder and twitch with the pleasure pain of it. John’s moaning, begging for you to let him knot in you this time.

His hips moved as best they could with the way he was shackled. It drove you wild. On each down stroke he met you with his own upwards thrust. Your pussy was creamy around him, loud and squelching in the quiet of the Stall. 

And John looked like he was on cloud nine. His face was flushed in ecstasy and awash in passion. You wanted to kiss him. Needed to.

Finally the leather of the muzzle gave way and you tossed the muzzle away. 

John’s tried to lunge for your  mating gland, but you caught him by the hair and fluttered your cunt around his dick. “Not yet, Alpha. You haven’t let me take that big pretty knot yet.”

The hitman whined, fucking up into you forlornly making you drag him forward to kiss him. The kissed him , rough and deep. Licking over big fangs, before sucking on his tongue. Beneath you John’s hip sped up, fucking his dick into your gooey center.

You broke away to moan and John  took the opportunity to beg against plush lips. 

“Please I need it. Don’t make me do it again. Let me stay inside, Omega.” His words sere practically sobbed out as you fucked him. It made you moan, the pleasure of having the man at your mercy pushing you closer to the edge.

“Do it, pop your knot Alpha. Plug my pussy up, c’mon.” You licked back into his mouth, bouncing on him, forcing you pussy to take those scant few inches. It slammed the fat tip of his dick into your cervix. He fucked up into the squishy ring to the womb and you were gone. 

Your orgasm rolled through you and you pulls from the kiss to moan out loudly, never having an Alpha touch you so deeply. 

John growled louder than before and you heard a loud metallic sound before big rough palms were holding you down on his dick. 

You had a second to be be startled before you were overcome the with feeling of his cum flooding your insides and his knot spreading and locking your pussy on him. You watched his face as he thanked you, over and over. 

With a last coherent thought, you pulled his hair to bare his neck to you and sunk young fangs into his pale neck.

You feel the bond snap into place and become aware of his very existence. You sat there, full and panting , in the silence of the Stall, as you came down from your high.

Pulling away, mouth a little bloody, you grabbed your new mate by the chin and met his fucked out gaze. 

“Good Alpha.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalyptic Omegaverse AU

Summary - You missed the end of the world. Fine by you. You thrived in your new surroundings, content to be on your own. Until something happens during your third winter.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. Uh... This came to me in a fever dream. Consider this a prologue. 141 x reader

You think you're pretty lucky all things considered. You had always been self sufficient and your childhood gave you skills you were able to call on after the entire world shat itself. To be honest, you hadn't even noticed the world had completely gone to ruin until you tried to call your pharmacy to refill your heat and scent suppressants.

The line was dead. So you called the grocery store. Dead. The movie theater, the diner, the post office. Dead dead dead. Panic seized you by the throat and you dropped your home phone onto the ground. You splashed cold water onto your face and looked into the mirror with puffy eyes and shaking hands.

What were you going to do? The world couldn't have ended. Right? You should have noticed sooner. "Fuck," you said, pulling on your shoes and grabbed your car keys, you got into your car, "fuck!"

As it turns out, you did in fact miss the ending of the world. You yelled obscenities and banged on your steering wheel. The entire small town you lived near was deserted. Windows were boarded up and cars were parked by the road with tires missing or windows smashed in.

You missed the entire end of the world.

As it turns out, the end of the world wasn't that bad. Nothing really changed. Well besides the rarity of getting your hands on heat suppressants and scent blockers. The first week after you finally got caught up on the whole "the world has ended" thing you raided.

You avoided using your car after you got a mild scare that someone else had been attracted to the noise. Hiding in the very smelly gas station bathroom while you listened to the sound of boots crunching on glass was enough to teach you that lesson.

You tore apart the pharmacy the first week, finding what had to be at least four months worth of scent blockers and nine months of heat suppressants. You took everything you deemed useful and stuffed it into your backpack before hiking back home.

You set up a routine, patrol the forest edge twice a day, care for your garden and check any trap for animals to eat. Self sufficiency had never been such a blessing.

It was the middle of winter three years later when you first saw them.

Men. No, not just men. Alphas. Their scent almost made your knees buckle when you smelt it down wind. For a moment your mind went hazy as their smells flooded your mind until that part of your brain that had been responsible for your survival kicked back in.

Alphas. In your territory. Your territory. It felt like a crime and you felt your inner omegas turmoil. As you watched the four men walk down the road that led into town through your binoculars you debated on what you should do. Run, flee while you are down wind. With shaky hands, whether from the cold or fear you didn't know, you climbed down from the perch you were on and sprinted back home while doing your best to cover your own tracks.

You went in circles, outside in the cold long past when your hands and feet had gone cold. But you were sure they couldn't follow. You were sure they didn't even know you were there.

Three years. You had been off of heat suppressants and scent blockers for years. After a while your heats had stopped coming, whether it was from lack of sleep or stress or some evolutionary thing that happened when no one to mate was around, the bottom line was that you were unprepared.

You boarded up your door and threw water on your fire. You grabbed every blanket in the house and ran into your bedroom. At first you did it for warmth. If you were going to hide you couldn't have fire to give out smoke and you needed to be warm.

Then you continued to mess with the blankets and pillows. You huffed, growing increasingly frustrated at your inability to get it right. You grabbed your laundry and threw it in too, arranged and rearranged until it felt right. It wasn't until you took a step back that you realized what you had done. Something you haven't in years. Before you was a nest. Large enough to fit many in it. Maybe even five. You swallowed hard as your fingers dug into your stomach. It was going to be a long winter.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

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

Word Count: 1143

Warnings: A/B/O, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, leering, mention of collaring/leashed, rut/heat, physical altercation, murder conviction, parental dominance

*Additional warnings will be added

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

*Square filled: @spnabobingo -Rut Suppressant @spnaubingo -Sub!Dean @anyfandomdarkbingo - Voyeurism

A/N: Each part follows in sequence

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Part I

Five weeks ago 

Dean Winchester had been arrested.

Their dad grew tired of Sam’s constant complaining about finishing up his junior year in one place and had left his sons in this backwater town.

Several more weeks passed and it was obvious their dad wasn’t coming back anytime soon, the little money they had began to run out and when he couldn’t hustle pool anymore, Dean took a job at a local garage. 

It wasn’t long after another problem arose.

Dean ran out of rut suppressants and was stuck in one of the few states that required a prescription. He tried obtaining them through less than-legal channels but began feeling the restlessness simmering underneath his skin; it was too late.

Out of options he made sure his brother had everything required for a few days, went looking for something to sink his knot into, and found himself chatting up a Beta at the only local bar until their irate Alpha came looking for them. 

By night's end, Dean found himself with an IV in one arm and the other handcuffed to a bed in the hospital after a rut-induced fight with their Alpha.

When the local sheriff showed the ER doctor told him the Alpha was DOA and the cause of death was exsanguination from canine perforation of the carotid artery.

Sam was unable to reach their dad, and in a panic called Bobby Singer. They’d been forbidden to make contact after his sires fell out with the grumpy hunter the young Alphas' words spilled out a jumble of profuse apologies and explanations.

Bobby felt his temper flare, he’d always considered the brothers like his own kids, and hearing Dean was headed for jail and Sam in CPS custody wanted another shot at the elder Winchester with something stronger than rock salt. Reassuring Sam he’d be there by nightfall pulled out his hunters' contacts and started dialing, putting out John's last known location.

Bobby’s first stop was at CPS. He presented the faked documentation verifying he was their blood uncle then took him to the police station to find out what was happening with Dean. 

At the station Bobby flashed his law enforcement credentials to the officer in charge whose response was information would be only released when his Alpha arrived, wasn’t allowed any visitors except the public defender assigned but slipped that Dean what he was being charged with.

Unable to do anything else and unwilling to sit around the rental where the brothers were staying to wait for the Alpha, Sam had Bobby take him to the local library to research the state’s laws pertaining to his brother's case.

Two days later John rolled into town and went directly to the station where he was informed of the situation and then allowed a brief visit with his son.

John entered the interrogation room and saw Dean seated wrists and ankles shackled and tethered to the table, the reddish cast in his eyes that'd begun when Caleb found him, fully turning his irises red.

Out of all the shit he’d done over the years this proved what he always thought; Dean was a worthless fuck-up and offspring or not, he no longer wanted to deal with.

Dean suddenly found himself airborne, legs flailing, and kicked over the chair he’d been sitting in before being slammed face-first on the table, trapped, at the mercy of his sire who he knew was going to kill him. 

His final thoughts were only about one person, flashing back to the night baby Sammy was placed in his arms and his dad ordered; take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back he was Dean's responsibility to protect and care for. As he lost consciousness the door burst open and three deputies drew their tasers shocking the incensed Alpha. 

Sam maneuvered around the chaos and sank to his knees next to Dean lying on the floor, gasping air between his bluish lips and a thick band of purplish discoloration around his neck felt the dark and angry thing that lived under his skin flare up, slithering through his veins felt his canines elongating releases a bloodcurdling wrawl. 

Silence filled the air except for Dean’s raspy breath as Sam slowly stood up scanning the room, unsure why everything was tinted a strange color when his eyes landed on his dad, angered that while his brother's lower status didn’t interfere with hunting, it’d never allow him to stand up to their dad.

“Son, don’t,” Bobby’s voice was absurdly loud, agitating, like nails on a chalkboard but his gaze never left John as the deputies dragged him out.

At the arraignment hearing they found out Dean was being charged with voluntary manslaughter. 

The district attorney said due to the extenuating circumstances; an Alpha on the cusp of their rut and the Betas signed a confession of intentionally seeking out another for infidelity as retribution because their Alpha recently purchased a House Omega against their wishes they were willing to accept a plea deal.

“As stipulated by state law, Alpha John Winchester will have ten days to procure an Omega for  his pack's lower-ranked Alpha, Dean Winchester, and present them in court with the proper documentation or the defendant will be reprimanded into custody to serve the mandatory five-year imprisonment.” 

The DA paused and glances towards the gallery, “the Alpha will also be required to surrender custody of Samuel Winchester, his other minor Alpha son, to be placed in a state-sanctioned home.” The defense attorney asked for a brief recess to discuss the terms when John stood up.

“Your honor, there’s no need for a recess, I accept the deal.”

Shouting and loud banging at the far end of the showroom drew the attention of several patrons then stopped just as suddenly as it started.

 “Dean, go wait by the entrance.” 

“What?” Dean disbelievingly barked and John grabbed his leather jacket collar, “don’t you take that tone with me boy,” he snarled in a low voice. “I’m having to clean up your fucking mess so your brother doesn’t end up in the system.”

 ”Yes sir,” Dean replies chastised, turning towards the warehouse's entrance with his brother naturally following hearing their dad say, “no Sam, you’re with me,” peeks back to see his brothers' cheeks flushed in embarrassment, trying to not gawk at the naked Omegas as he reluctantly falls in behind them.

Their dad had raised them to not only hunt evil but protect the innocent and this situation went against everything ingrained in them, knowing these O’s were destined for servitude or used as breeding stock and couldn’t help them. 

“Let's get down to brass tacks shall we,” the dealer gestures around. “As you can see, our stock has a diverse selection, is there a particular type you’re interested in purchasing?”

“I need one under 18.”

Part II

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