#prompt: alpha of the dead

[greekgeek24]

Here’s my second piece for @intotheomegaverse’s Halloween Prompts List. I chose Alpha of the Dead because Warm Bodies is one of my favorite movies. And then my dear friend @ravenclawwitch18 decided that I should do Starker.

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 1

tw: explicit content, 5k+ words, reader/sukuna. female!reader, beta!reader, alpha!sukuna, true form!sukuna. oral (male/female receiving), PIV, size difference, sukuna has a knot, sukuna is lowkey a masochist, some anal (not the reader's ass).

Prompt: Betas serving as royal sex concubines without fear of pregnancy.

It wasn’t as bad as one might expect, being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine.

Oh, he was terrifying, certainly. Death wasn’t uncommon in the household, though rarer than some might think.

Sukuna traveled often, sampling both the lands and the people within them, returning to the estate only when it pleased him to do so.

Everyone in the estate knew their master’s expectations and the consequences for not meeting them. Only the rare missteps resulted in punishments, though they were indeed brutal.

On some occasion, the lord’s aide would bring half-dead curses - or corpses of enemy sorcerers - to a separate building on the estate for some strange and nefarious purpose.

It made no difference to you. The estate was clean and well-maintained, the servants attentive, and the stocks never ran low.

You were living the perfect life.

No one denied you anything. You could summon merchants, make the odd trip into town, and entertain yourself however you wished, provided you fulfilled your responsibilities as a concubine.

You were a nobody before you came to the estate.

You’re still a nobody, but everyone here is a nobody in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes.

Your lifespans are determined by how useful you were to him at any given moment.

And he had an unexpected use for a common whore like you.

It was probably more surprising that you were a beta, and not an omega – infinitely more desirable for an alpha like the lord, one would assume.

You’d never presumed to pry before, but it’s easy to speculate, after having known him long enough.

He’s a powerful man, utterly indifferent to societal standards or norms. His desire and satisfaction were above all other things, just as he was above everyone weaker than him. And everyone was weaker than him.

It was hard to imagine him at the mercy of an omega’s potent pheromones, longing for the comfort of his partner’s nest, pining for the love of his mate, or driven madly to lust by the scent of a rut.

Or perhaps he indulged plenty, but so much fervor could only end in bloodlust on his part. Any omega summoned to his chambers to serve his pleasure never returned.

You do fare luckier in that respect. He may not have been gentle lover, but as long as you’d served him he’d left you with no more than bruises and bite marks.

And he could hurt you, destroy you, utterly disfigure you in permanent and terrifying ways… with just a casual glancing blow.

Sukuna is present on this night, though, and it appears he’s summoned you.

His aide, Uruame, is far closer to him than any of his concubines, and by now you know the sound of their footsteps slowing as they near your door.

They smile at you as you open the door for them, bowing before your eyes meet theirs.

Uruame is not fond of any of their lord’s concubines, as a rule. Being a beta themselves, it’s unlikely they understand Sukuna’s needs as an alpha any better than you do.

But what they can understand is that you respect their lord immensely. A sorcerer yourself, you know enough to appreciate the scale of his power, and you had never made any secret of your admiration.

Unlike many other concubines brought in, you had very little arrogance to show for your beauty and bedroom skills. Uruame probably does appreciate that.

You’re a beta from a brothel, so you have no delusions of self-importance, but Sukuna, and by extension Uruame, couldn’t care less where you came from.

You know their purpose as soon as they arrive; they don’t need to engage in any inane conversation or instructions.

As soon as Sukuna had returned, you’d readied and dressed yourself in case he were to summon you. It happens more often than not whenever he’s back at the estate.

You suspect you’re the only one he summons during his rut.

His omega concubines are… single-use. Your fellow betas are few in number, and he’s no more forgiving with his concubines than he is his other servants.

You follow Uraume to his room. You can’t tell if he’s in a rut or not, but your suspicion is confirmed as Uruame gives a short nod, then strides off.

Sukuna doesn’t like being seen during his rut. Many have learned the hard way.

“Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?” His voice is as gruff as ever. Low, heady, a delicious groan that sends shivers down your form.

He didn’t ask to be answered, of course. The only appropriate response to Sukuna’s question is action.

Quickly you slide the door open and shut it behind yourself as you fall into a low bow. You don’t meet his eyes without permission.

“Get up.” Your cue to sit up, to not bother with any further formalities. His rut must be well underway. “Come over already.”

You don’t waste any more time. He sounds impatient, and he probably is, but any less deference could see your head separated from your body. It’s especially important not to touch him first, to let him touch you.

Sukuna loathes being touched without permission.

It’s not something you have to worry about, though. As soon as you’re within reach, one of his hands bears down onto your shoulder; to him, it’s as good as an explicit instruction.

You never subject Sukuna to the indignity of having to voice his desires.

Perhaps that’s why he likes you so – there’s a flash of something pure alpha, an intense delight in his eyes as you kneel and attend to him in prefect obedience and submission.

Falling to your knees at his feet, wasting not even a second, you work to free his painful erection from the confines of his clothes.

Practiced hands accomplish it easily, and you’re rewarded with a large hand that strokes through your hair, brushing it back out of your face and holding it there.

His erection springs forward, as impatient as he is. His knot is already swollen up.

It’s red and flushed, pink to match his hair, heavy and thick like all the rest of his limbs.

Even an omega would blanch at taking such a monster. You are well-trained.

It’s enough just to lick at it, some cursory strokes to wet the shaft with his precum, to touch your lips to his heated flesh. Searing, really.

Wide, open-mouthed kisses dragged along him until his cock is coated well enough with spit and his own pre.

Without any further hesitation you open your mouth wide and take him all the way down to the knot, lips thinning where his cock swells and throbs.

The head is already lodged in your throat, and you swallow as you take it down, pressing your lips in. A moan tells you he’s already growing sensitive.

It wouldn’t feel very good for him to knot in your throat – he’s never bothered with it before – but there’s always a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

Sukuna doesn’t want to knot your throat, but it pleases him to think that he could. That you are willing and ready to take it, if he wished.

“Good little beta." The mouth on his abdomen seems to grin at you, wide and dripping saliva.

A fire ignites in your belly at the praise, face heating up, your own mouth opening wide.

No matter what you are, Sukuna is an alpha through and through, and the desire to please surges as his hand presses you forward.

As a concubine or a common harlot, you’d always been good at your job.

Sorcery had delivered you from the streets and into Sukuna’s estate, and diligence, determination, had kept you alive throughout it all.

Others died around you. Weak. You would do whatever it took to survive, however ugly it may be.

Taking cock down your throat isn’t even close to the most degrading thing you’ve done, and at least there’s only one man now for you to serve.

He’s not even a bad lay. Either a suppressed instinct to please his mate as an alpha or some fortuitous chemistry has always ensured he brings you to release whenever you fuck.

The unmarred half of his face is undeniably handsome, and after all you’d seen, you’re utterly indifferent to the deformity. It’s just there. A part of him like any other – the other arms, the other mouth.

You’re sure you yourself have flaws in his eyes, but if he truly did not want you, you’d never have been allowed in his chambers to begin with. Sukuna is a man with absolutely no interest in pretenses. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, always.

Sometimes, you think that you and Sukuna aren’t all that different after all.

An alpha who was malformed, cast out by society, recognized only in disgust or fear.

And you, sold by a father eager to make any money he could off a pretty beta daughter.

You were unfit to be an alpha’s bride, but perfectly suited to be every alpha’s whore.

If you wanted happiness, you had to seize it, even if it meant choking the life out of someone else.

Both of you were worth only as much as you could curse others. Sukuna’s worth is greater than yours, but in his shadow everyone is equally worthless, and in his gaze – at least for this moment – you are worthy of him.

The fingers in your hair tighten; a hiss, “Take it!” and you suckle diligently as you bob backwards, diving forward straight away to take him to the root again.

Inhuman though he may be, his cock is much the same as any other alpha’s, if a bit larger.

Hot, smooth skin, veins that pulse and bulge inside your mouth. A salty taste you’d grown accustomed to, a stretch in your mouth and your jaw that you ameliorated by focusing on hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue along it.

Betas can’t purr, not like omegas or alphas can, but you approximate it with a hum, a gentle sigh through your nose and fluttering, lowered lashes.

A low exhalation. Controlled. “There she is…” The hand in your hair goes to stroke possessively over your cheek. “My little beta. All for me.”

His eyes dilate in lust – you always meet his gaze while you do this, for as long as you’re able, you know he likes this – and you know before you feel the touch of his hand on your jaw to begin drawing back.

His hand barely ghosts you before you move, leaving trails of saliva strung between your lips and his shining cock while you gaze up at him.

Another theatric he enjoys. His tongue darts out from his lips, grasping and stroking himself, hand coated in a sweet-smelling oil you recognize.

His other arms reach to grasp you by the shoulder, pulling you up to stand and burying your face in his neck wordlessly.

They wrap around you, pulling you into him as he steps back to sit on the bed where you follow.

It surprises you every time, just how much your body comes alive at his touch.

Heart racing as if it can jump through your skin and into the hands that trace your throat, your collarbone, down your chest, dragging the slip of a robe you’d worn down with it.

Sukuna likes undressing you, alpha that he is.

Like you’re a sacred treasure to be unveiled only by his hands. You always wear something easy to take off, and nothing else.

His touch is your leave to respond in kind; he’s fully bared, now, all tattooed skin and corded muscle.

A warrior’s form, conveying power and strength in every divot and valley. Your heart races as you lay your hands on him.

Maybe it’s the thrill of it.

Sukuna is utterly untouchable. The greatest sorcerers of your time had died failing to scratch the smooth, unbroken skin he offers to you so freely.

As a concubine, you don’t get much contact. Less still, since no one would dare lay a hand on a consort Sukuna summons so often to his side.

Normally that suited you just fine, but sometimes with him you feel like a dog straining on a leash.

Desperate for him to reach out, to feel him on you. Lust and adrenaline coursing through you the instant he makes contact.

Even as a beta, this close, it’s impossible not to smell him; he’s pulled you to his throat on instinct.

His scent glands are right there, and you don’t hesitate to lick at them, letting your breath ghost over the hot, spit-slicked skin. Dragging your teeth along the swollen flesh.

That’s one of the things he likes best. He knows you’re a beta. You have no fangs, you couldn’t mark him if you wanted to. Not with anything but curses.

But still, it is a pleasure. The salt on your tongue, the flesh that yields beneath your teeth, even without breaking, as the alpha’s aroma fills your senses.

Sukuna is spiced; harsh, in some ways, like cinnamon, but warm like a pleasant woodsmoke, like the heat of oil burning in a lamp. Just this side of decadent – opulent, almost, and still primal and raw.

It doesn’t affect you like you imagine it would an alpha or omega. But it’s nice. He smells nice.

You don’t hesitate to nip at his lips when he presses them to yours.

Perhaps one of the reasons Sukuna hates being touched without permission is because he also doesn’t care to be touched gently.

If he weren’t in rut, you would have dragged your teeth over his cock while it was in your mouth, but he’s not able to savor such services in his current state.

They’re red, so red, all his four eyes staring into you. Burning in want. In want of you.

“Fierce little thing.” You can taste his grin, you’re close enough. “See how fierce you’ll be when you’re full of me. My beta. Mine.”

“Yours,” You agree breathily, and lean back in to catch his mouth with your own.

His lips are one place you’re able to make him bleed, dragging the bottom lip beneath your teeth and pinching it, then darting your tongue in to taste.

Sukuna hums at the taste of metal in his mouth, sucks your tongue between his lips to press and purse and suckle on at his leisure. Brilliant red eyes half-lidded in lust.

Your hands get to work, one of them cupping his jaw and then his hair, brushing it back in a way that makes him preen now that he’s in rut and can’t suppress it.

Alphas love getting petted, and Sukuna loves the scrape of fingernails over his scalp, a tight tug against his hair; it all sends his knot pulsing against you.

“Here. Your mouth had a taste, let’s see how your cunt likes it.” His arms lift you up just enough to sit over his well-muscled legs.

Your thighs spread while his cock falls forward, between your thighs.

Sukuna holds you there, just far enough, letting it rub against you with little tugs to your hips. Desire sparking like flint where his length rubs against you. Fuck.

Oh, you want him. Ache for him. It pulls low in your core, to lean into him, to feel his arms holding you in place, to feel him all against you.

You wrap your arms around him in return, clawing at his shoulders as the mouth on his stomach tongues between your legs. It’s exquisite and agonizing all at once. Slick and dragging against you, heavy and broad.

He’s already purring at the taste of you. Hands clenching in desire over the roundness of your hip.

You want him. You want him.

You can have him, take him, touch, touch, touch. Dig your teeth into the firm muscle against his neck to feel his purr grow louder under your teeth.

Your curse technique flickers at your fingertips, dancing over the open canvas of his back.

Inhaling sharply, you think you hear him swear, and then, “Yes.” He laughs breathily, “More. Put more into it. That can’t be all you’ve got.”

It isn’t. The sound of him is everywhere now, vibrations that shake you all the way to your core.

The mouth on his belly still laps at your folds. It drools on your folds like you’re a meal he cannot wait to savor.

Sukuna is already running hot. It’s too easy when he’s like this, all heated, blood pumping heavy through every part of him.

Just beneath the surface you feel it; searing, boiling, heat jumping up to meet your touch. Like liquid fire underneath his skin, you’d heard it described. Exhilarating, Sukuna had called it.

A talent half-learned by accident in the steamy, lurid, filthy recesses of the brothel you’d worked at. A dark place filled with malice and jealousy, reeking of curses in every corner. One day you’d awoken with a strength that sung in your veins, screamed to be used.

You had learned to vanquish shadows with a flick of your wrist, the creatures bursting from the inside.

Once, on a lark, you’d tried it on a client who struggled to maintain his hardness. It had been remarkably effective, pooling blood in his cock, and with a little work you were able to reproduce it in other ways.

It had all been success from there. Climbing the ranks, scoring pleasure into the flesh of those who paid you well enough.

Oh, it was painful, too, but what pleasure in life came without a little pain? If you wanted something, you had to be willing to sacrifice for it.

A founding principle of jujutsu. It’s no wonder Sukuna so delights in battle, either against sorcerers or in his own bed; when you heat his blood in his veins it sends his knot pulsing, throbbing, twitching in excitement as pre drips out.

With him holding you so close you can feel his purring throughout your whole body.

A rare pleasure, a prize you win with vicious effort, cursed energy surging in your hands as you rake your nails over the glorious, muscled expanse of his back.

“Open,” Sukuna commands.

It’s a tone that never fails that make you tremble in anticipation. Your cunt is already dripping with it.

The part of your legs widen, and you lean back to look down at where he’s settled against you.

He’s so large. Always so large. The knot swelling already.

You’re clenching already, quivering, like you’re the one in heat and not he in his rut.

God, you want him to fuck you already.

One massive hand reaches down, stroking over his cock, wet with your saliva, his precum, and the oil substitute for an omega’s slick.

It nudges at your cunt and you let out a short whimper that sends him snarling, thick fingers digging sweet bruises into your hips.

“Always so sweet for me,” His lips ghost over your temple as he stares down, “Delectable. Strong little thing, you can take it.”

The head of his cock slots against your entrance. Fuck, it’s hot, burning, searing, you’re so fucking ready, your cunt is weeping and you feel like keening for it, “Please. Alpha, please.”

You can almost see it in his eyes, red and feral with need. Omega, my omega, my mate – all the things you’ve heard from alphas before.

Clingy, possessive, biting at you, rutting into you like they can breed you. All the filthy things whose beds you’d warmed in the past.

They all pale in comparison to the King of Curses. Hot and throbbing and silken against your entrance, the deep grunt of effort that you feel when he lines himself up and drives himself in.

The very sensation knocks the wind out of you.

Sukuna slides in easily but it’s tight, so tight, always. You feel him feel it, too, all those muscles growing taut before you as he sinks into you.

Your arms tremble before they remember what to do; grasping carelessly at his shoulders, clawing for purchase as the whines claw their way up your throat. They’re shoved back down by the deep moan you make when he reaches the end of your passage.

“F-fuck,” it’s good, it’s so good, it hurts so good and there’s nothing you can do but sit there and take it. Just as he told you to.

It’s always a bit painful, but there’s a pleasure in it, too, the piercing delight of being so thoroughly fucked into. You swear you feel yourself dripping out where he enters you, and you moan again at the feeling of him dragging himself out.

A low noise, a chuckle; like every sound Sukuna makes, you feel it just as much as you hear it.

“Do it again.” He demands, and you would never make the alpha wait.

You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He pushes into you again and your moans crack, because he slides through easier this time but it’s just so big, so fucking huge you feel your walls trying to flex, envelop him, desperate to find any give at all, but there’s just no give.

It’s like having solid steel lodged inside you, burning hot and smooth against your core.

“Good beta.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts you up by the hips, dragging you off his cock and savoring how you whine at its loss, “My good little beta. Squeezing me so tight.”

He drops you down, down, back onto him. Cock thrusting up into you, cleaving your cunt apart, hitting a spot that makes you wail. Sukuna laughs, and you can feel his cock twitching.

“Need my cock, do you, little beta?” The rut is at its height now, pulling him in, smearing possession all over his face, his evil grin. “Even if it breaks you apart?”

All you can do is nod while you pant. He pulls you up and down by the waist, fucking you on his cock like a tool for his pleasure –

And Sukuna has never failed to use a tool to its fullest extent. “Fuck, fuck – fuck, alpha, please – please, please – ”

His own laughter is broken up by heavy breaths. One of his huge hands grasps you by the scruff of your neck, and you try to go obediently limp but your whole body jerks with the unrestrained force of his fucking into you.

Tight and unforgiving, baring your throat for him to dive into. An alpha in the midst of his rut. His teeth graze over your neck, licking where scent glands would normally be.

“Please,” Your breath catches in your throat at Sukuna’s kiss, all teeth and feral smiles pressed into your skin.

He stays like that for a moment, knot pulsing desperately just outside of your cunt.

Grinding into you like he thinks he can fit it in – you both know it can’t, you simply don’t have the anatomical space of an omega. But it feels good.

So good. It rubs, hot and throbbing against your clit, and fuck if you don’t nearly cum from it right there, tightness in your core heavy and ready to burst.

“Sukuna,” You say his name in a broken moan.

Teeth in your jugular. Hot tongue over your throat.

Hands gripping your sides. Moving you up and down like a puppet.

Cock pressing and pressing into you, relentless. Pleasure lapping at your insides as his cock rocks into you, begging to be let in.

A thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. “Cum, beta. Cum for your alpha – hngh – cum now – ”

Pleasure bursts through you, as if brought to life by his words. White hot and overflowing, every part of your body floating on air.

It’s like you’re a feather in his hands. Airy lightness fills you and even the stretch between your legs feels pleasant, a welcome intrusion, cunt blissfully numb.

Sukuna fucks you through it all the while, breathless, determined, on the brink himself as he chases the friction of you squeezing the life out of him.

You twitch in his grasp, aftershocks trembling through. He holds you upright easily, letting your head fall forward while he drags you up and down, mindlessly brushing his burning knot against your entrance.

It’s several moments before you catch yourself; it makes no difference to Sukuna. Your climax brought him closer, but not there, not just yet.

It’s with the giddy sort of warmth your afterglow brings that you lazily grope the space next to the bed.

You find the vial of oil he’d used earlier, and easily unscrew the top and spread it across your fingers with a single hand.

Sukuna had stared a moment the first time he saw you do that. So you have a sorcerer’s dexterity after all, he’d said, and it was the compliment you’d treasured most to date.

This time, his eyes don’t leave your body. All four of them, red and fiery and burning into you. Your chest. Your face.

They linger where your bodies are joined, at the stretch of your cunt taking him, the hole that has no more to give him but squeezes him anyways.

You can tell by his ragged breaths he needs more stimulation, heavy in rut and knotted tight as he is. That’s fine. You’ve done this before.

Slicked fingers find his waist, and then lower, to his ass. He parts his knees further, as if for more leverage to thrust fruitlessly against you, and you take the opportunity to squeeze one well-muscled cheek with your dripping hand.

The sharp inhale – you’re sure he’d hate to hear it called a gasp – “Beta!” –  tells you you’re free to go ahead.

So you do, digging your fingertips into his ass, into a hole too well-oiled to not have been prepared beforehand.

A rumble swells, in his chest, his throat, pressing hard against you along with his cock, nudging his knot further against your entrance.

You tease along the rim and then drive into it. He hisses as it burns, knot throbbing against you, massive hands squeezing bruises and then caressing them as soon as they bloom.  

It’s delicious, the way it clenches at your fingertips, tight and furled up, but you slip in easily with his preparation and your oiled fingers.

Darting into the yielding warmth of his insides, a pleasure that has him seizing against you, all muscle and magnificent form trained on your touch.

Your cunt clenches at the thought, the power you have in this moment; it squeezes the cock spearing you and sends tremors through his form.

“Clever girl,” He rumbles as you drag along his insides, “Clever fingers,” another heavy thrust, fingers twitching, “More,” thrust, shudder, “More!”

With a heated urgency your fingers curl, feeling, pressing around in a way that has Sukuna panting, teething at your shoulder, kneading hands against your hips while you search for just the right spot.

His knot presses insistently against your entrance, where there’s no space for you to receive it, but it catches on your oversensitive clit enough to make you gasp and whine.

Sukuna grins, mouth wide open, drooling like the feral, satisfied monster he was.

“Beta…” he hums, and it feels like he’s saying your name, as close to a loving coo as a creature like him can make.

And then, then, you find it, as you have so many times before. A high, keening noise Sukuna would be otherwise unwilling to part with, drawn out from him in the height of his rut.

You press into a bundle of flesh through his insides. A spot that sends him rutting wildly against you, unconcerned with his knot or anything besides fucking and feeling more of that pressure into him.

It’s almost all you can do to keep it coming, your other arm flailing desperately to reach around him for any kind of purchase while he thrusts your mind away.

Pleasure finds you again but this is liquid flames instead of white hot.

It pours out from you, spilling everywhere, the feeling of his release spurting inside you.

Full, full, fuller, so full you swear you’re bursting, it feels so fucking good. Flowing out over his cock, against your cunt, where his hurried thrusts squeezes it into a lewd, sopping met against your clit.

This one brings tears to your eyes. The sound of it, wet and squelching, utterly lewd, like you can feel the tremors of pleasure that have you milking him for cum that cannot impregnate you.

His hands are all that ground you, points on your body where his touch had ceased to be painful, to be anything but a feeling of him against you, the warm and powerful alpha who’d taken you to his bed, monster or not.

Sukuna groans and pants his heart out, still fucking into you while your eyes are glassy and all movement has left your body.

Your clever little hand fallen to the side as its purpose was fulfilled, his knot finally unraveling into the delicious joy of breeding you.

Ahh. He can admit the look in his eyes when he looks at you is fondness, to some degree. His perfect little beta. Wicked fingers and the smartest mouth he’d ever seen. Always so good for him.

He lays himself down alongside you on the bed, still buried deep in you, cum leaking slowly away.

The mess never bothered him, not in the torrid, heated moments of bodies entwined. He’d bathe with you later.

So warm. Always warm and welcoming him, your cunt is the most exquisite hole he’s ever known, but it’s the rest of you that makes it worth his time. Every time.

There’s something about it that sends a frenzy through him.

A hurried urge, like a desire to run or jump or lash out, but instead it makes him want to wrap his entire self around you and laugh in wicked delight.

It feels like fire on the battlefield, blood on his tongue, power coursing through every pore, seas ready to part at his command. It feels like strength, but he’s not even holding you very tightly.

He takes a deep breath, face pressed to your hair; beta. A faint, pure, neutral scent, so unmistakable in its cause. It elicits no particular reaction, stirs no great curiosity or lust.

But you do. It’s easy, natural, to wrap all four arms around you and squeeze. Your perfect figure yielding in his grasp, compressing beneath him, legs folding as he swings one over yours.

A purr rumbles deep in his chest as the sensation envelops him.

Touching, holding, entwined. You, completely full of him, made docile with his cum and his knot, surrendering to his embrace. All his. All for him.

Your boneless, weak figure in his arms, the little sigh of bliss you let out… it’s a feeling that’s only come to him in the midst of battle, curses coursing, glorious, in every direction.

A thrill of triumph that enervates, lightens every one of his limbs and sets him with a feeling of utter satisfaction.

Sukuna is purring in earnest now, and he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed by it.

Why suppress his instincts for the beta that so perfectly warms his bed? Why restrain himself in any way, when you’re wholly incapable of binding him, of bearing pups or marking him, and serve him with such delectable vigor?

An arm, so much smaller than his, slowly slips itself over his waist. You’re barely conscious, pretty face all flushed from your climax, unable to even open your eyes.

But your head drifts towards his chest even while asleep, where the vibrations are the strongest. Tucked under his neck, nestled in him and his scent.

An alpha’s purr is usually a sign of contentment, but it’s supposed to be soothing to omegas. As far as he knows, it doesn’t have any particular effect on betas.

Sukuna supposes it’s probably just you.

It’s so easy to reduce you to want, to unrestrained lust, pure and devoted entirely to him. Why should he need an omega when he has this at his beck and call?

You can’t be bred, of course – that was the whole point of using a beta. But sometimes he does wonder.

What you would look like if you were with child. Breasts heavy with milk, the mild scent of a beta humming with the life nurtured within.

You’re strong. You’d produce fine offspring. Your curse technique is interesting in its own right – igniting a person’s own cursed energy from beneath their skin. Not remarkable in effectiveness, but wholly unique in its operation.

Would it stop his ruts, to see you pregnant for some time? You’re the only one he spends them with, so seeing you pregnant might just delay them, without the influence of an omega’s hormones. 

Would he grow more aggressive as you neared delivery? Would his instincts command him to slay your spawn so he could fill you with his own?

Uruame is a beta, and has the necessary parts. He could breed you without all the tiresome mechanics of a bond between alpha and omega; place his two favorite subjects together and watch as his loyal subject bred his most treasured concubine for him. 

Watching you take in the seed of someone other than him… but Uruame is a beta, and belongs to him as much as you do. If he scented them as well, perhaps? They always had very little scent of their own.

Heat stirs within him at the thought. It’s too early to tell if it’s anger at the idea or arousal, especially in the state he’s in.

You make a little noise, and all four eyes shoot down to look over your form, all sweat and heat and dripping cum.

He shifts to move some of his weight off of you, sliding onto his back and settling your head on his chest so you can drift to sleep to the sound of his purring.

After all, his rut is just beginning. Sukuna can spare you some rest…

For an hour or so.

[neverreallythoughtaboutthefuture]

Happy New Year!!!

There are now officially only 12 days left to enjoy "Pacific Rim" as a movie portraying "futuristic events"!!!

Important dates to add to your calendar!!!

Between January 1 and January 8, 2025:

Striker Eureka is decommissioned from active combat.

Category IV Kaiju, Mutavore, breaks through Anti-Kaiju Wall and is killed by Striker Eureka, thus proving the Anti-Kaiju Wall ineffective.

Stacker Pentecost recruits Raleigh Becket for breach assault.

Raleigh Becket arrives at the Hong Kong Shatterdome.

Pilot tryouts with Raleigh Becket begin proper.

Raleigh and Mako nearly destroy the Shatterdome during their first attempt at drifting together in Gipsy Danger, prompting Stacker Pentecost to ground her, and inform Raleigh that he would be paired with another co-pilot.

January 8, 2025:

Double Event.

Newton Geiszler drifts with a Kaiju brain.

Category IV Kaijus, Leatherback and Otachi, emerge from the breach and attack Hong Kong.

Crimson Typhoon, Cherno Alpha, and Striker Eureka are deployed.

Crimson Typhoon is destroyed and the Wei Tang brothers are killed by Otachi.

Cherno Alpha is destroyed and the Kaidanovskys are killed by Leatherback.

Striker Eureka is incapacitated by Leatherback's EMP, and Herc Hansen's arm is broken.

Since Gipsy Danger is analog and the only Jaeger able to withstand the EMP (don't ask! I didn't quite get that part!), Stacker finally agrees to let Raleigh Becket and Mako Mori co-pilot her in the field.

Stranded with an unresponsive Jaeger, Herc and Chuck Hansen decide they should do something really, really stupid climb on the top of the head of Striker Eureka and shoot at it with flare guns. For the record that was Herc's dumbass idea!

To absolutely no one's surprise, the flare guns do absolutely no damage to the Kaiju whatsoever, and they only manage to piss Leatherback off but still look badass doing it!

Gipsy Danger is deployed and saves Herc and Chuck Hansen 's sorry asses.

Chuck Hansen is revealed as a secret Gipsy Danger fanboy.

Leatherback and Otachi are killed by Gipsy Danger.

Otachi's baby Kaiju is born and dies via strangulation by umbilical cord during pursuit of Newton Geiszler.

January 12, 2025:

Triple Event.

Category IV Kaiju, Scunner and Raiju emerge from the Breach.

Since Herc Hansen is unable to co-pilot Striker Eureka with his son, Stacker Pentecost decides to take his place in the conn-pod.

Stacker Pentecost launches "Operation Pitfall", an assault involving Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka on the Breach.

Category 5 Kaiju, Slattern, emerges from the Breach.

Raiju is killed by Gipsy Danger.

Striker Eureka self detonates thermonuclear bomb near the Breach, killing Scunner and a bunch of fishes and badly wounding Slattern.

Slattern is killed by Gipsy Danger.

Gipsy Danger uses Slattern's dead body as a "bar code" to grant them access to the Anteverse through the Breach.

Raleigh Becket sends Mako Mori to safety in her escape pod after she loses consciousness upon entering the Anteverse.

Raleigh Becket arms Gipsy's nuclear reactor to self-destruct, destroys the Breach, and narrowly manages to escape the Anteverse through his own escape pod before the Breach collapses.

Herc Hansen stops the War Clock!

[thebiggerbear]

when were you going to tell me

Summary: After finding out you concealed something from him on a hunt, Dean is not happy with you and he definitely does not appreciate your attempts at humor on the subject.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Hunter!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting. Just dipping back into the writing pool from time to time, one toe each round. This is what popped into my head when I read the prompt. All unbeta'd.

Prompt Line: "When were you going to tell me that you have a hole in your body?"

Warnings: language; mentioned gun violence/injury; implied sex; implications; Reader (really me) being a perv

Word Count: 1787

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown; @ladysparkles78

Dean Winchester Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @mariahoedt

@solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @globetrotter28

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @rebel-paladin; @deans-spinster-witch

@bts24; @roseblue373; @nancymcl; @c1gs-coffee; @peachhiz

@kickingitwithkirk; @fanfic-n-tabulous; @illicithallways; @mentallyillandgae; @ladykitana90

@roseblue373; @radioactivatedspider

Supernaural Taglist: @just-levyy

You can also read on AO3

Dean was super pissed at you. No, not pissed — pissed.

“When were you going to tell me that you have a hole in your body?” He snapped.

You attempted to give him a smile from your seat on the edge of the bed. “Uh, the third date?”

His jaw tightened and his glare immediately transferred from you to his younger brother who had snorted in amusement and was currently attempting to smother a grin. “Don’t encourage her.” Sam threw his hands up in placation but you snickered.

“At least Samsquatch thinks I’m funny.” You winced and sucked in air through your teeth as you tried to peel the right arm of your jacket off. Dean was suddenly there, taking over and gently moving the material away from your wound. “Serves you right,” he muttered. As he studied the bullet you’d taken on the hunt you all just returned from, you studied him — marveling at him in fact. Fury emanated off of him in waves and yet his touch was as gentle as could be. His expression was severe and yet his eyes had a softened edge to them as he tended to you. 

“Sammy, get the med kit out of my bag and bring it over here,” he ordered before briefly turning a fresh glare on you.

You let out a small sigh. “Dean, I get that you’re mad but how was I to know one of them was armed? I mean, what kind of a werewolf carries a gun anyway? Bitch move, if you ask me.”

“The kind that wants to get away at any cost. You’re lucky they only popped you in the shoulder. Now maybe next time you’ll actually listen to me and stay close.” He angrily snatched the proffered gauze from Sam’s hand, refusing to look up at you as he opened the package. “You should have told me.” 

Concern laced his harsh tone and had you wishing you could put both arms around him to pull him close. Instead, you pressed your lips together; you knew he was right. You should have let him and Sam know you had been shot the moment you regrouped where the Impala was parked but considering the alpha had gotten away in the melee, you all were desperate to get out of there and hunt him down. One dead alpha later thanks to Dean’s silver bullets, you still hadn’t told either Winchester and you gritted your teeth at the pain. You were being stupid, you knew you were being stupid, but you just couldn’t push yourself to admit that Dean had been right and you had been wrong. You had butted heads before; you could take care of yourself and Dean wanted you to use the safety of numbers. Needless to say when you were finally forced to admit what happened once you all got back to the motel thanks to Sam accidentally knocking into you forcing you to let out a loud curse, Dean had been harsh and unforgiving, always being a few words away from ‘I told you so’. And while you hated it, you knew you deserved the ass-chewing you were getting. But you would take everything he had to throw at you and more if it meant you wouldn’t have to see the look on his face that you were seeing right now. You’d scared him, terrified him even, and he hadn’t known in the moment that he’d been a heartbeat away from losing you. A fact that was then reiterated by him gruffing out, “If his aim had been a few centimeters to the right…”

You could feel a lump forming in your throat at the pain now clouding his gaze as he pressed the gauze to your wound. You snuck a look over at Sam who gave you an understanding nod, grabbed the ice bucket, and left the room without a word.

You gently covered Dean’s hands with your left one, urging him to look at you. It took him a moment but he reluctantly lifted his eyes to meet yours. Even more pain swirled in those green depths and it broke your heart. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” you whispered. “I should have told you. And I will never go off on my own again or scare you like that. I promise.”

He watched you for a moment and when he determined you meant what you were telling him, he capitulated with a nod and went back to focusing on your wound. You moved your hand to one of his wrists and briefly squeezed before letting him go.

After a minute, you decided to lighten things up a little while you still could. He was going to have to dig the bullet out since it didn’t go through. As much pain as you’d been in for the past two hours, you were bound to be in a hell of a lot more in the next few minutes so you only had a short window. You got a good look at the wound when he pulled the bloody gauze away and gave it an approving nod. “So, whaddya say after you fix this hole, I can show you what other holes I have that might need tending to, hmm?” His gaze snapped to you and you gave him your best seductive smirk, arching an eyebrow in meaning.

As expected, Dean rolled his eyes and he thrust a half-finished bottle of whiskey at you. “I never thought I’d say this to a girl but you are banned from referring to your…other holes like that. For forever. Especially in front of Sam.”

“Oh come on, you know you love it when I do,” you teased, taking a swig of the amber liquid.

“I know I love you,” he suddenly replied, his tone serious yet ever so quiet, and his focus now on the kit in front of him.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. In all of the time you’d been doing the no pants dance on a semi-regular basis, not once had Dean uttered the L-word. Sure, you knew how much he loved your ass and how his hands seemed to be super-glued to the area whenever Sam wasn’t looking, how much he loved it when when you did that thing with your tongue and throat at the same time that made him bite into the side of his fist to keep quiet, and how much he loved when you fucked him. But never had he ever in all of this time told you that he loved you.   

He hesitantly met your gaze and when he saw your smile, he seemed to relax slightly and clear his throat. “You should drink a little more of that before I start digging the bullet out.”

When he took the bottle from you, you used your free hand to gently tug on his flannel. “Me too, you know.” When he glanced over at you, you whispered, “I love you, too.”

His features softened a little in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He fought to keep a smile off of his handsome face and seemed determined to remember he was still mad at you, but the light in his eyes remained. “Okay.” A simple okay — as if okay, that’s decided and that’s it. Very simple and matter of fact. When your grin grew, he shyly looked away before snapping back into focus, intent on switching into a medic role. “This is going to hurt.” His expression was then completely apologetic.

“I know. It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Not my first gunshot wound.” At the furrowing of his brows and his eyes roaming all over you, you dug your fingers into his jeans to distract him and gave him a nod. You could tell him all about that later; besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the scar on your leg at some point.

The distraction having succeeded, Dean let it go for now and poured the whiskey on the open wound. You nearly screamed from the pain, tightening your grip on him.

His lips were immediately lingering against the skin of your forehead. “I’m sorry, baby,” you thought you heard him murmur to you but you were in so much agony you couldn’t be sure. When the sting began to fade into the steady throb you had grown used to, you heard him tease, “So, third date, huh?”

You gave a tiny shrug of your one good shoulder, wincing. “Date, hunt, whatever.” Sam and the world didn’t need to know exactly when you and Dean had made the beast with two backs. Third, first — it was all the same to you.

You’d known Sam and Dean back in the day and when you found yourselves accidentally on the same hunt years later, Dean may have given you a second look which you more than eagerly returned (you’d had a crush on him for years when you were younger) and when you used his last-night-on-Earth line on him at a local dive bar later on… You bit your bottom lip to keep at bay the memories of the creaking of the Impala, your moans from his lips trailing everywhere, and his deep groans of “Fuck” in your ear as he tightly held onto you from that night. Damn, if you weren’t shot right now, you might ask him to recreate that particularly explosive night, especially since you both were sharing a room with Sam on this trip. Perhaps once Dean was through and you were all bandaged up, you could convince him to go for a drive so you could show him just what your good arm could still do. Sure, you were a natural righty, but you could get creative. Not to mention you were shot in the shoulder, not your lower half, and it certainly wouldn’t keep your jaw from working.

Dean chuckled, pulling you from your dirty thoughts about said man who tenderly kissed your hairline before searching for the forceps in his kit. “Right.” He poured some alcohol over the tool and gave you one more kiss before focusing on your shoulder. “You ready?”

“One sec.” You grunted as you lifted up slightly to plant a kiss to his stubbled jaw. He turned to look at you and you shot him a smirk. “Hurry the fuck up, Winchester, and get to work getting this bullet out of me so we can go for a drive and I can show you how ambidextrous I can be.”

You watched his throat bob up and down as he swallowed and then a smirk crawled onto his face to mirror yours, his eyes darkening to an all-too familiar shade. “Yes, ma’am.”

And he got straight to work.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

[deepspacenova]

CRIMSON DESTRUCTION

4000 words | heavy angst. romance. blood/injury. war. major character death.

Note: I'm still reeling from everything we've discovered in Sylus' myth card, my friends. This draws a lot of parallels and portrays a bit of history repeating itself. I apologize in advance for any pain and suffering this might cause, this one's for the masochists (: I know not all of us want more angst as a coping mechanism for angst so make sure to read the warnings

Inspired by this ask from a fellow angst enthusiast — i think i may have... over-delivered? Either way, I hope I did your prompt justice @huachengnism <3

Also, bc no ideas are original, I was half done writing this when I found this post by @relentlessconqueror, who I apparently share at least a few braincells with when it comes to headcanons haha so *fist bump*

She struggled to catch her breath, her chest heaving with the exertion of the escape. Her ribs screamed with every inhale, bruised from the last blow she’d taken before breaking free, and every bone in her body ached.

It'd been hours since Mephisto miraculously landed on the bars of her cell in the depths of the Association's intricate Wanderer prison system with an all-access key card. But she — they, she corrected as she felt the reassuring pressure of the crow's talons perch on her shoulder — were alive and unhurt. 

The battle had moved to what little remained of the newest No Hunt Zone: what was once known as Linkon City Centre. The once bustling hub that had been full of people and livelihoods had been reduced to a crater on the planet’s surface, destroyed by violence, explosions, and carnage. Linkon was falling, neighborhood by neighborhood, consumed by chaos orchestrated by the Hunter’s Association. Their relentless pursuit of her — the so-called Traitorous Tenebra — had left a trail of destruction in their wake.

She'd barely survived the Alpha Team's brutal "interrogation," which had brought her to the brink of unconsciousness when they demanded information she refused to give. But it was their arrogance and the surrounding destruction of their crusade to capture the elusive leader of Onychinus that let her slip through their grasp.

Now, she had one goal: find Sylus so they could escape this nightmare.

It was easy to predict how today would go — Ever Group’s unrelenting thirst for domination and the Hunter's Association’s relentless pursuit of Onychinus and aether cores made for a volatile duo. But no one, not even Sylus, who had an uncanny knack for understanding human nature, could have foreseen how they would fuel each other’s chaos, turning the Linkon into a nightmare of their own making.

Bloodthirsty men who called themselves "researchers" with protocore-powered ammunition stormed the streets, piercing through civilians like arrows of death. She'd done all she could to defend the innocents of Linkon from afar with the Hunter weapons she’d swiped on her way out of the Association. But only so many could be saved while it seemed like countless others met their ends.

Of course, the Hunters had their own twisted methods for submission. The few teams she'd spotted were taking protocore-inlaid weapons while Wanderers followed their commands like the puppets Xander Sciences made them to be. The very creatures the Association set out to destroy, now wielded like oversized hellhounds to take down Onychinus' leader, "the harbinger of doomsday in Linkon."

She couldn't help but scoff at their zealous fanaticism. And she was the Tenebra.

Bodies and blood were strewn across the cobblestone and the asphalt, and there were far more dead from their side than she’s sure they had predicted in their arrogance. But the fate of Ever’s defeat loomed over the rubble like the mythological Hades, waiting to collect his souls. 

She watched for a few minutes as the attacks grew more spaced apart, deciding that now was the perfect time to send the signal to Sylus. She’d only had a glimpse of his black-red mist and that was hours ago. All she’d wanted to do was cup the reassuring beat of his heart in her hands, to feel his hand wrap around the back of her head, pressing her nose into the warmth of his neck. 

Now was the time. They were done here. Done with this place. 

She looked at the thunderclouds overhead, swelling with eagerness to spill their deluge of water over the landscape. She removed the dark red gem around her wrist before her hands rose to clasp it over her companion's sturdy neck. Her fingers trailed the cold metal of her crow's studded wing when she murmured, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend. Now, Mephisto. Go."

His mechanical wings unfolded before he launched into the stormy sky. She watched the crimson glimmer as he soared with a fluid grace and precision that made him as real to her as any other crow.

Sylus would know to meet her now.  

Sylus surveyed the No Hunt Zone from the neighborhood’s tallest building, atop the skeletal remains of empty flats that had somehow stayed standing. He was up there for a better vantage point, sure, but he also had to distance himself from the eye-stinging smoke that had surrounded him below as well as the eerily familiar, nausea-inducing smell of burning flesh. 

But he wasn’t going to think about it. Couldn’t think about it. That was then, this is now. 

He'd purposefully stayed within sight of Linkon's supposed saviors and the battle, moving just enough to keep their attention fixed on him. He darted between buildings, his black-red mist filtering through the haze of smoke, a deliberate lure to give her a chance to make it above ground and send him their signal.

He felt a faint trace of her energy only an hour ago as he moved around, commanding and powerful, the only source of water in a desert of death.

Sylus' heart almost beat out of his chest in anticipation of being with her without time limits, without restraint, and he did his best to tamp down that feeling he forbade himself to feel since he was a dragon with his first love: hope. 

But he couldn’t avoid the promise of their escape. It wrapped around him and took the form of her body, making him feel a longing so fierce, he had to force his feet to stay on the stone until Mephisto arrived. 

The firing shots and pained cries were getting fewer and far between, with no shadows of Wanderers moving within sight. The battle was almost over. 

As Sylus squinted to see if any of his men lay among the dead, his ears caught a rhythmic flapping, prompting him to extend his forearm. When he felt the cold weight of the robot's body land on his arm, two things happened at once.

One, his gaze locked on his bracelet's twin, the garnet-colored gem winking at him as he took it off the crow's neck and clenched his palm around it. Two, at the same time, Mephisto's beak opened to reveal the recording device within and the only voice he ever wanted to hear rang out, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend."

The sound of the words surrounded him like an embrace. Fiend.

He froze in delighted disbelief and couldn’t help it. He laughed. A loud, genuine laugh. It sounded gravelly and unpracticed, feeling foreign on his battle-hardened cheeks, but he couldn’t contain his relief. 

They were done here. 

Mephisto trailed Sylus like a shadow in the sky as he headed toward the N109 Zone, smirking all the way. Very much the opposite of the expression a man who’d just sacrificed everything he’d built on this planet, whose organization had been disintegrated by the Hunters Association, should be wearing. 

He glanced back every so often at Linkon behind him, a scorched blemish on the landscape. 

Impatient, Sylus tried to seek her out with his evol and swore he could feel her heading his way. He was half-tempted to haul her to him, her complaints of manhandling be damned.

The abandoned buildings in the N109 Zone stood like silent witnesses, their jagged edges silhouetted against the unnaturally bright moon. 

He glanced around and whispered her name a few times. When no one answered back he leaned against a crumbling wall, waiting for her. The moon seemed brighter in the sky.

That was when he saw the sinister glow of emerald eyes in the alley. 

A sharp crack split the air, as Sylus’ power surged forward, barely stopping a metaflux-infused bullet mid-air and disintegrating it into nothing before it pierced his chest. 

"Impressive," a guttural voice growled from the darkness. 

The lead scientist of Xander Sciences emerged and Sylus’ lips twisted into a grimace. The maniac had fused himself with a Wanderer. 

The aether core Ever had attempted to manufacture had done more than just augment him — it had warped him completely. Whatever remained of his humanity was buried under a grotesque amalgamation of man and Wanderer. Ugly green scales shimmered under the moonlight, and claws scraped the concrete as he moved.

"I was wondering when you’d crawl out of your hole," Sylus said, his voice calm and unbothered. 

The monster sneered, revealing his jagged face. "You’ve meddled with us for the last time. This planet is mine to reshape. You won’t stand in our way."

He moved with inhuman speed, closing the distance between them in a blur. He slashed with his claws, but Sylus ducked, releasing a burst of energy that sent him skidding backward. The hybrid roared, firing another shot, but Sylus twisted his hand, bending the energy around him to absorb the bullet’s momentum before redirecting it in a volatile arc that scorched the ground at the monster’s feet.

The battle was a storm of power. The hybrid lunged, his claws tearing through the air, but Sylus met him head-on, energy crackling from his fists as they clashed. Each blow lit up the darkness, casting crimson shadows on the crumbling walls around them.

"You’re nothing but a monster now," Sylus gritted out, his voice strained as he deflected another strike. "Even your own tech couldn’t handle your ambition."

He laughed, the sound a guttural snarl. "Ambition is evolution. And evolution demands sacrifice!"

Sylus wasn’t winning this fight, though. He’d already won. 

The hybrid had definitely been injured in battle, or he might’ve just been drunk on bloodlust, but either way, his attacks were haphazard and sloppy at best. Sylus was just looking for the right opening, baiting him so he could deliver her final strike against him. 

Sylus’ evol surged, spiraling around him in a black-red maelstrom of raw power. He struck the ground with his fist, sending a shockwave that threw the monster off balance. Taking the opening, Sylus launched forward, his fist colliding with its jagged jaw, cracking scales and sending it stumbling.

But he recovered, the gun in his beastly hand raised as he fired a spray of bullets, each one infused with metaflux. Sylus dodged, but one grazed his arm, searing through his jacket and burning his skin.

Gritting his teeth, he channeled his frustration into his power, summoning a massive sphere of energy. "This ends now," Sylus growled.

The sphere expanded, its glow lighting up the area around them. With a roar, Sylus hurled it at his enemy, picturing the faces of the hundreds, thousands of humans and monsters alike who had wronged him. Wronged her.

The hybrid tried to counter, his claws swiping through the air to absorb the energy, but the sheer force of Sylus’s attack overwhelmed him. The explosion rocked the area, sending debris flying and shrouding the battlefield in smoke.

When the dust settled, the brilliant Carter of Xander Sciences lay motionless, his hybrid body cracked and broken. Sylus stood over him, breathing heavily, his evol flickering around him like a lightning storm.

"Evolution demands sacrifice," Sylus echoed, his voice low. "Guess you were right about that."

She sighed as she spotted the outskirts of the N109 Zone and headed toward their spot, toward Sylus. She knew he’d be there waiting for her, knew he'd gotten her signal when she saw the silhouette of a black crow sailing through the sky. 

She couldn’t wait to be with him unreservedly, without ever having to leave his side again. She found herself getting excited, feeling a breathless sort of anticipation. Her body ached, the pain of old wounds and new wounds alike coming together throughout her body. And it took all of her willpower to stay cautious of stragglers, to not to break into a sprint. 

But her willpower was no match for hope. No match for the smile that slowly dominated every inch of her face. 

She’d never been so overjoyed, so relieved. So overcome with the need to see his vermillion-streaked eyes, taste teasing smirk, feel his silver-streaked hair. 

The journey felt endless, like she was the Greek king Sisyphus, eternally destined to never reach her only goal. But finally, finally, she could see the haphazard border of the N109 Zone.

When she was just a few dozen feet away, she spotted him, reclined against a stone wall near a felled wanderer, spotlighted by the moon like her very own star.

She paused to compose herself, holding back her stupid tears of joy, of relief. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she was okay with that, content to steal a moment of gazing at him for herself. 

But then he stirred, his eyes lifting to meet hers, and her breath hitched. A teasing smirk tugged at his lips, but it softened when he noticed the way she looked at him, the way her entire being seemed to collapse with relief.

“You’re late,” he called to her. 

She broke into a run, ignoring the protests of her body, her legs barely able to keep pace with the urgency in her chest. “Sylus!”

He stayed in place, his arms opening as she barreled into him, wrapping herself around him. The warmth of his body and traces of his evol enveloped her, buzzing against her skin like a thousand kisses.

One of his arms slipped down to wrap her leg around his waist and held it there, as if the pressure of her chest against his wasn't nearly enough. She felt the warmth of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth on the space between her neck and shoulder as he tentatively nipped her there, like he was infusing himself into her.

She pulled back with a gasp to look up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. His greedy gaze faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable, as his eyes searched hers.

And then she kissed him.

Her lips met his in a rush of emotion—relief, joy, desperation—all spilling into that single moment. For a heartbeat, he froze, startled, before his hands moved to cup her face, pulling her closer. His evol flared, an electric hum that danced between them, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest to her palm, which caressed the pulse of his neck.

“Careful, sweetie, I might start thinking you like me,” he rasped, his voice rough and playful as his hand slid to the small of her back, holding her close.

She laughed through the lump in her throat, clinging to him tightly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, ruby gaze sparkling with mischief. His brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You look like hell.”

“I’ll live,” she reassured, leaning into his touch. “I just… needed to see you.”

He sighed as if the words were a balm, hand still cradling her face. “Good,” he said, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Because this big fiend will hunt you down if you leave my sight. Or—" he let go of her leg to circle her wrist and fasten her half of their bracelet around her wrist. "—dare to take this off again."

“Not a chance,” she whispered into his throat, wrapping her arms around him to clasp the bracelet with her other palm, as if printing its jagged shape into her wrist. “No matter how many times the world turns its back on us, I’m never leaving your side.”

The moment took up the entire lens of her focus, so she didn’t spot the other silhouette skulking from the entrance of the N109 Zone.

Sylus felt the shift a second too late.

The sharp, metallic click of a gun broke the fragile quiet, the sound slicing through the air like a knife.

She turned toward the sound and Sylus saw her eyes widen, not with fear, but with recognition.

“Jenna,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

From the shadows stepped her former leader, the woman who had once been her mentor. Jenna's presence was a weapon in itself, Sylus knew —steely, unyielding, and absolute. A metaflux-infused dagger was already raised aimed directly at Sylus.

“Did you really think I needed all the prison guards? I knew where he went, you’d follow,” Jenna’s voice sliced through the air, her voice razor-sharp as she spoke to her and aimed a disgusted glance at Sylus. "The perfect bait."

Without hesitation, she threw the blade like a dart.

"No!" she screamed as Sylus pushed her away from him, the blade slicing his cheek and eye, leaving a burning streak of pain and a hazy right field of vision in its wake.

Pain erupted like a white-hot brand as the impact shattered the aether core in his eye. Blood and fragments of glowing green dripped down his face in a torrent, obscuring his vision.

He staggered, his breath hitching as agony lanced through his skull. The disorienting mix of searing pain and the flickering in his right eye overwhelmed him, and he stumbled.

Through the haze of pain, he could feel the core’s fragments still burning into him and the world around him blurred as his mind fought to regain focus.

A frustrated sob behind him made his blood run cold.

Raising his head, his heart dropped as he saw Jenna’s gun aimed not at Sylus but at her aether core. Her heart. Jenna's other hand had forcefully raised her elbow, aiming his beloved's gun at Sylus' chest.

“You had such promise, young Hunter," Jenna continued, her tone lamenting. "But you should’ve known better than to run from your fate.”

“Jenna, please—”

Something sinister flickered across Jenna's face before vanishing into her practiced calm. “I taught you everything. And this… is how you repay me?” Her tone was as merciless and final. "Now you either kill him, or I kill you."

“Don’t touch her,” Sylus growled, his voice low and dangerous. He tried to reach out toward her, tried desperately to yank her back to him and take her away, but his evol didn't respond.

Jenna only smirked, her grip tightening as she tilted her head. “Your fate has always been sealed. But hers… Well, that depends on how obedient she feels.” She shrugged coldly. “Now shoot him."

Sylus' mind raced as his blurry gaze locked onto the watery anger of her eyes, familiar to him for longer than this planet's entire existence.

"Do it." He ignored her cry of indignant fury at his unmistakable command as he spoke cruel words wrapped in a loving tone.

"Sylus, no."

Inhaling through the pain he exhaled a shaky, almost impatient sigh. She had to do this, had to know he was okay with a world without him in it. "You bluffed once before in this position, kitten. Don't let a second chance pass you by."

"Stop!" The hand being forcefully aimed at his heart was shaking.

Suddenly a fierce resolve burned behind her eyes at his words, at the memory.

Her quaking hand suddenly steadied and her fingers adjusted their grip on the gun, and for a moment, relief overcame the pain in Sylus' body when he thought of her shooting him and ending it once and for all.

But — his cunning little kitten — she outmaneuvered them all.

She twisted her wrist, aimed the barrel at her chest, and pulled the trigger.

The deafening crack of the gunshot rang out, the impact jerking her frame as the bullet pierced right through her and struck Jenna, who staggered backward, eyes wide with shock as crimson bloomed on her Hunter's uniform.

Letting her go, Jenna clutched at her chest as she fell to the ground.

And the world slowed to a crawl.

The visceral scream that tore through his throat was a feral sound, an ancient, animalistic roar that was both agonized and shrill enough to become a death knell for every living being in Linkon. In the world.

Sylus’ legs buckled as he caught the weight of her body. His knees hit the concrete, and his arms tightened around her as he laid her trembling form on the ground.

“No, no, no,” he growled, his voice cracking as he pressed his hands against the flickering, shattered aether core in her chest, desperate to stem the flow of blood.

Her face was scrunched up tight in excruciating pain, but she was still alive. He could work with that. He would. 

“Fuck. You’re okay, kitten, you’re okay,” he crooned. He ignored the blood dripping from his eye to her chest and tried linking his hands through hers, tried to get her to resonate with him, to activate either of their evols so he could at least attempt to—

But her hands were bloody and trembling and limp.

"It's okay, Sylus. It's... alright," she soothed, wincing. "There's no choice, if it's between you and me. No choice."

A half-growl, half-sob escaped him. “Yes, and that choice is always you. Now look at me so I can fix your mistake and figure out how to— no, you're not allowed to close your eyes."

He paused during his diatribe, noticing just how much of his blood and hers had pooled beneath them, just how pale her lips were getting.

“There’s no saving this, Sylus.” Her unfocused eyes met his, hand hovering in the air weakly to pull his face down and place a kiss on his forehead.

The familiarity of the feeling overwhelmed him, like a thousand cuts of grief all at once. His groan sounded like a whimper as he pulled back to grab her hand and press it into the ravaged side of his face.

"Jenna was wrong.... about your fate." She inhaled a ragged breath. "We just made sure of it. There's no going back now."

All he could do was shake his head and imprint her hand over his eye, cold reality starting to fall like ashes around him.

When grey wisps started to sprinkle her hair and rest against her eyelashes, he realized it was actual ash. To some, it might’ve been beautiful; to him, it was devastating. Their souls were separating again, except this time, she was the one leaving him.

"If I ever had a soul—" he exhaled a shaky breath, blinked past the wetness that blurred his good eye, "—just know that it was you."

"You'll always be tied to me, Sylus. Forever." Her breaths were faster, shallower.

Her cheek twitched up and her eyelashes fluttered as suddenly, weak little notes squeezed their way out of her chest. His hand tightened around hers as the familiar melody embraced him and finally made the chest-wracking emotions drip salty trails down his cheek.

As the final note of her requiem faded, there was a long silence.

He waited for her voice again, for more words, but when he pulled back her chest was a pool of crimson and her eyes were closed.

She was gone, and he was in agony.

Suffering had long created a hole in his blackened heart. But this pain was unlike anything he’d felt before. It enveloped him, suffocated him.

And that’s when he found it. That small pebble of rage beneath the mountain of anguish. 

He set her on the ground as gently as he could before getting up and sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, focusing on the anger so he could escape his grief. 

He felt it latch onto faint, flickering traces of his evol and the two powers laced together like two lovers, moving through his body, his fingertips.

He almost felt drunk with it.

He didn't notice it at first, he was still fixated on his beloved's lifeless face, but there was a soft glow radiating from the shattered remnants of their aether cores.

Black-red mist twitched restlessly and began to stretch outward.

“The day of judgment is today. Everyone will pay for this,” said Sylus, his voice utterly calm. “The whole world will burn.”

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[hrtbeomi]

⋆ ˒ 💭 ۫  ּ ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD IF YOU KEEP IT JUST YOURS !

pairing: actor!gojo x singer!reader wc: 0,3k            warnings: not proofread ‼️, reader's album is basically reputation by miss tswift 🙈

a/n: i've had this in my drafts for a while now,, hope you like it >< i just looove actor!gojo and if you'd like to see more of him leave a comment!

WIRED AUTOCOMPLETE INTERVIEW WITH GOJO SATORU AND Y/N

3. 2. 1. ACTION !

As the camera clicked on, you sensed the beginning of another recording session. Satoru, next to you, shifted in his seat about before the start of the video.

"Hey there, it's l/n y/n," you chimed in with a grin, "and i'm Gojo Satoru," the white-haired male beside you smoothly finished, "and this is our Wired auto-complete interview!" both of you beamed as the staff handed over boards containing the internet's most searched questions.

Satoru held your board while you held his, diving into the depths of what the online people wanted to know about you.

Q. "Who's y/n l/n's 'gorgeous' about?"

With a smirk, you retorted, "sorry to burst your bubble, person-who-searched-that but 'gorgeous' is about your mom," you answered, eliciting laughter from Satoru and the crew.

"Lame! Just tell them the truth" Satoru teased, well aware of the implications behind his words.

"That's the only truth," you replied, feigning innocence before swiftly moving on.

Q. "Is y/n l/n's song 'call it what you want' about Gojo Satoru?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you stuttered, "That's... quite the assumption," failing miserably at masking your nerves.

The crew chuckled, mentioning how your fandom had already orchestrated a fictional relationship between you two.

"We know, next they'll claim we're expecting a baby or something!" Satoru quipped, earning a horrified look from you, "Alright, my turn now."

Q. "Who's Gojo Satoru's favorite actor?"

"I'd say my good ol' friend, Geto Suguru! He's a top-notch," Satoru replied, reminiscing about the movies and series they did together.

"True, i'm a big fan of his work" you confessed, prompting a playful pout from Satoru.

"Maybe he's not that great anymore," he mumbled in mock jealousy.

"You're good too!" you reassured him amidst laughter.

Q. "Is Gojo Satoru married to y/n l/n?"

"Spiritually i am" Satoru quipped, earning a playful jab from you.

"Don't encourage them, Satoru!" you scolded him.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," he replied unrepentantly.

Q. "Is Gojo Satoru in a relationship?"

"I am. . .not! i'm a lone wolf" Satoru declared with a hint of melancholy, though everyone in the room knew the truth but as you looked at him, his convincing lie almost had you fooled, if it weren't for the fact that you, his actual girlfriend, stood right beside him.

"Alright, alpha boy, next question!" you exclaimed before the tables turned.

Q. "What's the name of y/n l/n's next album?"

"I've just released 'reputation' can't I catch a break?" you exclaimed, playfully collapsing out of your chair.

"How dramatic," Satoru chuckled before suggesting, "You should write a song about me though."

CUT !

[BONUS] [CLIP THAT WAS CUT FROM THE VIDEO]

"Sure, it'll be called 'gorgeous,'" you teased, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"The greatest song ever! Although 'So It Goes' is my personal favorite," Satoru grinned mischievously, almost revealing too much of your relationship before you intervened.

"Too much information!" you laughed, covering his mouth to keep him from saying more.

© 2024 HRTBEOMI

[lisholoz]

Hello. It's me the fic recs anon. I heard you calling for me from the depths of the void that is tumblr.

Right third time's the charm everytime I spend 20 mins compiling links Tumblr glitches

So! I know you mentioned you weren't a fan of omegaverse however neither am I and I normally block the whole tag BUT

So I'd suggest giving these 2 a chance because they're both so well written and don't focus on the stereotypical main tropes of the genre imo.

(Merc)urial Desires

This one has alpha/alpha so it satisfies my cravings for werewolves lol I watched a lot of teen Wolf in my teens

Worth counting (Series of alpha/alpha Sladejay)

Right this one just *slaps* and the action is so fun I must actually reread it soon

Deep Breaths

This one is my most reread, it hits every fun Sladejay trope that makes me love the ship in the first place

By Any Other Name

This bunch of fics were spawned from a prompt I challenged everyone too and I hold them all near and dear to my heart so I'd recommend checking out my gifts on AO3! And please send lots of lovely comments to the authors!! ( Same username).

So here's a taster for that trope

I want to live in your blood

Thicker Than Water

You're happy when I'm on my knees

Now this one???!!!! Makes me

It's so romantic and so soft

Show me slowly

This one?? YEEHAW even if you haven't played Red Dead Redemption 2 I think you'll enjoy it. It's so well written I could honestly read descriptions of them saddling horses and beating dirty laundry with a stick forever

Nothing to nobody

This one blasted onto the scene and gave me some of the best Sladejay dialogue ever! These bozos somehow manage to have the healthiest relationship possible. It's so funny I honestly laughed out loud multiple times while reading it , highly highly recommend

Fictober 24: Jayde

This one Slade gets hit with a truth spell and doesn't realize it, whacky diabolical shenanigans ensue

Truth Bomb

These are all the recent/top of my head stuff I can think of but everything in the Sladejay tag is absolutely stellar so even just searching by the ship is bound to be successful. Hope this helps!

[muffinsin]

The Cassandra or Daniela part of this one:

https://www.tumblr.com/muffinsin/738600593576411136/hello-good-morningafternoonnight-the-anon?source=share

🙇🫂🙏

^prompt of the referenced post

100%!!!👀 This is Cassandra’s part🙌 Thanks for the reminder, hon! :)

Y’all might’ve noticed the banner! I’ve decided to try adding to my posts with it, showing who it will be about (In this case, the 3 sisters). Lemme know what ya think? :) More posts will follow!

Aside from this, you might’ve noticed there’s a new Masterlist, and a new Pinned Post! ;)

Masterlists

You grit your teeth as you notice Cassandra enter the room. It seems, not a single day goes by you’re spared seeing here.

Now, to be quite truthful, you don’t mind seeing her in the slightest. In fact, each time you do, she fuels your fantasies and motivates you, in a way. Motivates you to finish your work in record time to retreat to your room, nice and warm, and most of all; solitary. No other maidens to disturb you.

There, you can replay all moments you’ve seen her, low groans and moans passing your lips as you stroke your cock to alternative ways the day could have gone.

While Cassandra can turn you on like no other, getting you hard and bothered within seconds of being within her proximity, the woman is easily the biggest brat you have ever witnessed.

She’s spoiled and bothersome, playful and bratty in all her ways. She creates more messes than you could ever clean, all while cackling in delight and shooting her bratty smile at you. Her fingers playfully waving you goodbye, her tongue licking across her lips.

She’s fully aware of what a nuisance she is being, and if she was not quite literally one of your employers, her mother technically being the one to have employed you, you would have easily put her back in her place.

Yes, Cassandra turns you on like no other. But she frustrates you like no other, too.

You yearn to grab her by the hair and neck and yank her along, to put her naughty mouth to good use and smear her lips across your cock, to strike the ass she so teasingly shows off when she bends over to inspect whatever mess she’s just made.

You want nothing more than to release these frustrations, to grab her and take her, as rough as you want. You know, the little brat- the little omega- can handle it. It seems, just because you’re the only alpha around and all others lack such a status, she has forgotten herself.

You want nothing more than to remind her of her place. Want nothing than to claim the tempting omega for herself, train and break her into behaving, love and care for her despite the frustration she causes.

You want her to be yours, your very own stress doll, your very own toy, your very own omega.

It only sounds fair to you, given she causes you the most stress of all the residents in the castle.

It seems, today is no different.

You automatically grip the sponge in your hand a little harder, watching her enter the room. Your work is nearly done, with the windows having been cleaned, the vases, statues and shields on the walls polished, the table cleaned of dishes and equipped with napkins, the chairs tucked to it.

Only the floor is left, and only the small bit you’re working on still sports blood.

That is, until she arrived, of course.

Cassandra comes with a body in tow. A deer, maybe? It’s so bloody, you can barely make out what it is. But fury rises on you as she drags it across the clean floor and carpet.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”, she hums, her eyes gleaming. You know, the little brat enjoys making your work even harder than it has to be.

Still, you keep your head down. You figure ignoring her might help. No brat wants to be ignored, and Cassandra certainly shares this want.

You only grit your teeth and grip the sponge tightly, scrubbing harder than necessary when she drags the lump of flesh not only all the way across the room, but also dumps it in the middle of the made table.

“I think Mother’s going to be pretty impressed”, she giggles, poking the dead thing.

Almost done, you’re sure.

You’re sure she’s nearly gone.

Just don’t give in.

Don’t give her attention.

Then, the brat does something she hasn’t done before.

You gasp as her heel connects with your bucket of dirty water, sending it across the floor and carpet.

Something in you snaps. She just ruined hours of your work!

“You stupid little brat!”, you cuss, relishing in her loud gasp when you stand from the ground and grab her wrist.

She’s snarling angrily as you yank her to you, her golden eyes widening when your hand comes up and grabs her jaw so tight you hear her wince.

“How dare you! You serva-Ngnnn!-“

Cassandra gasps when you tug her face forwards again, so her eyes meet yours directly and she is tugged right to your chest. She feels your warm breath on her face, whereas you feel hers.

It seems, only this close does she smell your scent when she inhales. Her eyes widen, even her lazy eye opening up some more at her realisation.

It seems, the unlucky (or lucky, really) brat found herself the only alpha among the staff and decided to mess with her.

“No, how dare you”, you hiss. She growls as you turn her, your movements fast and your hands rough as you spin her and squeeze her jaw. She’s made to look at the mess she’s caused, her eyes wide and heart beating wildly.

Never has anyone dared put her in her place or even snap back at her. Cassandra can’t help the warmth on her cheeks and the annoyingly sticky wetness between her legs.

It seems though, she isn’t the only one.

Behind her, just below your torso, she feels the large bulge in your uniform press right against her lower back. If you didn’t hold her jaw this tight, her tongue would have darted out to wet dry lips again.

“You see what you’ve done? What you always do, you stupid little brat?!”, you cuss. Your cock aches painfully this close up to her. She smells, despite her nature, wonderfully, her perfume rich and blood even more so.

This close up, you too smell the tempting omega.

Cassandra squirms at your words. She’s never been degraded, never been treated this rough. Never did she think it would be this arousing. Never did she think she would finally get a reaction from you.

Letting go of her jaw, you move your hand to her hair and hood and yank.

“AH!”, she yells, her eyes furious. With her head tipped back and her back arched, her ass pressed perfectly against your bulge.

“Ah, so we do have a voice”, you tease, certainly not oblivious to her shocked silence.

“I don’t think so”, you huff, grabbing the woman’s strong, but petite wrists when you see her claw-like nails digging past the glove. You’ve had just about enough of her.

“You’re stupid!”, she eventually snaps back, her hips rolling, her ass rubbing your bulge just perfectly.

You grit your teeth in anger. Briefly, you think about shoving her down and making her take you down her throat. Alas, she has not quite earned this.

Despite both of your words, it becomes increasingly more obvious that you share a common fantasy, a common want.

You tug her harder against you, grinding your hips forth against her moving ones. A sweet gasp is your only answer and you tighten the first holding her hair and hood.

“Do you want this, little omega?”, you coo. She’s snarling angrily at the lack of respect you show her. It’s almost cute, given her position. Tightening your grip on her hair, you thrust forwards at the thought of burying yourself deep inside of her. You’re sure, an uptight little brat like her must feel good, and you’re so painfully tense.

“Give it to me, stupid servant!”, she snaps back. Then, when a yank of her arms and hair reminds her of her place again, her tone drops to a more seductive voice.

“I know you’ve been thinking about it. I have, too. Do you really want to pass up on this fun opportunity?”, she hums. You can’t deny the ache in your balls and the bubbly feeling in your stomach at her words.

Still, you’re not going to allow a bratty, spoiled, little omega to get the better of you.

“As tough as you act, Lady Cassandra”, you sneer, the title spoken with of mockery than respect, “, you’re still just a little omega. And if I don’t claim you now, you will come whimpering to me when your heat makes it unbearable to live without my cum”

Your words hit her hard, a gasp pulled from her as she realises their true meaning. Now that she knows of your status, her inner omega will too. No more heat seasons will go by when she doesn’t think of you, doesn’t yearn for you. She’s found her alpha, as annoyingly dominant and firm as you are.

Still, she can’t deny how good this feels, to be dominated at last, outsmarted and manhandled, scolded and put in her place.

She thinks for a moment, then, at last, tips her head slightly to the side.

You nearly gasp as you watch her slowly bear her neck to you. It seems, your little brat is ready to be yours.

As unbothered as you’d like to act, you can’t. Immediately you lean down to lick across the sensitive piece of skin, her gasps and whimpers only fuelling you.

Your teeth drag against her softly, not yet enough to dig in, not yet enough to taste, not yet enough to claim.

She gasps in surprise when you let go of her hair and push her to the bloodied floor instead.

“Strip, now, little omega. Or I might lose my patience and hold onto what a little brat you are”

You strip out of your blouse easily, the pants of your uniform and your bra still keeping her from seeing what she wants.

Cassandra’s back is turned to you, her hair held carefully in her hands. You scoff, rolling your eyes a little at her.

A brat through and through, yet, you don’t deny her this sweet treatment she’s asking for. You take the strings of her corset and untie them quickly, tugging it from her greedily. With it out of the way, you can finally take the dress from her.

Cassandra moans as she is pulled to you and maneuvered. She feels your hands exploring her body harshly, groping and squeezing while you undress her, betraying your want for her. Never has she been this wet.

Your patience runs thin, yet your need for revenge, to let out your frustrations and put the best in her place wins out. With her dress off you easily yank her bra open and tug her with her.

You pull out one of the chairs at the table and sit, pulling her with you. Despite her underwear, you feel how wet she is, feel as this wetness smears against your thigh.

Your heart beats fast and your cock twitches in your pants, as though eager to reach her. You want nothing more than to bury yourself inside of her, to hump and take her hard and rough against the table, hard thrusts for every bit of frustration she made you feel. A perfect stress doll.

Alas, you calm yourself. You know she is yours, and you intend not to rush yourself. The little omega has no other alpha to take care of her, and even Cassandra hasn’t even spared a thought to other maidens since she laid her eyes on you. You intend to take your time with your brat.

You turn her, your hands holding onto her slim hips. With only a black thong on her, you notice just how thick and soft her ass really is.

Again, you feel yourself throb and ache and tighten your grip on her.

“Bend over”, you hum. A sly smirk forms on her lips.

“Make me”, she whispers, her giggles replaced but a surprised squeak when you push at her back and grip her thighs.

She’s bent perfectly for you, her ass on top of your lap, her hands and fingers digging into the bloodied carpet as if to stop her face from being smudged against it.

Her legs are at your sides, her heels hooked at the back of the chair to keep her in place.

“Hey! What are you doing!”, she snaps when you grip the thong and pull, yet again keeping her in place just as you like it. You tsk at her, then, at last, raise your right hand.

The first slap to her ass goes to her right cheek, loud and hard enough to make her shriek and for the sound to fill the otherwise quiet room.

Another spank follows, and another. Her back is arched perfectly for you, her bottom perfectly in place for you.

She’s fuming below you, her face bright red despite her pale skin, as her ass is slowly adapting the same shade.

Still, despite her bratty complains and pathetic protests about how she does not need a spanking and she will tear you in two, you hear her breathless moans.

Each slap to her ass only makes her moan louder.

Another follows,

and another.

Cassandra moans loudly by the seventh one. Her ass would, if you didn’t hold the thong tightly, buck off your lap. Alas, she’s perfectly in place for you, moaning and whimpering with each spank rightfully delivered to her ass.

You smirk a little at a harder one, right to her sitting spot, that brings forth a louder moan.

Is your little omega a masochist, too? You know of her sadistic side, yet are thrilled to find out about this part of her. You suspect she will enjoy what you have yet in store for her.

“You feel this?”, you hum, your palm coming down to cup her burning cheek. It’s bright red and heating up, even warmer under your throbbing palm.

“This, is because you’ve been such an unbearable brat to me”, you hiss. Cassandra whimpers with every slap that follows, her pale skin turned pink, then to a deep red shade.

She’s whimpering pitifully with each smack to her ass, yet when your fingers move lower and you drag your middle finger through her slit, you find it utterly soaked.

Her slick wetness sticks not only to her pussy but is smeared all the way to her thighs and across your lap, messing the fine uniform you are to wear.

It seems, even when disciplined Cassandra is prone to making a mess. How fitting.

“Have you learned your lesson?”, you ask, your hand reaching down to rub yourself through the pants. You’re painfully hard. You need release. It seems, Casssndra feels the same, her chin messy with drool, her clit aching and pussy yearning for your touch. She’s never felt this way outside of a heat season, never thought she could be made this desperate.

She nods, fast, before speaking when she finds her voice again “Yes, Miss”, she breathes out. Your cock twitches at her words. You wonder what sweet names to address you by you could lure from her.

You let go of her panties and chuckle when they snap back against her red cheeks, then guide her lower half off you. Immediately, she turns to you, her eyes hungry, and desperate.

You aren’t about to deny her or yourself.

Spreading your legs, it’s her turn to play servant and follow a silent command.

Her hands immediately shoot to your zipper, yet a whimper comes from her when you grip her wrists yet again.

“Watch the nails, got it?”, you hum, eying the sharp, claw-like nails painted a deep black. You know if she wanted, she could easily end you with them alone. You know, despite being yours, despite being a massive brat, she is a predator. You just can’t bring yourself to care today, not after the frustration she has made you feel yet again.

Spanking her, it helped, to release your strength and torment her back. Now all you wish to do is to take her hard, over and over and over again until she’s pumped full and the tenseness of your muscles loosens up.

She nods obediently, her eyes set on the bulge presented to her. Immediately when you release her your belt is undone and your pants are tugged off. You help her take off your boxers and moan when, at last, your cock slaps back against your thigh.

She wastes no time at all, shooting forwards and taking you in her mouth. You groan, your hand at the back of her head.

This is how most night fantasies went for you, with the brat shut up by your dick, her ungrateful mouth occupied.

You hold her hair in a tight grip, shivering when her moans around you bring you pleasure. Then, you tug.

She moans and whimpers as she is suddenly made to take the entirety of your cock down her throat, her eyes watering when she is held against you.

Dark golden, teary eyes look up at you, her nose smudged against your lower stomach, her throat bulged, her choker now unbearably tight on her.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think you would cum from this alone.

She squirms and whines, all this shut down when you sling your thigh across her shoulder and keep her in place. With her this close to you, she has no choice but to breathe in your scent, the scent she has been chasing since she has picked it up. Only now she knows it belongs to an alpha rather than a beta, most common among maidens at the castle.

For a moment longer, she manages to breathe through her nose. Then, a laugh of sadistic humor and a vile thought overtakes you.

“Sssshh”, you hum, your free hand snaking down. Her eyes widen when your index finger and thumb shut her nose. Immediately, she begins to gag trying to breathe though her mouth.

You laugh and moan, the hole that is her mouth and throat becoming even tighter. You feel precum drip from you and into her throat, smearing against the back of it where your tip is.

The poor thing is drooling and gagging between your legs. Golden eyes snap open when you release her nose again and she breathes through it. You allow her to pull back, your eyes wide and your cock twitching as it comes out soaked in spit and precum.

“That’s it, that’s how a brat like you ought to look”, you coo. Her light makeup is smeared, her chin and lips slick with drool. She reeks of you, or at the very least, her face does. You moan as she leans forwards and takes you back inside her mouth.

And yet, you aren’t entirely heartless.

You allow the beautiful brunette some release, at least, coming in the form of your leg. With her lips and tongue working around your cock, her legs part and she humps your leg desperately, her wet pussy and uselessly soaked thong smearing against you over and over again.

You know, it won’t get the needy thing off, but it’s enough to give her a taste of what’s waiting for her should she misbehave in the future.

You groan as she licks and sucks, bobs her head and hungrily drinks every sip of precum that drips from you.

You’re still holding onto her hair, yet allow her room to move on her own this time.

In this moment she looks so sweetly obedient, so perfectly trained with her red ass cheeks and wet chin, the puddle of drool underneath it on the floor and the submissive display of her desperate humps against your leg.

You feel pride, having taken and tamed her, claimed your precious omega, the one occupying your thoughts for months, the one frustrating and teasing you, but inspiring you all the same. The one you have been after but denied yourself purely due to her status, yours at last. And yours wholly, soon.

“A-aah, yes, fuck yes”, you groan. She’s taking you deep, her own pussy creating wet squirting noises as it rubs along your leg. You groan at the thought of being inside of her already.

Not wanting to spoil her too much and growing entirely too impatient, you pull her back, her face even more messed than before, her lips parted as she pants. You spot lines of precum on her tongue before she swallows them down.

Obedient, good.

“Up”, you command, humming when she for once simply obeys without opening her mouth again. Cassandra gasps when you grab onto her upper arm again, yet again tugging her along when she takes far too long to follow.

She giggles as you brush the dead lump of bloodied meat off the table, yet her golden eyes widen and she shrieks when you turn her way. Clearly, not all of her bad behavior has been fucked from her, the giggles enough to remind you just how much joy she gets from ruining your work.

Cassandra gasps when she’s bent over the table, her fingers fisting the bloodied napkins. Yet another thing you so carefully laid out, of course.

“Nonono, please!”, she gasps, anticipating the smack to her ass just a mere moment before it comes.

You spread her legs and deliver another just between them, your hardened cock twitching as she cries out and the wet, juicy pussy in front of you turns light pink.

You line yourself up with it, your wet tip pushing the juicy pussy lips aside. She gasps when the head pushes inside.

In a castle full of women, you aren’t surprised she isn’t all that used to taking dick. Still, the little brat has this rough treatment coming.

Cassandra gasps again when you grab her hips, then shrieks when you push yourself fully inside in one go. You feel her stretch around you, feel as you tear her open to get inside.

She’s moaning loudly, her fingernails leaving deep scratches in the wooden table. You couldn’t care less about that now though.

Cassandra groans as her hips are lifted and you begin thrusting, hard and fast like she has been teasing you for hours. She feels your balls slap against her, so full and thick, and feels as though wonderfully torn in two with each of your thrusts.

The table beneath her shakes as she’s sent forth and back with every thrust. She feels warm, wet and tight around you, her pussy milking what her mouth didn’t get from you.

She’s moaning and groaning, a mix of low and loud noises that will surely alert any staff member nearby. She’s taken harder than ever in her life before and she’s loving every second of it.

You feel the tension move from you the harder you thrust into her, her tight pussy taking the brutal pace of your cock perfectly.

You tug her back some more, groaning when the new position allows you to move even deeper inside.

“A-ahaah, yes, yes! Fuck! Mmmmm yes!”, she moans, her back arched for you yet again. Her legs feel shaky already, her whole body buzzing.

You wrap one arm around her stomach, chuckling dryly as you feel the slight bulge form at her lower stomach whenever you push fully inside of her.

Momentarily you watch her other hole, even tighter than her pussy looked, trembling and breathing with each thrust into her soaked hole. It looks almost innocent, and her gasp when you as much as brush your fingertip across it has your hips buck wildly.

Perhaps, another thing you will take from her later.

“Nmmnmn, yes, yes, oh yes!”, she moans, golden eyes fluttering shut as she feels her body wholly submit to you.

Her pussy squelches around you with every push in, her cute legs tremble. You know she’s close, and feel your own orgasm approaching at last.

Feeling her squeeze your cock does it for you, so that you can’t help but push yourself deep inside of her, pumping shot after shot of thick, warm cum inside of her.

Cassandra’s mewling at the foreign feeling, her chest heaving as she cups her own stomach, as though feeling you from the other side.

She relaxes against the table for a moment, then squeals in surprise when she’s pushed forwards again, her head shoved into the bloody tablecloth in the middle of the table.

Clearly, your omega is used the company of betas, sweet beings, yet hardly as enduring as alphas are.

In a split second you’re on top of her, your wet dick slapping against her pink ass cheeks.

You watch as some of her and your cum drools from her, slowly sliding down to her asshole before dripping down to the table below you.

“Ha-aah! Ah!”, she gasps as you flip her and lift her legs up.

It seems, your bratty omega will at last learn what mating is like.

“AH!”, she moans, throwing her head back when you slip yourself back inside of her, the new angle allowing you to push wholly inside.

Your thighs slap against hers with every thrust into her, creating a loud slapping noise you’re sure is not only contained to this room.

She’s moaning and whimpering again, slurring useless phrases you can’t make out.

When you slam down on her, she shrieks, squirming as you take your frustrations out on her full pussy. She’s moaning loudly, flinging her hands around as if trying to hold onto something.

And she does, unfortunately for her, as she grips onto your shoulder, loses her grip and slices her nails right into the skin.

You scream in pain, yet fear is not what you feel. Instead, anger rises in you, so that your thrusts pick up and your balls slap against her ass cheeks roughly.

She snarls as your hand shoots to her neck, strong fingers wrapping around her. She knows you aren’t trying to kill her, which is about the only thing sparing your life. Instead, her hands are restrained with your other hand, her lips parted as she uselessly gasps for breath.

You find, she looks beautiful like this, taking your wet cock and dripping cum down onto the table all the while squirming and gasping for breath you don’t yet grant her.

“Did I not tell you to mind your nails, brat?”, you snarl back at her. She attempts to growl for a moment, a tiny noise made that is cut off entirely when you squeeze harder.

In turn, you feel her pussy tighten around you. Clearly, your masochistic bunny is fond of choking, too. You hum a little, grinding your hips down as you cum again already.

She’s watching you, eyes barely able to stay open as she feels you fill her again.

“Are you gonna be good now? Or must I retrain you like a silly little brat, Cassandra?”, you grunt. When she nods quickly, you ease the pressure at her throat.

Two of your fingers there part, and in the next moment Cassandra already moans loudly when your teeth connect with her skin. For a moment, you taste the foul blood. Then, the sweetness of an omega, the perfection of yours.

She cums as you claim her, her hips bucking underneath you as you bite harder and harder.

“Ha-Ahhh- arder, yes!”, she manages to breathe out, her eyes closing as you lick over the mark left on her. Blood pools at her neck and drips to the side, yet when you take the tablecloth and drag it across her pristine, pale skin there is nothing but a white bite mark left.

She’s shaking below you, her pussy alternating between squeezing you and squeezing out bits of cum to run down her southern parts.

Alas, you are not yet done with your brat.

Cassandra clings to you when you rise from the table, her sharp nails carefully resting along your skin rather than inside of it.

She gasps when she’s slammed against the window, her skin breaking out into goosebumps at the cold surface.

“Fuck you”, she hisses playfully, a little smile accompanying her words. Like this, you find her to be cute, even.

You send her the same sick, playful smile back.

“You’ll live, brat”

You chuckle dryly as you adjust your grip on her, holding onto her hips instead and allowing her legs back to the ground.

Again, you feel as wetness occasionally drips from her as she breathes.

You lick across the mark left on her neck, the undeniable claim you’ve left on her.

Cassandra yelps as you grip her neck again, the yellow choker necklace digging into your palm. “Down, and finish what you’ve started”, you hum.

Again, her cheeks turn a pale pink shade as she lowers herself in front of you, her ass and backside turned to the window.

You exchange your grip for a first full of her hair, somewhat gently guiding her to where you want her.

With her belly full of your cum and her face ruined, her neck marked and every ounce of brattiness fucked from her, you can’t help the urge to keep your omega close to you. To nurture her after the intense workout you’ve put her through, to love and care for her as she is yours.

You have wanted Cassandra for ages, after all, and chuckle a little at the thought of not only having her, but also fulfilling your fantasy of taking your frustrations out on her.

As golden eyes meet yours, you send her a soft smile, chuckling when you get a shy one in return.

[super-cosmic-library]

kiss with a fist (better than none)

written for @steddie-week day 2 I prompt: hands

wc: 1299 I rated: M I tags: omegaverse, dubious consent, alpha eddie munson, omega steve harrington I cw: mentions of billy hargrove I [ao3]

Steve has only ever known the cruelness hands bring. The sting of his alpha father’s fist, when he acted too much like an omega. The hollow promises penned by his omega mother, who couldn’t stick around, even for her only pup. The pain of a kick or a shove given to him by partner after partner, who all claimed their actions were out of love. It’s no wonder Steve’s wires got crossed.

When Billy beats the shit out of him in the Fall of their senior year, Steve can’t help but wonder if the alpha loves him too. And when the man continues to beat and harass him throughout the rest of high school, he assumes he’s being courted.

When Billy dies in the summer of ‘85 after the hands of a stranger had bloodied the omega up, he can’t help but fall into rejection sickness.

He closes himself off from the rest of the world, only pretending to be fine when the kids ask for him. Even then, he’s too blinded by his own heartache to see that Max is suffering from the loss too. The only one to know he’s sick is Robin. The beta had bullied her way into his heart through drug-addled confessions on a bathroom floor.

In the months following that awful July, she forces her way into his life and home, making sure he eats and tries her best to distract him from his sorrow. And it works. Over time, he learns how to take care of himself again. On several occasions, she even gets him to laugh again. But it’s not quite enough.

It’s not Robin’s fault, no matter how much she acts like it is. She’s a beta, after all. How could she know what he needs? And how would she be able to give it to him? He tries to reassure her of this. His body needs the embrace of an alpha. He needs the comfort of a nest. But Billy is dead, and when his father was around, he’d never felt safe enough to learn how to make a nest. The ones Robin tries to help him with never feel or smell right.

So, he tries to get by with what he can. He starts dating again. The attention of an alpha brings him some level of comfort, but then when he learns he isn’t wanted for more than a night of fun, he finds he feels worse than before. So, he goes back to his lumpy nest and curls up with Robin, watching cartoons until the world around him numbs enough for him to fall asleep. 

It goes on like this week after week. He’s too tired to watch after the pups in his pack. He doesn’t see how the group has been slowly drifting apart. He knows some of the pups found a new person to idolize. Super senior alpha Eddie Munson is all Dustin can talk about whenever he stops by Family Video. If he could find it in himself to care more, Steve would fight back against the feeling of being replaced. But he doesn’t.

And life goes on.

March of ‘86 rolls around and with it the Upside Down rears its ugly head. Dustin and Max, who’s looking worse for wear, rush into Family Video, talking a mile a minute about how Eddie has gone missing. While he might not be the biggest fan of the guy, he knows the alpha is important to the pups, so of course he agrees to help find him. Besides, the search is a nice distraction from the ever-present ache in his chest.

When they enter Reefer Rick’s decrepit boat house, Steve imagines himself as a Scooby Doo character investigating a haunted old mansion. For the first time since the Fourth of July, he feels a bit like himself again. He’s heckling Dustin, and Max is snarking at them both, while Robin rambles on about the dangers of tetanus. The three of them don’t even notice the saltwater smell of a feral alpha.

Steve’s attacking a tarped boat with a wooden oar when it happens.

Hands grab him, forcing him up against a post. The jagged glass of a broken bottle grazes his mating gland. Distantly, he hears Robin freaking out, while Dustin tries his best to reason with a near-feral Eddie. 

The alpha doesn’t seem to notice the pup. All his focus is trained on Steve, who’s overcome by the smell of ozone and the wide brown eyes staring into his soul.

Slick runs down his legs, soaking through his jeans. He lets out a needy, involuntary whine.  

Madness and longing are slowly creeping into his being, but they feel entirely different than what he’s experienced over the past nine months. He feels like he did when Billy had towered over him in the Byers’ old home but more intense.

Glass breaks the skin on his neck as Eddie starts to rut up against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his friends advance to help him, but Eddie lets out a sharp growl. He somehow knows that if he could, he would be growling too.

The broken bottle clatters to the ground. The alpha places his arms against the post on either side of Steve, shielding him from his friends. The action makes his knees weak and his head light.

“Eddie, it’s me, Dustin,” the pup says in a calm voice. “We come in peace. Please release Steve, and we can talk.”

Steve has to squeeze his eyes shut in order to force the words out. “No. I wanna . . .”

He nuzzles against Eddie, who’s been scenting him. It’s been so long since he’s felt the care of an alpha, that he loses his train of thought. His mind feels sluggish. His sole attention is on the hard line of the alpha against him.

Robin ushers the pups out, understanding in a way that only a soulmate could, that this is exactly what Steve’s body needs. Later, he’ll figure out a way to thank her. And to apologize for surely scarring her and the pups for life. For now, he nips at Eddie’s musky skin.

With rough hands, Eddie shoves him to the ground. Seams rip as the alpha tears off their clothes. Laid out bare beneath him, the feral beast runs his hands over Steve’s skin, threading his fingers through his chest hair and kneading at the bit of extra omegan fat around his belly.

“Mine.” Eddie’s voice sends shivers straight down to his toes.

Eddie pushes Steve’s knees up to his chest, leaving bite marks that break the skin on his calves and thighs. His heart flutters. Unlike the other alphas he had slept with, who had demanded he present to them, Eddie wants to look him in the eyes and see the pleasure he wrings out of him. The omega swoons.

When he fucks him, it’s rough and desperate and just what he needs to feel levelheaded again. Eddie pounds into him with so much force, he pushes Steve against the weathered floor. His skin catches on each splinter, leaving hundreds of tiny cuts that will make laying on his back uncomfortable for at least a week. The prospect of having lasting marks from their union fills Steve with excitement.

Eddie’s knot expands inside him, filling him with warmth and pups. Before he knows what’s happening, the alpha’s razor-sharp teeth sink into the omega’s mating gland. 

Euphoria rushes through him. Finally, he has someone who will love him the way his inner omega needs and will not leave him.

The alpha presents his neck to him, and he bites down, blood filling his mouth, completing the bond.

And for the first time since July, Steve feels like he can finally breathe. 

[katyawriteswhump]

midwinter madness (steddie holiday drabble, steddiemas24)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 8 prompt, ‘Gift,’ and @whumpcember day 8 prompt, “No, not like this,” and @steddiemas week 1 prompt, “cold.” (Sorry, bit late! I’d got in my head that the week ended Sunday when I crunched the prompts up and wrote this… whoops.)

WC: 983; CW: None. Rating: T. Tags: Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, historical omegaverse, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, happy ever after. Summary: Steve’s been selected for the ancient ritual of Omega sacrifice. Oh, yay! Fortunately, a rival pack is hunting nearby and plans go awry…

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“You two met on solstice-eve, right?” asked Dustin, Steve’s most precocious pup. “And you came from another pack, mommy? Tell us the story!”

“Your dad’s the saga-teller.” Steve curled an arm around the pup and sipped his spiced wine, fortifying his sudden jitters. His Alpha continued calmly stirring the cauldron, that festive smile wavering only slightly. “Eddie? Over to you.”

…

Eight years ago.

“No, not like this. He should be more naked.”

“Absolutely not! The Omega will freeze to death before the ritual’s complete.”

Steve was, indeed, shivering his butt off—laid on a slab at the heart of a stone-circle, clad in already obscenely-skimpy robes. Meanwhile, his pack elders squabbled over how to gift him to the Gods.

If Steve hadn’t been bound to the stone, he’d have curled into a terrified ball. Instead, he sniffled quietly. His inner Omega sobbed way louder, tormented by the cold whip of the wind and the angry voices, let alone mortal fear. Gods, he wanted this over. But he was so not ready to die.

The arguing ceased. An eerie chanting commenced. Beneath it, Steve discerned the unmistakable whizz of a knife being sharpened. He tried to struggle, to wrench free his wrists, which were bound firmly above his head.

“Pleeeease,” he screamed, and then, “Screw you! This is so unfair! Not my fault the dumb harvest was a shit-show!”

A blade glinted in the moonlight. He closed his eyes tightly, bracing for the worst, and then…

… shouts, agonised screams.

Not his, though.

Scents bombarded him, including the tang of blood, and of Alphas—unfamiliar ones, and not unappealing. Was he dead already, cast to the Otherworld? That said, his heart still pounded crazily, and those screams sounded a lot like his cowardly village elders.

He ventured to peep, confirming they were being raided by another pack. Oh, yay. Now those knot-heads will kill me instead. Possibly raw hump me first. He’d passed beyond the realm of fear, and prayed he might simply faint from the cold. Then a face filled his vision.

An Alpha. A handsome one at that.

Crap, I must look a total fright.

Steve’s throat proved too raw to plead. Fortunately, instead of ripping said throat out, the gorgeous Alpha brushed warm knuckles down Steve’s tear-soaked cheek.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Gods, how could anybody do this?”

He untied Steve and scooped him into his arms. Steve weakly hugged around his neck, burying his nose in the Alpha’s chest, inhaling a delicious oaky-smoky musk.

If this was the Otherworld, he was totally up for it.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Eddie hugged the Omega to him, praying he’d not die from his ordeal.

In Eddie’s pack, Omegas were cherished, worshipped even. Or would be—none had been born in decades. Then rumors hit of a boy presenting Omega in the Harrington pack. Who, so it appeared, were dumb enough to want to slaughter their most precious member.

Eddie had scented the Omega’s fear miles away. His blood had curdled, his inner Alpha howling. When they’d reached the circle, he’d been thankful none of his pack-mates contested his right to free the Omega. Now, all he cared about was getting his Omega home.

My Omega?

Eddie grimaced. If the boy survived and chose to stay with Eddie’s pack, he’d have his pick of suitors.

Back safe behind his pack’s palisade-wall, Eddie placed the Omega near a roaring hearth, lay down besides, and pulled a fleece over them both. The Omega had turned worryingly limp, skin kinda blue, so Eddie started rubbing and warming him. At length, he tensed beneath Eddie’s touch, eyes fluttering then stretching wide, glittering with firelight, fear… and befuddlement. “Wha… Who… You’re gonna kill me?”

“Never. I swear on the Gods of Metal.” 

The Omega’s jaded sneer was heartbreaking. “Had enough of dumb Gods. You gonna keep me as a slave? Sell me?”

“No!”

“You do wanna hump me, though?”

Yes… but not like this.

With a pang, Eddie stopped touching him. “Please, Sweetheart. I will never take anything you don’t wish to give. But I beg you to let me warm you, or you’ll get very sick.”

The Omega bit his chapped lip, then mumbled, “Screw it. I’m off my head on herbs—no real Alpha is this damn hot.”

“Oh, I’m real, Baby,” cooed Eddie, as the Omega wriggled willingly into his open arms.

The Omega’s formerly scared breaths slowed, and he nestled into Eddie, knee curling nigh-possessively onto Eddie’s hip. Eddie nuzzled the Omega’s soft hair and that tender place near his quivering lifeblood—where his mating gland remained unbroken. Eddie longed to clamp down, pierce and claim. Nevertheless, even if the Omega chose Eddie tomorrow—or next year—there’d be months of courting ahead, to ensure they were compatible.

He caressed the Omega’s cheek, breathing deep as the scent of fear faded, replaced by a surge of summer lavender and apple-blossom. Eddie almost wept with joy. The Omega’s arms curled up around his neck and… Crap, was that really a faint purr?

“My Alpha,” he whispered, before turning utterly pliant, and sleeping soundly in Eddie’s arms till morning.

…

“So, mommy rescued me from the alpha-eating squid-monster,” boomed Eddie, in his best saga-telling voice. “We wed at the summer solstice. It would’ve been happy ever after—”

“—then you little beasties showed up and ruined it!” Steve beamed at his forever-mate. “Talking of which—it’s bedtime, pups! Scram!”

Steve and Eddie variously scooped-up and herded their pups to their cots. As he did so, Steve felt glad Eddie kept the true story back. Though Omega sacrifice was even rarer than love at first sight in these advanced times, there was no need to scare them.

“Ready for another night of happy-ever-after?” whispered Eddie, once they were alone.

“Actually, I’m considering trading you in for an alpha-eating squid-mon—”

Eddie silenced Steve with a longed-for kiss. They warmed their bower by making love, then slept safely in each other’s arms.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

tags: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[me-and-my-3lovers]

First Time

Human!Sam x Alpha!Male!Reader

The world is split between ABO and normal humans. You are an alpha hunter with the Winchesters, and live in the bunker. This takes place around season 8, pre trials.

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: Self loathing, slight Dub-con elements, Angst, A/B/O dynamics, foreplay, oral sex, male fingering, male-on-male sex, knotting, scenting, no proofread

Masterlist

--

You were warm and happy and wanted to stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, your alarm clock was screaming at you. It was only 9 AM, far too early to wake up, but, alas, you were awake. You rose from your nice and cozy bed and went to the kitchen. When you arrived, Dean was making coffee and Sam had his nose in a book. You greeted them as best you could before grabbing a bowl of cereal. The first bite was delicious, the cereal was still crunchy but not soggy, perfect.

"How does your rut work?" Dean asked while putting away the milk.

"Dean..." Sam warned from the bar stool.

You paused, a spoon of cereal halfway to your mouth, "You have the internet; look it up." You savored the taste of the cereal, eager for the conversation to end.

"But isn't that like expecting sex to be like a porno?" You stared at Dean, taken aback by his metaphor.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "Of course, you find a way to bring it back to porn, Dean."

You ignored Dean's question and took another bite of your cereal. Dean sat beside you, staring as you shoveled the rest of the cereal into your mouth. The silence was deafening. The three of you sat, ignoring each other before you decided to get up and put your bowl in the sink.

"Why do you even want to know about my rut?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"We've been hunting together for years, and now we're living in the bunker, and we walked in during it..." Dean started scratching the back of his head, trying to find the words to continue.

"Ok, and?" You prompted.

"We had to call Cas in to stop you from dying." Dean blurts out.

You tensed at Dean's words. It wasn't untrue that your rut almost killed you last time, but calling Cas was unnecessary. Sam stared between you and his brother, waiting for any sign of violence.

"That was unnecessary." You started to walk to your room, not wanting to be around Dean anymore.

"I didn't mean it like that," Dean grabbed your arm and spun you to face him. "I'm worried about you, we're worried about you."

You glanced between him and Sam for a few moments. "Then you'll let me handle my rut how I see fit." You resume the walk to the safety of your room.

"That doesn't explain why you had a fever of 107 and were coughing up blood." Dean follows after you. Sam stood up and followed close behind, not trusting the situation to die down.

"I mean, heats and ruts are a reproductive thing, alphas and omegas aren't meant to go through them alone." You stop at the door to your room and turn back toward Dean and Sam. "Listen, I've gone through every rut since I was seventeen by myself and survived. Now if you don't mind, leave."

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before stomping away.

Sam looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. "What if you weren’t alone?" Sam asked.

"No, I am not subjecting someone, anyone, to me on my rut." You turned around to open your room. "If you think Dean is insufferable about the Impala..." you whistle at the end of your sentence for emphasis. "Like I said," you jump on your bed and face Sam, your hands behind your head, "I've been doing this for twenty-one years, I'm good."

Sam sat at the foot of your bed, resting his hand on your ankle. "You were screaming in pain."

"Sam, drop it."

"No! We came home and found you half dead! I won't let you go through that again."

You sat up, staring Sam dead in the eyes. "You weren't supposed to see that..." You flopped back down onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Well we did see it, and you have been suffering like that for twenty-one years?" Sam sighed and hung his head "I care about you, I- I've cared about you for a long time."

"This is more than caring, Sam. The only way you could help me through my rut is degrading."

"If you think two men having sex is degrading, then I have some harsh realities for you in the twenty-first century." Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes at your antics.

"It isn't just sex, it's..." You couldn't find the right word to describe it. "You can't describe the violence of being with an alpha during their rut, you'd be subjecting yourself to my worst parts. It's not-" Sam's lips met yours, silencing you. The kiss was fleeting, over before you could react. Sam rested his head against yours and brought your hand to his cheek.

"You don't have to be alone, I'm here for you, always." Sam kissed your palm.

"You don't get it, Sam," you whispered. "I can't let you help."

"Why not?" Sam brought his free hand to rest on your neck, "I want to do this, for you."

You leaned into Sam's touch, craving more. "You'll never be able to look at me the same way again, and I don't want to lose what we have."

"But if you don't let me help then I could lose you forever." Sam kissed you as hard as he could, "I don't want to lose you."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. When you opened your eyes again Sam had the best puppy dog eyes he could muster plastered on his face.

"You're trying to lay it on thick aren't you," you chuckle, knowing you couldn't say no to Sam's puppy dog eyes.

"Is it working?"

"If, and that is a big if. If I let you help me, can I call you Sammy?"

--

You'd been shifting your room around for hours, trying to make the perfect nest. You took a lot of Sam's shirts and blankets to place around your mattress on the floor, but it still didn't feel right.

"Not comfy enough... what makes... comfy?" you knelt in the middle of the nest contemplating.

"PILLOWS!!" San came barging in with what seemed to be all the pillows in the bunker.

"Pillows..." You nodded your head before taking the pillows from Sam and arranging them.

"This looks like a proper nest." Sam came up behind you and kissed your cheek. "I love it."

"Are you sure you wanna do this Sammy?" You asked, "You don't have to."

"I want to, I want to help." Sam moved to face you and kissed you.

You pulled Sam against you and lowered him into the nest.

"Your eyes, they're gold!" Sam said, bringing his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

"It's my rut, my wolf... it's trying to take over. I can make it go away, give me a moment." You closed your eyes and tried to focus on locking your wolf away.

"Don't, I like it." Sam leaned up to kiss you again, breaking your concentration.

Sam started moving his giant spider legs to wrap around your waist. You could his semi-hard boner through his jeans, as his ground up into you. You broke the kiss to rid Sam of his shirt and jeans. Once you and Sam were down to your underwear, you went back to attacking Sam's mouth with your own.

You kissed down his jaw, stopping at his neck, savoring the smell of Books and firewood coming off of him. It was intoxicating. You started sucking and nipping at Sam's neck, leaving deep purple marks behind.

"Ow!" Sam slapped you away, hard. "A little aggressive with the love bites," Sam grumbled.

"Sorry," You lifted your head to look him in the eye, "I can't help myself. An omega's mating gland is around their neck, alphas tend to fixate on that area." You tried to leave gentler kisses on his neck, moving down his body.

You gave a light suck to each of Sam's nipples, causing him to moan. You moved further south, nipping and licking at his stomach, making sure there wasn't a patch of skin that went untouched, stopping at the waistband of Sam's underwear. Catching your breath, Sam took that time to rid himself of his underwear. He was rock hard and leaking. You wasted no time sucking him down until you gagged. He fisted his hands in your hair, pushing your head down further. You sucked harder, using your tongue to circle the head of his dick. Sam tried thrusting up into your throat, but you pulled off him.

Flipping him onto his stomach, you separated his ass cheeks and licked a stripe from his balls to his asshole, causing Sam to shiver.

"Are you sure about this Sammy?"

"Yes!"

You dove straight in, pushing your tongue past the tight ring of muscle. Sam's moan was downright animalistic. You moved your hands to Sam’s hips, holding him in place while your tongue explored him. You worked your tongue deeper into his hole, getting him relaxed and used to the feeling.

"I'm ready for you, come fuck me, baby."

You withdrew from Sam's ass and flipped him on his back again. You moved up His body, trailing kisses from his stomach to his titties, sucking each nipple. When you got back up to Sam's mouth, you maneuvered both of you so you were sitting up and Sam was straddling you.

"What will it feel like when you... you know..." Sam made crude hand gestures to explain what he didn't say.

"When I knot you?" Sam nodded his head. "I don't know."

"How do you not know?!" Sam whisper-shouted. "Haven't any of your other partners described what it's like?"

Your body flushed under Sam's expectant gaze. "...I've never..." You try to look anywhere but Sam's eyes.

"Are you a virgin?" Sam asked, a teasing smile forming on his stupidly perfect face.

"NO! I just... typically, people aren't interested in..." 'Me' you wanted to say, "I've never knotted anyone," You mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. That familiar pang of rejection started festering in your chest. "If you don't want to do this, we don't have to. You can go now." You pulled away from Sam and turned over.

"No, no, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Go. Now." You growled out.

Sam grabbed his clothes and left your room without another word, leaving you alone as the pain of your oncoming rut and rejection radiated through your body. You could feel hot tears streaming down your face as you start tearing down the nest you made. You threw pillows and shirts out of the room, a dull ache settling in your chest. As more and more of the nest got thrown out, the pain became more distinguished. It festered in your heart. It was only when the last of Sam's scent was flung out of the room that the agony started. A dull throbbing in your heart turned into stabbing pain. You screamed, unable to hold it in anymore.

--

White-hot, searing pain ran through you, starting at your heart and radiating to your limbs. You felt like screaming, but the most you could muster at this point was a pained whimper, your vocal cords raw from the first few hours of screaming and crying. It felt like your heart was ripping itself apart while your body was attempting spontaneous combustion. You tried to rut against something, in a pitiful attempt to relieve some of the pain. Your body retaliated by sending another wave of pain through you.

'You deserve this,' you heard in the back of your mind, 'No one wants to be with a freak like you, a freak of nature. A sideshow attraction.' You whimpered again, the words cutting deep into your heart. You looked around the room; the scattered remnants of your nest stared back at you. 'It was stupid to think he wanted you,' the voice said again, 'All it brought you was pain and misery.' The voice was right; the rejection only made your rut more painful. As another wave of searing pain washed over you, you shut your eyes, and your mind curled into itself. Conciseness and thought gave way to animal instinct. 'A feral monster!'

A low, somber howl left your lips, one last cry for help, for a nonexistent mate to relieve the pain in your heart—the howl of a dying alpha.

"Shh, I'm here." Sam came into your room and crawled into the nest, pulling you closer to him. He kissed your forehead, "You're gonna be ok." Sam's hand petted your hair while he kept whispering assurances to you.

You stopped Sam's movements to kiss him. The kiss became more passionate and hungry when Sam didn't pull away. When you both had to pull away for air, you stared into his eyes. A whimper escaped your lips.

Sam shifted himself so that he was straddling you, "I got you." Sam affirmed, bending down to take your lips with his, grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you closer.

You bucked your hips against Sam's, causing both of you to moan. Sam started stroking your dick while stripping off his shirt and underwear. Very gingerly, Sam lowered himself onto you, hissing at the stretch. You sat up to rest your head against Sam's shoulder, mouth gently kissing the hickeys on his neck. Once Sam was fully seated your hands moved to rub circles on his thighs.

Sam took a minute to adjust before moving. He moved your hands to rest on his hips. You squeezed his hips harder as he bounced faster and faster. In a sudden bout of strength, you grabbed Sam and held him at the end of your dick. You stared into Sam's eyes before pulling him down to the knot.

"That's it alpha, come on baby," Sam whispered in your ear. Spurred on by Sam's words, you started trusting to match his bounces. Sam grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers. Your knot began to swell and catch on his ass. "I feel it, so close." Sam tossed his head back in ecstasy as hot ropes of cum spattered on the both of you. While Sam got lost in his high, you slowed his bouncing until he was resting on your dick.

As Sam came down from his high, he looked at you, puzzled. "Why didn't you knot me?"

Your body started to hurt again when he asked that. You shook your head and whimpered.

"You need to knot me to feel better," Sam said, covering your hands on his hips.

You shook your head and whimpered again, trying to roll Sam over to lie down.

Sam held onto your shoulders and started bouncing again, trying to get you to knot him. "Come on baby, you need to knot me." You tried again to get Sam to lie down, but he was too strong. Once Sam had enough momentum he slammed himself down over your knot, causing you to cum. As your knot locked you in place you bit Sam at the junction of his neck and shoulder, trying to claim him.

Sam moved his hands to play with your hair as you lapped at the mark you made. "There you go, baby. You feel better now?"

You nodded and nuzzled into Sam's neck. Sam kissed your forehead and finally let you roll him over to lie down. "Goodnight my love."

--

You woke up surrounded by the scent of bacon and batter. You sat up; the heat from your body had subsided, and the searing pain had turned into a dull thud. Looking around, the room was cleaned up, and your nest was remade. You shifted in the nest, moving some things around when the door opened, Sam walked in carrying a tray of blueberry waffles, bacon, and orange juice. You stared silently as he walked closer, wondering why Sam was bringing you breakfast. He placed the tray in your lap and sat beside you, curling into your side.

"Dean made us some breakfast. He said it was a treat for 'being such a good boy last night' Can you believe him?" Sam scoffed.

You remained silent, staring down at the plate in front of you.

"The waffles are getting cold," Sam said after a minute, grabbing a waffle and eating it. You stared at him until he looked at you.

"What happened last night?"

"What do you mean 'what happened last night'?" Sam sat up and rubbed the crumbs from his fingers back onto the plate.

"I can't remember anything after you left."

[puppetmaster13u]

Oh boy, another reblog lol. (Yes this is how another WIP is slowly developed lmao) So, used WheelOfNames for everyone's dynamics. Would they logically all fit? Nah, but would be how it is irl anyway. You don't exactly get to choose the sex you're born with. Anyway though-

DP Side: Danny: Omega Jazz: Beta Jack: Omega Maddie: Alpha Ellie: Alpha Jordan: Omega

Tucker: Omega Valerie: Beta Sam: Alpha Vlad: Omega

Damon Gray: Beta Maurice Foley: Beta Angela Foley: Omega Pamela Manson: Alpha Jeremy Manson: Alpha Ida Manson: Beta

Wes: Omega Paulina: Beta Dash: Omega Star: Alpha Kwan: Beta Kyle: Alpha Spike: Beta Mr. Lancer: Beta

DC Side: Alfred: Omega Bruce: Omega Kate: Beta Barbara: Alpha Dick: Alpha Cass: Alpha Jason: Omega Steph: Beta Tim: Omega Duke: Alpha Damian: Omega

Barry Allen: Alpha Iris: Beta Wally West: Omega Bart: Alpha

Clark: Omega Lois: Beta Jimmy Olsen: Alpha Connor: Beta Jon: Omega Martha Kent: Alpha Jonathan Kent: Beta

Bizzaro: Alpha Starfire: Beta Roy: Omega

Wonder Woman: Alpha Oliver Queen: Beta Dinah: Alpha Hal Jordan: Omega John Stewart: Beta

Constantine: Omega Zatanna: Beta

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Reminder: This is a majority platonic omegaverse-ish. That plus the fact it was a curse + artifact magic interacting that created the situation means there's not really a lot of sexual discrimination. Is there still individuals who might see themselves better than others

Yeah, that's sadly just how some people are. But is it a big thing? No. Everyone is kind of adjusting to the entire situation that is now the new normal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Pspspsps @golden-buddle @f4nd0m-fun heey mutuals, what do you think of this

Imma do a thing. Because my brain decided it doesn't know which to choose (Play Minecraft or Work on Yet Another Au) so Imma combine them.

Imma play Zawa and based off of what I encounter is what animal characters are mixed with and this can go wrong in no way whatsoever :)

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Negan perked up as he heard the door at the top of the steps open and hurried boots on the stairs. His book dropped down onto his chest. You came through the dim light and stepped into the pool of warm glow from his lanterns.

"Well, hell..." he said, planting his boots on the floor and sitting up on the edge of his cot. His book lay forgotten beside him. "Isn't it a little late to be paying little ol' me a visit, doll? Or, wait—is this a booty call?" he asked, a smirk growing in his face. But his smile quickly faded as he read your furrowed brow. "What is it?" he asked, his tone serious.

"It's the fucking Whisperers," sighed, your eyes closing and your fists gripping tightly around two of the cold, metal bars. "I don't know what to do... I don't—" You broke off and sighed heavily. "I can't sleep. I can't eat. Daryl and Carol are going to get themselves killed..."

Negan rose to his feet and crossed halfway across his cell toward you. Your eyes opened at the sound of his movement and you straightened up and withdrew your grip on the bars. "You want the benefit of my expertise?" He paused and you met his eyes. "Kill them. All of them."

Your eyes narrowed. "Is that what you've learned from all this?" you asked, gesturing to his surroundings. "Really?"

"If I had just put an end to Rick and the rest of you right away, I probably wouldn't be in this cell," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "My philosophy on people being resources really backfired in the end."

You scoffed and stiffened. "Jesus, Negan... You know, I'd be dead then."

He tipped his head to one side and you watched his tongue sweep out over his bottom lip. "An unfortunate side-effect, doll. I'm talking strictly strategy. You can't tell me I'm wrong."

"Well, some of us are trying to do better."

"You really think Alpha and her band of skin-freaks are worth saving?" he asked, incredulous. "After what they've already done?"

"Not Alpha! But some of them—some of them are probably there because they have nowhere else to go. Some of them are still people. I mean look at Gamma. She cares about that baby boy, Adam. We can't just keep fucking killing each other. There will be nothing left!" you said vehemently, pacing a tight circle. "There's already almost nothing left..."

Despite your frustrated and defeated tone, Negan was smiling at you.

"What?" you snapped. "You gonna tell me how naive and stupid I am now?"

Negan shook his head. "No. Actually, I was thinking that I admire you."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, right..."

"No. Really, I do. Somehow, after all the horseshit you've gone through, you're still looking to heal this sick world we're living in."

You crossed your arms and surveyed him, but could feel yourself softening. "Someone has to. We both know you won't do it."

Negan laughed and smiled at you again. "I don't know. You might change my mind yet..."

Prompt: "You want the benefit of my expertise? Kill them."

[mymoodwriting]

Royal Blood

Female!Reader x Alpha!Seonghwa

Genre: A/B/O, Royalty

Warning: Minor Self-Harm, Starvation, Depression, Anxiety, Isolation, Loneliness, Frustration, A/B/O Dynamics, Suppressants, Scent Blockers, Trespassing, Abuse, Gossip, Rumors

Words: 6.6K

Chapter Two

(Prev//Next) (@starillusion13 @yizhou-time @hannahdinse8)

Prompt: You were a princess in name alone. Unable to perform any of the duties that come with the title. It seemed to be your destiny to live a quiet life. That is until you met someone who refused to see you silenced. Perhaps your fate was wrong all along.

A/N: A second chapter so soon, to properly set up the story...

“That insolent little girl!”

Yunho was heading to his library one morning when he heard his mother’s voice. It didn’t sound good, and soon enough he saw his mother with her entourage storming in a familiar direction. Yunho quickly moved to intervene, stopping his mother in her tracks.

“Mother, what’s wrong? It’s far too early in the day for you to be upset like this.”

“The princess is being difficult this morning. She’s refusing to take her medicine.” The Queen sighed. “This is a first for her, but unacceptable nonetheless.”

“Mother, take a deep breath. I will go speak to my sister and take care of this, alright?”

“No, I should do it myself. You shouldn’t be bothered with such trivial matters.”

“It’s alright, mother. I haven’t paid her a visit in a while, so this is the perfect opportunity. Consider the matter resolved.”

“Alright, but do let me know if she causes trouble.”

“Of course, mother.”

Yunho bowed before making his way to his sister’s quarters. He stood outside for a moment. It really had been a while since he last came to visit. In that time things had changed, but at the center of it all the princess was still his younger sister. His arrival was announced and he entered to find a rather unique sight before him. You were lying in bed, hidden under the covers, your breakfast untouched, as was the medicine on your table. Yunho carefully moved it all aside, kneeling next to you and gently pulling back the covers. He could see you were actually fully dressed, and your eyes were red and puffy from crying.

“Y/n, what happened? What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing…”

“I don’t believe that.”

Yunho pulled you up, but he could soon see that you were avoiding his gaze. You looked awful, and he had to know why. This need to make things better for you was rooted deep inside him, and he’s had it all his life.

“Mother was on her way here when she heard you were refusing to take your medicine, why is that?”

“I don’t want it… there’s no point…”

“What are you talking about? I know I haven’t seen you much lately but…”

The situation suddenly dawned on Yunho. Your room was untouched despite you being present, bits of dust starting to build up. Not to mention your clothes weren’t just from this morning, but the smell they gave off revealed you hadn’t changed for at least a day. Bits of your actual scent were seeping through and he had to calm himself. Now that he was really getting a good look at you he could see just how dreadful you truly looked. Yunho reached up to grab your chin, gently encouraging you to meet his gaze. Despite being familiar with your eyes, he could clearly notice the lack of a spark in them now.

“Y/n, what is going on here?”

“I’m-”

“Do not lie to me… please.”

“… I’m not hungry… that’s all… and I-”

“Y/n.”

You closed your eyes, unable to face Yunho. “The Queen has forbidden me from leaving my quarters unless summoned… since I’m not allowed to leave… I see no reason in bothering with food… or my medicine… I’m very much dead to the world… things would be better off if I truly was…”

“That is enough. Do not talk like that.”

“Yunho, just go.” You pleaded, opening your eyes. “You have more important things to worry about right now.”

“Do you think you’re not important to me? You’re my sister, you’re my responsibility.”

“I’m just a burden to everyone in the palace. You’d surely be studying right now if not for me… I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’ll speak with mother about-”

“Don’t!” You grabbed Yunho’s hand. “Not a word about this to the Queen.”

“Y/n-”

“You’ll make things worse… Yunho, please…”

“There’s no reason for you to be locked up here.”

“Yes there is… I keep causing trouble… and the last thing I should be is a concern of yours… you’re going to be king someday soon, you need to focus on that…”

“How could I possibly do that knowing my sister is unhappy and not looking after herself? Hm?”

“I… I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologizing. If you really want me to stop worrying about you, I need to know you’re okay.”

Yunho brought over your breakfast, grabbing the utensils and holding out some food for you. He gestured for you to eat, and after a moment you caved. He fed you until everything was gone, bringing over your medicine.

“You told me you wanted to live long enough to see me marry and become king, and I want you to live much longer than that. Neither of us can keep our word if you don’t take your medicine and look after your health. So please, drink.”

You met Yunho’s gaze for a moment before taking the medicine. A familiar bitter taste landed on your tongue, but you drank every last drop. Yunho reached over to pet your head, happy to see you doing the right thing.

“You’re not gonna cause any more trouble are you?”

“No! No, not-”

Yunho quickly realized his poor choice of words, placing his hands on your shoulders and hushing you, offering you a smile.

“I meant, you won’t make me worry again, right? You’ll eat and take your medicine, promise?”

“I promise.” You stated. “Just… please don’t question the Queen about my situation… I have plenty to do in my quarters… I’ll be fine… and I won’t worry you anymore…”

“Y/n-”

“Please… I don’t want to be a burden to you…”

Yunho sighed. “You’re not a burden, and I shall let this go for now. I’ll come see you again later today.”

“Thank you. I’ll await your visit then.”

Yunho felt better about the whole situation, petting your head one last time before getting up. Although he lingered for a moment longer.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“When I’m king… things will be different… I promise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have some faith, and trust me.”

“I always trust you.”

“Thank you.”

♦♦♥♦♦

You honestly felt awful for having worried your brother. You should have known word would spread to him eventually, and he would surely come by to see you. Making him worry about you really was the last thing you wanted to do, so that meant you had to get up. You had to live properly in order for him to focus on the important things. You couldn’t be a reason why he struggled to be king. 

For the last few days you had just been rotting away in bed. Slowly losing your appetite, but it was rather amusing it all came back to you with a simple visit from your brother. You opened up your window, letting the sunlight and fresh air in. The day was a bit gloomy, but you couldn’t let your emotions mimic it. After cleaning up and getting dressed you stepped out into your little garden, along with some paper and paints. It would have been nice if the sun was out, but it was better to take things slow. 

Just because this place was your prison, it didn’t mean you had to be a prisoner. You still had some freedom and Yunho’s words really ignited something inside of you. Despite being the Crown Prince you knew he was still at the mercy of the King and Queen, so he couldn’t do much for you. Yet he expressed to you his desire for change and that was enough to give you hope. So you told yourself to do your best and live well, for his sake.

♦♦♥♦♦

“Jongho.”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Ask Yeosang to stop by princess’ quarters today. I want him to examine her to make sure she’s alright. Then find out why she’s locked up. This is ridiculous, even by mothers’ standards.”

“Of course, your highness.”

After visiting his sister, Yunho continued to his original destination. When he wasn’t in his own quarters, he moved around the palace only with his royal guard, Mingi, and his long time scholar friend, Jongho. He didn’t need anyone else, especially now that he would be spending most of his time in his library. Although Yunho had found himself struggling to study. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would learn from the books in his secret library, but what he had discovered so far was disheartening. His father wanted him to remain silent on the matter and truly think things over. The longer that went on the worse he felt.

It was clear many generations have kept this secret, and they all surely had good reason to. Then again, this particular secret didn’t affect them, it affected him. His father had made his choice and would defend it to the end. Now all Yunho could do was consider why, and try to understand. He wanted change, but he couldn’t just do things impulsively. He had to see the bigger picture and keep in mind what was best for the nation. This frustrated Yunho to no end, making him feel like he was already failing as a king.

“Your highness.” 

Yunho heard Jongho call for him from the library entrance. He made his way out of his secret room, shutting the door behind him and meeting up with his friend.

“Back already?”

“Yes, your highness. Yeosang assured me he would stop by to see the princess before dinner.”

“And the other matter?”

“I spoke with some of the court ladies, and the whole situation seems to be the topic of conversation among them and others in the palace.”

“What happened?”

“You know the Queen does not favor the princess, and would rather she remain hidden. Unfortunately a new lord in the palace, unaware of such things, approached the princess on more than one occasion. When the Queen heard about this she reprimanded the princess and ultimately confined her to her quarters.”

“All because a lord spoke to her?”

Yunho remembered hearing about a lord approaching his sister. He thought it was a joyous thing, not realizing you’d suffer for something out of your hands. Now he understood your reluctance to talk about the incident. This was upsetting news, but he had already promised you that he would not bring this up with mother. The idea of you being locked up in your quarters over something so trivial was cruelly unfair, but he couldn’t do anything about it. At least for now. He could probably find a way to change things if he set his mind to it.

“Who was the lord that approached my sister?”

“Lord Park Seonghwa.”

“Park Seonghwa… the name sounds familiar.”

“He is the son of Minister Park. He has returned to the palace to study under his father, likely to one day take his place.”

“Hm, I suppose we should become acquainted. Would you know where he is at the moment?”

“Many new palace officials attend lectures, it’s likely he will be there.”

“Let’s go. I should make a visit as the Crown Prince.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Yunho had vague memories of meeting Seonghwa back when they were children. Considering he was Minister Park’s son he thought the two would become friends and grow up together, but instead the boy was sent away to study elsewhere. He had to admit he was a bit upset Seonghwa hadn’t made an effort to see him first. Perhaps he was too busy with classes, or didn’t think the two knew each other well enough for such things. Then again Seonghwa had made time to see his sister. Although that was a little more understandable.

Upon arriving at the class area Yunho remained silent as he watched, not wanting to interrupt. He scanned the crowd, seeing all these new faces, but even with many years passing Yunho could still recognize one. When the class ended everyone was dismissed, and Yunho approached Lord Park. He called out his title, getting the young officials’ attention, along with the other next to him, likely a friend. Before Yunho could properly introduce himself the two bowed. His attire did speak for itself.

“Your highness, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Park Seonghwa, and this is my friend, Choi San.”

“It’s been a long time, Seonghwa. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, you’ve become a great Crown Prince, and I believe you’ll be an even greater King.”

“I would hope so. My associates told me you had returned to the palace a few days ago. If I had known I would have welcomed you sooner.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. It would have been better for me to seek you out, but I found it difficult to find an appropriate time. You shouldn’t have gone out of your way to greet me, I would have figured out a way to you eventually.”

“I’m sure you would. At least you found time to see my sister.”

“The princess, yes. She was very shy and quiet, I hope I didn’t frighten her.”

“She’s alright. There’s no need to worry.”

“Good. Although I haven’t seen her around as of late.”

“She’s busy with her own things.” Yunho smiled. “I have somethings to get back to, but I hope we’ll see more of each other.”

“I’m sure we will.”

With that said Yunho excused himself, wishing Seonghwa and his friend well with their studies. It was nearing the lunch hour so he needed to get back to his library before his court ladies came by and saw he wasn’t there.

“Do you intend to become friends with Lord Park?” Jongho questioned.

“Given who our fathers are, it’s likely we’ll be working together in the future. It’s best we get to know each other now before we find ourselves dealing with a serious matter. Besides, I always thought we’d be friends. There’s no reason why we can’t now.”

“I see.”

“Are you worried? Or perhaps jealous?”

“One more person to accompany you doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

♦♦♥♦♦

“I had no idea you knew the Crown Prince.”

“My father is Minister Park. As you can imagine the Park’s have always been close to the royal Jeong family.”

“Yeah. No wonder you approached the princess.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you not know?”

“Know what?”

“The unspoken rule. Everyone who works in the palace knows of it.”

“Well I’ve been more focused on my studies than gossip. Now, what are you talking about?”

“No one is supposed to approach the princess. They say she’s sick but the Queen doesn’t like her and doesn’t want anyone drawing attention to her. The princess doesn’t even socialize with others. She always stays in her quarters. Except for her walks of course.”

“She hasn’t been on those walks in a while now…”

“Huh?”

“Where did you hear all this?”

“It’s just information that goes around among the people of the palace. Everyone knows, from the court ladies and eunuchs, to the guards and scholars, even the officials know of this.”

“Hm…”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Seonghwa really had no idea about this supposed rule, but he already didn’t like it. He never knew you when you were a kid, but he didn’t recall you ever being ill. All this new information intrigued him, and he wanted to know more. He parted ways with San after class, meeting up with Hongjoong, his personal guard. The two had met as children, but were separated when Seonghwa was sent away. Ever since he was set to return to the palace he was reunited with his old friend, being told the two would remain together going forward. Seonghwa didn’t see the need for a personal guard, but he understood his fathers’ concerns over his safety. If anything, he saw Hongjoong as a friend to keep him company rather than a guard.

“Did you know about the unspoken rule regarding the princess?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me anything when I approached her?”

“You did not know of her identity the first time, so I believed it to be an honest mistake.”

“I knew who she was, Hongjoong, but that doesn’t explain why you said nothing about the matter the second time.”

“Well, considering who your father is, I thought such a thing might not apply to you.” Hongjoong explained. “Apologies. I should have confirmed such things with you first before making assumptions.”

“Hm… do you know where she is? I haven’t seen her in quite a while.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know about the princess’ whereabouts. Besides the unspoken rule, not much else is said about her.”

“Then I suppose I should ask around myself.”

“What?”

“Let’s go speak to some of the court ladies.”

“Lord Park, you can’t just-”

“I’ve told you it’s alright to call me Seonghwa, Lord Park is too formal for us.”

“I still work under your father, it’s my job-”

“You should work for me directly, don’t you think?”

“I…”

“Come on, we’re wasting daylight.”

Seonghwa began walking and Hongjoong was soon to follow. He really did consider the lord his friend, but while in the palace he wasn’t so sure he could act as anything but his trusted guard. The two made their way over to where the court ladies gathered. Of course they drew attention, not necessarily cause they stood out, but because of their good looks. Seonghwa was well aware he had a beautiful face, one he could use to his advantage. He smiled at the ladies and approached, making a few a bit flustered.

“Good afternoon, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Of course not, how can we help you?”

“I was curious about something, and I figured you lovely ladies could assist me with it.”

“We will do our best.”

“I appreciate that. You see I’m still new to the palace but I’ve heard this rumor, and I’m not so sure about it.”

“Many rumors go around the palace. Which one are you referring to?”

“I’ve been told to stay away from the princess. That no one should be interacting with her, and she should be left alone.”

“Ah, that one. Yes, it’s true. The princess has poor health, so it’s best to keep your distance.”

“I see, although I don’t really know how to distinguish her from any other beautiful lady in the palace.”

“That won’t be a problem though as she is confined to her quarters indefinitely.”

“Pardon?”

The lady gestured for Seonghwa to come closer, intending to whisper something into his ear. Seonghwa smiled and complied, leaning in.

“The truth is the Queen doesn’t favor the princess. When some lord spoke to her a few days ago the Queen got upset and locked her up. So you don’t have to worry about running into her. I’ll be sure to let you know if things change, but that’s highly unlikely.”

“Ah, I see.” Seonghwa stepped away. “Well, at least the princess has her court ladies to keep her company.”

“They only attend to her for daily duties, other than that the princess is alone all day.”

“Interesting. Thank you for the information.”

“Of course. Please let us know if we can help you with anything else.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

Seonghwa excused himself, heading back the way he came and Hongjoong coming to his side. The lord was lost in thought, and Hongjoong could see the gears turning.

“You seem bothered by the information given to you.”

“I am. The princess of this nation is left alone without anyone to care for her, does that sound right? She’s being punished for no reason.”

“You’re forgetting about the situation here, Seonghwa.”

“What situation?”

“You’ve lived outside the palace for years, have you ever heard anyone speak of the princess?”

“What do you…”

As Seonghwa thought things over he began to see what Hongjoong meant. He knew of the princess because of his family, but outside the palace it was a different story. Many people would speak of the King, praising him or criticizing him. The same could be said of the Queen. Her elegance and beauty known all over. Most spoke of the Crown Prince in high regard, looking forward to the things he would do once he ascended the throne. Although not once, not even a whisper, was anything ever said about the princess. The people did not know one existed, and even in the palace walls she was a ghost. Forsaken by those who knew her face and name.

“So the princess is ill, and kept away from everyone for her own health. That’s the surface level reason, but everyone knows the truth. The Queen doesn’t care for her own child, and everyone follows suit. That is still no excuse for any of this.”

“Things are different in the palace, Seonghwa. You of all people understand the history of the royal family. For the princess to be ill, it’s shameful.”

“Only because they make it out to be that way. Who says she isn’t strong? How can she be strong when she has no one to support her? She’s alone in the most dangerous place on Earth.”

“The Crown Prince does tend to her, although not as often now given his studies for the throne and upcoming marriage.”

“Precisely. Tell me, does the princess have guards watching over her quarters?”

“No. She’s not a flight risk, nor a target for anyone. Why?”

“I need to pay her a visit.”

“Lord Park!”

“I told you to call me Seonghwa.”

“I forbid you from going anywhere near the princess! You’ve caused her enough trouble as is.”

“Exactly! This is my fault, the least I can do is apologize to her. Properly.”

“Lord-”

“Seonghwa. Call me Lord Park again and I really will start treating you as my guard.”

“I’m supposed to protect you in this dangerous place. Your father entrusted me with your care. If you go near the princess and get caught-”

“I won’t. If I get caught she’ll suffer greater consequences than me. I just don’t want her hating me over an honest mistake.”

“Then write her a letter. Ask one of her court ladies to give it to her.”

“No, an apology like this needs to be done in person. I’ll visit her tonight.”

“Tonight? Are you intending to-”

“You be my look out. I promise I won’t take long.”

“Seonghwa, you can’t be serious!”

“I am. So be ready.”

♦♦♥♦♦

You spent your whole day out in your garden, passing the time by painting. You’d focus on certain flowers and paint them as best you could. Your lunch was served to you out there, and you shared a few pieces with a bunny that had been around. It wasn’t until late in the evening that you had a guest. One you had been expecting since morning.

“Hello, princess.”

“Doctor Yeosang, what a surprise. I figured my brother would send you eventually.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’ve already been by for my weekly check-up, and my brother was here earlier worrying about me. It’s only natural he’d send you.” You offered a smile. “I’m fine though.”

“If you’re so certain then I can do a quick examination and be on my way.”

“Sure.”

Yeosang settled down next to you in the garden, holding your attention for a moment while he went about his usual duties.

“You shouldn’t skip meals. Or your medicine.”

“I know. It was foolish to throw a tantrum at my age.”

“Perhaps, but I understand why you did it. This is unfair but you shouldn’t do something that only hurts you.”

“Even if that was my intention… my brother was still affected by my actions. I didn’t want to cause him trouble and yet here I am doing exactly that.”

“You know he doesn’t see you as troublesome.”

“But I certainly can be at times. Especially when I don’t think about how my actions affect others…”

“I doubt he’s mad at you for any of this. So don’t beat yourself up over it either. It’s in the past, and I’m sure you’ll do better going forward.”

“I’ll certainly do my best.”

“That’s the attitude you should have.”

“My ears are burning, so you two must be talking about me.”

You and Yeosang looked over to see Yunho entering the garden. A smile appeared on your lips and you got up to greet your brother. He pulled you into a hug, which you thought was very strange, until he made a comment on your scent.

“You smell clean.”

“Ya! Of course I bathed!”

“Just making sure.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Not at all.” Yunho chuckled. “How is she, Yeosang?”

“In good health, your highness. I wouldn’t recommend skipping meals again.”

“Did you hear the doctor?”

“Loud and clear. I won’t do that again.”

“Good. Since it’s already late, why don’t we have dinner together?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you have things-”

“I’ve set aside time for you. There is nowhere else I have to be.”

“Ah, in that case, I’d love for you to join me for dinner.”

“Excellent. You should stay too, Yeosang.”

“I would love to, but I do have another patient to see tonight.”

“Very well, if you’re all done here, I won’t keep you.”

“Thank you. Have a good evening, your highness.”

Yeosang bowed and excused himself. You would have liked to enjoy dinner outside, but you certainly shouldn’t make the Crown Prince look strange as you knew word of tonight would go around the next morning. You both went inside, dinner being brought over a while later. You told Yunho about your day in the garden. It was all exciting to him as he spent his whole day in his library.

“If you’d like, I could come visit you everyday.” Yunho suggested. “Keep you company since you can’t take your walks anymore.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to keep you from your studies. I’ll be alright, Yunho.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Speaking of, how have you been with your studies? Anything interesting?”

“I’d say so… but it’s mostly family history, and rather boring.”

“You need to study all that to be king?”

“I need to know about the previous kings to better understand what is expected of me.”

“Everyone knows you’ll be a great king. You’ll do well with your studies too. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“As long as you take care of yourself, that’s the biggest help for me.” Yunho reached over to pet your head. “Likewise, if you need anything from me, just let me know. You can always send a message to Jongho if you can’t reach me.”

“I know, thanks.”

After dinner Yunho stuck around a little while longer, but eventually it was time for him to leave. He was well aware you were tired, and wanted you to get some rest.

“Will you be going to bed too?”

“Unfortunately I still have some things to do.” Yunho mentioned. “But don’t worry, I won’t be up too late. So you sleep well.”

 “Alright, good night.’

“Good night, y/n.”

You saw Yunho off before getting ready for bed. Even if the day had started off a little rough, it could end on a better note. Perhaps better than you originally thought.

♦♦♥♦♦

Seonghwa wasn’t kidding when he said he would visit the princess. The whole ordeal had been driving Hongjoong insane, and once night fell he knew where to find his ward. Of course he didn’t come alone.

“Wooyoung?” Seonghwa questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“If you insist on doing such a thing.” Hongjoong explained. “I figured two look-outs would be better than one.”

“Ah, see, that’s the spirit. Thank you, Hongjoong.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Are you really going to sneak into the princess’ quarters?” Wooyoung asked. “Are you two secret lovers?”

“I won’t be too long, hold this.”

Seonghwa handed Hongjoong a bouquet of flowers and then began scaling the wall. Of course there may not have been any guards present, but the entrance had been sealed. It was late in the night that most in the palace were asleep, but a locked door wasn’t going to stop him. Once he was at the top he asked Hongjoong to pass him the flowers.

“Alright. I’ll be back.”

With a smile Seonghwa jumped down into the princess’ quarters. It may have been night, but the light of the moon illuminated his path. He took a moment to look at his surroundings, rather amazed by the beautiful garden he found himself in. There weren’t just flowers, but there also seemed to be some vegetables. He certainly wouldn’t except this of the princess, but it was a welcomed surprise. He carefully made his way over to the little house. It wasn’t his idea to break in, so he looked for a window. He quickly discovered none of them were locked, so he carefully pushed them open to see inside. Then he found his target.

As he opened a window he could see a sleeping form in the room. For a moment he watched the blanket rise and fall peacefully, seeing that the princess was asleep. He almost felt bad waking her, but he was here for a reason. Seonghwa began whispering to the princess, trying to coax her to wake up. After a while he saw movement, getting excited. He continued with his coaxing and set the flowers down by the window. He saw the princess sit up, looking around before spotting the open window. It seemed she was still half-asleep as she crawled over to the window, not having noticed him.

“Huh… why are there- AH!”

For some reason you had woken up at night, and then noticed a chill in the air. You looked over to see your window open and crawled to it. That’s when you noticed the flowers, and then someone right outside your window. You screamed, now wide awake. The person outside was quickly apologizing, trying to get you to quiet down. It took a moment but then you actually recognized them.

“You!”

“Ah, you remember me, that’s good.”

“How did you get in here!? What are you doing here!? I’m going to-”

“Princess, I’m here to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Yes. I know I’ve done it so many times already but… I didn’t realize you’d suffer so harshly for my words.”

“It’s not your fault…”

“It is, princess. You can blame me for this. I didn’t know there were rules pertaining to you, if I had I would have been more careful.”

“Like sneaking into my quarters at night?”

“Perhaps… I truly am sorry, I didn’t think this would happen.”

“Well, I’m sure the Queen would have found a reason to do this eventually.”

“Is your mother really not kind to you?”

“What reason would she have to be?”

“Because you’re her daughter. That’s reason enough, isn’t it?”

“She wishes I wasn’t… things would have been better that way too…”

“Don’t say such things. You are a princess.”

“In name alone. I can’t really do much.”

“I’m sure there are many things you can do. I saw your garden, I presume you tend to it yourself?”

“I do.”

“It’s quite beautiful. More beautiful than the royal garden.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I would. You see the royal garden is taken care of by many out of necessity, but yours, you tend to this garden here with love and care. That’s what makes it so beautiful. Which makes me feel like the flowers I brought are inadequate to give you, but will you still accept them?”

The lord picked up the bouquet and held out the flowers to you, a big smile on his face. You stared at them for a moment, a little in awe at the situation before you. This was likely the first time anyone had given you flowers. You returned the smile and reached for the bouquet.

“Lord Park, was it?”

“Seonghwa, you can call me Seonghwa. Although I must ask, I don’t believe I ever had the pleasure of knowing your name.”

“Ah, it’s y/n.”

“Hm, just as beautiful as I imagined.”

You chuckled. “Tell me then, Seonghwa, how is the palace? Now that you’ve returned from the outside world.”

“Honestly, it’s not quite what I thought. As I walk the halls and take it all in I certainly feel something is missing.”

“What would that be?”

“The presence of a beautiful princess.”

“Oh please, you don’t need to say such things. You just sound foolish.”

“Perhaps I am, but I will say such things regardless. It really would be nice to see you around the palace more often.”

“Don’t hold your breath. If the Queen found out I was roaming around I’d be scolded immediately. I really have no reason to be in the palace, so it’s best if I just stay here.”

“Then perhaps… would you allow me to visit you again sometime?”

“Do you intend to scale my walls again in the middle of the night?”

“It’s the only way to see you without getting you in trouble, so yes, with your permission of course.”

“…”

“Think it over. I’ll come by in a few days. Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, lord- I mean, Seonghwa.”

“Sleep well.”

Seonghwa took the initiative and shut your windows for you. Although you could still hear him sneaking away, giggling to yourself. You stared at the flowers in your hand, still in disbelief these were for you, and all the effort Seonghwa went through just to deliver them along with his apology. Besides that you realized how nice it was to hear your name spoken by someone who wasn’t your brother. It sounded sweet. You weren’t so sure you’d mind if he made more midnight visits, the little bit of company could replace your walk, perhaps even make you happier than before. You laid back down in bed and set the flowers down at your side, staring at them again. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being confined to your quarters after all.

♦♦♥♦♦

Seonghwa stole a flower from the garden before making his escape. He hadn’t heard anything from his guards so he figured everything was alright. Once he landed on the outside he saw Hongjoong approaching him.

“Everything went well, so-”

It didn’t take long to realize Hongjoong wasn’t alone. Right behind him was Wooyoung and a gentleman he recognized to be his father’s guard.

“Ah… let me guess… my father wants to see me?” Hongjoong nodded his head. “Well, let’s not keep him waiting much longer.”

Seonghwa could just imagine the earful that was awaiting him. When he arrived at his father’s chambers he announced himself before entering. It was just the two of them in the room. After bowing Seonghwa took a seat, choosing not to start with an apology for his actions. He wanted to see where this went first. For a moment things were silent as his father stared down at a book, then he put it down and looked up at his son.

“How are you adjusting to the palace?”

“It’s not difficult to navigate. All my classes are simple, and I don’t think there will be an issue with getting used to the atmosphere. I won’t cause you any problems, father.”

“Is that so? Then what were you doing in the princess’ quarters at this hour?”

“I was merely paying a visit in order to apologize for my actions.”

“Don’t you think you’ve caused her enough trouble?”

“So you’re aware of what I’ve done.”

“Everyone in the palace knows of a lord approaching the princess and making a fool of themselves. Twice. Only a handful know it was actually you, and understand the honest mistake. You are a Park after all, socializing with the royal family isn’t unheard of. Although I don’t understand why you’d go out of your way to see her once more.”

“As a gentleman I should apologize properly for my mistakes. She wound up confined to her quarters because of my actions, she should know I didn’t mean her harm.”

“That’s irrelevant. You won’t be seeing much of her anyway, so don’t waste your time. If you get caught anywhere near her again-”

“She will suffer more than I, and I have no intention of making things worse for her.”

“Good. Then the matter is settled. Focus on your studies, and when the time comes I’ll have you working with-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve returned to the palace with my own goals, father. I don’t really intend to follow in your footsteps.”

“What are you talking about? The Park family have been advisors to the royal family for generations. It’s an honor.”

“It’s a disservice. We study about matters regarding the nation just as much, if not more, than those who take on the throne. Yet we are nothing but advisors? I’ve actually lived outside the palace and have come to know more about the people and the nation than the King.”

“That’s enough! Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?”

“You’ve given your whole life to the King, our family has for generations, and I have no plans of doing the same. We are owed so much for what we’ve done for this nation.”

“And what exactly do you think you are owed?”

“You know what I speak of father.”

“Do I? Is this why you keep bothering the princess? You intend to court her and become the King’s son-in-law?”

“You underestimate me.”

Minister Park laughed. “You are quite ambitious my son, I am glad to see that, but we both know this desire for the throne is a delusion. Is this what you’ve learned outside the palace? That anyone can be King?”

“Perhaps I’d share in your ideals if I had been raised in the palace by your side, but that is not the case.”

“If you think the princess is a means to attain the throne, you really have learned nothing. She is ill, her time in this world will likely be short. She cannot help you.”

“All she has to do is bear a child. A prince favorably, but even a princess would do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Any child birthed by the princess is a direct descendant of the King, and thus has a claim to the throne. If something were to happen to the Crown Prince then-”

“Silence! What you so boldly dare to imply is treason. I will not allow you to embark on such a dangerous and fruitless endeavor over something you have no claim over.”

“You misunderstand me, father. I do not tell you this to ask for assistance. I’m telling you to stay out of my way.”

“If I discover you go anywhere near the princess again, if you get brought to the King for any matter concerning the princess, I will disown you.”

“I’d expect nothing less of you, father. You care more for the Park family reputation than your own son. I shall take my leave now.”

Seonghwa stood and offered his father a bow. He was certain his father would not rest easy for the next few days, but that wasn’t his concern. As he was about to step out he stopped to admire the walls.

“You know, when I was little I thought the palace would be my home. I wasn’t happy that you sent me away, saying it was for my own good. I didn’t really understand it then, nor do I understand it now.” Seonghwa sighed. “I’m well aware I’d have to take matters into my own hands to get what I deserve. This place was always supposed to be my home, and I will make it so. Good night, father.”

[kitchenisking]

Day 3

The Pot Of Gold At The End Of The Rainbow by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving - (Rating: T, Words: 8,881, sterek)

Stiles meets his first Hale when he's seven, and the most important Stilinski-Hale twenty years later.

~

In which Derek's family meets the love of his life years before he does, but Derek still gets the better end of the bargain.

As You Lay Dying by FelOllie - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9,360, sterek)

Seven excruciatingly long days since Mexico: Take Two, and Stiles still couldn't get the sound of Derek's breath rattling wetly in his lungs out of his head. He heard it in his sleep, over the the pounding rain and the sound of Malia breathing softly beside him. He heard it when he was wide awake, over the din of crowded hallways and classrooms, cutting through the noise of the last lacrosse game of the season and the bustle of the locker room.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours, give or take, and Stiles had yet to wipe the sight of a bloodied and dying Derek from behind his eyelids. He saw it with every blink and sometimes even when his eyes were open and each time it made his chest feel like it was caving in.

Soulsick by theroguesgambit - (Rating: T, Words: 3,476, sterek)

Derek loathes this idiot of a soulmate, whoever they are. For not coming to Stiles’ call, for being too useless do just to this one simple thing, for failing Stiles, proving how utterly unworthy they are before they’ve ever met him. -- Stiles is cursed with a disease that will eventually destroy his soul unless his soulmate helps strengthen it. The pack performs a ritual to call his soulmate to his side. But days pass and no one appears... 

Maybe they're already here?

Making love is how we'll pray by lanalua - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,742, sterek)

Stiles and Derek perform a ritual in the woods.

In a Moment of Vulnerability by cloudsarefluffy - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 87,097, sterek)

While in New York City to visit his aspiring and success-hungry friend Scott, who left for an internship he fought for over several years ago, Stiles runs into an alpha with a devilish reputation and a dark, tantalizing look that precedes him. Couple that with horny loneliness and failed suppressants, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a one-night stand that will set the bar forever.

But what if forever isn’t something that the one person you’ve given yourself to wants? What if a forever is somehow growing inside of you after a few months pass and a planned heat is missed? What if you don’t know what to do and there’s only so much chocolate that can soothe an aching heart before you feel like you've got morning sickness all over again?

This is a story about how Stiles loses his virginity alongside himself, and somehow, he manages to find something he never thought he’d ever have along the way.

Looking forward by Smowkie - (Rating: T, Words: 6,953, sterek)

Derek’s cabin was small. Tiny, even. He liked it, sometimes he missed having a big house, like the one he had grown up in, but the cabin was good, comfortable, and he, well, it was somewhere to hide, somewhere no one would find him. Somewhere no one would bother him.

He was happy, though, sort of. Happier than in a long time, he had a comfortable little home, lots of land he could run on—and he did, shifted to his full wolf form and ran for hours, it was wonderful—and his life wasn’t bad at all.

Then one day, the 21st of December on his second year living there, Stiles came to visit.

Written for the prompt cuddles in a power outage.

I Want You to be Happy by lvmehtme - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 13,851, sterek)

Stiles' dad has finally founds someone and the way he looks at her like she hung the moon and the joy in his every smile after all these years is worth everything that she does to him in the dead of night when no one's looking.

I'm giving everyone a fair warning right now, there's statutory rape and psychological trauma in this fic. It ends happy, but it does get graphic. Please proceed with care.

loyalty. courage. integrity. by redhoodedwolf - (Rating: G, Words: 707, sterek)

“Derek what the fuck!”

“Hard first day?” Derek guessed. He pushed himself forward and extended a hand towards Stiles. “You can vent, I have time to listen.”

Little Kid Crush by orphan_account - (Rating: T, Words: 5,052, sterek)

“What’s your name?” Derek asks, wiping the last of the tears off the kid’s face with his sleeve.

“’tiles,” the kid mumbles, and Derek frowns, wondering if he heard correctly.

“Tiles?” Derek repeats.

“Stiles,” the kid repeats, pouting at Derek slightly, defiant even though his eyes are still puffy and red and his cheeks tear-stained.

Witches Wrath by alikatastic - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,063, sterek)

Derek is cursed by witches giving him a hard problem. Nothing works, not cold showers, not his hand. He goes to Stiles for help, and the great friend he is Stiles won't turn him away.