#omega whumpee

[urlocalwhumper]

cw: omegaverse

abused housewife omega whumpee is presented with an out. a way to escape their situation for good with no strings attached.

and they refuse. because whatever it is, they can't take their children with them. and whumpee would rather endure for the rest of their life than abandon their children.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 7893

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!

Breeding the Winter Soldier

“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”

Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”

And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?

His mate is going to be so confused.

Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”

Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”

“Captain. Hail Hydra.”

Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.

“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.

“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”

Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.

“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.

They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”

“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.

“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”

Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”

“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.

Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”

“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”

Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.

Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”

Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”

“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”

“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”

Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”

Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”

Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.

But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”

Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”

“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”

Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”

Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”

Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.

“Fuck you!” Steve spits.

Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.

The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.

Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.

The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.

They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”

The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.

“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”

The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.

“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”

The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”

“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”

The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”

Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”

“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”

But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”

Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.

He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.

That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.

In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.

“Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”

Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.

Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”

Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”

Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”

Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”

Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”

“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.

Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”

Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.

“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”

Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”

Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”

“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”

“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”

Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”

Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.

James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“… Bucky—”

“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:

“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”

In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.

“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.

James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”

“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”

James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”

Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”

Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…

“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”

James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”

Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”

James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.

His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.

The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.

Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.

Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.

Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”

Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”

“Yes.”

Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”

Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”

Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.

He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.

“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”

James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”

That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”

James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”

He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.

But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”

Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.

Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.

“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”

James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.

It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.

James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”

Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.

“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”

James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”

Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.

“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”

Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”

“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”

“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No?”

“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”

“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”

“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.

Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”

Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.

“You think it’ll take?”

“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.

Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”

Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.

Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”

Masterlist

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[thesewingmachine]

i read a fanfiction on ao3 and now have an undying love for omegaverse whump. i believe that I might have a bit of a problem.

[dangraccoon]

You Promised

Day 13 ~ multiple whumpees ~

Omega & Rex

Word Count: 595 Content: episode rewrite (it gets worse), TBB's chips activate on Bracca, knives, stabbing/slashing, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, including the death of a minor!! Because of that, I am marking this one as 18+, Minors DNI

The scanner whirred until it hit a high-pitched buzz. Omega watched as Hunter’s reassuring smile twisted into a pained scowl.

“Hunter?” she whispered, reaching out to him. He batted her hand away. “T-Tech, I think–”

She looked up at Tech, stopped short by how he clutched the side of his head, his ever-present datapad falling to the ground. She looked to Echo only to find his face scrunched up, his head held between his hand and scomp.

“Omega, we need to go,” Rex hissed. “Now.”

Omega looked around the room as her brothers started to move, all coming to the same upright stature. Rex grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the way as they all started towards them.

They ran through the ruins of hallways, Omega just on Rex’s heels. They could hear the others charging forward. 

“Hide in here,” Rex panted, nodding towards a doorway. “I’ll hold them off.”

Omega ran into the room, watching terrified as Rex drew his pistol.

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66,” she heard Hunter say.

It’s not them. It’s not really them, she reminded herself as she shook.

“All traitors to the Empire will be executed,” Echo added.

Omega heard heavy footsteps and blaster fire, then the hiss of steam followed by her brothers’ coughing. Tears dripped down her face as she pushed her way under a pile of rubble.

While the gas temporarily held back the others, Echo artfully dodged his old captain’s stun shots, wrenching the blaster from his hands as he got close enough.

Rex tackled him to the ground, grappling with his ARC.

“This… isn’t you,” he grunted, wrestling him into a tight hold. “Wake…up, Echo!”

Echo jammed his scomp into Rex’s side, twisting it as the captain yelped.

“Traitor!” Echo hissed.

Echo grabbed Rex by the chest plate, hoisting him up just in time for the space between his pauldron and chest plate to catch a vibro-knife that flew from the dissipating fog. He cried out as he fell to his knees. 

Omega could hear her heart beating fast–faster than she thought it could. 

“Echo,” Rex’s strained voice pleaded. “Brother, please. This isn’t you–it’s the chip!”

“Traitor.”

She heard the hum of a vibro-blade, a horribly wet choke, and plastoid armor hitting the metal floor.

She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands to stifle the sob that ripped through her.

“Fan out and find the kid,” Hunter ordered.

She heard them split up and for a brief moment, she thought she might be able to breathe again.

But then she heard it; the faintest hint of footsteps entering the room.

Hunter.

She held her breath more than ever.

His near-silent footfalls inched closer to her, and she realized she stood no chance at hiding; he could hear her heart pounding, smell her fear. She was the Hunter’s prey and he was toying with her.

The bent panel sheltering her was shoved aside, tearing a scream from her throat.

“Hunter!’ she pleaded as she backed away, unable to get to her feet. “You said I wouldn’t be alone! Y-you promised!”

“Conspiring with traitors makes you guilty of treason,” he muttered. He closed the short distance between them, grabbing a fistful of the collar of her tunic as he lifted her in the air.

She struggled against him, eyes wide with horror, tears streaking down her face.

He slammed her to the floor. 

Omega groaned as the world spun, her unfocused eyes finding him standing above her.

Her hand reached out to him.

“P-please.”

His knife was the last thing she saw.

« Previous Day Next Day »

Thanks for reading! - River

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[bilightningwhumper]

Mangst 2024- Day 2

<<First . Masterlist . Next>>

Forever Prey (Red Riding Hood) Masterlist

"If you can't trust yourself right now, trust me."

Summary:

Sienna's going into heat and Rae's there to help Potential spoiler excerpt from "Forever Prey"

Notes:

Not much of any warnings for this one. It's a bit angsty, but ended up more hurt/comfort fluff. Didn't mean for it to be this long, but you know, the characters do what they want to do, lol. Characters: Sienna- Red Riding Hood Rae- "Huntsman"

Sienna’s POV

Her skin was burning. Not overwhelmingly or painful yet, but she could feel it boiling under the surface. Tucking her head between her legs, she curled up more into herself on the couch.

Bad omegas didn't deserve a nest. Didn't deserve comfort. Didn't, didn't, didn't-

She stayed where she was when the door opened. Rae must have come home. How stupid did she have to be, staying out of her room like this? She should have been hidden away. Rae shouldn't have to deal with her right now. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

A hand on her shoulder made her flinch. The hand immediately left, so Sienna finally looked up to see Rae frowning at her.

"Did you hear me at all?"

Flinching again, Sienna should her head, stuttering, "S-sorry. I- I was, I mean..." Fog clouded her mind, the heat slowly becoming more unbearable. What had she been saying?

Cool hands rested on her forehead and the side of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, leaning into the touch.

"I was asking why you weren't in your nest." Rae sounded concerned? Upset? "Your hear is coming on really fast. Why didn't you call me? I'd have come home early."

Sienna just shrugged, the foggy feeling taking over as Rae's scent surrounded her. She smelled like sea salt and sunshine.

"Come on, let's get you to your nest. It'll be more comfortable than the couch, yeah?"

Sienna tensed. "But I've been a bad Omega. The kitchen still needs to be cleaned and-"

"Chores can wait." Rae interrupted firmly. "Your comfort comes first right now."

Reluctantly, Sienna let herself be coaxed from the couch. They made it to the doorway of her room before she froze up. She waited for Rae to say something, but she just rested a hand against Sienna's back, waiting.

She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to think through the fog. "It's not that good. And kind of a mess. Maybe too small?"

Rae's soft chuckle followed by her scent surrounding Sienna in a cloud made her relax, leaning more into her hand and chest.

"If it's comfortable and makes you happy, then it's perfect, hun." Rae rumbled in her ear.

Sienna couldn't tell if the burning feeling was the heat setting in or her face flushing. She opened the door, tentatively pulling Rae to where she’s made her nest in the corner of her room. It was small, but big enough to be cozy for the two of them. She wanted more blankets and pillows, but there was only so much she could do without taking from Rae’s bed too.

“Are you happy with it?”

“… Yeah.”

Rae put her chin on Sienna’s shoulder. “That wasn’t a very convincing yes. What’s missing, hun?”

“I mean,” She cleared her throat. “Would it be okay if, well,” Her face burned more. “Could I take some of your things? Blankets, pillows, and stuff?”

A kiss on the side of her neck did not help the increasing burning feeling in her face. Or the feeling of slick starting to build up between her legs.

“Of course. It’s not like I’ll be in my bed since I’ll be here with you.” She moved to turn Sienna’s face towards her. “Do you want to get them, or stay here while I get things for you?”

Sienna rested her forehead against Rae’s, the fogginess coning back again. It was tiring, swinging from feeling to feeling.

“Can you?” she murmured, eyes closing.

“I can.”

Rae’s hands on either side of her face was the only warning she had before feeling lips on hers. Inhaling sharply, she melted into it, fingers twisting into Rae’s shirt. A purr started deep in her chest. She wanted her closer… closer….

Then Rae was backing away. “I’ll be right back,” she rumbled, her own face flushed as well as she traced her fingers along Sienna’s jaw with her fingertips. “You should get settled… Omega.”

Sienna’s knees weakened again as she let out a small whimper.

Rae giggled at her, kissing her nose before leaving to get the blankets for the nest.

Letting out a shaky sigh, Sienna rubbed at her eyes. It’d been so long since she’d had a proper heat like this. Was she supposed to be this muddled? Even in pre-heat?

She plopped down in her nest, pushing things around to prepare for the additional materials. Everything had to be perfect for her alpha.

A gentle clucking sound announced Rae’s return with an armful of blankets and pillows.

“You’re stressing again, hun. Is something wrong?” Rae asked as she put everything down at the edge of the nest.

Sienna grabbed the pillows first, setting up more of a frame for the sides. “It’s nothing.” she said, smiling over at Rae while she worked.

All she got was an unconvinced look in return.

“I just-” She pushed back at her hair. When had she started sweating? “My head feels like static and I’m nervous that this isn’t normal and I’m not good enough for you and…” She gasped for air, tears brimming in her eyes. “I can’t think and I don’t know how to be a good omega anymore.”

Sienna couldn’t bring herself to look up in the silence after her outburst. Her heat had barely started and she’d already fucked it up.

“Sienna, may I come into your nest?”

Something in Rae’s tone made her shiver. She nodded, sitting back so Rae could sit beside her. Once Rae got settled, Sienna leaned into her immediately, resting her burning forehead against Rae’s shoulder.

“Hun, you don’t need to be perfect to me.” Rae said, rubbing Sienna’s back. “Your heats are going to be weird to get used to for a while, especially now that you’re somewhere where you feel safe. And besides, life is messy. I’d chose being a mess with you over perfection with someone else any day.” She gently lifted Sienna’s chin up to meet her eyes. “If you’re willing for me to be your Alpha, I’d be honored to have you as my Omega. Even if you weren’t my soulmate.”

Nuzzling into Rae’s shoulder, Sienna couldn’t help but smile. “Sap.” Then heat hit her like a wave and she shuttered, clutching the blankets between them. She could feel the slick starting to leak through her shorts. As much as she tried, she couldn’t hold back a whine.

“You okay?”

She nodded, taking slow breaths. “I think pre-heat is just about done.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Groaning, Sienna sat back. “Well, clothing hinders things. I mean-” she blushed for what felt like that for the thousandth time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly.”

Rae just shook her head, smiling again as she took her shirt off. “It’s okay, you’re on a one track mind at the moment. Kind of nice to see you letting your guard down like this.”

It was very hard not to stare at Rae… Her arms. Her tan skin. Her chest. So soft, smooth….

“Sienna,” Rae took hold of her chin again, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Heat really muddles your brain, huh?”

Even though she knew Rae was only kidding, that made a chill run down Sienna’s spine.

“I, um,” She drew back, even though every instinct at her screamed to go the other way, into Rae’s arms. “Maybe this is too soon. I might take things too far. Or convince you to do something we don’t want, or-”

Rae cut her off again, cupping her face in her hands. “Sienna, you trust me, right?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Then if you can’t trust yourself right now, trust me. Trust me to keep things like we agreed before. You’ve been taking your meds, right?”

Sienna nodded again.

“And I have protection with me too. There’s very little chance we’ll have kids since I’m only knotting you once for the bonding mark. Then we have all the other toys and things to lessen the chance of me knotting you again. Okay?”

Little by little, Sienna relaxed again, leaning into Rae’s hands heavily. “Your hands feel nice.” she mumbled.

Rae pulled her into another kiss and Sienna responded eagerly, her own shirt joining Rae’s on the edge of the nest. Skin, hands, heat, scents mingling, gasping, moaning. Rae took control as Sienna felt herself devolve into her heat.

Her alpha would take care of her.

[cuteangsty]

🌝NESTING🪹🎑

This is a little drabble I did today. It's about that one youkai story I want to make, so...

To summarize:

Hanzō is a half(wolf) youkai. He was kept as a prisoner by humans who used his blood in rituals.

The 'misterious youkai' is this character, but I'm not really sure of his name yet (actually, Hanzo isn't doing for me either but oh well) he saved Hanzō (accidentally) when attacked the village Hanzō was in.

Oh and also it was inspired by this post.

Although there's no real omegaverse dinamics, I do intend to use some aspects and headcanons since some youkai are animal based.

____________________________________________________

Hanzō sees no point in nesting, he never did. His mother had a pretty great nest when he was young, he remembers, but since then he never had the chance to rest in one. surviving alone in the woods for most of his childhood, he barely managed to fetch for himself, let alone have enough materials to properly make a nest and whenever he did manage to steal cloth or a cushion from humans, it would be quickly torn to shreds by other animals or even himself in his meltdowns. By his teenage years he had given up on building a nest, usually just sleeping wherever he saw fit for the night.

After that, he was held captive by humans, those don't nest, he learned. They simply sleep in a futon with a single hard pillow, which was also not given to him, since they saw him as a mindless beast.

Now, all of a sudden he was being told to sleep in a nest, someone elses nest. The misterious youkai who rescued him had made him a nest, it was simple yet very enticing, a few pillows on a fluffy blanket. It looked so conformable Hanzō almost puked at the thought of laying on it, clearly he didn't deserve something like this... So he avoided it. He looked away, crawled farther from it, wven though he feels a whine stuck in his throat.

Initially the misterious youkai thinks it must be because Hanzō didn't make the nest, therefore he doesn't want to enter a nest that isn't his, so they attempt to teach him how to make one.

The youkai keep trying to hand him the pillows, show him the blanket, put his hand on it, even shows him how to nest (a lesson he never really had). Yet still Hanzō shows disinterest in laying on it or even making one of his own, even getting agitated in the process. They are about to give up, it doesn't make sense to force Hanzō to do it, it's the same story with food, water, toys, tasks... He just doesn't seem to be a fan of doing anything other then sitting on the corner and occasionally napping.

[unhonest-iago]

Alpha! Caretaker sitting outside Omega! Whumpee’s nest. Scenting all the objects their omega had offered up to them. The omega in whumpee is screaming at them to let the alpha in their nest but whumpee is still overly protective of the space. It was the one area whumper would never cross so even now, it was an area of refuge. That and they were calming down from an earlier panic attack.

Caretaker can sense the conflict waging on in their mind, so they continue sitting just outside the perimeter of the nest. Holding one of whumpee’s hands in their lap, trailing a thumb over the skin. And eventually, whumpee feels the overwhelming desire to be held. Squeezing their intertwined hand to get the Alpha’s attention. ‘C’mere.’

‘You sure, hun?’ Caretaker double-checks, making sure that’s what they want. ‘Mhm,’ the omega in them is waiting with bated breath. A sort of anxious excitement. ‘Okay,’ they slowly crawl into the nest, situating themselves behind whumpee and wrapping their arms around them. Listening as they emit content chuffs as the alpha pushes out a wave of relaxed pheromones.

‘Get some sleep, love.’

[paingoes]

Destroyer - MK

(Masterlist)

they were doing some MK ultra shit to delta im ngl

(Content: medical whump, drugging, dissociation, living weapon whumpee, begging, needles, addiction implied)

Lights and colors. It was all dreamy in the void. How long had he been there? The question made no sense. He was always here. Always had been. Something milk white and slimy nuzzled up against his leg.

“Attention, Control. You’re drifting off again.” A voice cut through the noise. He hadn’t noticed the noise just until the voice had cut through it. What did it sound like? Water on rocks. A rainstorm heard from the inside of a tin chest. Mewling. Drool dripping. 

Something pricked at his forehead. He gasped.

“Tighten up.”

He nodded weakly. For a moment, he was back in the office. The faces surrounding him were blurry and tame. His body was nowhere, but his wrists were bound. A thin line of fire worked its way around his neck. Then the office was gone and so was he. Light and colors.

The sharp tip of a blade rose out of the water, held aloft by a hand whose flesh was slipping off of it. The skin debris dripped down into the lake. It floated there like broth that needed to be skimmed. Disgust rose up in his stomach. Had it been full, he thought it might empty itself. He’d have to have a body for that, though.

Pain replaced everything. He couldn’t tell the source of it. He couldn’t tell where it ended and began. 

Inside of you, something said. It’s inside. Get it out. 

He whimpered. From somewhere far away, someone sighed in disgust.

“Delta. One-oh-seven. Enough. Follow the rabbit.”

The instruction was only vaguely familiar. It was coming to him so slow this time. A sine wave hit him directly in the side of his head. It hurt. Abstract concepts soared over the pit he’d carved out for himself. He was helplessly lost. He was scared. Not how he usually was. It was otherworldly.

A snake bit his ankle. It winded and winded.

“Simon?” He called weakly.

Pain, sharp and hot.

“Dr.Leach isn’t here. And you are not to call him that.” 

He felt the firm grip on his face, but couldn’t see it. His vision was dislocated somehow. He did not know what he was seeing instead. It wasn’t nothing. 

The dragon had two tails. He made out the shape on its side.

“Yellow,” he managed, “Yellow, four-sided, decimal. Cobra. Holly.”

“Designation?”

“MK. Omega. Ow. Fucking ow.” 

He felt a hand come down hard against his cheek. He’d just been slapped. Even in his drugged state, he knew that that wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t procedure. He knew Dr.Martino hated him. Really hated him. It didn’t come as a shock everytime he remembered — but the slap had. He made a soft, choked noise. The drugs made the pain feel more intense; they didn’t numb it, like he hoped they would. Weren’t they supposed to?

“Again.”

Something electric and circuitous played against the flesh of his bound hand. The vision shifted.

“Threat level magenta,” he choked, “Seven. Spades. Diamondback. Juniper.”

“Juniper?”

“Pike,” he corrected. “Please make it stop.”

“You know better than to ask,” The doctor said. Something sharp. He couldn’t tell if it was a punishment for having begged or if it was just part of the procedure. They drew no distinction, expecting him to take either complacently. It burned against the inside of his skin.

“Again.”

========

When the drug finally wore off, he was shaking so badly that the chains binding his wrists rattled softly and continuously. He’d been bound up for too long, too tightly. His shoulders and knees ached from the pressure. All the spots on the body where the needle had jabbed him bled through the bandages. There was a dull and constant ache all throughout his body that heightened at each injection site. He tried desperately to subdue his crying, but the tears flowed freely and undisturbed. He couldn’t even roll his shoulder enough to wipe them.

Dr.Martino went about his business like he wasn’t even there. There was no reason for him to still be bound, to still be kept kneeling. The experiment was over. It had ended thirty minutes ago. He didn’t voice this, sure that if he did Martino would make a point to keep him there longer. He tried to readjust his position to relieve the tension. Nothing worked. He just wanted to sleep.

“That was pathetic,” Dr.Martino finally addressed him. Delta cringed. He still didn’t move to free him, which was all Delta could really focus on in the moment.

“Needless to say, I don’t think the Cytopline is a good match. We’ll run a few retrials with different dosages to be sure, but I’m not confident it’ll be to any greater effect.”

Delta tried not to cry again. He thought he meant today. He just needed a break before they started again, just a few minutes to get out of position. He wouldn’t be able to handle going under again.

“There’ll be a bit of a cooldown period before it becomes effective again. You might be inoperable the next few days,” the doctor clarified, much to his relief.

“I can write you a note, if you want.” 

========

Delta laid numbly on the floor of his bedroom, in the same position he’d been in for hours. The blanket was a tangled mess around him. He didn’t know exactly what time it was, just that it was well past when he was supposed to have risen. He drifted in and out of consciousness. There was a sudden banging at the door.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit, right?” Paris called from the other side of it. Delta closed his eyes. 

He was sure that Dr.Martino hadn’t told him on purpose. The unexplained absence would put Paris in a bad mood off the gate, make him totally unwilling to listen once Delta was forced to explain, and Paris was by no means obligated to comply in the first place. The excuse wouldn’t count for anything. He’d still be forced out into the field. He’d probably still be punished just for trying to get out of it. It was such an underhanded move. Delta resented whenever the doctor called him sneaky; if anything, he had learned it from him.

He braced himself up on one elbow, getting ready to open the door, when Paris opened it himself. Right. Not like it had a lock. Delta collapsed back. That was fine. He hated having anyone in his space, but he also didn’t think he’d be able to walk in a straight line all the way to the door.

 But Paris’s anger was always so visibly telegraphed that its absence was immediately obvious. If anything, he was annoyingly chipper. He had one hand pressed up against the top of the doorframe, leaning casually in the entrance. The end of a nicotine lollipop hung off to the side of his mouth. He let himself into the room.

Delta adjusted roughly, just barely pulling himself upright into a kneel. He was already on the floor, so that helped. His hair fell messily in his face. He reached one arm behind him, feeling around clumsily for the doctor’s note on the desk. He offered it up with one hand. 

Paris took it. He read it over slowly, trying to make out the nearly indecipherable doctor’s handwriting. Somehow he managed.

“Oh shit. Comedown?” Paris popped the candy out of his mouth.

“Yes, sir.” Delta stopped himself from rolling his eyes. It was technically true, but he would never call it that.

Paris winced in sympathy, giving Delta some indication of just how pathetic he must have looked. He glanced at the note again. His eyes hovered on the medication name.

“…Do you have any more?”

Delta pulled the pill bottle out from his desk drawer, tossing them over. He was glad to be rid of them. Paris caught them in one hand, letting the note drift back to the ground.

“Take oxitriptan,” he called over his shoulder. He slid the pills into his pants pocket and disappeared out the door. Delta collapsed back against the crumpled blanket. He wasn’t going to take anything. He was pretty content to just lay there. He pulled the blanket over his face, not sleeping, nor moving.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[lindsay00000008]

Three kinds of whumpers in Pet Whump…

This is the masterlist. Here's the plan. Will it all get written? Who knows.

Technically all are Works in Progress - those labeled WIP have no chapters published yet.

Type 1: Carewhumpers

Carewhumpers in pet whump are commonly found in places where pet whump is systemic. These are the ones who “don’t know any better”. In fact, they’re pretty sure it would be cruel to make a pet act like a human. They know the proper way to treat a pet, and they take pride in being a good owner. They’re always ready to “help” a pet in need. Their whumpees can’t be “dehumanized”, silly, they’re not humans! [Alternatively, in fantasy, it’s precisely because they’re humans that they should be treated as pets!]

Example Stories:

Flight Risk - Modern, systemic pet whump. Conservation Efforts - Aliens rehoming humans. WIP Glamourous Things - Fae overlords and their lap whumpees. WIP

Type 2: Righteous Whumpers

These Whumpers know they’re being unethical to the whumpee by making it their pet, whether they “abuse” it or not. They know it’s not really a pet, but they have the idea that it’s a certain type of person who deserves to be humiliated and oppressed. You may find this whumper pretending to be a carewhumper. The difference is that they know. They just benefit from (or enjoy) being part of the system (or a smaller society of secret pet-whumpers). Their whumpees deserve to be dehumanized.

Example Stories:

Empty Vessels - Magical, upperclass whumpers. WIP

Dominion Over All - Vampires. Religious allegory. WIP

Medic! - Demon whumper, service dog whumpee. WIP

Type 3: Villainous Whumpers

These whumpers are often loners, and don’t make an attempt to justify their whump. Again, it’s not necessarily about how they treat their pet. It’s about why. They know their whumpee doesn’t deserve to be treated like a pet. It doesn’t deserve whatever training or abuse it gets, doesn’t deserve the chains or the cages or the shock collars. But is that going to stop whumper? No. They’re doing it because they can. Because they want to. It scratches that itch. Their whumpees don’t deserve to be dehumanized, but they’re going to do it anyway.

Example Stories:

All Bark - Omegaverse. Omega whumper, alpha whumpee. WIP Shared Drive - Bikers, multiple whumpers. Guard dog whumpee. WIP

[bluelolblue]

insert santino d’antonio hornypost here

The Santino D'Antonio Hornypost™

My favorite addiction, my favorite drug that I need in my veins, THE NEED, an obsession for years, the pathetic wet cat, the work of art, the masterpiece, the slut, favorite workaholic, whumpee, omega, sobbing puddle, Camorra's bitch, feline vibes, fashion icon, ✨️Italian✨️

(Pic for aesthetic and inspiration for what's coming ✨️)

Missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, 69, pegging, sideways, humping, legs up, ride his face, edging, hard, fast, raw, in public, on the couch, on the kitchen counter, by the fireplace, on the floor, on a plane, in the shower, in the bathtub, against a wall, in a car, in the Continental, in the museum in front of his father's collection, in Aurelio's workplace, at John's house (ayo possible threesome :D), mark him all the way, bite his neck, thighs and ass, pull his hair, make him cry, choke him, finger him, pat his head, kiss his forehead, kiss his face, kiss his body worship him, exhaust him even more, make him coffee, give him wine, suck him off, give him tiramisu, body shots with wine, eat his ass, the most fucking wet and messy french kiss possible, give him cigarettes, pin him hard against a wall-

Santino D'Antonio, I rest my case, everyone

[treehuggerthegreat]

something i really need to get off my chest even if i just post this privately is That i really dislike ‘caretakers’ in whump writing. or ‘whumper’ i feel like it makes a character (even if they’re just a hypothetical one) feel very 1 dimensional and it makes me so OKAY JUST HEAR ME OUT!!! whumpee i don’t mind much, it makes the prompt or what your talking about a little clearer. But it feels like it’s putting it into a box and making sort of roles which makes it feel less like a prompt and more like we’re in an omega verse fandom and i mean this really lovingly and affectionately and no hate to any of yall. I have a vast amount of characters and i write stories and books and I can say with out a shadow of a doubt, not ONE of them fall under ‘whumper’ or ‘caretaker’ because i develop them as their own individual character. Not even my antagonist are ‘whumpers’

So one of my main antagonists literally burns cigarettes on the MC and abuses the MC. Tries to kill her on her 18th birthday. Shes her mom, and the main character PHYSICALLY cannot leave that situation with out getting the authorities involved until she turns 18. Mom sounds like an ass, she beats ‘whumpee’ up! why would i NEVER call her a whumper? because she’s a whumpee by that logic. Her mom was extremely emotionally abusive, and half the time not fully there. Her shitty ass dad got murdered in front of her when she was just a kid. but Her mom isn’t a whumper either, because she too would be considered a whumpee. She was a world renowned flapper girl, everyone loved her. she LIVED for the fame and her face in newspapers. But behind the scenes she was actively ignoring her distant parents as they continued to try and marry her off. She was then forced into the marriage when she got pregnant with the guy (much so against her will which is why she killed him.) and ever since she’s been delusional and not fully there. It’s generational abuse.

more ramble under the cut + extra clarification on what I’m trying to say

okay but that’s just generational abuse right? There are other whumpers in the real world! Yeah i guess there’s sadists and serial killers, but like, there’s SOOOO much more guys.

I have a mini antagonist, he’s in highschool and he’s meant to be the toxic narcissistic ex of one of my characters. But he’s falling apart trying to get attention, he’s not fully aware of the damage he IS doing. Ass he may be but again behind the scenes he’s constantly fighting with his dad who refuses to do anything around the house and who is also transphobic (she’s bigender but i’ve been using he to make it less confusing right now) and now she has to take care of her little sister and act like a whole ass mom. As a sophomore. In high school. Not only that but her mom died, so she has to struggle with that. She’s just an annoying ass teenager, she doesn’t understand how to treat people or how she’s supposed to be handling what she’s dealing with. But getting attention and being liked at school? now that’s the shit. That’s like drugs for her. But to what lengths does she go to get that extra validation? He uses his boyfriend almost like an accessory. He’s not considerate of his feelings, and most likely doesn’t understand what a relationship is SUPPOSED to be.

Unless you’re making a sociopath character, which i LOVE a good sociopath character, you have to treat them like they also have humanity. Most of the time villains don’t just. Do shit to do it, they have some sort of background that lead up to this!!! And also even then with sociopaths they’re their own individual characters separate from the people they hurt!!! and also NONE of these are end all be alls and all characters must be developed this way!!!!

just my advice and stuff <3 i love all of you out there and i can understand why using certain roles and terms are the go to, and i’m not stopping you!!! i just really wanted to give my two cents so i can possibly help other writers!!!

[lifblogs]

Lif's AI-less Whumptober 2024 Master List

To Break - Mature 5451 words; Public Torture/Public Use, Stress Position Hunter has been captured by the Empire, and they attempt a public interrogation to get him to share where Omega is. The rest of his squad, knowing this is a trap, decides to attempt a rescue mission.

CT-9902 - Teen and Up Audiences 1188 words; Unfortunate Fall Tech wakes up after his Fall.

Tortured - Teen and Up Audiences 2175 words; Shared Trauma, Survivor's Guilt, "It's not your fault." Crosshair feels guilty for being free of Tantiss. Omega can't help but feel the same way.

Imperial Property - Teen and Up Audiences 1453 words; Non-consensual Body Modifications Tech wakes up from one of the many surgeries he needs after Plan 99, and he is sorely reminded that his body is no longer his own.

Just... Omega - General Audiences 1412 words; Overstimulation, Migraines, "I can't take this anymore." Hunter hasn't slept in one rotation, and his overtaxed body is struggling with handling his enhanced senses.

Only Another Mission - Teen and Up Audiences 5827 words; Multiple Whumpees, Self Sacrifice, "I'm the only one who can do this." The Bad Batch were tasked with stealing important data from Admiral Trench to get back to Coruscant. Unfortunately, they are captured by Separatist droids who are searching for the stolen data.

Chaos - Teen and Up Audiences 4617 words; Field Medicine, Running Out of Supplies, "Hold on, we're going to have to improvise." Crosshair breaks his leg during a battle, and after three harrowing days of fighting, the Bad Batch is running low on supplies. They will have to improvise to help Crosshair. The cost is nearly too high.

Little Secret - Mature 1215 words; "You're so much prettier this way." Hemlock is enjoying turning Tech into CX-2.

Complete the Mission - Teen and Up Audiences 2547 words; Hypothermia A fight goes wrong and Omega ends up stranded on a frozen planet, the dangers of hypothermia looming. A presence she recognizes helps her survive.

For Her - Teen and Up Audiences 1957 words; Self Worth Issues, Pushing Away a Loved One, "You don't need to earn this." Hunter hasn't been eating since Tech died and Omega was captured, and he doesn't sleep much either. All he does is search. Wrecker tries to do what he can to help, but Hunter keeps pushing him away.

Failed Objective - Explicit 3816 words; Hallucinations, Truth Serum, "Why would you even say that?" Hemlock tries new tactics in his interrogation with Crosshair.

Subject 9904 - Mature 1607 words; Isolation, Sensory Deprivation Crosshair is put in solitary confinement.

It Was An Accident - Teen and Up Audiences 1956 words; Animal Bite Omega accidentally frightens Batcher, leading to her getting bitten.

Not Alone - Mature 3856 words; Seizures, Concussion, "See if you can follow my finger with your eyes." Tech falls during a fight, and ends up hitting his head. It's up to his team to save him.

May They Be Remembered - Mature 5936 words; Removing Body Parts Emerie is interrogated by Hemlock as he believes she aided in Omega trying to escape Tantiss once again. This leads to Omega being caught and dragged to sub-level containment. She is given a cruel ultimatum. All the while, battle rages outside.

I Am Coming Back - Teen and Up Audiences 1939 words; Drowning, Hostile Environment, "I don't know how anybody could survive that." Omega, Crosshair, and Batcher must swim across a dangerous river to reach the downed ship that they can use to escape Tantiss.

A Brother - Teen and Up Audiences 1238 words; Abandonment, Misunderstanding, "Why did I even think you cared?" Crosshair, without planning to, tries to talk to Hunter while he has him captive on Kamino. He still can't understand Hunter's decision.

File Name - Teen and Up Audiences 3766 words; Mind Control, "Everybody will end up despising you." Hunter, searching for some answers about why he was rubbed the wrong way by so many things on Teth, turns to Nala Se's datapad, and he cannot believe what he's found.

Worth It - Teen and Up Audiences 1136 words; "I wish I could get you back." Crosshair finds himself mourning Tech again.

The Right Body - Teen and Up Audiences 2874 words; Stranger to Caretaker, "I'm absolutely not qualified for this shit." The Bad Batch are separated by a cave-in, and Echo is injured and his prosthetic legs aren't working right. He only has Phee to help him, and he's not too sure of her yet.

Never Better - Teen and Up Audiences 1815 words; Drugged, "This will make you feel better, okay?" Wrecker throws Omega from the path of a grenade. He doesn't make it to safety.

Shattered Goggles - Mature 4101 words; Forced to Kneel, Whipped Tech is captured on Eriadu before the mission hardly begins. Hemlock wants him for questioning.

A Promise - General Audiences 2459 words; Fever, Passing Out, "Hey, stay with me, okay?" After visiting Axxila Omega is feeling sick. Hunter and the rest of the Batch take care of her while on the way to get her professional help.

Better Than Old Times - Teen and Up Audiences 2055 words; Deconditioning, Relapse, "It's normal that you need more time." Crosshair relapsed into the sleeper agent Hemlock made him, and he stunned Omega and attempted to kill Hunter, and Tech. After the incident is over and things have calmed down, Crosshair feels guilty, and tries to make sense of who he is. His family tries to help him.

Choices - Teen and Up Audiences 1519 words; Humiliation, Betrayal, "How could you?" Crosshair is contacted by Hemlock, and he has to make a choice. He made it. Now he has to live with it.

Beautiful Treasures - Mature 5260 words; Electrocution, Burning, "This is going to sting." The Bad Batch are sent by Cid to rescue a slave on the planet 5251977, and Tech is captured by the slavers.

Waking Up - Teen and Up Audiences 2448 words; Before vs. After Tech waking up on the Marauder pre-Plan 99 vs. Tech waking up on Pabu post-Plan 99 after being rescued by his family.

Upper Hand - Teen and Up Audiences 3329 words; Internal Bleeding, Needles and Stitches, "I didn't think the wound was that bad." Tech gets into a speeder bike accident while pursuing scavengers on a mission.

Welcome to the Re-education Program - Explicit 2234 words; Ownership, Branding, "Everybody will know that you're mine." Hemlock deems Tech has healed enough from his surgeries and can begin the Re-education Program.

A Mask - Teen and Up Audiences 2981 words; Poison, Delirium, "You're not making sense." Tech is left for dead after being interrogated by imperials.

And They Would Not Let Him Fall - Teen and Up Audiences 1972 words; Panic Attack, Facing a Phobia Tech goes on a mission after he's saved from Hemlock by his family. None of them expected heights would be involved.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Art: @hopelessartgeek

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Ch 10

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, trauma recovery, pregnancy, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, first time, gender dysphoria, male omegas having all the bits (peen & vagine) Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter! Story masterlist

10. Bea

Bucky and Steve negotiate what kind of relationship they're going to have.

Over the course of the following week, Bucky makes good use of the purchases from Twig ‘n’ Tuft. He arranges his new things in an obviously good mood, humming happily as he works. A few things get set aside for later use in the closet, but most of his efforts go towards Steve’s bed, changing out the sheets (they’re silkier now) and blankets (puffier), fluffing the pillows (there are a lot more now), and arranging everything just how he likes.

He’s nesting.

Steve stands in the doorway and watches for a bit, heart bursting with emotions that he knows are directly related to the bond. No way could he feel this utterly content and pleased just from watching a simple act of nesting, otherwise. His omega is feeling safe and comfortable in his home. Steve is providing for him and taking care of him, and it’s making Bucky happy. That’s all Steve wants.

“Need any help?” he asks, not surprised when Bucky says no. Omegas like to nest on their own. Steve is sure he’d mess up whatever Bucky’s nonsensical system is and wind up getting his head bitten off. “Okay then,” he says. “I’m gonna get ready for bed, so …” He grabs some pajamas from the dresser and heads in the direction of the bathroom, intending to brush his teeth and change. “You’re sure you want me in here?” he double checks. “I’m more than happy to take the couch again.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at him. “No Steve. That was pathetic. Six-foot man on a five-foot couch. Stop asking or you’re gonna give me a complex. I want you in here with me.”

Steve smiles gently. “Okay, Buck. Okay.” He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind himself. When he comes back out and climbs into the now-nested bed, he has a moment of indecision, unsure how close he should be, if Bucky wants his space, or if maybe Steve should try to touch—

Bucky scoots back to spoon directly against him, his back to Steve’s chest and a large pillow hugged in front of himself. “Mmm.”

Cautiously, Steve lets his arm drape over Bucky’s waist. “This okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. He wiggles in place a little, settling. “Steve?”

“Mm?”

“... Thanks.” Bucky’s hand finds Steve’s where it rests just over his waist and gives a small squeeze. “For helping me. For everything. I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Steve’s heart melts into something useless and gooey, and he lets go of whatever awkwardness he’d still been holding onto. He pulls Bucky more securely against him and nuzzles into the back of his hair. “You’re welcome, Honey. I want you here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Bucky hums and cuddles further back against him. Later, once he’s dozed off, he purrs.

The next morning, Steve is still half-asleep when he’s suffused by the scent of happy, pregnant omega. He hums, vaguely aware that he’s surrounded by soft, good things. With his eyes still closed, he pulls the softness closer, smiling and nosing into that inherently pleasant scent. He feels so good, turned on and warm and safe. Mate, he thinks dreamily, rolling his hips once, and then again because it feels so pleasurable. Soft and good omega, mmm …

“Steve?” Bucky’s sleep-slurred voice. “Mm, whuddryadoin’?”

Steve wakes and his eyes fly open. He freezes in place, mortified as he realizes that he’s been rubbing his morning erection against Bucky’s boxer-clad ass for God only knows how long. “Oh, shit.” He hears Bucky’s low chuckle, but is still horrified at himself. “Sorry!” he hurries, removing his hands. “Sorry, sorry.”

He’s pulling away, but Bucky turns over in the bed and follows after him. He looks barely awake himself, his hair a mess and his eyes opened to puffy slits. He burrows in against Steve’s chest, rubbing his face on his tee shirt. “S’okay,” he mumbles. “You smell good.” He’s silent after that, and a minute later, his quiet snoring lets Steve know that he’s fallen back to sleep.

Steve untenses and allows himself to hold Bucky again—at first hesitantly, and then with more confidence. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow, his nose near Bucky’s hair. He closes his eyes and falls asleep.

The next time he wakes, it’s to Bucky kissing him on the mouth. Steve inhales and pulls back. “Buck, what’re you doing?”

Bucky blinks. “Kissing you.”

Well yeah, Steve wants to say. He feels bad for his lack of reaction when he sees Bucky’s expression begin to shutter.

“Am I not allowed to?” he asks. “Do you … do you not want that with me?”

Steve exhales. “No, Buck. It’s not that. I just don’t want you to feel like—”

“Like I have to,” Bucky says. “I know.” He moves closer, until their chests are touching. “I know you don’t want me to feel forced or … or coerced or whatever. But I don’t.” Carefully, watching Steve’s reactions, he leans in to kiss him again. When their lips meet, Steve’s stomach flutters with nerves. Bucky kisses him gently, and it’s so sweet and tender that it almost aches. Steve forces himself not to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist again, not to press his leg in between Bucky’s legs and turn into him, push him down into the sheets like he wants to.

But he does kiss back.

They talk about it over breakfast. Steve is in the kitchen making eggs and sausage, and Bucky’s curled up in a corner of the couch with one of his nesting blankets. The tv is set to low volume on a local morning news program. Bucky’s the one who initiates the conversation.

“So, I’m your registered omega now.”

Steve tenses where he’s standing by the stove. “Oh. Yeah. Um …sorry.”

Bucky makes a face. “I’m the one who signed off on it. Why should you be sorry?”

“I dunno,” Steve mumbles. He looks down and focuses on shuffling the sausages around with the spatula he’s holding. Really, there’s a whole lot he’s sorry about. Bucky was a trauma survivor in need of help, and in very short order he’s been impregnated, bonded, and legally bound to an alpha he barely knows. Steve doesn’t know how to explain to Bucky what an injustice that is. “This all just happened so fast,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have choices.”

The tv clicks off, and the next thing Steve knows, Bucky is standing on the other side of the kitchen island, giving him a stern look. “Steve, stop.”

“Stop?” He glances down at the sausages. Stop…cooking?

“Stop feeling guilty about this," Bucky says, crossing his arms and leveling Steve with a look. “It makes me sad and I don’t like it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Look, I’ve been given choices out the wazoo, lately. Everybody back at the hospital made it perfectly clear to me that I didn’t have to go with you. But that’s what I wanted. I like you and I trust you, and you’re the father of my baby.”

Steve’s heart stutters in his chest at hearing it said aloud like that. Holy shit, he really is going to be a father, isn’t he? Holy shit, how the hell is he going to do that? He clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something, but Bucky says,

“And we’re bonded, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” Steve remembers the eggs and hurries to give them a swirl in their pan. “Ah, yeah. We are.”

Bucky nods decisively. “So, I want to be in a relationship with you. A real one, including sex.”

Steve stops, spatula held midair in surprise. “You … what?”

“You, me, living here,” Bucky gestures around the apartment. “I know you’re not going to make me be physical with you, but I want to be.”

Steve’s heart is beating fast inside his chest now. He licks his lips. “Buck, you … you’re a minor. You're eighteen.” That seems like the most obvious problem to him, but Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“Almost nineteen. My birthday’s soon.”

Steve doesn’t know how to break it to him that this doesn’t exactly erase the massive age difference between them. “I’m thirty-one, Honey.” He struggles for what to say next, and of course Bucky mistakes his awkwardness for rejection.

He visibly draws back into himself. “If you don’t like me like that,” he hedges, “or if you aren’t really attracted to me, I wish you’d just say so. I can handle it, but I just need to know what we—”

“No, no. I do. I like you, Buck.” Steve hurriedly covers the pans with their respective lids and flicks both burners off, stepping around the island to pull Bucky into his arms. “And you’re beautiful, Honey. You’ve got to know that.” He hugs him, and Bucky all but melts against him, resting his cheek on Steve’s shoulder. The closeness instantly feels right. Steve can feel the omega relaxing at his words, his scent lightening back to something pleasant. He sighs. All his overthinking things has just left Bucky feeling unwanted, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I guess you can tell that I have some hang-ups,” he mutters.

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah. You worry too much.”

Yeah, he does. But Steve shrugs. He can’t help the second guessing and caution that comes so naturally to him at this point. He’s been trained ad-nauseam to be a victim’s advocate, to never take advantage. “I just want to make you happy,” he admits, giving Bucky a gentle squeeze. “I guess I need to start trusting you to be able to tell me how to do that.”

Bucky hums happily. “Yeah. Good.” He pulls back just enough to meet Steve’s eyes, and he smiles. Then, pointedly, he leans in and kisses him. It’s only a brief kiss, more a brush of lips than anything else, but it makes Steve’s skin tingle with pleasure. Bucky pulls back check, “So now I can kiss you any time I want, right?”

Steve forces a smile. “Yeah Buck. You can kiss me.”

Bucky kisses him once more, then lets him go. “And do other stuff,” he says happily, just as Steve is reaching up to grab plates out of the cabinet.

He freezes. “Oh. Um ...”

“Oh come on, Steve. You’ve fucked me six ways to Sunday already!”

Steve busts out in a surprised laugh, but he can feel his face heating at the intense visual memory that hits him: Bucky, in the heat suite, naked and moaning and coming undone. Steve shakes his head and grabs the spatula back up. “Jesus Buck. Come on over here and get your food.”

Bucky obeys with a smirk, and they heap their plates high with scrambled eggs and sausage links and sit at opposite ends of the couch. Their feet tangle in the middle as they eat. Bucky chews thoughtfully for a while and then says, out of the blue and with determination, “I should learn to cook.”

Steve grimaces down at his plate. “That bad, huh?”

“What? Oh, no!” Bucky laughs and eats more sausage. “No, this is great. I was just thinking how I could make you breakfast. Pancakes and stuff. Omelets. I mean, since you probably don’t have time to do it yourself when you have to get to work in the mornings. Right?"

Steve blinks, taken aback. “Wow that’s … that’s really sweet, Buck.” Bucky smiles and looks back down at his plate, and Steve says, “I still have the next few days off from work. We could try to get your school situation figured out, if you want?”

Bucky looks wary of this idea. “I dunno, Steve. I was always homeschooled. I don't …” He shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I’m very smart.”

Steve tuts in disapproval. “Of course you’re smart. Just because you might not know certain facts doesn’t make you unintelligent. Remember what I told you?”

“Yeah I know. Bees pollinate flowers,” Bucky mumbles, his discomfort obvious. He’s still embarrassed about his past.

"Hey," Steve offers gently. He nudges Bucky’s socked foot with his own. “That’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll spend the last few days of my leave figuring out a schedule for you, okay? I’ll help you.” The past few days have gone quickly, eaten up by tv marathons, snuggle sessions, and walks around the neighborhood to familiarize Bucky with the immediate area where Steve lives. “We can map out where your sister’s new place is, where you’re going to go for therapy. I’ll even investigate how you might go about taking the GED, if you want. They have study materials. Shouldn’t be hard to figure out.” He keeps nudging Bucky’s foot with his until he gets a little smile from the kid. “You’ll get a transit pass for the train and the bus. You can be totally independent, scoot all over the city if you want.”

Bucky hums and tucks back into his food, but Steve can tell that he’s pleased by the prospect.

Steve still has the next few days off from work, the tail-end of what is officially titled as his “Registered New Mate Leave.”

Steve is forced to explain to—an understandably confused—Bucky, that even though “mates” really is just a social construct and not a true physical thing, the government in New York still uses the term in some of its policies and legislation. “I know it’s contradictory,” he apologizes, when Bucky first perks up at hearing him say the words ‘mate leave’. “It’s stupid, I know. But the important thing is that I have time off where I can help you get settled, yeah?”

Bucky agrees with a tiny nod (and later, a quietly-murmured: “It’s not stupid. I don’t mind being your mate,” which makes Steve fluster but which Bucky also says quietly enough and standing far away enough that Steve can pretend he didn’t hear him say it).

He buys Bucky a transit card and helps him learn how to use the app for the city bus system and the train on his phone, then they decide to take a practice trip together, riding the orange and then the purple line out to the address in Queens where Rebecca's new apartment complex is.

Steve sits next to Bucky on the train and watches as he spends the ride downloading various apps for things like GrubHub and Candy Crush onto his phone. It’s a little hard for Steve to remember that Bucky grew up in a restrictive and backwards cult, when he’s sitting there witnessing the kid take to the modern world like a fish takes to water.

Rebecca’s apartment is all the way out in Flushing. Steve makes a reference to The Nanny, which Bucky of course doesn’t get, because he didn’t grow up watching 90’s cable TV. So Steve promises to add it to their already massive streaming watchlist.

Rebecca has them stay for lunch, and Steve feels kind of bad when they leave her in her lonely apartment with stark walls and hardly any furniture or possessions. She’s still adjusting to the outside world, the same as Bucky is, and Steve is once again very, very glad that he’s been able to bring Bucky straight into a lived-in home with lots of warm things and Steve himself to help. He’d hate to think of Bucky struggling all on his own.

“We should have her over for dinner sometime,” he offers, when he and Bucky are back in Brooklyn and walking towards the OmCare social services building where Bucky’s scheduled for his afternoon intake and assessment. “Your sister, that is.”

“Ooh, yeah. We could do that?” Bucky looks hopeful. “I could make something.”

“Sure, why not?” They walk inside the building and Steve accompanies Bucky up to the check-in desk. He gives him a little side hug, which Bucky turns into a full-on hug, and then leans up and kisses him. It’s just a quick peck, but it makes Steve flush halfway down his neck.

Bucky smiles when he notices and holds Steve’s hand while they wait in line behind one other person. “You’re nice,” he mumbles.

“It’s your apartment, too. You’re allowed to have guests and go in and out and cook whenever you want. And I’m glad you’ve got your sister, and that she’s got you.” Steve squeezes his hand. “You’ve both overcome something huge. It’s not easy. I’m proud of you.”

Bucky beams and looks like he’ll say something else, but before he can, the receptionist calls him forward and he signs himself in. They take their seats in the waiting room, and before long Bucky is called back by a kind looking beta counselor, who introduces herself as Beatrice—"just Bea is fine"—Collins, and informs Steve that if he plans to stick around for the entire appointment, he’s got quite the wait ahead of him. Steve says he doesn’t mind. His phone has a full charge.

When Bucky comes out of the appointment—three hours later —Steve’s butt is numb from the waiting room chairs, and Bucky’s holding a folder stuffed full of papers. Steve can immediately tell that he’s in a very good mood. He looks ten times brighter than when he'd gone in. “How’d it go?” Steve asks.

“Great!"

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. My counselor's nice.” Bucky recounts all of the different assessments that Bea had him complete during their session together. “I think she was expecting me to be super screwed up or something,” he jokes. “I don’t know what the heck the hospital told her.”

That you’re a gang rape trauma victim with culture shock and gender dysphoria, Steve thinks, but doesn’t say. He’s been relieved and surprised so far, at how well Bucky’s taken to accepting himself and his body, this bond and the news of an unplanned pregnancy. Steve doesn’t know how that’ll change as the pregnancy progresses, but he’s hopeful that him being there and being accepting of Bucky can help make a positive difference. “Did you get a schedule for therapy?” he asks, when they’re on the bus ride home.

“Mondays and Wednesdays at four,” Bucky says. “There’s a queer youth group that meets after. Bea said she thinks I’ll like it. I told her I’d give it a try.”

Steve blinks in surprise. “Oh. Okay. So ... do you feel like you’re, um, queer?”

Bucky smirks and shakes his head. “No. But I dunno, I might make friends there.”

“Oh yeah. Right, of course.”

His hand migrates to his stomach and he looks down at it. “I still feel really weird about it all. Being pregnant.”

Steve’s heart sinks and he fights not to let it show on his face. “Do you feel like you’re changing your mind? About keeping it?”

Bucky shakes his head but he won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “No, it’s not that. I don’t mean the baby. It’s more about how I’m, like …” He chews his lip as he thinks about it. “How I'm being like this so openly.”

“‘Like this’?”

He nods. “I know people can smell it. And eventually I’ll get big and people’ll see.”

“Yeah.” Steve’s hand creeps over the seat between them, cautious. He personally can’t wait to see Bucky get bigger, but of course he’d never say that. “Is ... that a bad thing?” he asks cautiously.

“No. Not bad. It just makes it so obvious about how I’m, um, you know.” Bucky hesitates for so long that Steve half expects him to throw out an obscene word. “How I'm … omega." He plucks at the front of his sweater, which they bought in the men’s omega clothing section at Target just the other day.

It isn’t much different in style from a typical men’s A/B sweater. Perhaps a bit tighter in the fit—slightly different seams, a more graceful neckline that’s indicative of the gender it’s meant for. Steve thinks it looks good on him, but now he starts to get self conscious and wonders if Bucky truly liked any of the clothes they bought for him the other day. Steve had tried to make it clear that Bucky could pick out anything he wanted. He doesn’t think he’d been the one to steer them in the direction of the men’s O department, rather than men's A/B, but he’ll be damned if he can convince himself of it now.

He opens his mouth to ask, but Bucky’s already speaking, “It wasn’t like that back home. Guys like me were … Well, people knew, of course, but we didn’t talk about it. You hid it, you didn’t go around openly acting all—” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Anyways, it’s just weird to be out in public, knowing everybody can tell. Seeing people act like it’s normal.”

Steve frowns and takes his hand. “It is normal, Buck.”

“I know. I know that. It’s just gonna take some getting used to." Bucky twists his lips and grumbles, "Bea says I’ve got ‘dysphoria’.”

“You do,” Steve says solemnly, thinking about how the kid had refused to even consider the men’s O style underwear at Target. They’d purchased a pack of A/B style briefs instead, which Steve had been happy to do for him. “It’s gonna take time,” he agrees kindly. “And that’s okay. It'll get easier, you'll become more comfortable about a lot of stuff. And for the things that don't feel right, well you know you can express your gender any way you want, right? You don't have to force yourself into some box. Not anymore." He gives Bucky's hand a comforting squeeze. "I think the queer group’s a great idea, Buck. You should go.”

Bucky’s scent gradually lightens, and he leans in against Steve’s side, allowing him to wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him close for the remainder of the bus ride home.

“—and said she thinks I’ll do just fine on the GED,” Bucky tells Steve brightly the next night, when they’re fixing their dinners. “I can study for it online, and take it any time I want. She had this whole indicator test that said my scores were pretty good. Better than what she’s seen from uneducated people in the past.”

“You not uneducated, Buck,” Steve chides. “You were homeschooled.”

“Better than nothing,” Bucky mutters, but says nothing else, and they leave it at that.

They compromise and make little side salads to eat with the frozen dinners that Bucky picked out (the kid has atrocious taste in foods, and Steve has already purchased and paid for overnight shipping on the best prenatal vitamins that money can buy). They settle in to watch a few more episodes of The Nanny, which Bucky has decided that he loves. After that, he picks out a movie to watch, and they sit snuggled on the couch together, some of the new nesting blankets tucked around both of their shoulders.

It becomes apparent that Bucky has taken their previous discussion about physicality to heart. He’s very bold with how close he wants to be with Steve, sitting right up against him as soon as the movie starts and leaning more and more of his weight on him as time goes on. He purrs happily when Steve finally wraps an arm around his shoulders, gives him an affectionate tug against his body, and holds him close. They spend the rest of the movie that way.

By the time the credits roll, Bucky’s hand has been steadily creeping higher up Steve’s thigh for the better part of twenty minutes. They’ve snuggled the entire movie, but Bucky started touching with intent somewhere around the three-quarter mark, and Steve’s done nothing to stop him. He grunts softly when Bucky finally reaches the top of his thigh, and again when he boldly moves his hand and cups the front of his jeans. Steve’s been perked up for a while, and it feels good to finally be touched. “Buck,” he says softly.

Bucky turns into him, putting their faces close together. “Kiss me?” he murmurs, those two quiet words making his lips move in the barest, most enticing way. They look so soft.

Steve’s belly flutters with nerves in a way that it hasn’t done in a long time. Bucky’s so young and sweet, so innocent, and that really gets to Steve more than he wants to admit. He’s never had a virginity kink, but knowing that he’s the only one who’s ever made love to Bucky’s body, the only one who’s ever laid him down in soft spaces and shown him pleasure, God, it makes Steve weak to think about.

It makes him want so much, makes him want to show Bucky every single way there is in the world to feel good. Steve just wants to keep him and teach him and make him happy. And to feel all of that for someone he’s barely known is … It’s a lot. Steve knows they’re bonded, and that he should allow himself a little leeway, allow himself to indulge. Especially since Bucky’s all but in his lap now, having made his wishes crystal clear, lips hovering scant centimeters away from Steve’s own.

Steve closes the distance, pressing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Bucky is soft, just as devastatingly sweet and soft as he looks, and Steve feels his blood run hotter at the sheer lust that courses through him. Fuck, he thinks despairingly. How is he ever going to control himself with this boy?

Bucky makes a tiny noise of pleasure as soon as they’re kissing, a sound that goes straight to Steve’s cock. He’s so eager, pressing closer, his hand between Steve’s legs molding to the shape of his erection and rubbing. Steve grunts and kisses him harder, and Bucky looses the sweetest little whimper. He abandons all pretense of restraint, turning fully into Steve, climbing into his lap and straddling him. His hands come up to cradle Steve’s face as they make out.

Steve groans at the first, hot swipe of Bucky’s tongue. He opens up to it and follows, his hands curling in hard at Bucky’s waist as they get more and more heated, more urgent. Bucky’s hips start grinding down in tight little circles, and when they break away from the kiss momentarily, Steve's slightly out of breath. “Buck,” he pants, and Bucky nods shakily in response.

“Yeah. Oh God, Steve. You feel so … I just wanna … nngh.”

Jesus, Steve thinks. It doesn’t even take a complete sentence from the boy to make heat pulse harder through his veins. He knows that part of it’s from the bond. Logically, he knows. He can feel Bucky’s arousal like an echo of his own, amplifying everything. His cock is throbbing against the seam of his jeans. Bucky’s been rocking needily against it as they kiss, and Steve can smell the omega’s arousal now, honey-sweet and tempting underneath the layers of his clothes. He’s getting wet.

It calls out to Steve’s instincts, makes him want to grab Bucky and tackle him to the floor, make him feel so good that he cries and comes apart for him within minutes. It’s not like it would be hard to do. Steve knows how an omega's body works, knows that he could have Bucky creaming on his fingers before the movie’s end credits are finished rolling. But he forces himself to hold back, because that’s not what he wants, not really. Not for Bucky’s first time in their home. Their home. Christ.

“Sweetheart,” he gasps, when Bucky switches to sucking on his neck and rubbing forwards instead of down, his clothed little cock grinding against Steve’s abs, giving off these needy little whines as he moves. Fuck, it’s sexy. And he’s got his mouth right over Steve’s glands, bringing blood to the surface of skin that’s still tender and sensitive from the recent bondmark. It’s healed by now, but the skin is still pink and thin, delicate from injury. It wouldn’t take much to get it to break all over again, and Steve feels saliva pool in his mouth as he imagines that the same must be true of Bucky’s mark. He grits his teeth and digs his fingers in hard at Bucky’s waist, trying to control himself. “Oh, Honey … okay wait. Wait wait wait.” He pulls back, panting, and after a moment Bucky does, too. His eyes open and flick over Steve’s face. He’s got such fantastic eyes. Irises that flare into a stormy cobalt, and then gray; his pupils blown huge with desire. Steve is fucking helpless under those eyes.

“Alpha,” Bucky breathes, saying it like it might as well be Steve’s name. “Can we? Please? I want it, I do. Please Steve, please take me back to our room.”

It’s such pretty begging. Steve’s hit hard in that instant by how utterly beautiful Bucky is. His dark lashes and plush lips, the wanting pinch between his brows, and the sweet, aroused, pregnant smell of him. Steve wonders how he ever thought he was going to be able to remain respectable, here. “Yeah?” he asks, pushing his hands under Bucky’s sweater to feel his skin. He digs his fingers into the soft give of his waist and feels him shudder. “You sure?”

Bucky grabs his face to kiss him forcefully, his hips jolting down again as he does. “Yes!” he laughs, kissing Steve hard, shoving his tongue inside his mouth with almost no skill. “Fuck, Steve. Come on. Pleease. You’re my Alpha, aren’t you?” He’s only asking lightheartedly, but Steve’s balls still clench and throb as if he’s been issued a challenge, and his growl still intensifies to something rich and possessive, rolling deep in his chest. Bucky makes a delighted sound at hearing it, and his scent spikes. He clings to Steve and tucks his face in his neck, humping him harder and moaning, “C’mon Alpha. Take me back there and hold me down. Make it feel better. Aren’t I your omega? Don’t you want to breed me up in our nest?”

“Fuck,” Steve says tightly. This kid’s too clever. He figures things out. “Bucky,” he growls.

“Yeah." Bucky drags his teeth over Steve’s bondmark and sucks, hard, on the glands. He releases with a 'pop' and a harshly whispered, “So make me feel good like you’re supposed to,” against the shell of Steve’s ear. And Steve breaks. He shoves up to standing with Bucky hoisted in his arms. The coffee table scrapes loudly across the floor when his shins hit it. Bucky squeaks at the sudden movement and grabs onto him, laughing delightedly. "Steve!"

Steve carries him back to the bedroom. He dumps him on the bed and Bucky scoots back and starts yanking off his clothes with haste. Steve stays standing and undresses, growling at him. “You’re a manipulative little shit, you know that?”

Bucky laughs. “If it gets me what I want," he preens, voice muffled by his tee shirt and sweater twisted halfway over his face.

Steve is naked first, and he helps Bucky by pulling off the briefs that he's trying to kick off his foot, tossing them away with a grin as he crawls over him on the bed. “And what is that, huh?” he asks, settling in the cradle of his hips, pleased when Bucky's legs part instinctively to make a place for him. Finally, their bodies finally pressed fully together, nothing between them anymore. It feels right. Bucky’s eyes are bright and joyful, his cheeks beautifully flushed as Steve settles on his forearms above him. Bucky whines and draws his knees up, humping against Steve's stomach, smearing his slick there. Steve traces the edge of one dark brow with his thumb. “Pretty boy. What do you want so bad, hm?”

“Thought that’d be obvious by now,” Bucky jokes, though some of the bravado has leached from his voice, replaced by a breathiness that betrays his nerves.

Steve glances down between them and sees Bucky’s cocklet, half hard and fattened up against his belly. And lower down, all that slick. It’s mind-bendingly hot, and Steve shoves a hand down between them, smearing through the mess and getting it all over his fingers. “So wet, Sweetheart,” he praises.

Bucky chokes out the prettiest little noise when Steve's fingers graze his soaked lips, and then wrap around his cocklet and start giving it light, coaxing strokes. “S-shit,” he whimpers, shoving up against Steve’s hand. “Ohn, sh-shit, Steve …”

“Mmhm.” Steve kisses him as he strokes, stopping frequently to pull back and watch the pleasure play out over his face. Bucky's little cock is almost fully hard in his hand. Steve looks down between their bodies to watch as he thumbs over the head again and again. He takes gentle hold of his foreskin and uses it to jerk him off right at the tip. The sight of it is enough to make him want to pop a knot. And lower down? Jesus wept, it’s pretty. Bucky’s slick is everywhere and his cunt is pink and swollen, the lips puffy and darkened from arousal. Jesus fucking Christ. Steve's overcome with the need to seal his mouth right over it.

He gets back on his knees, intending to do just that, pulling Bucky where he wants him in the sheets. He pushes Bucky’s knees apart and looks his fill. Bucky starts to whine and squirm at the close attention, but Steve hushes him and plays with his cock some more to distract him. “Shh, Honey. You’re so pretty down here.” He’s staring, can’t help but stare at the gorgeous spread of Bucky’s sex. He trails his fingers over it in the barest ghost of a touch, near reverent in how he plays with this delicate part of him. “Oh, Sweetheart. Look at you, so perfect.”

Bucky’s scent gets even more aroused, but with a growing hint of embarrassment to it that Steve doesn’t like. His nose wrinkles as he scents a twinge of humiliation, and realizes how bothered Bucky is. This isn’t going to be like at the hospital. Bucky no longer has the mental fog or the fevered drive of his heat to guide him through any of this.

Steve looks up and tries to convey what he feels for Bucky through his expression, through the bond that they share. He reaches out and cups his cheek. “What are you thinking, Sweet boy?” he asks sadly, knowingly. Because he can already see it: the self-deprecating thoughts that Bucky's having about his body, about what he’s been told all his life is wrong with it. Steve makes a miserable noise of contention, and Bucky’s lips quiver and his eyes slip closed. He’s shaking his head just the barest bit. Steve whines sadly. “Honey,”

“Nothing,” Bucky whispers, squirming unhappily and pressing his cheek into Steve’s palm. His sad little smile is heart wrenching. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

For the first time, Steve wishes that he’d gone in to speak privately with Bucky’s OmCare counselor the other day, so that he could’ve asked questions. Steve’s never been with someone with issues like Bucky has, at least not any longer than a few hectic days spent fucking in a heat suite. His job involves acute care, the during. He’s never been there to deal with the after. Bucky’s so beautiful laid out before him now, but Steve is keenly aware of how fragile he is, too. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

Slowly, he moves his hand from Bucky’s face and fits it around the front of his throat instead. He presses up and in under his jaw, and watches as Bucky’s eyes shoot open again. Steve levels him with a tender look. “Buck,” he tells him gently. “I want to lay down on my stomach, here.” He nods at the bed. “Right here, between your pretty legs.” Bucky swallows thickly beneath his palm, a hurt little pinch forming between his brows. One of his hands has come up to grip onto Steve’s wrist at his throat, but he isn’t pushing him away, and Steve keeps his hand there. “I think you’re so beautiful, Sweetheart. And I want to show you. I want to make you feel good.” Carefully, he leans down over him, so close that their lips brush together. But he keeps his eyes open, and so does Bucky, and he doesn’t kiss him. He stays like that, sharing breath with him and looking right into his eyes as he holds his neck with gentle dominance. … And with his other hand, he reaches down between his legs.

Bucky’s breath catches and trips at the first touch of Steve’s fingers, his face slipping between desire and shame and a whole host of other, vulnerable emotions. “S-steve,” he breathes.

“Mmhm.” He lets the pads of his fingers stroke softly along the lips of Bucky’s cunt, again and again, up and down, just barely touching. He’s soaked. “I want you to tell me,” Steve murmurs, and then he finally does kiss him—just once, just a tiny peck on the lips. Bucky tries to kiss back, but he denies him, maintaining that scant distance between their faces and waiting until Bucky opens his eyes again. Steve smiles. “Tell me, Bucky. Tell me to put my face down between your legs. Tell me to kiss you, to lick you.”

The whine Bucky makes is as bothered as the blush that stains his cheeks. He writhes underneath Steve, and Steve tightens his hand on his neck. He fits his thumb over his bonding glands and presses firmly. “I love every part of your body Buck, and I want you to see that. I want you to see what I see.” He gives him another kiss, and this time speaks directly against Bucky’s mouth. “Now give me permission to eat you out.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whimpers, but the shame in his scent has already peaked and is dissipating. It’s still there, but Steve can feel through the bond how his words have helped. Bucky squirms under him, a new gush of slick pooling around Steve’s fingers right after. “... E-eat me out, Steve.”

“Good boy. Oh, Bucky, Sweetheart,”

“Please … your mouth, your … please.”

Steve growls, more than satisfied. He mashes his mouth down hard on Bucky’s, kissing him fiercely to let him know he’s been so, so good for him. Then he shoves himself down the bed, dragging his cock against the sheets as he goes to get some relief. Bucky’s legs spread apart and Steve coaxes him with gentle murmurs to rest them over his shoulders. “There you go. Just like that, Beautiful.” He kisses the back of one calf as it moves and Bucky settles. He flicks his eyes up to Bucky, who’s staring down at him with parted lips and heavy-lidded eyes.

“Oh, Steve. Are you gonna?”

He moves instead of answering, shoulders pushing under Bucky’s thighs and arms wrapping around, tugging him closer. Bucky squeaks and Steve rumbles in satisfaction. “Goddamn,” he curses, rolling his hips down against the mattress some more. It’s barely a relief. “Baby,” he breathes, staring at Bucky’s pink folds, so wet and delicate, his little hole clenching on nothing. “Baby, you got no idea how good this pussy looks. Fuck.”

Bucky groans at the words, but he doesn’t get much chance to protest further because in the next second Steve is diving in. He seals his mouth over most of Bucky’s entire sex, just because he can, giving a big, indulgent suck and making absolutely filthy noises in the process. He laves the flat of his tongue, wide and firm and focused, up the pink cleft of his cunt, again and again, before setting in to a few moments of truly tongue fucking him—first with tiny little jabs that barely breach him and make him whine high and needy, then a series of longer, deeper pushes, going as far into Bucky’s body as he possibly can. Bucky downright wails after a moment of that, and Steve can hear the frustration in it, can hear how he wants more but doesn’t have the words to ask. That’s alright, though. Steve has given plenty of head in his life, and he knows what male omegas respond to best. He gets himself in gear and does what he knows will have Bucky coming in minutes.

“Jesus Chr-uh—” Bucky grunts, his hips shoving up hard against Steve’s face.

Steve hums around the cocklet in his mouth and tongues the underside, flicking over and over it like he would do to a woman’s clit. He’s got one hand holding Bucky’s hip down, and he uses the other to tease at the wet entrance of his slit, pressing with the tips of two fingers. It’s so tight that, for a long second, it doesn’t feel as if he’ll be able to get in. He hums his mouth on Buck’s cock and pushes harder … and slips in.

Bucky cries out sharply and both of his hands are suddenly in Steve’s hair, pulling him closer. His legs hook over his back, heels digging in. “Fuck, oh fuck, Steve yeah… yeahyeah … that … oh, ohplease, jus’likethat.”

Steve hums happily and curls his fingers, rubbing the right spots, letting his knuckles bump Bucky’s mound while he suckles with purpose at the head of his dick. He’s determined to get at least this first orgasm out of the way before he fucks him.

Bucky’s hands pull his head and his hips shove against Steve’s face as he arches and comes, the sweet, desperate sounds he makes as he reaches his climax music to Steve’s ears. His body contracts rhythmically as he releases, a hot gush of slick between his legs and Steve’s palm. Steve groans with his cocklet still held in his mouth. He pulls off, lifting his head to gaze up Bucky’s body but leaving his fingers buried inside his cunt. Bucky’s head is tossed back in the pillows, panting, his face lax from the trailing bliss of his orgasm.

Steve smiles and strokes his fingers inside a few more times, prolonging it for him as much as he can. When Bucky inhales hugely then sighs, his entire body going boneless, Steve pulls out. He dips down for one more, indulgent taste, then kisses his way back up Bucky’s stomach, up across his chest and neck. Bucky’s waiting for him with half-lidded eyes and a sated smile when he arrives to lie over top of him again. Steve hums, settling between his legs and kissing him lightly. He rocks his hips minutely, moving his cock through all that slick. “Feel good?” he asks, bending down to nose at his neck.

Bucky shivers in his arms and nods. “Mmm. Mmhm.”

Steve’s lips find Bucky’s bondmark and kiss it. “Good,” he murmurs. He flicks his tongue out against the delicate skin of the mark, imagining how good it would feel to bite him now, to sink his teeth in all over again, feel the skin break so tenderly and the blood welling out rich with pheromones, how much the sound of Bucky’s cries would turn him on. I want to claim you again, he thinks. I want you. His chest aches with how badly he wants to say those things, but he forces himself not to.

It’s not his place to scar Bucky up any worse than he already has, not when they aren’t mates. Bucky’s with him until the baby comes, maybe not long after. Steve has to let him have that choice, he can't be selfish and box him in, no matter how badly his instincts might make him want to. He rubs his lips over the bondmark instead, then just his nose, when the urge to bite won’t go away.

Beneath him, Bucky’s hips cant up further, receptive. His knees notch up higher about Steve’s waist. But after a moment of lazy writhing and making little seeking, wanting mewls, he freezes. “Oh. Um … Steve?”

“Mm?” Steve is rubbing his cock through the wet cleft of his sex, ready to be inside his omega, ready to feel that heaven again. He wedges a hand down to line himself up. “You ready, Honey?”

“Wait, no.” Steve pulls back, and Bucky winces in apology. “Ah, maybe I have to pee. Sorry.”

Steve laughs, relieved, and kisses him quickly. He rolls off of him and onto his back. “Don’t apologize. It happens.” He pats him on the hip affectionately and tells him to go. Bucky does, and Steve watches his naked backside as it disappears into the ensuite. He sighs heavily once he’s alone, scrubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes and resisting the urge to touch himself in Bucky’s absence. God, he’d really wanted to bite him again. That’s going to be a problem. He hears the toilet flush, then water running at the sink, then Bucky’s footsteps as he returns. Steve uncovers his face and smiles as Bucky climbs back on the bed. “Better?”

“Mmhm.”

Bucky's a typical omega, in that he responds very well to his orgasms. He’s loose and happy after his first, all the tension and insecurities from before gone for the moment. Steve knows his brain has just dumped a shit-ton of chemicals to tell him that he’s loved and safe and beautiful and cared for. He moves to pull him in close again, intending to get right back between his spread legs like he’d been before, but Bucky stops him with another hesitant,

“Wait.”

Steve pauses, and when Bucky pushes against his shoulder he takes the hint and returns to lying on his back, probably with a quizzical expression on his face. Bucky’s kneeling on the bedcovers beside him, looking shy but eager. Steve’s knot throbs at that look. “Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes rove over his body with interest plain on his face. At his sides, his hands make an aborted gesture towards Steve. “Um. I wanted to try …” He bites his lip, eyes trailing down to Steve’s erection where it lies wet and heavy against his belly, the shine of Bucky’s slick on it catching the room’s light. Bucky visibly trembles and reaches out with his hand again. This time, his fingers brush over the skin of Steve’s hip. He shifts in place on his knees. “Can I …”

“Yes,” Steve breathes, instantly harder just at the thought of Bucky touching him in that way—with his hands, his mouth, it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is that Bucky wants, Steve wants him to have it. The idea of his omega wanting him like this, wanting to explore his body, makes Steve hotter than anything he can imagine. “Anything you want,” he manages to croak out, forcing himself to remain still and let Bucky set the pace. “Go ahead.”

Bucky’s timid for another moment, leaning forward. His hands land lightly on Steve’s chest at first, then drag down, feeling his body. He takes a deep breath and seems to decide on something, his expression growing resolute. He straddles Steve’s thighs and leans forward to touch his chest again, taking more time to explore his pecs, ghost fingers over his nipples. It’s endearing how fascinated he still is. Steve supposes that they didn’t do much of this in the heat suite. Bucky had been too far into his cycle then, too needy and traumatized to even contemplate exploring Steve’s body when what he really needed was an alpha taking care of him. Now though, now he can explore. And the heat in his eyes as they rove Steve’s body shows that he very much wants to.

Steve swallows thickly and watches as his omega becomes familiar with him in this new way. His hands flow over Steve’s abs, fingertips tracing the lines of muscle, and then the hair that starts on his belly. He smooths his hands down over those flat planes, out to his hips, to the tops of his thighs and back up. But his eyes remain glued to Steve’s cock the entire time. It’s fully hard now, darkened in color from his arousal and the knot plumped at the base. Bucky’s eyes flick up once, just to check, and Steve gives him a shaky smile. “Go ahead, Sweetheart.”

Bucky touches his cock, wrapping his hand around the shaft like he’s afraid he’ll hurt Steve. “What should I do?” he whispers, fingers tightening the barest fraction and giving a cautious stroke. “I’ve never …”

Steve’s hips jerk up and he fights to keep himself still. “It’s okay,” he says. “You touch yourself, right? Just do that. It’s the same.”

Bucky’s eyes flick up, and Steve’s surprised to see humor there. Bucky twists his lips wryly. “It’s not the same,” he teases, looking back down pointedly at Steve’s humongous cock, and then his.

Steve chuckles. “Well, general idea.” He reaches down and puts his hand over Bucky’s hand where it’s holding his cock. Bucky inhales sharply and looks at him. Steve nods. “Anything you do is gonna feel so good for me, Buck,” he tells him honestly. “Go ahead. I just want to watch you have fun.” Bucky looks shocked at that for the barest of seconds, but then that look slips away, replaced by eagerness. He looks back down, licks his lips, and starts jerking Steve off in slow, exploring strokes. Steve groans and lets his head flop back into the pillow, closing his eyes after a moment. Bucky’s other hand appears at the top of his thigh. It slides inwards, squeezing the muscle, and Steve groans and spreads his legs a little for him, flexing his pelvis up. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bucky.” Bucky’s touches grow bolder. He squeezes Steve’s cock harder and starts twisting his hand experimentally on the upstroke. His other hand migrates from Steve’s thigh to his balls, eliciting a grunt from Steve. “Oh,” he breathes, wanting Bucky to hear it in his voice, how good it is. “Honey, yeah. That’s just right.”

Bucky rolls his balls in his palm lightly, and when Steve tells him that he can tug on them a little, he obeys. “Touch my knot,” Steve whispers, when he can feel it swelling further. He moans unexpectedly loudly when Bucky’s hand closes around it though, and he’s opening his eyes and reaching down to grab Bucky’s wrists in alarm. “Nope, nope nope. No more of that,” he pants, wide-eyed.

Bucky laughs, looking proud. “Why not?”

Steve growls and tugs on Bucky's waist, making him fall down on top of him. “You know why not,” he rumbles, then kisses him firmly on the mouth.

It’s possessive, and Bucky moans into it, his hands curling over Steve’s shoulders and hips grinding down against his abs. They part from the kiss and Bucky sits up, his eyes sparkling. “I liked it though,” he says. He rocks down at a different angle, rubbing his cunt on Steve's belly and smearing his slick all over the place. He giggles when Steve groans and grabs his hips to stop him. “What if that’s what I wanted?” he asks. “What if I want to make you cum with my hands? Or my mouth?”

“Fuck.”

“I want to see it,” he says, eyes hot on Steve and his hips rocking lewdly against him. “One day. I wanna see it happen. In my hands. I want to hold it and see it get big.”

Steve really, really has to close his eyes for a second with that one. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to hurt. Because he simply cannot with Bucky and his virginal little attempts at dirty talk right now. “You better watch your mouth,” he warns, his voice sounding like he’s swallowed rocks. “Or you will see it.” Bucky’s grin is magnificent, but Steve raises an eyebrow and reminds him, “Alphas only cum once, Sweetheart. Up to you to decide where my knot is, when that happens.”

It’s adorable, how fast Bucky’s eyes widen at that, and then how he frowns and pouts about not getting to have his cake and eat it, too. Steve waits him out patiently, grateful to have a few seconds’ reprieve (and also fairly certain that he knows which way Bucky’s going to steer things).

“Fine,” Bucky eventually says, sighing dramatically as if he’s making the world’s most difficult choice. Steve grins and digs his fingers firmly into the fleshiness of his hips, preparing to flip them back over. But Bucky grunts in protest, and then he puts his hands on Steve's chest and shoves him back down to the bed with an adorable little omega growl. Steve feels his surge of confidence and playful dominance through the bond, and he grins up at him, understanding what he wants. “Yeah?”

Bucky pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and bites it, a little bit of self-consciousness slipping back in, even as he nods. “Uh huh. Can I?”

Steve groans. He sits up and yanks Bucky against him, one hand threaded into his hair just so he can kiss him, hard, one single time. He falls back down to the bed. “Of course you can,” he tells him, grabbing his hips again and kneading his fingers in. “Go on.”

His enthusiastic response seems to wipe away any remaining traces of Bucky’s doubt. The boy's scent is pure again, unpolluted by shame or uncertainty, and he licks his lips and focuses intently on kneeling up, reaching around behind himself for Steve’s cock, and lining it up with his entrance.

Steve helps him along, holding his dick steady at the base so that Bucky can focus on relaxing and taking him inside his body. “Hey,” he whispers, getting Bucky’s attention back on him. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” Bucky flushes and exhales shakily at the command. He nods, eyes fixed on Steve’s face even as he lowers himself down and they touch. Steve’s cockhead presses, breaches Bucky’s body, and he sees Bucky’s lips part and his brow pinch.

"Oh."

“Just like that,” Steve soothes, petting his flank with one hand, guiding his hip down with the other. Bucky groans quietly as he sinks down and bottoms out, and Steve rewards him with a deep rumble of approval. “Thaat’s it, Honey. Oh, good boy.”

Bucky mewls and falls forward, bracing both hands on Steve’s chest. His eyes are clamped shut tightly and he starts moving, rocking forwards and back, hard and fast. But Steve only lets him have a moment of that frantic grinding before he’s shushing him and coaxing him to sit back, slow down, and open his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, stroking up to his waist and back down in praise. He tugs and pulls his hips, guiding him into the right motions. “Slow and easy. That’s right. Keep those pretty eyes open so Alpha can see, yeah?” Bucky nods, his pleasure-pained face and desperation for Steve's guidance just about the sweetest, most erotic thing Steve’s ever seen. He nods along encouragingly with Bucky. “Good boy. That's it. Look right at me while you make us feel so good.”

Bucky does, sitting back the way that Steve’s positioned him and learning to roll his hips in that slow, luxurious grind that feels absolutely exquisite. He’s able to keep at it that way for a long while, too, before his breathing eventually starts to pick up, getting heavier and faster, his face and chest gorgeously flushed. The wet sounds of all his slick are more intense, and Steve can tell from the scent of him, from the feeling of his cunt tightening and rippling around his dick, that he’s close to his second orgasm. Steve clenches his jaw and digs his heels into the sheets so he can fuck up against Bucky's grinding. He can feel his knot pulsing, about to swell. “Baby,” he grits out. “M’close.”

“Steve.”

“I’m gonna knot you,” he gasps. “Buck, oh, I’m gonna.”

It’s the first time he’s ever not asked it as a question, but he doesn’t have to worry about consent, because Bucky makes it immediately clear that Steve’s knot is exactly what he wants. “Fuck yeah,” he whines, face crumpling and both of his hands shooting forward to brace on Steve’s chest again. He grinds harder, faster, more desperately like he’d done in the beginning, and this time Steve lets him. He curses and wraps his arms around Bucky’s back when the boy collapses onto him. His knot pops, and Bucky wails and comes.

Steve shouts as he starts to come, too, his balls pulling up tight and his focus narrowing down to nothing but the point where their bodies are joined. God, it feels so good, so good, sofuckinggood. His hips rut mindlessly against their tie and he clutches onto Bucky, muffling his moans in the omega’s neck. He gasps and has to force his mouth away from Bucky’s bonding glands at the last second, when he realizes what he’s aiming for. He pants into the top of his shoulder instead as he comes. He loses track of space and time for that first, excruciating minute of his orgasm, and then flows back into himself for the heavenly three or four minutes of languorous pleasure that follow.

Meanwhile, Bucky pants and grinds himself out to at least one more climax, then collapses on Steve’s chest in sweaty exhaustion. "Oh. Oh, god."

Steve moans and wraps his arms fully around Bucky's waist, hugging their bodies tightly together while his balls keep emptying. "Hmmm," he sighs blissfully, eyes closed and nose buried in Bucky's hair. "'Mega."

Bucky whimpers a little and squirms on his knot, repeating his name in a tired, whispered slur, again and again, right against Steve’s left pec: “Steve, Ssteve … mmm, Ssteeve.”

Steve kisses the top of Bucky’s head and hums some more. He thinks he mumbles something in the general vicinity of, “Luv you,” before he drifts off to sleep, his cock still buried deep and his omega’s adoring, sated whispers still ringing in his ears.

Art: @hopelessartgeek

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[st0rmyskies]

maybe 1 for shadow and/or four?

Let me post the list of prompts I am using and those days that are already written. Anything in bold hasn't been started yet. The ones I am most open to changing or accepting inspo on are 3, 13, 15, 17, 23 (yeah it's 'written' but I never liked the original scene anyway), and 29.

I did change some of these prompts to fit my own tastes on occasion. As one does.

If you don't see your blorbo or have a good idea for something listed above, please hit up my inbox.

omega!Sky, (mostly) entire cast - Race Against the Clock.

omega!Sky, Time/Sky - Role Reversal.

Set up for failure/Fingerprints/Wrongfully accused - HSH!Wind was requested, although I'm severely lacking inspo on this one.

Hallucinations/Hypnosis/Sensory Deprivation - HSH!Legend requested, I might move into vampire AU for this prompt.

HSH!Champion - Heat Stroke.

Not realizing they're injured/"It's not my blood." - poly!Twilight requested, this one's on the tip of my tongue, I can feel it...

Only for emergencies/Unconventional weapon - HSH!Hyrule requested. I have an unpublished scene from The Brave that I might use to fill this prompt.

pre-HSH!Time - Sleep deprivation.

omega!Sky, Warrlight - Obsession/Bruises.

poly!Sky - Blow to the head/slurred words/fainting from pain.

HSH!Four and Shadow - Seeing double/Convenience store/Liminal spaces.

HSH!Legend and Ravio - Underground caverns.

Team as family/Familial curse/Multiple whumpees - This one feels like it should be the easiest one, but it ain't.

omega!Sky, Sky/Time/Legend/Ravio - Shackles.

Childhood trauma - HSH Time, Twi, and Wind were all requested for this prompt. We'll see.

Necrosis/Wound cleaning/"No, I can't feel anything." - Poly!Sky is planned for this.

Nowhere else to go/Ruined map/Shipwrecked - This one just screams HSH!Legend.

Revenge/Loss of identity/Unreliable narrator - And this one was just made for HSH!Fierce Deity.

omega!Sky, Sky/Time/Wild/Hyrule/Twilight - Blood trail.

omega!Sky, Warriors/Wild/Twilight - Emotional angst/Shoulder to cry on.

Body horror/Tattoo gun - HSH!Dark

HSH!All the boys, horror movie style - Reopening wounds/tourniquet.

omega!Sky Sky/Warriors/Twilight/Four - Forced choice/Public display.

Collapsed building/Equipment failure - HSH!Champion.

Surgery/Stitches/Being monitored/"For your own good." - HSH!Dark.

omega!Sky, Sky-centric with entire cast - Nightmares.

Voiceless/Muzzled - HSH!Champion.

LMTCOY!Warriors/Volga - CCTV, Exposure, Filming.

Fatigue/Labyrinth/Burnout/"Who said you could rest?" - I got nothin. Considering changing this prompt up entirely.

Recovery/Hospital bed/Holding back tears/"What have I done?" - If this isn't vampire!Hyrule I don't know what is.

LU Time/Twilight - Giving permission to die. I actually had to draft this one and walk away from it, this one HURT ME.

[love-me-a-lotta-whump]

소년을 위로해줘 - A Shoulder to Cry On - Whumplist - 🇰🇷

Whumpees: (left) 조태현 (Jo Tae Hyeon) played by 신예찬 (Shin Ye Chan) of OMEGA X and (right) 이다열 (Lee Da Yeol) played by 김재한 (Kim Jae Han) of OMEGA X

Synopsis: Tae Hyun seems to take a wicked sort of delight in doing everything he can to make Da Yeol’s life miserable; his favorite method being to follow Da Yeol everywhere. Unable to shake Tae Hyun, Da Yeol spends his days loathing his shadow but the more time he spends with him, the more conflicted his feelings become; leaving him to wonder, where exactly does the line between hate and love end? (MDL)

Genre: BL, Romance, School, Friendship

Watch On: Viki, DramaCool, KissAsian

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW

조태현 - Jo Tae Hyeon

1.01 : none

1.02 : slapped, verbally abused, told to die, strangled, manhandled ::: concern for him ::: (comical: startled, head pushed into a desk, bloody nose)

1.03 : trapped in a shed, sweating, half asleep, (flashbacks: manhandled) ::: elbowed in the ribs, groaning ::: upsetting call with his dad

1.04 : (flashbacks reveal he has depression and PTSD), emotional ::: curling in on himself, emotional ::: curling in on himself, breaking down ::: hitting himself in the head ::: bleeding, emotional ::: barely conscious, bloody ::: wincing, bloody ::: found unconscious, woken up, bloody, emotional, concern for him ::: bandaged head ::: talking about his traumatic past ::: fell asleep

1.05 : upsetting phone call, nauseous, throwing up, emotional ::: in a depressed state, head still bandaged ::: verbally assaulted, hit, emotional, crying, held, fighting being held, sobbing, “I can’t even love anyone anymore.”

1.06 : upset ::: angry ::: pushed against a wall ::: emotional ::: emotional, crying, sobbing ::: crying, shaking, curling in on himself, sobbing

1.07 : none

이다열 - Lee Da Yeol

1.01 : hurt shoulder, concern for him ::: in the nurse’s office icing his shoulder

1.02 : upset

1.03 : trapped in a shed, sweating ::: Heimlich maneuver performed on him ::: upset

1.04 : upset ::: angry, manhandled/restrained ::: angry ::: concerned for someone ::: concerned for someone

1.05 : collar grabbed, pushed against a wall, someone attempts to intimidate him, defiant

1.06 : upset ::: emotional, heartbroken, crying, pushed ::: drunk, carried, asleep

1.07 : none

———+———

MORE WHUMP LISTS >>> {x}

Note: Given that I’m not fluent in Korean, I’m not sure how to better translate the title but I know there’s a better way. I’ll leave it as is 😭😂

[bilightningwhumper]

Started watching Violet Evergarden and I love it so far.

Now I'm getting thoughts of Mare being introduced to it by one of her siblings or their friends and relating to Violet. Like, I get really emotional when I relate heavily to a character. Full on sudden burst of tears once the feeling sets in. After all, why wouldn't she? A former living weapon who has trouble understanding and conveying her feelings, as well as understanding the feelings of others.

Mare is a character from my SoaS fic series, so don't worry if you don't recognize the name, lol. Writing them slowly, but I can't wait for you all to meet my characters. I just wanted to ramble for a moment.