#me: alas. no. that's too alpha | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rush-the-stars · 3 months ago

Text

the beginning and end (and what binds them together)

part i: gone, gone

✦—⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆—✦

18+ minors dni

pairing: vashwood x gender neutral!reader

wc: 1.4k smh

cw: omegaverse au, beta!vash that can switch sexes, alpha!wolfwood, omega!reader, reader referred to as "kid" and "kit" by wolfwood. mentions of heats/ruts.

a/n: idk. i want to write this idea i wish i had more time to really get into it. but alack, alas...take this drabble introducing the concept. let me know what you think or if you wanna see more..,.or if you just wanna noodle about this au..,i have many thoughts...

✦—⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆—✦

Heat mounts on the inside of you, growing into a fever pitch—your skin feels too tight, too thick. Your breathing has become sharp and quick—hiccups of air your poor lungs are greedily trying to pull down. You're trying to hide this, keep it from becoming obvious that you're—

You're going into Heat.

Well, to those around you, you're trying to play it off as a Rut.

Because to them, you're an Alpha.

Wolfwood curses as he nears you, "Christ, you're gettin' worse by the minute. When was your last Rut?" He reaches out to touch the burning heat of your forehead and many instincts battle at once—

One, to lean in. To sigh and press yourself closer. Wolfwood, much to your absolute fury, does smell nice to you—it'd be easy to melt into his touch. It'd be easy to give in to his rough voice, his calloused hands. But that's what an Omega would do—and you're no Omega to him.

You growl low as his palm presses to your forehead, bends to feel your cheek. You bare teeth and his lips kick up into an amused smile. "Take it easy," He cajoles, tapping your cheek roughly (perhaps just to get a rise out of you), "I'm just trying to look out for you, kid."

Unfortunately, he's the bigger Alpha—you've already scrapped with him plenty. Gotten pinned and pressed, his weight on top of you, baring fangs. He's established whose in charge and, beyond that, that he's fond of you in some way.

He tries to ruffle your hair and you snap—shoving at him, but he easily overpowers you.

Wolfwood tosses his gaze to Vash now. He's been suspiciously silent. "And how're you, blondie? Getting a little hot under the collar, too?"

Vash swallows hard. His eyes have gone fever bright like a burning jewel, a falling star. He's a Beta, but because of your sudden spike in pheromones, it's possible he'll be entering his own Estrus soon. You're not exactly sure how it works beyond circumstance; Betas will take on whatever sex their body believes is most likely to procreate in the moment. They’re fluid and—

Dangerous for you now, if his body decides—

“Doing okay!” Vash chirps nervously. “Uh—maybe it’ll pass me? Wolfwood, you should keep your distance, too.”

“I’m staying by the kit.” Wolfwood agrees, suddenly throwing his arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side. You fight the noise that almost escapes, being so surrounded by his scent; warm and spiced, musky and soft around the edges. Ah—

You see why Vash got nervous.

Wolfwood's scent is burnt around the edges, too strong. No doubt because he’s surrounding himself with an Omega’s scent and not—

Well you’re not a kit; not a young Alpha at all.

(Such an infuriating name, anyways. Childish and condescending.)

“Yeah but—“ Vash’s eyes bounce between the two of you, “You’re making their pheromones spike worse by irritating them and that’s,” he searches for the right words, “making it worse for me.”

Wolfwood’s brows lift. He glances at you, wrestled beneath his arm, “Kit’s gotta learn how to be around other Alphas like this, it’s good for a pack—good for others, too. It’s supposed to provide a buffer for you.”

In a pack, when there are no eligible Omegas or Betas, Alphas will endure their Ruts with other Alphas who can handle them—keep them in check. Their scent also dampens the Rutting Alpha’s—sort of keeps it from growing too strong. Wolfwood is, for all intents and purposes, being a good Alpha right now, attempting to shepherd you along while keeping Vash safe.

Vash looks at you now and you can see how nervous he is; you glance away sharply. Wolfwood is warm—too warm—and you’re starting to get a head rush, being this close to him. You’re fighting back a whine in the back of your throat, trying to hold down the ache in your body that is building and building and building.

A cramp rolls through you and your knees almost buckle with it.

“C-can I get water?” You finally pipe up, “I’m dying.” You almost whine. And this is—normal, for an Alpha.

“I’m feeling thirsty, too.” Vash agrees quickly.

Wolfwood huffs, finally dropping his hold on you, “I’ll go find some. Behave while I’m gone.” And as he saunters away, you finally release a hard breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You need—you need to sit down. You stumble a little for it, for the edge of the bed in this motel at the corner of the world. Vash wipes at his brow. You feel his eyes more than you see them, feel them pressing into your shoulder blades, right in the center of your back.

“Doing okay, Vash?” You can’t help but snap a little, on guard.

He wanders nearer to you.

“Doing okay.” Vash repeats, softer this time. He settles gingerly on the edge of the bed, near you but not touching. Such a respectful distance away. And yet—

You catch his scent. Thistle and petrichor. Sunlight, so warm it melts on the tongue. Musky, far muskier than you were anticipating.

You shift—squirm. Another cramp twists in your lower back, your hips flexing with it.

“How are you doing?” He asks, so gentle that it makes your teeth grind.

“Fine.” You snap, waspish, and at least, in character for an Alpha.

Vash sighs though, a slow breath through his nose.

“We need to get you somewhere safe.”

You know but—technically—as an Alpha, you should be safe here. With Wolfwood. Vash is the one who everyone should be worried now.

“Wolfwood will handle it—“ You try and say.

Vash frowns, “Uh—right. And usually, I’d agree except—“ His eyes cut to you like a lightning bolt, searing and bright;

“I’m not going into Heat—I’m going into Rut.”

Your head jerks to him. You feel the world tilt, slide out from underneath you sharply, your stomach dropping with it. If Vash is going into Rut, that means—

Vash gives you wane, sympathetic look.

“That only happens if an Omega in Heat is near.” He says gently, quietly, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

Which means, he's figured you out.

And that also means, you’re about to go into Heat, with an Alpha, and a Beta on the cusp of Rut.

Your cover is blown, dashed all to pieces in an instant. All your hard-fought control and secrecy; all of your planning and carefully crafted existence, gone up in flames with a few, simple words. In this moment, you see your life—this life of yours that you fought for, tooth and nail, this independence you clawed for, you were forced to endure, gone like the wind through your fingers. Like your dreams in the early, soft parts of the morning.

You try to get up, maybe run, but Vash catches your wrist before you can get anywhere.

His touch is searing. For some reason, you always thought he'd be chilled. Maybe because he's a Plant, maybe because of his robotic limb. But he's warm, so warm that it startles you. When you look at him, you realize his face is flushed red, dusted along his cheeks.

"Don't run." He pleads, "It's not safe."

When Wolfwood appears again in the doorway, water in hand, you wrench your wrist from Vash's grasp.

"What's going on?" Wolfwood asks, and before you can shove past him, he snags your bicep. Firmer than Vash, yanking you back to him, "hey—slow down, kid. What happened?"

"I'm—uh, not going into Heat." Vash says sheepishly.

Wolfwood tears his eyes away from you to look at Vash for a moment, before returning to you. "Well—should make it easier, right?"

"No—" You shake your head, pressure behind your eyes building rapidly, suddenly there and aching. All you can think is—it's gone, all gone. Tears well up. You force your brow to furrow, force your anger to be a shield, and force that little glare to mar your features once more;

"Because I'm the one going into Heat."

Wolfwood's face rounds out with surprise. You lurch out of his grasp in a sudden, harsh move.

"Don't follow me!" You say.

And you slip from him like the wind through his fingers, like dreams in the early, soft part of the morning.

He reaches for you again, but you're already gone

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #vashwood x reader #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood x you #vash x y/n #vash x you #cielo's writing!#cielo writes!#cw omegaverse

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me-and-my-3lovers · 7 months ago

Text

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 have been having a rough time with your ruts. This takes place around season 8, post bunker and 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."

#jared padalecki #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural #male reader #sam winchester x male reader #alpha reader #omegaverse

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the-californicationist · 6 months ago

Note

Cali Cali bo-bali banana fana fo-fali me my mo mali! Cali!

I'm three Budweisers in and got an itch for alpha Price with a sudden need to breed (yay! Surprise rut!), and there's his sweet smelling omega neighbor who he's been keeping at arm's length because he's a professional dammit and has complete control of his urges, thank you very much.

Honestly, I just wanna see Mr. "I'm Married to My Job" lose it and show back up on base abashed and mated, and also ridiculously proud of his lil omega's claiming bite, because "she turned into a wildcat, lads. I couldn't stop her." *wink-wink*

Or not. I'm happy with any smutty Price fic you bestow on us, really. I'm just being weirdly specific because— alcohol = horny thots. 🍺😏🥴🫠

Drunken hugs 🫂 from Random Thot

RTG!! You are the most amazing person, and every time I see your pfp on AO3 or tumblr, I just get all gooey inside. Thank you for the ask! I wrote (and fully deleted) this fic three times because I wanted to get it right. I just pray that I could deliver. <3 <3 Hope this is what you were hoping for!!

MDNI/NSFW -- TW: damsel in distress, ABO dynamics, knotting, fuck-or-die scenarios, CNC, fluids, PIV sex, female OC

Glory, Glory

It was his last beer of the night, and he was ripping it apart. Curling, soggy shards of the torn label were stuck under his thumbnail, darkening the translucent edge and making it look dirty. They littered the sticky, lacquered bartop like ugly snow, falling in a tiny, chaotic mess. His hands were more than just dirty, the captain thought to himself as he used his wide thumb to itch at the glue-covered glass, rolling little, paper shards away from the smooth surface to reveal the amber liquid swirling within. The captain’s hands; they were covered in blood. Not innocent blood, but blood all the same. They’d never be clean again.

But, that was the job, and he was good at it. His hands were a direct reflection of his hard work. Killing evil bastards kept the world safe. Some poor sob in a factory could clean out the glue-painting machine that pasted these fuckin’ labels on all of these bloody beer bottles because of one unshakable truth: John Price was good at killing evil bastards.

Unfortunately, the killing would need to wait until after the mandated leave window closed again. His argument with Kate still grated inside of his head. He could almost hear her harsh, Yank accent in his ears.

“What do you want me to tell payroll, John? You can’t be here. You’ve got too many days. Go home. See your mom.”

“I see her plenty, Katie. Let me run that ops gig with Keller. C’mon. I’ll do overwatch,” he tried his best to weasel his way back into a bit of active duty.

“You’d be the world’s most expensive overwatch. Hell no. Here’s your ticket,” she shoved an envelope in his hands, “...and your money,” another envelope, “Go the fuck home, Captain. That’s an order.”

An order. More like a toothless threat.

But, alas, here he was, staring at a freshly shaved, buzzcut version of himself in a filthy pub mirror, undressing bottles left and right.

“Another, mate?” The barkeep pointed to his almost-empty drink, making a slight grimace at the paper graveyard that was sprinkled across his bar.

“No,” John sighed, pulling out a few notes from his wallet, “I’m off.”

“Happy Christmas,” the barkeep took the bills and didn’t bother to look up again, setting himself to sweeping the torn strips off of the surface, preparing for the next paying customer.

“You, too,” John muttered, tugging his black wool beanie over his ears before braving the classic cold, wet, and windy Liverpudlian night.

He didn’t live far. John’s mum had kept up his loft down by the docks, but it certainly didn’t feel like home. Home wasn’t real. Not anymore. As he walked along the Mersey’s edge, he peered into the black water, wondering if he’d ever truly go home again.

All of a sudden, he heard a shrill scream. Every sense that had been dulled by his lager was now as sharp as a blade and set on its edge. Again, a high-pitched shout pealed through the night air, beckoning him back to his heroism. That keening was the sound of some evil that needed stamping out, and he was hungry for it.

He sprinted through the warehouse district, chasing the noise of scuffling, ducking behind alleys and abandoned garages, looking for the source. Finally, there was a flash of red that caught his eye, so he ran towards it, his mind making sense of the scene in front of him.

Voices were jumbled and mashed up together, barely registering in his mind.

“Out here in a fuckin’ heat. Dumb bitch! C’mere.”

“She’s got a knife!”

“C’mere, you little slag. Get –”

In the middle of three huge, stinking Alphas, a tiny Omega was struggling, arm outstretched, brandishing her knife at them to keep them at bay. John came up behind the biggest one, some bald fuck with a dirty coat, and dropped him, cracking his spine in two places with well-placed fists, and breaking his jaw on his way down to the ground, leaving him groaning on the concrete.

One of his mates, a older man with thick, black eyebrows, lunged at Price, a look of indignant surprise on his face. The Omega screamed, her red coat yanked back over her face by the third man, her knife clattering to her feet. Price focused on Mister Eyebrows, dodging a lazy haymaker before popping him twice in the nose, drawing out his blood and knocking out at least two of his front teeth. Then, John grabbed him by the collar, pulling his jaw into his raised knee and listening to the satisfying splash as he fell into a murky puddle.

Finally, he set his sights on the last Alpha of the pack whose ropey arm was looped across the Omega’s neck, choking the air from her lungs. He growled at Price, his scent turning to rancid fear,

“Stay back! She’s mine, you big bastard.”

The captain had nothing to say. With a practiced ease, he side-stepped her assailant, breaking the elbow that controlled her throat, making him release her immediately. The evil bastard stumbled back, hand outstretched, bargaining for his life,

“Wait, wait. I’ll share her with you, how’s that? I’ll even let you have first go!”

A deafening howl came out of his mouth as Price’s boot heel made contact with his kneecap, forcing it to snap at a terrible angle. John’s hand shot out and grabbed the man by the hair on the crown of his head, tugging cruelly at his scalp. Without mercy, John slammed his face into a nearby bollard, and the howling stopped.

It was quiet again aside from the Omega’s trembling breaths. She had recovered the knife and was now pointing it towards John with shaking hands and wide, determined eyes.

“You alright, love?” Price asked, holding his hands up in a sign of peace, edging towards her in gentle, predictable steps.

“Y-yeah… Stay! Stay right there,” her voice was bright and clear, and he could hear her strength laced through her words. He stopped in his tracks, respecting her wishes.

“What are you doin’ all the way out here, darlin’?”

“They dragged me over here from Baltic Fleet,” she straightened up, getting her bearings, wiping the blood from a small cut in her cheek, “Fuckin’ bastards. Thank you, by the way.”

“Jus’ doin’ my job,” Price shrugged, waiting for her to lower the knife even further before he continued his approach.

“Police?” She asked, a little confused.

“Not exactly,” Price smiled, offering a hand out to her, “John Price, Captain of His Majesty’s RAF service.”

“Oh,” she studied him for a moment, and then her eyes fell to the hand, ready to bite but deciding to shake it instead.

When he touched her skin, Price felt her fever. Shocked, he tightened his grip, not meaning to startle her but too surprised by her temperature to ignore it.

“Christ, love. You’re burnin’ up.”

As quick as a flash, she yanked her hand out of his grasp and retreated back towards the wall of the warehouse behind her, scooting her way towards the corner to get out of his range, ready to bolt. She didn’t respond, but John watched as she wiped her brow, dotted with sweat and covered in concern.

“Hey,” he moved forward again protectively, “You can’t be out here alone. Not like this. At least let me walk with you. I’ll stay ten paces behind. It’s not safe.”

“I’m fine,” she said with more strength in her voice than what she was ready to produce.

“You’re not. You’re in a bloody heat. When did it start?” He watched as her knees began to tremble, and against her obvious wishes, he helped her sit on the warehouse deck, letting her keep the knife so she could feel safe.

“Yesterday…” She closed her eyes, trying to shake it off, “It’s… I’m fine. It’s never this bad.”

Now that he was close to her, Price was smothered by the scent of her body. The Omegan glands in her neck smelled like thick, wild honey, and her heat was mixing with her aroma, turning an already sweet smell into a lucious, decadent gourmand, pulling him in like quicksand.

“C’mon,” he helped her up, “Where’s your place? I’ll get you close.”

The clang of her knife made him glance up to see her eyes closed and her mouth slack. She was out, too weak to withstand the fever and the physical exertion.

Price felt his body react to her need. He was filled with rage, white and hot, at her situation. Those goddamn monsters were trying to take advantage of her in this vulnerable state. She should be home in her nest, being taken care of by her Alpha, covered in soothing oils and cool compresses, her needy little cunt stuffed full of his knot, staving off these symptoms and enduring them for her. Instead, she’d been hunted, chased, made to fight for her dignity out here in the middle of the docks. Something else inside Price’s chest curled around his anger.

Possession.

He tried to shake it off, knowing it came from being unmarked, but it had been so many years as a lone Alpha that he knew how to control it. Or, at least he thought he did.

Now, though, he found himself pulling at the neck of her coat as he held her in his arms, invading her privacy to check for a bite. He felt the shame wash over him as he covered her skin back up. He had no business searching for a mating bite. She was not his Omega, and he was not her Alpha.

After a few minutes out in the chilled wind, he made it to his apartment. Thankfully, it was late enough that his neighbors weren’t outside to witness what looked like a literal kidnapping, and he shuffled her inside without much trouble. Price lay her down on his long, leather sofa, careful to rest her head on the soft arm. He went to the kitchen to retrieve a cold rag and pressed it to her forehead, hoping to hold back the fever for as long as he could.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Wake up,” he whispered, trying to gently shed her coat and sweater, peeling her layers off to bring her temperature down to a more manageable level.

She moaned, her eyes wrenching shut even tighter, her face twisted in pain,

“My head…” She sighed, desperate for some relief.

“I know, love. C’mon,” John propped her up a bit, moving the rag so that the coldest parts would be against her skin, “What’s your name? I can find an address. Do you have your purse?”

“They… took it? I don’t… I dunno…” She muttered, obviously having a hard time stringing her thoughts together, “I don’t feel so good.”

This was not ideal. Price knew what came next. A high fever, exhaustion, fatigue, nausea, increased heart rate, and then…

“Alpha?” Her eyes were open, glassy and dark, the pupils fully blown, looking up at him with an outpouring of unfathomable need. Her scent rolled off of her in mind-altering waves, shoving Price’s carefully-built walls out of the way and sending shocks of desire straight to his heart and his fat, growing cock.

“No, baby. I’m not your Alpha. Who is he? Can you give me a name?” John asked, checking her coat pockets in a rushed panic. He was running out of time.

“Alpha, please… I need… Help me, please,” her shaking hands reached under his jacket and shirt, her knuckles rubbing against his furry belly, her strong fingers digging around for his belt buckle, getting right to the point.

Price felt the room flex around him, and he tried to breathe in air that wasn’t saturated by her vanilla spice, searching in the deepest recesses of his mind for some semblance of his self control.

“Easy, love. I can’t m–mmngh!” Her mouth slotted over his as he tried to protest, stopping his heart and his words at the same time.

She was heaven. Her smell was making his skin tingle all over his body, down his arms and up his legs, rushing to his central, sacral core. And her taste was even better. His little cinnamon roll, so sweet and warm, burning for him like a flame, hot and ready to scar him for life.

“Mngh… Love, mmm… Wait…” Price held her back, using more force than he thought he should need, surprised by her sudden power.

“John…” He met her eyes and found a particular clarity within them. She was coming out of her haze. But, it wouldn’t last. This was his final chance to keep her from doing something she would regret.

“Darlin’, I can’t. I’m not your Alpha.”

“You smell like you are,” she mewled, rubbing her wounded cheek across his engorged neck gland, spreading his scent all over herself.

“I can’t,” he moved away from her, trying to hold her in his arms for comfort rather than to bask in her expressive heat, “My work… I can’t leave you here, pretty girl.”

She sobbed out, trying to hold back from writhing against his body, doing everything she could not to make it harder for him to turn her down. Her eyes were rimmed red and pink from exhaustion, and she was staring down at her own hands, vibrating with tremors, slurring her words,

“Just lock me in the bath. I’ll run cold water. I’ll be fine…”

Something ancient and feral snarled in Price’s mind.

No.

“No,” he said, involuntarily, the voice in his head escaping from his throat.

“Please… I can’t stop myself… I want your knot, Alpha. Lock me up before I do something to you… Something you don’t want…” She could barely put two words together. Every thought was a struggle. He was losing her again.

He grabbed her and held her to his chest, clutching her like water in his palm, using all his strength to keep her with him,

“I want you, love. I want… Fuck, I need you.”

All of a sudden, the energy around their bodies stilled. That cracking, sparking electricity that bound them together was roiling just beyond John’s consciousness, ready to surge. But, he stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what she did next. She locked eyes with him and leaned in close, as if she would kiss him. But, she didn’t. She dipped her head down until she found his Alphic gland, swollen and bruised purple from him holding back his lust, nuzzling at it with the tip of her nose, rooting against him, testing his patience, checking to see if his temperament was true. Then, when he let her sniff him in his most potent spot, when she knew his soul was as pure as his scent, that he was true, she sucked his flesh between her lips, drawing his musk onto her tongue.

She’d accepted him. He reeled from it, unable to hold back a groan, his cock jerking against his zipper, thrashing to escape, flooding with hot blood and threatening to fill his knot before he’d even had a chance to taste her.

John pulled her mouth off of him and stared at her eyes again, in awe of her beauty, his mind swirling and yet perfectly sharp, begging her darkly,

“Give me your neck, Omega.”

The ritual had begun, and as she swept her hair away from her shoulder, pulling it around her back, she bent for him, arching her head down in a submissive bow, revealing her Omegan mating line. It looked like a keloid scar, the raised skin swollen and painful, like a pounding vein that ran from below her earlobe down to the top of her shoulder, full of her hormones and thick with her magic. One bite, and he would be in her thrall, pliant to her every whim, beholden to her needs until her heat had run its course.

Price had never given his bite to anyone. It had been easy to abstain. In fact, in his youth, he had a hard time understanding his mates’ commitments to their Omegas, scoffing at their lack of duty to their stations, doubting their commitment, and - moreover - doubting their loyalty. He remained a captain through and through, and he’d never made room for anyone or anything else. But, here he was, his teeth aching in his jaw, bigger and sharper than they should’ve been, his every sense heightened and taking her in like a drug, compelling him to punch through her delicate flesh and suck her nectar deep into his belly.

The feeling of her skin against his lips was enough to send a chill through his body. He was cooling from the inside out, and his body needed her heat. She was forcing a rut to take hold in him, and he could feel himself changing for her. Then, he bit down as hard as he could, breaking the thin seal of her mating line with ease, feeling the searing mixture of her oil and her blood filling his mouth and throat like a ripe plum, wet and sweet, and promising pleasure if he chose to swallow her.

He drank from her for as long as he dared, taking her in long, slurping gulps, letting her essence coat his throat, feeling the hot fluid burn inside of his chest and down into his stomach where it pooled and lingered, warming him up from the inside out.

“Alpha…” She moaned, raising her hand to cup his cheek as he sucked her life into himself, rubbing her thumb so softly over his shut eyelashes that he barely felt it.

John pulled away from her, his eyes fluttering open, her bright orange blood iridescent with her mating oil, making the red cells burn bright like a fresh-cracked yolk, gleaming, trapped between his teeth like gold. He watched it drip down her chest, staining her clothes, and he began to tear them off of her. She let him, limp and mute as he peeled her open, making her naked and pulling her into his arms.

He carried her into his bedroom, kicking open the door and busting the bolt through the strike, splintering the wood and not giving a shit about the damage. John lay her in the middle of the mattress and set to surrounding her with whatever softness he could find; his shirts, his blankets, even his scarves. Anything warm and comfortable was added to the nest, giving her as much support as he could before standing back to admire his work.

She eyed him from her recumbent throne, commanding him with her gaze. John stripped off his shirt for her, raking it up his back and over his shoulders, feeling as if he was moving his body for her and only for her. All of his motions, even his ragged breaths, were only escaping from his lungs because she wanted them to. His buckle clattered apart, and he popped open the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper in a sharp, metallic rip.

Once free, his heavy prick flagged, leaping forward and pulsating for her, proudly showing her his gleaming head. He was drooling an unrelenting stream of iridescent precome, his balls tight and full of Alphic oil, ready to coat her warm insides with his shining sex.

John climbed onto the bed, his face focused on her wet mound, admiring the plumpness of her, imagining her - in every delicious way - like a tender peach. He crawled to her, his mouth still stained neon orange from her gland, and he smeared her wet quim all over his lips and tongue. He wasn’t licking her so much as he was wearing her like warpaint, moving his nose and cheeks through her to ensure he was soaked in her heady slick, his body making wild, unbridled choices purely on instinct.

“Yes, baby, please…” Her voice went straight through him like a bullet, tightening his cockhead to an uncomfortable degree, and it jerked against the mattress in protest. Her hands were in his hair, scratching through his scalp, encouraging him to sink his tongue deep inside of her hole.

John obeyed, helpless to her desire, his mind wiping clean and being rewritten by her will. He was swimming in her scent, drenched in her slick, and gasping against her pussy, his eyes fixated on her form as it writhed above him. When she met his eyes, she bit the inside of her lip, crying out for him, rewarding him for his prostrated fealty. Then, she began to rock her hips against his jaw, fucking herself on his face, and he let her use him to her heart’s content, staying strong and sure, allowing his body to be used, objectified and glorified by it.

When she began to come, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He followed his tongue inside of her with two of his thick fingers, pressing against her walls, pushing her over the edge. She bolted upright, wrapping her thighs around his face, smothering him with her body, trapping him breathless between her legs. Her whole being trembled for him. He could feel the shimmer of her very soul, rattling and writhing with her siren-like keening. And just when he started to see spots in his vision, needing air just a little less than he needed to please her, she lay open for him, blooming outward like a flower, releasing him from a limbo he longed to return to, oozing with a stream of rainbow-tinted come, the Omegan oil within her womb escaping to advertise its promises to her mate.

Without knowing why, John found himself lapping it up from her pulsing hole like a hound, swallowing mouthful after mouthful and grunting with each pass of his broad tongue.

“John, I need... Please, put your knot inside me. I’ll be good…” She begged, tears shining at the corners of her eyes from her come-drunk bliss, her hands plucking at her nipples and trying to soothe herself down from her high.

“My pretty girl wants this knot, yeah?” John grinned devilishly, dipping his finger into her over and over and licking it clean like she was a jar of endless honey, “Wants me to breed this gorgeous cunt…”

At that comment, she spread her legs even wider for him, opening up for him like a blossom for the sun, ready to take whatever he had to give her. It was mesmerizing for John to see her like this. Everything about her was filled with intoxication and need. He was just a vessel for her pleasure, pouring himself into her to make her full again. Dizzy and drunk with adoration, he notched his girth at her entrance, struggling to fit even his cockhead within her.

“Fuck… so bloody warm…”

Her body was burning him with every millimeter he sank into her, the heat of her tight sex in such high contrast with his cool rut. It felt like he was swimming in a roiling pot of sugary caramel, clinging and cloying and sticking to every part of him, and yet it was not enough. He needed more. His hips thrust forward, savage yet steady, reaching deep inside of her like an anchor, rushing to settle himself within her darkness.

The way his Omega cried out this time was different, and it snapped him to her attention, his mind immediately sensing a new need.

“Love, tell me what you need.” He purred, his mouth kissing her lips and her neck, lapping at the now-healing wound his own fangs had made, talking to her between long licks of his tongue, “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You’re so big. I’ve never…” She sounded ashamed.

Price slowed to a creeping pace, focused fully on her face,

“Never had a knot before?”

She shook her head, her eyes full of worry. John wrapped her up in his arms, dragging himself out of her slowly before filling her up again as carefully as he could.

“Tha’s alright, baby. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“Feels like I’m burning alive,” she sighed, her brow furrowing with distress, “John, I need… I don’t know how…”

“Look at me, alright?” He helped her focus her eyes on his, “Don’t… Just stay with me, right here. You’re gonna come for me, and then… I’ll give you what you need.”

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice so small.

Price set himself on a path with a purpose. He used his hand to rub small, rhythmic circles beside the rigid body of her clit, coaxing her pussy to drop even more slick around him, using every ounce of willpower he had left not to let his knot slip inside of her prematurely. His thrusts were jerky and restrained, but he felt her begin to rock back and forth with his hand’s movements, bringing her closer and closer to her glowing joy.

“Good girl,” he praised her, watching her as she began to fall apart around him, “Tha’s my good little Omega. Come for your Alpha just like that. Just… mmf-fuck! Like that! Holy fuck.”

The feeling of her slick pussy clenching and twisting around his cock’s tugid body was enough to make him see stars. He felt almost sick with pleasure, his whole core lighting up like a roaring fire, spitting and aching to bury himself within her.

At the end of her crescendo, he felt himself let go of the chain, and he rutted his knot inside of her, humping himself forward ruthlessly, his body contorting itself to fit her needs. His knot sealed him within her, and although he was not yet orgasming, he was filling her with his come, the creamy flow of it spilling out of his tip, filling her hole and coating his prick from inside of its hungry little sheath.

“Your come… I can feel it inside of me. Oh, my God,” she sighed with some sort of relief, her eyes rolling inside of her head, her arms losing their strength, and her back arching towards him, lifting up as if she would float right into Heaven.

And just like that, her fever began to abate. With his knot stuffed inside of her, locking his seed within her hole, his Alphic oils could soothe her heat, bringing her back to the realm of consciousness and delivering her from her wild state.

“John,” she lay back, her hand pressed to his cheek.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he bent forward on his elbows and kissed her mouth, chastely at first, and then languidly, exploring her taste. When he did finally pull away, she was awake and alert, sated and happy. He smiled down at her,

“Hey, pretty girl,” he whispered, wiping her hair back from her face.

“Hey,” she smiled back at him, wrapping her ankles around his back for comfort, not knowing that it was just enough to set his cock on edge again, his Alphic instinct rejoicing at the feeling of being trapped by his mate.

“You alright?” John asked, a tinge of worry at the edge of his voice.

“I am now, thanks to you,” she sighed, tucking herself in beneath him, rubbing her hands along his ribs and the soft fur of his back and arms, feeling every bit of him as if she was seeing him with her touch, “You saved me, Alpha.”

“Aye,” he nudged her jaw with his nose, asking her wordlessly to give him the vulnerable softness of her neck. She obliged, and he spoke to her between sucking kisses, “All mine. My Omega. Innit that right, baby?”

She was practically lambent beneath the scrutiny of his possession, rolling in it like a wave in the sand, captured by it and surrendering to the riptide of his unbreakable grip. She nodded, humming her ascent, her expression turning a little rueful right at the end of his kisses. The sorrowful timbre of her voice broke his heart,

“I’m grateful. But, I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m so sor–”

“No,” he kissed her words away, feeling his length throb inside of her, urging him to kiss her again, “No, love.”

“I won’t bite you,” she promised, her gaze still full of apology, “You won’t be stuck with me.”

“Bite me, Omega,” he bent his head and buried his face in her shoulder, giving her his gland in total surrender, “Go on. I’m yours.”

“John…” She hesitated, but he could feel her body flood her hole, excited beyond measure at the thought of binding him to her as her mated Alpha.

“Go on,” he commanded in his smoky growl, holding her tighter and bracing for the ecstasy of her teeth.

He felt her lips first, and his balls tightened, ready to fling him into a messy orgasm as soon as he felt his gland shatter in her mouth. Her Omegan teeth wouldn’t break the skin, but he knew she was strong enough to crack the shell around his swollen node. The anticipation of her bite was wrecking his mind, and he was gasping for breath by the time he felt her jaw set itself against him.

“Baby, please…” He whined in her ear, his hips thrusting in short, jerking thrusts, unable to move much with his knot still trapped up inside of her, holding his gushing come in her hole, pushing it into her womb from the sheer volume of it.

Her teeth connected, and he could hear his unbroken shell give way beneath her strength, the hormones inside of it rushing through his system like wildfire, burning through his veins and making him scream for her. At the same time, John felt his core throw him into a raw orgasm, his whole body trembling above her, wringing himself from the inside out.

“Alpha,” she sighed, licking his neck to comfort him, “My Alpha…”

“Yours, baby. All yours.”

— — — — —

The new trainees filed out of the gym, sweaty, bloody, and eager to be out of the captain’s sight. Price had run them ragged, forcing them to spar with practice weapons, pitting them against each other in a strained, exhausting competition. Ghost and Soap sat with Gaz as they eyed their commander, their eyes glued to the fresh bite mark on his neck, shocked into a silent stupor.

“I cannae believe it. Mated? To which lassie?” Soap asked, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t think he’d ever take a mate,” Gaz marvelled.

“I thought he was savin’ himself for marriage,” Ghost quipped, earning himself a scuff from Soap.

Price made his way across the mat, pulling his sweaty shirt off his back to trade it for a clean one. The red welts and nail-marks across his shoulders and down his belly made Gaz let out a low whistle. But, his commander’s glare stopped him mid-note.

“Wha’s that, Garrick?”

“Nothin’, sir. Just… admirin’ your battle scars,” Gaz smiled, wishing his two teammates would stop snickering so loudly.

“Looks like a hell’uva fight, Cap,” Ghost added, looking everywhere but into Price’s icy eyes.

“Wha’s her name?” Soap asked outright, skipping over the double entendres and going right for the point.

Their captain sighed, zipped up his gym bag, and stood in front of his three officers, glaring down at them with a look that was on the border of dead-seriousness,

“If I told you that, lads, I’d have to kill you.”

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alexanderlightweight · 2 months ago

Note

Hope your yard work went well and the heat wasn't too strong! On this not-but-still Wednesday, I would like to prompt either established Malec with one making flower crowns/bouquets for the other, or not-established Malec with pining Alec making courting flower bouquets but hesitating to give them to Magnus - basically I'd like to see our pretty boys with flowers, sfw/nsfw as you'd like 🌻

thank you!! I did conquer the yard!!! I think it may have also conquered me a bit but that's what happened when you're allergic and disabled and doing yard work ^_^ still worth it to do it myself rn tho. I like yard work, I just complain because its also hard and exhausting and I'm allergic to half of it. which means I just get more stubborn tbh.

this is in the petals vs. because Alec and Magnus love their flower crowns and their garden and each other in most verses but especially this verse. they're as soft as petals for each other.

and I hope you enjoy, it's just something soft and sweet between them

<3 lumine

in his wake petals fall

Alec normally lets Magnus make the flower crowns, however he’s been tempted by the star jasmine climbing up the trellis.

It’s delicate and fragrant and the vines tangle with his fingers, Magnus’ magic as eager for contact as Alec is.

It’s not a perfect crown, not like the ones Magnus makes, but it’s elegant enough and it will hold together and that’s all Alec needs.

One crown is for his own brow and the other he holds carefully, with a care normally reserved for adamas fragments and newly born babes.

Magnus is on the phone, voice terse and bordering angry and Alec hides the crown behind his back. The last thing he wants is Magnus reacting to the sight of it and ruining his phone call.

There are two ways it could go.

One, Magnus is overly charmed and his anger disappears, thus letting some undeserving lout get away with wasting his time.

Or two, he will become even more enraged and eviscerate his client until there is nothing left of them before kissing Alec breathless.

As much as Alec enjoys the latter option, he doesn’t want to risk the first and also, the client might be important.

Not more important than Alec and his flower crowns — Alec knows better than to even think such a thing near Magnus who will then utterly prove him wrong — but still, important enough to be careful.

Alec shuffles to the side and places the crown behind the teakettle, easy to retrieve but where Magnus won’t be able to see it from where his magic is rippling through the air.

Alec watches it with delighted amusement, reaching out his fingers to pass through the vibrant red energy and charmed when it turns purple-blue and wreathes around his fingers.

It catches Magnus’ attention enough that his anger wanes enough for a delighted smile and the blowing of a magical kiss that Alec catches.

It’s warm and soft and filled with adoration and Alec wishes he had the magic to send one back, but instead he simple walks over and presses a gentle kiss to Magnus’ jaw and then his forehead.

Magnus relaxes then, leaning back against Alec when he braces himself, letting Magnus use his strength.

—

“What would I do without you, hmm?” Magnus murmurs quietly, the words almost too soft to be heard and then the moment is broken by yet another tedious question.

Magnus is about to send magic through the phone and set the werewolf he’s dealing with on fire.

Alas, Magnus cannot go killing all the alpha’s in the East Coast no matter how much easier it would make his life.

Even Alexander’s kiss to his hair doesn’t calm him. Not when he catches the gentle scent of jasmine and realizes just how long he’s been on the call.

Alexander made himself a flower crown!

He now dons it, soft and luxurious and entirely made without Magnus magic — except the fact that it was grown with his magic but still, it should have been twinned by his fingers and magic.

Not that Alexander didn’t do a lovely job, but it’s the pride of it.

Alexander is supposed to be crowned by Magnus’ hand and he feels as though his client has stolen a bit of peace and happiness away.

It’s with anger sparking that he verbally cuts down the werewolf’s pride to a more manageable degree and then hangs up.

He’ll call back tonight.

Or tomorrow.

Whenever he next thinks of it and once he has corrected his erroneous mistake.

“Darling, I’ve failed you.” Magnus murmurs, truly distraught despite the fact that Alexander is looking at him with nothing but charmed fondness and love.

“Actually, I wanted to surprise you. I just didn’t want to interrupt.” And then Alexander is leaving him — which is truly the most heinous of crimes.

Except then he is forgiven.

Instantly, because he’s made Magnus a charming matching crown with the slightest bit of a lopsided vine and Magnus will crush stars and diamonds to ensure that this crown never fades.

“I love it.”

Magnus doesn’t even let Alexander speak, motioning with an eager gesture and it gets him several kisses before the crown is placed gently on his coiffed hair.

It smells divine but it’s even better because Alexander’s angelic magic is delicate and intertwined with Magnus’ own magic and the vines.

A small gift of himself that has Magnus pulling him in for a kiss.

yes Alec weighs his choices based on whether or not he thinks it will help or deter. like sometimes its good that he can redirect Magnus and sometimes, it wont actually help in the long run and he needs to consider that because they make each other too happy

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #in his wake petals fall #petals vs #magnus bane #malec #alec lightwood #shadowhunters

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writing-rat · 2 years ago

Text

Used Farmhand

Pairings: Lorraine Day x AFAB Reader

Content Warning: 18+ Content, G!P Lorraine Day, Werewolf Alpha Lorraine, Lorraine has a penis, Vaginal Sex, Knotting, Mating, Maybe OOC, Blowjob, Handjob

Summary: You are working when Lorraine is in heat. That's when she decides to use the farmhand... you.

Word count: 1409

It was a sunny day on the Day Farm considering it was Spring. The mother and father you worked for had gone out to a farmer’s market, leaving Lorraine to keep you in check and they also knew she would enter heat soon. They were interesting people, and you never had actually seen an alpha look so submissive. She was shy and skinny, she was way too vulnerable to be an alpha. Alas you didn’t question it as your omega seemed to jump in joy when her dad said she might enter heat whike you were there.

That is exactly what happened. You was at the barn, putting old, rotten hay into one pile while the clean, fresh hay was in another pile. You was distinctly aware of another person’s scent coming towards you but you thought it was just RJ, Lorraine’s friend who was an omega. You sighed. “What d’you want RJ?” You called out, expecting a response from the weak man (more like boy). The response surprised you however. It was a growl, and you felt yourself tense up as you gulped, hearing the noise get closer. “Lorraine?” you asked before turning around, where you saw the alpha standing there, looking you up and down. Your stomach tightened as you watched her and knew you were cornered. “Hey alpha,” you spoke casually, trying to not glance down. She was wearing her usual colourful top and the red jeans that showed her dick off. You realised you was staring as your quickly looked up again. She was spreading pheromones around the barn. This was sending your own omega in heat, causing you to whimper.

“Need to breed,” she finally talked, her voice a notch higher. You blushed, realising she was the one in control. She was just submissive to everything except in bed it seemed. “Need to breed you,” she specified as she was looking you up and down and licked her lips.

“Y-you do?” you stuttered out, trying to restrain your heat, but it was impossible with every step she did to get closer.

“Yes,” she growled out then quickly pounced on you and pinned you against the wall as she was dry humping you. “I know how you feel. You stare at me constantly when I’m around until I catch you. You even look at me when I’m just swimming in the lake,” she explained, grunting as she humped. You whimpered in response and nodded, letting yourself just relax.

“Yes alpha,” you responded as you was trying to yank your tanktop off. Lorraine took it in her hands however. She ripped it off instead including your bra before she was biting your neck and shoulder.

“I’m going to treasure you omega,” she explained. “I will mark you with bites all over. I will mate bite you. You will hold my litter and we will have a family,” she grunted out. You knew the alpha was in control then as you nodded.

“Yes alpha, fill me with your pups,” you moaned out, as you felt her bulge against your thigh, still as ever. She smirked before she started to yank down your shorts, drool slipping down her mouth as she ripped off your panties.

“You don’t know how long I imagined this,” she hummed out. You gulped and nodded as you let her speak, her starting to also strip down. First her top, revealing no bra, then her jeans that had on some loose boxers. “I wanted you so bad for months,” she added on. “Jacked off about you, wanted you to suck me off and stroke me as well as taking my knot inside you. You are going to do all of that, in order,” she commanded. Nodding, you glanced down and saw it twitch. You was shyly pushed into your knees then. It slowly seemed like Lorraine took control over her wolf inside her. Slowly, you licked from her tip to her balls while making eye contact. She was moaning as she grasped at your hair gently, before you took it in your mouth and closed your eyes as you was bobbing your head up and down on it. You used your tongue whenever possible as soft moans slipped out of her mouth as she gripped tighter.

Slowly, you started to also massage her balls, seeing that she also liked it as she was humping your mouth. You gagged every now and then but allowed it to happen as you kept sucking, licking and massaging. She was soon gripping harder and was panting. “Close,” Lorraine whimpered out, to which you was nodding as you kept sucking. She couldn’t help it after a minute as she came inside your mouth. Quickly you swallowed as you was pulling out, using your hand to stroke her like she wanted. You looked up at her, as you was soaking wet and fingering yourself. Lorraine was looking down at you with lust still but hesitance.

“Have your way with me when you ravage me,” you spoke, stroking faster. She started to nod as she was humping into her hand at the same pace as your fingers. You bit your lip harder as you soon went faster than ever, to test if she was. She was as she humped faster, but went harder. That’s when she suddenly came all over your face with a smirk.

“Always wanted to paint your face,” she smirked out and gripped at your hair as you looked up. You was bright red as she admitted that. “Now, on all fours, ass facing towards me,” Lorraine commanded, getting more confident again. Obeying, you did as told as you stopped fingering yourself. She licked her lips at seeing you drip all over the floor. “Making such a mess in the hay just like the dirty slut you are,” she degraded. You gasped when you felt her hand strike your ass as you widened your eyes. It didn’t stop the arousal coming out. “So you like being slapped huh slut?” Lorraine spoke, before she suddenly pressed you into a mating press, her inside you immediately. You gasped at the sudden pleasure. “Something else will be hitting you now,” she spoke casually as she held your hips. You was nodding.

“Please alpha, fuck me already,” you moaned out loudly. You didn’t care if the Day’s came back, you just needed her to fuck you. She was nodding as she was ruthlessly pounding into you then. You panted as you was loving every single thrust she did, even if it hurt a lot at first. She was getting more and more confident as she used you and smirked while doing so. She was panting against your ear as she held you closer, soon biting your shoulder and neck, marking you. You blushed heavily as you knew you were mated for life now, but you loved the idea of that. Truth be told you had fallen for the girl, and you was sure the Day’s knew hence why they had you over during her heat this time. They usually made you have a week break. Soon you felt close as you was whimpering and whining. “Need to cum,” you moaned out.

“Go on omega. Come for me,” Lorraine panted out as she held you harder and pressed closer against you before you came all over her dick. Feeling you orgasm made her also cum inside you as she was thrusting a few times before she knotted you, releasing more cum. She was panting against your ear as she was catching her breath, feeling better than before.

“Thank you for accepting me,” she then spoke gently. You nodded.

“I have had feelings for you for months by now. I’m glad the Day’s didn’t keep me away this time,” you spoke with a smile.

“It’s because I told them I wanted to be mated to you. They allowed it as you are a great worker,” she spoke. You blinked in shock then nodded.

“I’m glad you wanted me here,” you spoke before leaning against her more. She was nodding as she held you even closer.

Soon the knot was down and she pulled out. “I’ll get you some new clothes. The parents aren’t back yet so come with me,” she spoke.

“For a second round?” You responded.

“You caught me,” Lorraine replied then picked you up immediately as she smirked. “Now, let’s go. Quit dillydallying,” she added on. You was nodding, holding her closer.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #ratboy writes #ratboy writing #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x reader smut

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hils79 · 1 month ago

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Hils Watches Pit Babe - Ep 6

I'm finally home and can continue watching this. It's not that my parents would be particularly bothered about me watching a gay drama, it's more that my dad is incapable of not interrupting me regardless of what I'm doing. He gets bored and restless and makes that everyone else's problem.

It was just easier to wait until I was back home and could watch in peace and quiet.

Of course this does now mean I can't remember what happened in the last episode that I watched over a week ago.

Oh yes, Babe is apparently going to race the people in line to take his place because he's too injured to race. I still don't understand how that works but who needs logic in a live action omegaverse drama

I mean he has a valid point

Ouch

Pretty sure Charlie ships his boss and his brother

Smooth

Oh my god Alan has gone full Love Actually

See, this is why Jeff is my favourite

Okay, yes, I'm old. There's no need to rub it in.

Ooh look at Alan shooting his shot

Two common date locations in dramas that would 100% work on me, an aromantic asexual. Going to an aquarium, or going stargazing. Just looking at that sky has me half in love with Babe already.

When Charlie asked Babe if he wanted to have kids I, for one glorious moment, was in a world where there was going to be canon mpreg on my tv screen. Alas, since neither of them is an omega I guess that's not possible. Wait, does this mean mpreg CAN happen just not between two alphas?

Is that a typo or are they called enigmas in this universe instead of omegas? Also, this is a very out of the blue conversation. They literally just agreed to be boyfriends instead of fuckbuddies and Charlie is already talking about having babies.

Yes, exactly

He has definitely been thinking about this a lot. But come on, Charlie. Just because you're both men one of you doesn't have to be 'the mother'. Say no to gender stereotypes.

Oh, well, apparently Babe is into it. Well, if Park Seonghwa can be mother then Babe can be mama.

What sorcery is this? Babe looks hotter with Charlie's glasses on, and Charlie looks hotter with them off.

Wow, Dean is acting like a total dick now. Bet anything he's going to betray them and go and work for Babe's dad

Alan: Well, if I can't call you kid the only other option is 'darling'. No one in this drama is normal. Except maybe Pete the handsome CEO. Where is he I haven't seen him for a while.

I love him

Time for more car advertising

Oh god are they going to call each other mama and papa for the rest of the drama?

I legit forgot that Jeff has powers. And didn't Babe lose his after he got hurt in the crash? Is that what Jeff is sensing here?

God, Way looks so heartbroken I just want to hug him

I can't work out if Babe genuinely doesn't understand that Way is in love with him, or if he just doesn't want to hear it. Like short of saying 'Babe I am in love with you' he's been about as clear as he can be.

God this is so heartbreaking. Why are all the saddest scenes in this drama people crying in their cars

#hils watches #hils watches pit babe #hils watches tdramas #pit babe the series #pit babe #tdrama

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jackattack20writes · 8 days ago

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I kinda wanna do a “what’s the craziest possible ending for Gquuuuuux” post but first I just needed to say I had the realisation that I think with what Shuji said this episode that Lalah’s damselness in the Gquuuuuux timeline is possibly because of the other Lalah, also I do have to acknowledge that this could be me reading into it too much but I think one particular thing supports this reading.

So I don’t know yet how much influence OS Lalah has on the Gquuuuuux timeline whether it’s just getting char the RX-78 or as Shuji implied the entire thing but if it is the latter that explains a lot.

So firstly just generally it makes sense from what we know of her, that if OS Lalah created an alt timeline the most important things to her would be Char, Amuro and the other her. Now as there’s no confirmation Haro is controlled by Amuro or even what Amuro is up to at the moment but well there is some assumptions, so firstly we know that at the very least his father is alive from the cameo in the flashback so we can assume that Amuro also exists. Secondly we know he isn’t a Gundam pilot something that arguably would be the best way to protect him, leaving him as the boy he was before he got in the robot. So it would qualify as protecting him

Next is Char, so we know from Lalah’s visions that in at least one reality likely the one OS Lalah is from, Char died in place of Lalah. So what’s the most direct way to achieve that give him white base, the rx-78 and a military-trained new type partner, or as we see in Gquuuuuux, Sodon, the alpha psycommu equipped Red Gundam and Challia Bull. Which coincidentally also achieves the goal of protecting Amuro. So so far the changes match what a distraught Lalah would do if she was restructuring the timeline, but I think the real kicker is her alternate’s fate.

So when GQX Lalah first showed up there was understandable criticism for Lalah being reduced to a damsel waiting for Char to show up. And while I do think the criticism is still valid I think it’s going to be revealed that OS Lalah is the cause. So like the big reason we get for Lalah not leaving is because she’s waiting for char like she saw in her visions of the alternate timelines, visions that caused her pain. So my theory is that OS Lalah was the source of these visions and intended for GQX Lalah to get them with a dual purpose. As not only would the visions keep her on earth waiting for char but also as a perpetual punishment that OS Lalah could both inflict and vicariously suffer.

Now yes this is a lot of speculation but I think that based on the other big change to the timeline the visions that make GQX Lalah stay on earth also being from OS Lalah makes sense. And like I know I’d have self hate issues if I knew not only that I failed to save someone I loved from someone else I loved and then also found out that there were alternate realities where I saved him. And similarly OS Lalah seems to think that total removal is either the best way or the easiest to achieve as can be seen with the total removal of Amuro. So I think that at the very least OS Lalah did intend for GQX Lalah to never meet Char, even if I’m overestimating the self punishment aspect.

Also like I think this fits because I have a gut feeling that with Yomagn’tho being above earth and char being both in his red comet outfit and the red Gundam it’s highly likely that his ending in the series will be crashing to earth just like Machu did in ep 9 and Lalah’ll pull him out and drag him off into the sunset ala Shinji and Mari in 3.0+1.0 as a sign of sorts that they’re finally charting the path they want instead of one charted by OS Lalah’s fear, sort of ties into the ideas with Nyaan and Machu about finding your paths and place in life and how that place is often someone else rather than somewhere (like Nyaan and Machu are both yearning for someone else to be with them once they reach what should be their ideal home and they’re both more important to eachother than they really realise and I think are in part the home they’re looking for) and also I think fits as a quasi happy ending for char since I doubt Kycilia will make it out of this show alive so char’ll be able to set off into the sunset knowing that the zabi’s are dead and without the trauma that eventually channels into CCA.

#jackattack rambles #gundam gquuuuuux spoilers #gundam gquuuuuux #gquuuuuux spoilers #Gquuuuuux #theorising #like this is stepping into crazy town a bit but the RX-78’s here so all bets are off #this also feels right in a few ways to explain why Lalah’s like that #like from what I know of everyone involved in the story and writing they don’t like female characters like that especially without cause #the ending feels right too because they’d both be free of this influence over their lives and finally able to take a step forward #with Lalah leading him to show she’s not the damsel she was just waiting for him like he’s a starter gun in a race or something #which I think also would help with the damsel thing #like it’s not that she can’t leave without char it’s that she knows she can find him there eventually and she doesn’t want to be elsewhere #unless she’s bringing him along with her #like how Steve Trevor doesn’t save Wonder Woman from paradise Island he’s just the impetus that convinces her to leave #but I dunno I might still be wrong about all of this

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blackkatmagic · 5 months ago

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Just binged all of I have lived with shades so long in response to the hilarity of damsel in distress Alpha-17 and. I cannot believe I didn’t read this before omg.

I love fox being all: feemor dead, >:( dooku had him killed and tortured by someone who erased him (just him being so upset that feemor was forgotten. And he hasn’t even realized that feemor was never remembered in the first place)

Mean while feemor is like ‘ah dooku’s a sith but he treats me so kindly. He actually remembers me, I have students now :). Time to do harm reduction and be useful

Anyway Alpha-17 as a damsel in distress lived up to the hype. Such a polite kidnapping even! Also Obi wan and Blitz are going pull up and I just know he’s gonna be like ‘so that’s your dads ex’ dhkfsks. He’s also probs going to tell Fox all abt this and he’s going to be murderous <3 Also I love love love all of the Asajj scenes, probs my favorite! Tho feemor just going ‘Oh? You don’t know me? :( Well I know you, your master, and so many others :( not that they remember me either’ in a completely serious kinda angry/sad but accidentally really sinister way to Obi Wan is a close runner up.

Feemor has accidentally made himself into the most intimidating and threatening Sith it's possible to be and he doesn't even realize. Head too full of Fox, alas.

#kat answers

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the-pessimist-and-his-cat · 2 months ago

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Alright. Thoughts on this stupid vroom vroom alpha bl show that will consume my mind for nearly three months! (I haven't read the books, but apparently Charlie gets memory loss?)

Kim.... you are the real winner. I always love it when people speak their minds instead of letting it fester (I hope he stays that way).

Babe... really? Starting with you being grumpy and a sex scene! Classic Babe behavior, but I don't fault him. After all, being a hot dude with an appetite, do be like that sometimes :)

Willy.... he's gonna be an A-hole but seeing Babe and Willy's first interaction being all hostile, it's gonna go one of the two ways: [I] Babe is going to use Willy to rile Charlie up (he wants Charlie to be the one who defeats Willy or he wants angry sex). [II] he wants to know Willy's motive and finds him suspicious or wants to find his weakness, so he acts like a 'Playboy' <but of course, none of these will go well because I'll explain in the end>

North and Sonic..... sorry for those of you who ship these two, but I never understood their dynamic, and they aren't interesting to me, but if the show does expand on their characters by going beyond "forever BFFs who secretly like each other". then you got my interest.

Chris.... now do I like to see actors coming back to the show as another character.... nope. My reasoning? Do it, but at least have the doppelganger/twin sibling/clone to be shocked! If I were Chris (even if I knew who Way was and I was a secret spy), I would totally lose my goddamn mind! Someone who looks like me?! What are the chances! But I do hope he doesn't break Pete's heart.

Pete..... since when you snatched the DILF title from Alan? But I hope you don't give your heart too easily to Chris and maybe check his background throughly??? Because what are the goddamn chances!

Alan.... I have no words other than look out for your boyfriend, and please be respectful when Kim snatches victory from Babe. That boy acted professional, so should you. (Also, you look good as always and when you and Jeff are gonna have kids i-)

Jeff.... why did they name you that? From the first season till now... whenever I hear your name, I hear that meme, "My name is Jeff," but alas, nothing can be done about it. Now, will this season toy with Jeff's life because the visions take a toll on him? (And maybe the skill-erasing machine will be his salvation? We gonna find out!)

Dean.... did you die? But I swear that in one of the trailers, you and Winner and Kenta were in a van soooo maybe a bullet to the leg or a graze?

Tony.... an A-hole with multiple watch lists to be on, but that hair is still serving and I can't hate that face. I think in the episode 2 preview, he said that he has a spy, so it's either Chris, Willy, or the new mechanic.

Charlie.... the biggest red flag of all the characters... just because that boy is bound to do something stupid and have Babe go on a depression cycle again. Oh, I know what he's gonna do. When he sees Babe with Willy, he's gonna be like "I'll bring back his senses so that Babe wins and we'll be done with Willy", and he goes to the machine, which is STILL experimental and uses it and voila! Memory loss, BUT if the show does do that and then show Charlie being all hot bad boy with side-pieces all over him, then I'll forgive him. He has the potential to be a bad boy, and I WANT to see it. :)

Well, I hope we see Babe's father again.

Manifesting Jeff's pregnancy right this fucking now. Maybe because the visions take a toll on him, he uses the machine, and it backfires and turns him into Omega...... oh my god.... what if there is no omega in this world, and Pete's research has invented a machine that not only turn off Alpha's powers but also turns them into Omega?! A new subtype?!?!? I'm cooking, folks!

7/10 for Ep 1.

Edit: I forgot to mention that I liked it when they introduced Chris in the 1st episode rather than tiptoeing around it.

#pit babe the series #pit babe 2 #pitbabe s2 ep 1 #pit babe season 2 #pitbabe s2 #charlie x babe #alan x jeff #Pete and Way #North x Sonic #kenta x kim #kim x kenta #sigh.... my sophisticated image.... come back please!

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sixeyescurseuser · 2 years ago

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(2)

Geto had sensed Gojo’s presence ever since the alpha entered the infirmary. Because his heat symptoms mainly consist of nausea and muscle cramps, Geto can do nothing more than lie on his side facing away from the door, dying on the inside while the best friend he’s trying to hide from barges into the room like he owns it.

The omega lets out a shaky sigh.

“What, did you come here to gloat about how you were right this entire time? That’s pretty shitty, even for you, Satoru,” Geto mutters. He doesn’t receive a response.

The thing is, Gojo isn’t thinking that at all. While he’s admittedly quite dumbfounded at the turn of events, Gojo just knows that Suguru is the only other person who can keep up with him.

And Suguru is an omega, who is currently very much in heat, in PAIN.

Frozen in the doorway, Gojo doesn’t have time to rethink everything he’s ever been taught. Belatedly, he realizes what his instincts have been yelling at him this whole time.

Suguru’s in heat!

Help him!

Comfort him!

As the silence drags on, Geto becomes more resigned to the fact that Gojo is witnessing him like this. Pathetic. Weak. Vulnerable.

Whatever, Geto feels like vomiting and hiding away forever anyway. Fucking heats, man.

But Gojo doesn’t leave. Frankly, the alpha still doesn’t say anything, and Geto is just about to tell him to leave when footsteps sound across the tiled floor. Geto tenses up as the alpha rounds the bed.

Then, a mop of soft, white hair comes into Geto’s view. Gojo kneels down, face at level with Geto’s. Gojo’s expression looks…concerned. No smugness in sight.

Not something Geto was expecting at all.

“Satoru?”

Gojo uses one hand to brush aside Geto’s bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

Amidst the stomach cramps and pounding headache, Geto’s heart swells.

“Tell me how I can help,” Gojo pleads. Geto’s glazed eyes widen in disbelief. He almost doesn’t register the question enough to answer.

Luckily, Gojo repeats, “I’m serious. Suguru, please, let me help you. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Without wasting another moment, Geto grabs at the hand that had brushed away his bangs.

“Take off your shirt,” he rasps out, then as a second thought, “And your pants.”

One minute later, Gojo stands like 🧍🏻in his pink heart-patterned briefs while Geto happily puts the newly-acquired shirt and pants in his nest. Unbeknownst to Geto, he lets out content rumbles during the process.

Gojo finds it very cute. However, he’s also very aware of how rudely he intruded into Geto’s heat room; the alpha begins to fidget, unsure if he’s allowed to stay any longer.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll get going-“

“Shut up and get in my nest,” Geto growls. Gojo immediately moves to comply.

As soon as Gojo climbs in, Geto plops himself half on-top of the alpha, and then drags the sheets on top of them both.

“This is your penance for talking shit about omegas,” Geto states, pillowing himself on Gojo’s pecs. His heat-muddled brain tells him to bite the skin.

“I didn’t- OUCH, that hurt," Gojo cries out, but he still wraps his arms around the omega's waist. "Suguru, I never meant any of that about you. I would never say you’re a burden."

Geto continues nibbling on Gojo's chest.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want you taking back what you said only because I fit into that category,” Geto snarls. He noses his way to Gojo’s neck and doesn’t hesitate to lick over Gojo’s scent gland.

Which was kind of a mistake because now Gojo’s cotton-candy scent mixes deliciously with Geto’s chocolate and lavender scent.

(Oh, they’re both only in their underwear, Gojo thinks. How…nice.

(Gojo @ his dick: “Don’t u fucking dare”)

Geto feels himself slick a little. Luckily, beneath him, Gojo is too preoccupied with the way Geto’s tongue feels on his neck.

“F-fuck- oh my god,” Gojo whines, breathing heavily. Astonishingly, his alpha isn’t roaring at him to flip Geto over and switch places. In fact, it feels more like being pampered than being challenged.

Alas, Gojo is still very sensitive. No one has ever so much as touched his scent gland and Geto is just going to town on it, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin. He tries pushing the omega back but Geto growls at him in warning before going back to his task.

“Suguru, slow down,” Gojo coaxes, lightly pulling at Geto’s hair. Geto raises his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

But before he can protest, a pair of lips gently presses to the spot between his cheek and eye.

What?

Gojo’s cheeks turn pink, crystal-blue eyes shifting to the side.

“Sorry, that was supposed to be to your forehead,” he admits.

Geto blinks once, then twice, pupils dilating by the second.

“Try again.”

Gojo nods. He leans up and lands a peck on Geto’s eyebrow.

Geto laughs freely at that. Gojo feels like a goddamn saint for causing that.

The alpha begins littering Geto’s face with kisses: on his nose, his cheeks, his chin, finally his forehead, and then once at the corner of his lips.

Geto purrs deeply, the deep vibrations steady between them.

Gojo now cups both of Geto’s cheeks. The omega’s expression is relaxed, world’s different compared to when Gojo had first entered the room.

Looking at him like this, Gojo yearns to be somehow even closer to Geto.

“I want to kiss you,” Gojo confesses, caressing his thumb against Geto’s cheekbone. “Will you let me?”

If possible, Geto’s purring even louder. He completely melts into Gojo’s large hands, then wavers a bit as he nods his assent.

But before Gojo can bring their lips together, a knock sounds on the doorframe, startling both of them.

“Geto, I brought the juice pouches you wanted,” Shoko interrupts, placing a carton on the table. She slams a sack down as well. “And stole more clothes from Gojo’s room, because you two will definitely need it.”

She side-eyes her friends, who are frozen in their compromising position. Geto doesn’t move more so because he’s really comfy. He opts for hiding his face in Gojo’s neck.

Gojo, on the other hand, can’t manage anything other than a viscous snarl in Shoko’s direction.

“Woah, calm down, lover boy. He’s all yours,” Shoko says, holding her hands up in surrender.

“You went through my closet?” Gojo bites out.

“Yep, Geto asked me to,” Shoko answers. “Later.”

With a salute, she walks out and closes the door.

“You really told her to?” Gojo can’t help but ask, urging Geto to come out from his hiding spot.

Geto nuzzles against Gojo’s scent gland.

“Just in case you reacted badly,” he said. “Cause you know, I lied to you and everything. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you left.”

Gojo flinches so hard, he jostles Geto into lifting his head.

“You thought I would leave you? In this state?” Gojo asks, a bit hurt. Geto shrugs, eyelids lowering.

“I don’t know. I can’t think straight when in heat, Satoru. It’s easy for my thoughts to spiral,” he says.

Gojo scoffs, but he understands. Ruts can get like that too.

“Well, I’m telling you right now, I’m staying here for as long as you’ll have me,” Gojo declares, cupping Geto’s cheeks again. “You’ll never have to deal with another heat alone again, not if I can help it.”

Gojo pauses, uncertainty flashing across his features.

"If- if that's what you want."

Geto stares down at Gojo with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gojo thinks he’s never looked so beautiful.

Without repyling, Geto surges forward and kisses Gojo’s soft lips, pressing down for a long moment before parting.

But Gojo doesn’t let him go far. The alpha guides Geto down into a second kiss, then a third, and a fourth-

Geto hums in approval, feeling like the luckiest omega in the world with such a strong and caring alpha underneath him, providing kiss after kiss.

Gojo’s eyes have slipped shut, allowing Geto to control the kiss. A swipe of the omega’s tongue and Gojo is opening his mouth, moaning when Geto boldly licks in.

Their combined pheromones swirl in the air, clogging the room with their scents. They keep kissing, bruising their lips and working their jaws until they’re sore.

A new energy spreads from their lips all the way to the tips of their toes, and they begin to paw at each other under the covers.

In the next hour, Geto’s heat officially escalates for the first time.

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ieri shoko #satosugu fanfic #satosugu fluff #satosugu headcanon #jjk headcanon

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silverraes · 1 month ago

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tagged by @thisisworsethanitlookslike tyy

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to know more about (or not im not ur mom)

Last song: this is still on my on repeat playlist lol

Last Film: Thunderbolts.... which dragged me right back into my marvel phase. so much for thinking I had left that behind lmao

Last Book: currently reading Silver Elite by Dani Francis bc I wanted to know what all the fuss on tiktok was about

Last TV show: as a surprise to no one, the last thing I watched was Pit Babe

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: it's between spicy and savory

Relationship Status: no <3

Last thing googled: my uni's website bc I'm chronically too lazy to scroll down to it in my bookmarks lol

Last looking forward to: if I never have to change a bandage again in my life it will be too early... but alas, I will have to change it again in two days

Current obsession: Pit Babe, obviously. I fear those super alphas will always remain one of my obsessions for the rest of my life. And also James Buchanan Barnes my beloved. I saw that motorcycle scene in Thunderbolts (if you've seen it, you know the one) and it catapulted me right back into my Bucky phase (not that I ever really left adfjhgasd). I didn't stand a chance.

tagging: @sparklyeyedhimbo @slayerkitty @sammie-lightwood-bane @mysterygrl20 @lukaherehelp @nervousnotion @infinitelyprecious @toptensupakorn @almayver @major-fukkup

#tag game #Spotify

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takaraphoenix · 11 months ago

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Good news for everyone interested in the story, devastating news for me, who thought she was gonna write a short oneshot:

The Clever One (link to the excerpts I already posted on tumblr) decided to turn into a multi-chapter fic, as I was possessed to write like 2.1k on the season 2 finale alone today. Which is not what's gonna happen next, the story starts with the season 1 finale. Which means that all of season 2 has to happen in between.

I have however also decided to not delay it so the first chapter will be posted on AO3 and FFNet tomorrow. So, look out for some Pack Mom and Alpha Mate Stiles coming to a fanfiction site near you tomorrow! ;)

And to sweeten this announcement, have a tiny bit from what I wrote today at work, because I like being a tease.

“Help me get my pups down.”

Stiles' voice was a growl, his eyes hard. Even as he held his aching ribs and hunched over to avoid more pain, he somehow managed to be a threatening presence. Chris looked at him startled, his eyes wandering to Boyd and Erica, still strung up.

“Your pups.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles got to work. “You're clever, Chris. Figure it out. Your father did too, after all. That's why he took me.”

A pause, and a sharp intake of breath. “You're the Alpha Mate.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Stiles' voice was dripping with fake cheer and sarcasm. “Now, help me get my pups down, or get the fuck out, I don't care.”

He was mildly pleased when Chris actually came to help him. With some difficulty, Boyd and Erica were freed, both wrapping themselves around Stiles near immediately, nuzzling his neck from either side to scent their Alpha. Stiles returned the gesture, as well as he could at the moment. Everything ached and the two werewolves attached to him were solid walls that limited his movement.

“Get out,” Chris ordered, voice low.

As Erica and Boyd flanked him from either side to help him, Stiles threw one last look at Chris. “Thank you. I'll not forget this.”

There was a tension in the air, both Chris and Stiles knowing how much these words meant. He was the Alpha Mate and he admitted a debt to the hunter. Stiles knew that was a big deal, but he also knew Chris deserved it. Knowing his mate's tendency for burning everything to the ground on his path for revenge – a bit ironic, all things considered – Peter may very well try to kill all remaining Argents. And Stiles had just handed Chris a get out of being murdered free card.

Stiles returned his attention to his betas. “C'mon, kids, time to get home.”

A sarcastic eyeroll from Erica that lost a lot of its effect due to her tear-smeared make-up and slowly healing bruises. “Sure thing, mom. I'm sure dad will be delighted.”

That actually made Stiles wince a little. Yeah, Peter was not going to be happy about this. Gerard had taken him to punish Peter, to send a warning to Peter. Ideally, Stiles would go home, nurse his wounds on his own and never tell anyone about this. Alas, there were two very worried and protective betas with him right now and there was just no way they weren't gonna go tattle to their Alpha. Might as well get it over with then.

#Steter #Fic: The Clever One #Teen Wolf #Peter Hale #Stiles Stilinski #Pack Mom Stiles #Sneak Peek #Phoe's Fics #Erica Reyes #Vernon Boyd #who are both going to live :3 as nature intended :3

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mythserene · 1 year ago

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A BEATLE DIDN’T SAY THAT! Lewisohn’s lab-created quotes

“One of the things about this book that is a strength is it’s not me saying anything, it’s them or other people. I shape the text, I plot where it goes, I weave it, but the quotes are theirs. And so when I’ve got Paul McCartney behaving in a way some readers might think, ‘Whatever, oh dear,’ it’s actually him saying it. So you end up thinking that to his own credit he said that. It’s not me saying it.” (Mark Lewisohn, ‘Noted,’ (October 7, 2013) Somerset, Guy.)

This is hella long, and that's because it's actually a full blog post. (In case you want it in a less monstrous form.)

A lot of people for a long time have put a lot of trust in Mark Lewisohn’s footnotes. Or at least in the fact of those footnotes. Because once you dig through them for any length of time you quickly discover that Mark Lewisohn’s footnotes hold secrets that would get him expelled from any undergraduate program. They reveal a “history” often contrived through a mass of Frankenquotes, ala carte creations, Lewisohn rephrased ‘paraphrases,’ and worse. For some parts of the narrative things aren’t too bad, yet in others monsters lurk around every corner. But this is not the sort of thing that’s graded on a curve, and it is past time to have a conversation about what standards should be accepted in Beatles’ scholarship.

Lewisohn lists his sources unlike most others. And his footnotes alone are more insightful than some other writers’ books. (Reddit, r/beatles)

I do not judge footnotes based on their insightfulness, nor do I want to single out a redditor, but I grabbed the comment because it’s an opinion that is widely shared and even accepted as canon. At least by people who have not combed those freakish footnotes. And while the pages of piled up sources do look fearsome en masse, a closer inspection reveals an offense to the truth, a threat to the record, and a blight on Beatles’ historiography.

“The rules for writing history are obvious. Who does not perceive that its chief law is never to dare say anything false, and never dare withhold anything true? The slightest suspicion of hatred or favor must be avoided. That such should be the foundations is known to all; the materials with which the building will be raised consist of facts and words.” –Cicero

A Look at Lewisohn’s Lab-created Frankenquotes

FIRST, WHAT ARE QUOTES? AND WHY ARE QUOTES?

Quotes are the soul and center of recorded—and recording— history.

And the rules around quotes and quotation marks are pretty simple. Most people, even if they’ve never written anything beyond a term paper, understand what quotation marks represent.

A set of quotation marks means, “This person said or wrote ‘these exact words’ at some given time.” You can smash a quote from two hours before or two years before right up against a separate quote to make your point—although it might get your grade lowered—but what you cannot do is take two different statements from two different times and make them seem like they are one statement.

When you put words inside one set of quotation marks you are stating, in black and white, that the identified person made this statement. That they said all those words together—or if you want to excise a reasonable part and use ellipses to represent that— as part of the same statement.

Look, combining two separate quotes that are not part of the same thought or topic is not a subjective issue. It is not an issue of controversy. Quotes are the bone marrow of written history. Quotes are the alpha and omega. In academic work or journalism they have to be, which makes sense as soon as you think about it. If it was cool for me to take a transcript and grab half a sentence from page 2 and half a sentence from page 17, push them together as if those words were spoken one after the other in a single thought, I bet I can manage to get those words to say almost anything I want.

Separate thoughts must be in two separate quotation marks. Separate. Somewhere between four sentences and a paragraph is widely accepted as the “two separate quotes” line, and there can be some ethical and technical wiggle room in a long rant by a person, but what makes all that subjective nonsense go out the window is if the quotes come from two separate questions. Or two separate days. That’s two quotes. Not hard.

Which again, makes sense if the point is conveying information to the reader and lessening the chance of a writer manipulating someone else’s words to express something that the person didn’t mean.

This is the contract inherent in a quote. These are the rules we all agree to and understand, and these are the reasons why. And there’s no reason to break them.

Why do you want me to believe that John said these two things at one time? What was wrong with what he did say?

THE FOUR MOST COMMON WAYS MARK LEWISOHN MAULS THE MEANING OF THE QUOTE:

The Basic Lewisohn Frankenquote 🧟‍♂️

(“CONCLUDING FIVE WORDS FROM—” – I cannot even see the point of this THREE PART monster. Full footnote reads: 9) Author interview with Tony Meehan, September 6, 1995. (“I met George again in 1968 and for some reason he was harboring a grudge against me. He was very, very uptight about it—’You blocked us getting a recording contract …’ ”) First part of George quote from interview by Terry David Mulligan, The Great Canadian Gold Rush, CBC radio, May 30 and June 6, 1977; concluding five words from interview for The Beatles Anthology)

This three-headed monster attributed to George Harrison is a very dull little guy. Not particularly venomous. Just convenient, I guess. For whatever reason, Mark Lewisohn decided it was worth rummaging through the quote buffet until he collected enough pieces for George Harrison to say this thing. “…concluding five words from…” What are we even doing here? No, really. Please tell me.

And like a lot of the footnotes for these bespoke quotations, there are further problems. “[F]rom interview for Beatles Anthology”? An interview that aired? In one of the episodes? Can you narrow it down? I guess I’ll just have to listen very closely to them all and hope I don’t miss the five words.

But if we got bogged down in the sorts of trivial details that would immediately lose a college student a letter grade off a History 101 paper we would never get anywhere. We have to stick to the violent felonies.

*Love the "George would say——" Uh, would he? Well, I guess after all that trouble you went to, he would now. It's really incredible how cavalier Lewisohn is about a Beatle's words.

These sorts of reconstituted, lab-engineered, made up “quotes” are shot throughout Tune In. “Quotes” made up of words from two, three, and even four sources, spoken months or often years apart.

Ala Carte Creations 🍱

It really is a buffet, and these ala carte creations come in all shapes and sizes. They might just be words that have been plucked up and glued back together to make something more useful to a particular narrative. (Ellipses or dash optional.)

TUNE IN: “John saw a bigger picture, and it would be surprising if it wasn’t equally obvious, or made obvious, to Brian and George. He likened Paul’s enduring snag with Brian to his other long-standing difficulty: ‘[Brian] and Paul didn’t get along—it was a bit like [Stuart and Paul] between the two of them.’” (Footnote 37: Interview by Peter McCabe and Robert D. Schonfeld, September 1971)

Bonus 🍒 Phoebe's dramatic reading of John's original quote:

The Donut 🍩

Then there are a seemingly uncountable number of “quotes” with a sentence or three ripped out from the middle, but with zero representation that more words were ever there. (And in most of these particular deceptions, the simple representation of something excised (. . .) would make the quote fine. There are a lot of these, but they are also the easiest to fix.)

Chapter 10: “I was in a sort of blind rage for two years. [I was e]ither drunk or fighting. **It had been the same with other girlfriends I’d had.** There was something the matter with me.”

And then there are the true buffet bonanzas, words lifted and twisted beyond recognition until they say something brand spanking new.

However, John remembered Paul’s attitude to Brian being very different. John was always emphatic that Paul didn’t want Brian as the Beatles’ manager and presented obstacles to destabilize him, to make his job difficult … like turning up late for meetings. “Three of us chose Epstein. Paul used to sulk and God knows what … [Paul] wasn’t that keen [on Brian]—he’s more conservative, the way he approaches things. He even says that: it’s nothing he denies.”

The Lewisohn Remixes 🍸

And then there are the “paraphrases.” I couldn’t even begin to guess how many of these there are, and often they aren’t even paraphrases, but whole new Mark Lewisohn re-interpretations with quotation marks slapped around them. But if you don’t check, you probably won’t know, because like this Lewisohn rewrite of a well-known Mrs. Harrison quote, there’s a good chance you’ll recognize the bulk of it, making it less likely that you’ll catch the scalpel work excising Paul. And while I don’t want to get caught in the nooks and crannies of intent in an example like this one I have to say, just this once, that what has to be a purposeful excising of Paul to create a slightly new quote on one side, combined with a badly acted, bad faith—(or bad scholar)—“Where was Paul when John’s mom died?” on the other, is par for the course.

George Harrison’s mom’s made up Lewisohn rephrase which coincidentally removes Paul from the imagery.] ❦ LEWISOHN:“ Asked some years later to describe how he’d been able to help John cope with the loss of Julia, Paul could remember nothing of the period at all. It could be they didn’t see much of each other in the summer of 1958. John was working at the airport, and Paul and George went on holiday together—adventurous for boys of 16 and 15. But Louise Harrison would recall how she encouraged George to visit John at Mendips, “so he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts.” ❦ DAVIES: “They were still practicing a lot at George’s house, the only house where they got endless hospitality and encouragement. . . . I forced George to go round and see him, to make sure he still went off playing in their group and just didn’t sit and brood. They all went through a lot together, even in those early days, and they always helped each other.”

Why do you have to slice and dice and reconstitute people’s words? No writer, and certainly no historian, should ever feel empowered to take words from a historical figure from two or three different places and topics and times, splice them together, and tell us, “Winston Churchill said this.” No he didn’t! Why are you so intent on changing the words of the people you’re writing about? What’s wrong with just using two different quotes?

You cannot take two or three quotes from two or three or even four separate statements, stick them between one set of quotation marks and say John or Paul or George or Joe Smith said this.

No they didn’t. They never said that. Why do you want me to think they did??

All these words are Abraham Lincoln’s, but this is not a Lincoln quote:

“Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it be true or not, I can say for one that I have no other so great as that of — making a most discreditable exhibition of myself.”

(I kept it ridiculous, although I didn’t have to.)

But I want you, the reader, to be saying to yourself, “Okay, enough already. I get it!” Because in the last few days I have wandered too far into the weeds too many times and written far too many words detailing the multiplicity of ways Mr. Lewisohn does violence to each and every law of reporting historical facts, and could write many more. And I will post a more detailed list of the crimes against the quote that I am charging Mark Lewisohn with as we go forward, but I don’t think we need that now. The fact is that every fair-minded person knows what quotation marks represent, and there is no more fair-minded group of people than serious Beatles fans and scholars. And it is those fair-minded scholars who I want most to hear me. Whether you’ve written books or host a podcast or just know that you know a whole lot of stuff and take seriously your part of the trust in preserving the truth about The Beatles for us and future generations, it is you I am really talking to. My Cicero quoting-freaks. The ones who care about getting it right.

“The chief, the only, aim of style is to put facts in a clear light, with no concealment.” - Lucian of Samosata

⁠What footnotes can do, and what footnotes can’t.

You can list multiple sources in a single footnote. That’s not only fine, it’s correct. If I want to tell part of a story based on several sources, that often means several sources in a footnote. But not for one, single quote.

The problem isn’t the footnote, it’s the bioengineered quote on the page that you swept under a footnote hoping I wouldn’t notice.

Which leads us to what a footnote is not. A footnote is not a post-hoc fixative for your textual sins. You cannot do whatever you want as long as you confess it in a footnote. A footnote is not a magic spell. A footnote is not the universally understood symbol for “I have my fingers crossed behind my back.” You cannot fix lies and misrepresentations in the footnotes. Footnotes aren’t for trying to chase down three different sources to match up which part of a manufactured “quote” someone said on which date. Footnotes are not the picture on the front of a puzzle box. I should not need to find corner pieces to figure out which of these George Harrison words were actually spoken together.

Footnotes are a truthful and independently verifiable record of primary sources. It’s that simple.

And taking Mark Lewisohn completely out of the picture for a moment, I feel sure we can all agree that neither John Lennon nor Paul McCartney nor George Harrison nor Ritchie Starkey would want anyone rearranging their words as if they were guitar chords. You wouldn’t take three-quarters of Penny Lane and one-quarter of Across the Universe, put them together and call it a Beatles‘ song. So don’t take three quarters of John to Jann Wenner and one-quarter of John to Lisa Robinson, put them together and call it a Beatle’s quote.

MY PERSONAL STANDARD IS THAT IF SOMEONE REPRESENTS, “A BEATLE SAID THIS,” IT BETTER DAMN WELL BE SOMETHING A BEATLE SAID.

None of the Beatles, dead or alive, would be cool with their words being taken out of context at all, let alone two or three different statements on god knows what being combined into one. This isn’t hard, though. Use two or three separate quotation marks, and don’t take statements out of context. Don’t mix and match their words, but don’t twist them, either. If a person said something, it is the historian’s duty to represent those words to the best of your ability, and then use them to tell a factual story focused on what you feel is important. Staying true to the original words and true to their meaning. If you can’t use those words without twisting them, then change your story to fit their words, not the other way around. If their statement helps tell the story your way, use it! For goodness sake, John Lennon said at least two opposing things about almost every topic on earth, so there should be enough to choose from without being deceptive. I actually want the truth. Don’t you?

Biography is story based around accurately represented, trustworthy and verifiable facts. And look, Beatles fans, whoever your favorite is: we are not going to get the truth about his history if we don’t learn to take these things seriously. Let’s have—if not high standards—at least the lowest generally accepted standards. In the mid-term we need a lot more Beatles scholars with a lot more points of view, and now—right now—we need experienced Beatles scholars to prioritize searching out and finding smart, interested people to mentor. And we simply must ensure that we aren’t allowing to solidify into stone “facts” that are not facts and statements no one ever made. I don’t think any honest Beatles fan—(which rounds up to all of them)—wants any question around that issue.

The record is the most important thing. Now, and always. This is not about John versus Paul. John versus Paul may live on always in our hearts, but for Beatles history, it’s the wrong question. I’d rather someone be up front about their loves, but in the end the focus should be on representing the primary facts in their most pristine form. Love who you love most, but place truth above all. Pristine facts. Pristine quotes. Nothing hidden. Nothing misrepresented.

Let the historical actors speak for themselves. That is their right.

And the historian’s duty.

NEXT, WE DISSECT A MONSTER.

Final note: I became frustrated and (maybe strangely) offended by Lewisohn's obscene pretenses in 2020, but my frustrations were nebulous and unfocused until this incredible AKOM series. I feel much better now. Angrier. But better. They worked their asses off. 🥂

#lewisohn #akom #the beatles #tune in #fine tuning #frankenquotes #lewisohn's monsters #historiography #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #mark lewisohn #a beatle never said that #beatles #brian epstein #allen klein #Spotify

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