#stranded: alien dawn

[steamsalenotifier]

There is currently a multi-game sale for various games from the publisher 'Froniter'.

The discount varies quite a bit per game, so I recommend checking out the prices yourself. However, many of them are quite significant, as seen here (in USD, as usual):

There are also quite a number of discounts available that I haven't shown here, for DLCs for a few of the games shown above. So even if you already own them, but think you may be interested in buying additional content for those games, it may be worth looking into!

I am unsure as to when exactly this promotion ends, as the main page for the promotion gives no info, and on the pages for the individual games it shows, uh....

This..... However, regardless- if anyone is interested in checking this out, be sure to take a look A.S.A.P. !!!!

[kayasurin]

Technically the last game I played Sandrock, and also the last character I wrote about is Sandrock, HOWEVER I also recently played Stranded: Alien Dawn so... Logan, Mi-An, Unsuur, and PC have to deal with crash landing on an alien (desert) world.

At least the desert's familiar? Pity Qi wasn't in the last chapter, he could've done research...

The last character you drew/wrote about is now stuck in the last game you played. How screwed are they?

[pudding-parade]

Some pics from Stranded: Alien Dawn, because I discovered that it has a photo mode. LOL

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

If the new “Indiana Jones” game ends up being amazing and considered on par with the original trilogy, then there’s really no excuse for people not considering video games as a respectable form of media. Obviously, gamers have been saying this for years. But for non-gamers/people who don’t consider games as “art”, just consider this:

1) One of the most successful shows on HBO, both in viewership and critical acclaim, is “The Last of Us”, which is mostly faithful to the original game.

2) You have modern games being treated as if they were movie/TV productions (example: “Until Dawn”, which pulled in high-profile actors such as Rami Malek, Hayden Panettiere, and Peter Stormare).

3) Creators not usually associated with video games have been crossing over. Off the top of my head, Guillermo del Toro was supposed to be a co-creator in the cancelled “Silent Hills” game. He then got involved with “Death Stranding”. Then there’s James Gunn who wants to produce video games that’ll be important to his new DC universe. (EDIT: Also want to add, George R. R. Martin was a writer for “Elden Ring”!)

4) Video games are inspiring creators outside of the gaming industry. For example, the Duffer brothers cited “Silent Hill” as an influence for “Stranger Things”.

Now if the Indy game is a success, then we’ll have a video game sequel, along the lines of “Alien: Isolation”, that is potentially superior to the actual movie sequels (only talking about 4 and 5). And who knows, maybe this might lead to more creators believing that video games could be the right way to go to continue a franchise, especially if their recent movies have been flopping. I can definitely think of a few franchises that would benefit from this (coughTerminatorcough).

I feel like if you were to say “the video game sequel is superior to the movie sequel” a few years back, you would’ve been ridiculed to death.

[adollt]

Games I've played since I've been offline. Aka my PC broke n poor so repairs not happening soon.

Consoles are fun for casual gaming

Assassin's Creed Black flag: its pretty fun, I mean you don't get your own crew that you can call for help but like it's got some themings of assassins but I wasn't enough to get me to fin

Assassin's Creed origins; I did the first area and then a couple missions after it and it just really wasn't what I was looking for I mean it feels like a solid game I guess but not really an assassin game especially when I think about brotherhood and you know calling in other assassins.

Fallout 4; on survival difficulty it's actually fun I've always left it to be an ex's game Glad I finally tried it. I'm hella invested into my dumb lil playthrough

Persona 5 royal; about to get to the halfway mark on hard and it's been pretty fun I'm not as emotionally invested as I was with 4 though. And on a side note my mom saw me playing five and now she's playing four because I got it on her switch years ago and she's now in her first dungeon lol.

Dynasty warriors 9 maybe I need to try it on a new console because lag lag lag lag. And here I had some decent hopes for it

Dynasty warriors 8 empires; ah dude if I had as much free time as I used to have I would totally be making a 50 character custom roster to make a custom army because it was actually fun you know for what a tactics dynasty warriors is.

Dying light 2; I got about an hour in but I don't think I really care for parkour mechanics maybe I would like it in co-op. I did not enjoy parkour combat whatever it was and hitting a perfect block or parry or w8r.

I also tried bannerlord for console and it's fucking dog water

Surviving; The aftermath: wow I finally got to try one of the surviving series lines and uh... It was not fun. It wasn't properly fixed for consoles for the UI and in my opinion was quite jank

On the contrary

Stranded; alien Dawn has fucking exceeded my expectations of what a strategy survival can be on console as the UI is easy to use on controller and I have played quite a bit of it and excited to play more

Oh and I also tried Bloodborne again just really is not for me I really like dark souls 3 though. I even got good at the combat at least for the first 3 areas

[threepiecechickendinner]

Crash landing on an alien planet (rude) and rediscovering enough technology to get the eff back off.

[neona]

I love when I wait long enough and get stuff I wanted from humble monthly

[nsomniacsdream]

I've got like 600 hours in stranded alien dawn and the new update introduced drones as a late game addition and holy shit they're the greatest. Super fast and for a smaller sized group, 90 percent of their activity is just moving things around. Thus freeing your dudes up to actually do things instead of carrying wood. Great addition! I think the patch notes said rhere were robots too. I'm gonna try to get those. My only thought is that they should be available sooner, their effect on colony health is so great. By the time you get them (if you're playing for escape) you should be in the very last stages of endgame.

Edit: oh, the robots are an expansion, that you have to buy.

[eddiesxangel]

Be Quiet Darling | Eric x Reader

Cw: aqpdo, porn with an end of the world plot. Oral (m receiving), p in v, use of breeding, no use of pronouns for reader but reader has breasts and a vagina.

Wc: 2k

The city loomed in darkness; its once vibrant streets were now shrouded in an oppressive shade of gray. Following the invasion of New York City, layers of ash and soot blanketed every surface. Despite the efforts of millions to escape, a few thousand souls remained trapped within its confines.

You were among the few thousand who were not so lucky to be stranded in the city, hiding underground in the basements and parking garages.

The bunker was the only place you could call home. It was a sealed-off parking garage located on the lower levels of a towering skyscraper. Months had passed since you had seen the light of day, and the absence of natural light had become the new normal. Quietness enveloped the bunker, and you longed for the sounds of the outside world. Anything but the rumbles of the military battling those creatures. Those aliens who had ultrasonic hearing could still hear you even though you were deep in the ground.

Even if you couldn't speak, you bonded with the people around you, mainly the law student you met named Eric. He had made an impression on you. An ever-growing crush was forming, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. The world was ending, but Eric was in your mind twenty-four-seven. You wanted to be near him; you longed to hear his voice; you wanted him to hold you and tell you everything would work out, that you’d escape this place and live happily ever after with the white picket fence.

Only in your fantasy would that happen, but it was nice to hold onto that dream as you learned the military was on its way to the last remaining survivors. They radioed the bunker to say it wouldn’t be easy, and you may die as the death angels were waiting and hunting still. There were thousands of them in New York State; even up north near the Canadian border was invaded.

The plan was to move everyone at dawn; it was going smoothly, and you and Eric stuck together throughout the march. Holding hands as you silently made your way through the rubbled streets that once held so much life, then the worst happened. Someone sneezed, and they were on you in an instant. Eric pulled you, and you ran with him. Neither of you knew where you were going; the subway was your best bet. You found a staircase that wasn’t barricaded and stumbled your way down as quietly as possible.

It must have been hours. You and Eric were hiding in an isle of an abandoned shop, munching on a bag of cookies that hadn’t been broken. Half an hour ago, you heard the sirens warning you to stay put. It sounded awful in the streets above. The sounds of guns and bombs, the shrieks of the creatures, echoed through the underground tunnels.

You mouthed, “I’m scared,” tears breaching your lash lines.

Eric nods, and you can see his eyes are wet before he reaches over and cups your head into the crook of his neck. You both silently cry before you lift your head and do the unthinkable at a time like this. You kiss him.

Surprisingly, Eric kisses you back, but you’ll take anything from him that he will give.

The moment your lips touched, you felt his weight sink into you, like he wanted this just as badly as you did. You desperately wanted Eric to hold you, tell you everything would be okay, and protect you from the abovementioned monsters.

Your hands found his waistband and tugged on the belt loops to pull you in closer. You knew it would be so stupid to do anything else; you could die in an instant, but your primal need to procreate and survive was taking over.

His hands grabbed your waist as he pulled you closer to him as well, so close you could feel how hard his cock had gotten. You both have wanted this for so long, but you dare not utter a sound as the passion grew stronger.

Your hands bravely went lower, and Eric pulled away, looking at you with those eyes that make your heart race. He bobbed slowly to confirm this was okay, and you slowly pulled the zip to make as little noise as possible.

Eric’s chest fell up and down with each breath of anticipation as he watched you so close to where he wanted you to touch him the most. Through all of this madness, he had fallen deep and had for you and yearned for your affection. All he wanted was to hold you, for you to tell him that it would be okay, that you both would survive this and live happily ever after.

You fold down his dress pants and hold back a giggle when you see his cowboy boxers. He rolls his eyes in embarrassment; of course, these were the only other pair of underwear he could find this morning. However, that didn’t deter you from kissing him deeply. You kissed him passionately, letting your tongue slip past his plush pink lips as your hand ran the outline of his cock through his corny boxers. His endearing ways made you want him much more now that you’re alone, hiding from what was above.

Eric wanted to let out a moan so badly when your fingertip grazed the head of his cock through the thin cotton. He was already leaking so much precum there was a little wet patch that had formed. You circled it with your thumb before you slipped your hand under the waistband and pulled it out.

The lighting in the small store was dim, but your eyes had adjusted so you could see what you were working with. You smiled to yourself as you observed the thick shaft in your hands. Your pussy clenched around nothing as visions of him stretching you out flooded your thoughts.

“So big,” you mouthed, and Eric bashfully looked down, shaking his head. You hooked your index finger under his chin for him to look at you again, and you nodded yes while biting your lip.

You don’t break eye contact as you sink down to take him in your mouth.

The moment your hot, wet tongue touches his head with a kitten lick, he has his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise he was about to make. You would have begged him to hear those moans in any other situation, but you’ll now yearn in silence.

You want to praise him, tell him how good he was for being so quiet, and tell him how strong and handsome he is.

Eric ran his hand over the top of your head, gripping your hair l, surprising you a little. Your soft sweet teddy bear of a man taking a little bit of charge on how you sucked his cock was so hot. He only puts a little pressure on your head to take him further and releases the tension when you take him the furthest you can. The velvety walls of his shaft guided against your tongue so smoothly that you loved feeling him in your mouth. You couldn’t wait for him to split open your pussy.

A small gasp escaped his throat that sounded like a “fuck,” but you stopped and froze in place to make sure that nothing heard it.

You looked at him through your lashes, and he mouthed a “sorry.”

You pulled up off him, and he thought he had ruined it, thought you no bother trusted him to continue, but when he saw you were unbuttoning your jeans and lifting up your top, he relaxed his tense shoulders.

“Please,” you mouthed, as sores your legs wide for him to come between. You wanted to feel him inside of you, and you didn’t know how much longer you had.

Eric nodded his head percussively as he crawled towards you, and you lay down, resting your head on an unopened cardboard box.

You hold in a moan as Eric kisses your exposed body. He started at your lips and worked his way down your neck, to your shoulders, to your breasts, staying as he paid close attention to each nipple. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes as he sucked and flicked your sensitive buds. Your pussy grew wetter by the seconds as he kissed your tummy and stopped right above the tufts of hair that led to your needy pussy. You wanted nothing more than to have him go down on you, but your need to be filled was stronger.

You shake your head before he can move an inch closer, and he looks at you in confusion. Eric knows he gives amazing head. He wants to feel you cuming on his tongue for him, to taste him, but when he sees your plead for him to fuck you, he can’t say no.

You watch as Eric nods and aligns his cock yo to your entrance. You watch his face as he slowly sinks into you, your pussy aiming him in so tight that he lets his mouth fall open but doesn’t dare let out a sound as you kiss him. With an elbow propped up beside your head, he takes your face in the other as he ungulates his hips to thirst up into you with such precision.

The way he slowly rolled his hips so that he couldn’t make a sound made you want to cry out. It felt so good. You haven’t felt good in weeks. You slowly leaked a few tears as it was all so much to handle. You break as you hold back a sniffle, and Eric kisses your tears away; he coos you silently, whispering so lowly that he’s got you, that you’re doing so well for him, how you’re taking his cock so good.

You wanted to beg him to fill you with his cum, that you’ll be so good for him, that you love him, that he’s all you have left in this world. You want to be his so severely that it hurts. Even now, as his hips roll into yours, as his cock is hitting that spot deep up inside you, you want to scream that you want him to mark you, claim you, breed you.

But you can’t. All you can do is kiss him and pull him in closer; your feet wrap around him, making his thrusts sharper as your pussy clamps down on his thick hard cock that is making you see stars.

Your wet pussy threatens to echo throughout the tunnels of the subway, but Eric slows down and reaches down between you to circle your clit. You let in a sharp breath as he massages your swollen bud. You’re so close you can feel it. You stare at him, not daring to look away to break you into reality.

Right now, it was you and him. Nothing else mattered. You both needed this to feel something other than fright and loneliness.

As you unfold for him, you and Eric stare into one another’s eyes. A silent scream of pleasure doesn’t dare leave your throat, but you let your jaw fall open and arch up into your orgasm. Eric wants to tell you so badly that you did so good for him that your pussy feels so delicious as you cum on his cock. The way you clamp down on him has his head spinning as well, your hot spend coating his cock, making your wet walls all that much warmer, tighter and wetter for him. He can’t help but release himself deep inside of you.

With heavy breath, you both lay there in silence, unable to say anything, but you both know that it was good, great, fantastic sex. Eric kisses you again for confirmation, and you gladly roll your hips into his softening cock before he pulls out.

What could be between the two of you with words could be amazing, but for now, this is what you have to survive.

[therapyandprozac]

Title: Eager Are We?

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY minors DNI)

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: Consent king, size kink, slight angst, honorifics, light dom/sub, spanking, fingering w/ four fingers, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, gun kink, cream pie, dirty talk, canon typical violence, mentions of masterbation, fluffy snuggly ending

Description: You make him lose a collar and he accepts another form of payment. Or Din finally has an excuse to make a move after months in way too tight quarters. Or Din being a pleasure dom. Take your pick, they’re all true🙈

A/N: Did not intend on the size kink but…it’s here(You could say Din is packing more than just an arsenal…😏that’s the only pun I promise hehe😜) ANYWAY smutty smut smut, more plot than i usually write but its just Din teasing the reader through the scope of his sniper rifle. There’s so much in this, I’m sorry or you’re welcome depending on what you think about it. Heed the warnings and enjoy!

“Dank Farrik!” He shouts as a green sludge covered alien escapes his sight and slips into an alley and disappears into the morning dawn. You step on a stick alerting it to your location and it bolts. “You!” He turns on his heels and points at you, you want to bury yourself into the sands of this dune covered planet. “Ship now.” He says no further words and just walks past you. The long way back, he remains in complete silence, nothing, while you apologize fervently in the blank mirror of his visor the whole way back.

“Mando I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching what was under my boot, it’ll never happen again. Please don’t ditch me, this is my best and favorite gig.” He stays silent and you attempt to do the same, but as you approach the ship you break again. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you! I love the kiddo and this apprentice-ship.” You trail off placing your hand on the Razer Crest followed by your forehead. Mando lowers the ramp and prepares her for boarding, when he’s finished he comes up behind you.

“Instantly assumed I’d abandon you?” His voice is laced with disappointment, but it doesn’t seem to be pointed at you.

“Maybe not stranded, but definitely not with you anymore.” You say under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re too hard on yourself, there’s no need for it. I know it’ll never happen again,” he puts his gloved finger under your chin and forces you to look into his visor, letting a pause sit in this air. “You’re not going to let it. You know how many womprats have asked to apprentice with me? While I do admit your beauty was a minor factor in my final decision.” Your heart flutters as he continues. “Your work in the field is why you’re here, you are a natural bounty hunter. It is my honor to train you through all of it, even the mistakes, especially the ones that we all make.” His voice is modulated but solid and secure looking down at you.

“How do you always know what to say?” You want to reach out and hug him, wondering what it would feel like to feel his cool chest plate against your cheek. A tear falls from your eye but before it can even pass your lips a gloved hand the size of your face gently absorbs the droplet and rubs his thumb pad against your cheek in sweet sweeping motions. When he doesn’t pull his hand away you make a spur decision to wrap your arms as far around his frame as you can. He sighs from deep within himself, you can’t tell if it’s relief, anger, or something else. Soon his arms are wrapped around your back holding you firmly against his beskar.

“Now that you know your position here is secure.” He pauses and asks a devious question. “You said you’d do anything to make it up to me,” Lifting up your eyes to catch his visor in your gaze, he continues. “Did you mean that?” His voice drops as his fingers traces delicate lines on your arm.

“Of course Mando.”

“Din. You may call me by my name, please. Off this ship I’m still Mando, understand?” His voice hardens by the end of the sentence making you realize how soft and genuine the beginning of his statement was.

“I will guard your name with my life, Din.” His name sat perfectly in your mouth.

“Good girl.” His voice was laced with that gravel, making you think of something else that would fit just perfectly in your mouth. Your eyes travel down his body taking in the beskar clad hunk of a man in front of you. He reaches his hand into one of many pockets and gives you a small pink vibrator keeping a small matching remote in his gloved hand. You can feel the smirk hidden beneath his helmet even though you can’t see it.

“You go to the market, I’ll watch you through my rifle, playing with and teasing you.” He toys with the object in his hand. “When I’m satisfied you’ll come back to complete your payment, understood?” The echo from his voice modulator made you want to drop to your knees right there.

“Yes sir.” You purr as he hands you a com unit and spins you toward your living quarters.

“20 minutes.” He utters walking toward where Grogu is sleeping in the cockpit of the ship, you smirk as a giant ball of anxiety forms in your core. If this is what he wants, you can play too, opening your dressing trunk for a semblance of control.

A short skirt won’t stand out too bad on a desert planet you think to yourself while forming your outfit. Gazing into the mirror you look yourself up and down satisfied with your ensemble. Long legs in cloth wrapping with a deep brown skirt that barely covers your ass, a shirt that hugs you in all the right ways and a cloak shorter than the skirt. You spin on a dime and love the way the skirt spins, exposing you more than slightly. You tuck the little vibrator into your pale pink panties, turning it on but setting it to 0 before you do. Walking out of the curtained off area you approach the cockpit, a large intimidating chair with a silver dome peaking over the top you smile before breaking the ambiance of the ship.

“What do you think?” You say to the back of his helmet, his chair turns around toward you and before you can blink your back slams into the wall behind you. A hand in the center of your chest pins you firmly, before he covers your eyes with his free hand. Moving his first hand from your chest to take off his helmet, you assume, only hearing a light hiss and then the softest lips are mashed against yours. Not in a desperation but in a deep longing of gathered glances, collected giggles, and months of endless flirting.

The give and take of the kiss pulls both ways as neither of you back down. You reach up to touch his hair or head, he could look like anything under there you realize as his tongue is exploring your mouth. He blocks your hand and shoves you back against the wall, apparently your ‘give and take’ had more give than either of you had realized as your head hits the wall again. He moves your own hand from his hip to cover your own eyes, as his hand remains glued to your chest.

“Meshla, I will never look unless you wish for me to.” You drop your hand to your side revealing eyes both gently but firmly pressed closed. The pressure from the hand on your chest softens for a moment before lips meet yours for multiple soft and sweet kisses before he licks his way into your mouth. You’ve kissed him before but never like this, if this is what is in store for the day you’re happy it’s only 9am. With a light hiss, silver matches your freshly open eyes.

“There’s my sweet boy.” Taking his metal covered cheek in your hand, gazing into your warped reflection has never felt so warm. His hand rests on your back before caressing your ass with his fabric adorned hands, gently slapping your ass pushing you into his chest.

“Okay, temptress,” He hisses punctuated with another, more aggressive slap.

“A vendor at the bizzare has a blade he tried to overcharge me for. You’re going to go over there, gorgeous and tempting as hell, and talk him down.”

“Hmm and what do I get if I do?” Drawing out the last vowel, teasing him but not enough, you crave to tease him until he’s screaming your name.

“First your debt will be paid.” His hand dances from your ass around your hip flipping over his hand with surprising delicacy. He runs his gloves against your panties feeling the vibrator. A rumble escapes his chest “Good kitten.”

“You could have asked!” You shout, reaching your hand down to cover his.

“I could have, yes.” He responds, furthering his point by increasing the intensity of his shuffling fingers. You crumble into him, his touch reminding you that you haven’t been with anyone for a number of years and haven’t even masterbated since you got this job. It’s such a small ship and though you hear the echoes of him pleasuring himself booming through the hull multiple times a week, you’ve been too exposed to do anything but squeezing your thighs together, at least Din had living quarters you thought.

“Oh it's too early for that meshla, we have a long day ahead.”

“Wait, wait, Din. Can I have one before I leave for the mission?” A dark modulated laugh in your ear, before the hand with the remote shifts, the vibration starts, and your head rolls forward finding the crook of his neck as you moan. “Oh gods yes,” rolling your hips. “Din please, yes fuck!” Riding his hand you are already almost cumming.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever had unraveling on my fingers.” He whispers and you moan through your first orgasam of the day and in like eleven months. Turning the toy to zero, he keeps his hand to your cunt letting you ride out your blissful aftershocks.

“Been a while huh, sweet thing?” His voice is surprisingly light.

“How could you tell?” You cover your face with your hand.

“I barely touched you and you were writhing in my arms ner cyar’ika, it was both incredibly hot and quite obvious. If you’d like,’ His hand is playing with the turned off toy. “When you come back you’re going to properly take my fingers, meshla.” His words mixed with that voice teases a shudder through your whole body. You stand at full attention. “Eager are we?” You nod shortly, standing tall, hands behind your back. Din makes a mental note of this position and shifts his erection, before lowering the massive door to the outside world. You walk down the ramp step by step feeling his visored gaze on your ever moving body. Hearing the door hiss closed behind you and starting your bee line for the market

“Visual achieved.” A low voice comes through your ear piece.

“Like what you see bounty hunter?” You coo and shake your ass a little bit, hearing him groan, an evil smile covers your face. Looking down the scope of his sniper rifle, your shimmering hair in the breeze and a bright smile adorns your face.

The market is still far enough away that no one is around to see, so you decide to tease Mando. You spin carelessly knowing he’s the only one around to see what you’re showing off. Doing a cartwheel and landing it, you turn around and flip off seemingly nobody, he’s gonna hate that you laugh to yourself.

“You’re going to regret that.” A bass heavy voice rips from your left earpiece, as if on queue.

“Make me daddy.” You whisper under your breath, oh stars you can’t wait for the repercussions of that one. You’ve always had a thing for snipers, there’s something really hot about being in a threatening situation where the person holding the gun is miles away. But it is a whole other damn story when Din is the one behind the scope and trigger.

“Don’t forget, kitten.” The calmness in his voice sent a chill up your spine, immediately followed by the vibrator activating on its low setting.

“Finally! It’s been massaging my clit for the whole walk.” You say between your light whimpers. Finally seeing the market within view you walk through the crowds and ignore the stares and gawks at your ass. Focusing on your task you scan stands and search for the weapon when a man approaches you, he is absolutely filthy, the stench of him burns your nose. His hand is outstretched toward you, as he moves rapidly and with purpose.

“Non lethal, wait.” Knowing he was watching, the orders slipped from your lips with ease, commanding a Mandalorian is soaking your panties. What was not quite as hot was when the man’s finned hand touched your ass. “Fire.” Under your breath, the man's face shifts from horny to confused to expressionless. Not a moment passes before the man clunks onto the floor. “I would’ve taken him down if it wouldn’t have caused a scene.”

“Oh I know sweet thing,” a pause. “I’d pay to see that.” You blush but say nothing, only removing the evidence from the guy’s body. As you do you spot the target at a nearby booth.

“Eyes on the cargo. Guess it’s time to cause a scene.” An evil smirk on your face violently shifts into a wide grimace. “HELP! Help! Medic!” As a man rushes up with a hand raised, a crowd gathers behind you as you continue. “Oh thank the stars!” Intentionally loud your voice carries through the bizarre. “He just collapsed, he approached me and then fell like a stone at my feet.” In your peripheral vision you see your commotion was a success as all of the merchants in their booths had their eyes on you, instead of on all of their potential customers. “Please doctor please help him, I don’t know this man.” You slip through the shuffle as people surround the man on the ground.

“You okay, darling?” A voice from behind you pulls you toward your target, as you turn around. You see a tall lanky human man with the beautiful blade hanging behind him.

“Oh gods that was so scary!” You play him like a fiddle.

“Did you know him?” His voice softens.

“No, he just walked up to me.” You let the panic flow under your words.

“Sounds like a curse,” he backs up slightly.

“Maybe you’re right,” You feign contemplation, looking around his booth as if it was the first time you’d seen it. “I’ve been thinking about a blade, do you think you could provide one for me?”

“Of course sweet thing,” It takes all of your strength to not roll your eyes as he hands you a tiny switchblade. “Something light and delicate for a flower such as yourself.”

“Can I shoot him?” A voice mostly joking comes through your com, making you chuckle under your breath.

“No.” Responding to both men, before continuing with the merchant. “That one.” Pointing to the target, he tries to talk you out of it and reassures you the small one is plenty enough for ‘someone like you.’ Deciding to play into his blatant misogyny you pull your doe eyes and soften your voice. “Please sir, when that man approached me I was so scared and I couldn’t take my eyes off of that blade, I needed it.” Leaning over the makeshift counter you get close to his face. “Haven’t you ever had something you needed, like,” A deep sigh at this angle makes your chest rise with the glow of your skin reflecting the sunlight, the eye contact solidifies the deal. “Desperately needed?” He nods aggressively, blushing like a virgin.

“Y-yes m-ma’am, I do.” He reaches behind him and grabs the weapon. “On the house please.” A gentle smile and misplaced pity underlined his face.

“Thank you, your kindness will never be forgotten.” You turn around in a bee line for the ship. Hearing the man get screamed at by who you assume is or was his boss. “I think he got fired.” You say as you escape the loud sounds of the market.

“For the better, he was weak.” He says blankly, silently nodding in agreement with the man who you believe still has his weapon trained on you. You turn facing where the bizarre disappears behind the horizon and lift your skirt up exposing your ass underneath. “You that desperate sweet one?”

“Just making sure you’re still there, and for you, always.” You say matter of factly, earning another dark chuckle through your ear piece. The huge ship comes into view and you start sprinting, he chuckles watching you get closer before opening the door. “Yes yes I know I'm eager, just kiss me already!” You say holding the blade out to him with wide palms. With a hidden smirk he grasps the blade and tosses it carelessly to the floor. Your eyes go wide as you gasp before smiling and closing them tightly. A familiar hiss before he wastes no time to caress your lips with his, they dance over yours with a deep patience and gentleness.

One of his hands reaches and roams your ass, playing with the hem of your skirt, a second glove covered hand covers your pussy. His middle finger dances over your panties, before you left they were a baby pink, now your panties are a dark pink, soaking and waiting desperately for him. He puts his hand under your ass and lifts you onto a cargo container before spreading your thighs and admiring the sight of the toy bulging.

“I should close this.” A smirk you can hear pulling at one side of his lip as he walks to the control panel and closes the door. You shuffle and squeeze your thighs together as the seam of the hull seals shut. Soft warm light from the interior lights bounces off of his beskar as he saunters back over to you. “Open my love.” His modulator sings as he hums. “You did so good,” His fingers spread over your thighs as he slots himself between your legs. “Close your gorgeous eyes so I can reward you properly.” He finishes, drawing his complete focus to your cunt.

Your eyes pressed firmly closed the already dark environment now completely black, all you can sense is him. His fingers run over your ruined panties and take them off along with the vibrator, while pulling you to the edge of the crate. A familiar hiss makes you desperate for what he has in store. His two large hands hold you in place at the hips and you hear his beskar clad knees hit the floor.

You noticed his facial hair when he kissed you of course but this, so intimate, the fine coarse hairs add something you’ve never had before. As he kisses up your thighs closer and closer to where you want his beautiful full lips. His beard scratches your inner thigh and you can’t hold back the groan, needing him. You feel his smile against your leg and he nibbles at the piece he's currently loving.

Diving into your sweet cunt with a desperation you’ve never seen from him, has he wanted this as much as you have. When you heard the echoes of him masterbating throughout the ship, could he have been thinking about you? The thought makes you need to touch him and appreciate that you can actually, finally touch him, blindly reach down for your crotch and find his soft curly hair.

“Gods yes, Din please.” Grasping at his hair between your fingers and holding him against your cunt, he hums in response. Never slowing down he eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit, unable to hold yourself back your moans echo through the ship. Hearing your voice bounce off the ship makes you blush more than his luxurious tongue sending electric pulses through your spine and limbs. As you cum your hands pull him into you, as your legs wrap fully around his head. Not sure if he can breathe but not really caring as his fingers firmly hold you in place. Sweet kitten licks carry you through the waves of your orgasam.

In one swift motion he picks you up and carries you to his sleeping quarters. Opening your eyes once you hear him situate himself just behind you. Grogu’s hammock has been moved from its usual place above his bed, he thought this through, you smile and crawl in as he extends his hand for you. Once you crawl in you lay on your back, looking at his large figure strip from bottom to top, you follow his lead. When his cock springs free your mouth waters and you spread your legs even if you’re wondering if he’ll fit.

“Oh fuck Din! My eyes are closed, please take me.” You close your eyes groaning and rolling your hips, presenting yourself in a way that should be embarrassing. Wide open and splayed just for him.

“Do you want me to stretch you meshla, use my fingers?” His ungloved fingers wiggle against your thigh in a way that’s both adorable and wildly hot.

“Please.” You clench around nothing, pushing your leg into his hands.

“Want to prep you a little bit.” He coos, his voice unmodulated was new but deeply welcome.

“Thank you, I watched you undress and I wasn’t sure if you’d fit.” You try to press your thighs together and squish the man you didn’t feel get between your legs.

“Naughty girl.” That name makes something melt within you. He presses his hands onto your thighs, spreading you wide just for him.

“I couldn’t see your face cyar’ika, promise.” You swear as three of his large fingers ran through your slick. One finger plunges into you a few times before he adds another, scissoring the two together. Your whines and groans build as he stretches you beautifully.

“Ready for another sweet thing?” He whispers while his third finger toys threateningly with the tight ring of your pussy.

“Gods yes please, Din, more more!” You moan loudly, glad for the closed cabin door that dampens your noise to the outside world. He says nothing until he’s two more fingers simultaneously deep inside of you. Curling his four fingers to that sweet spongy spot that makes your back arch completely off of the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck Din fuck!!” You grunt and groan as his thumb begins tormenting his clit. Every muscle in your body tightens, your hands grasp at his sheets making fists of flesh and fabric.

“Cum for me kitten, around my fingers,” You do as you're told, having been staving off your orgasam thus far. “Such a good girl.” Twisting as much as he’ll allow with both his arms over your legs and one hand buried nearly fist deep within your cunt. His thumb runs gentle circles around your clit, the aftershocks flutter through each of your limbs. His fingers leave your pussy with a groan from both of you, leaving you gaping and ready for his cock.

You want nothing more than to open your eyes and take in the form of the man about to claim you. You keep them sealed shut if you did open them though, you’d see him looking down at you. The corner of his mouth upturned in a crooked smile, eyes warm and full of pride scanning over your whole body. Anticipation and desperation is all he feels as his chest heaves, having given himself no release by this point.

“Din if you don’t fuck me already I’ll kill you.” You say, only mostly joking. His laugh is beautiful unmodulated, the only thing better is his soft whispers in your ear as he is suddenly on top of you. His hand snakes down your skin to pull you drag the tip of his cock against your clit over and over.

“I’d like to see you try.” He purrs against your ear.

“You know I could,” You pant as he positions his dick where you’ve been yearning for him. “please!” He teases his tip in nice and slow, watching you intently, when he sees no pain he lets go.

“I think you’d get the closest.” He bottoms out with a hollow grunt while you shout and moan, all consumed by the sensation of him so deep inside you. His fingers were slightly wider than his shaft but lengthwise his cock is twice as long as his fingers. He fits in easier, still tight but not as painful as it could have been. Hopeful for a round two where he just rips you open without any foreplay, snapping back to reality, rolling your hips as you whimper under him.

Again if you were to open your eyes you’d see his wide brown eyes staring down at where he’s disappearing into you, skirt up around your waist, his hands grasping the fabric tight to your skin. Pulling you onto him just as much as he is thrusting into you, either way you’re more full than you’ve ever been in your life. He puts your legs up on his shoulders and resorts to just pummeling your pussy, you cum hard around him but he shows no sign of fatigue.

He slots his elbows on the bed just above your shoulders, you’re completely encased in him. His smell envelops you and you feel your hips involuntarily grinding on him again despite your overstimulation. He makes deliberate use of this compromising position and uses his elbows to hold you in place, his hips give no pause as he relentlessly fucks into you. He’s put you in a place where you can’t escape. Every thrust pushes your body up and immediately into his strong triceps, leaving you nowhere to go but further back onto his cock.

“I’m close, cyar’ika. Where do you want me to-,” He can’t even finish the question before you wrap your legs behind him, locking your ankles, squeezing him tighter.

“In me, please daddy.” That same dark chuckle from earlier only now unmodified, nothing coming between you, with a newly forming hickey on your pulse point.

“You sure kitten?” He pants, when you just nod furiously. “Words my meshla.” he states.

“Please gods fill me, make me yours Din!” No further conversation is needed, you’re so close, he growls burying his head into your neck. He resumes his rapid, almost rabid thrusting into your already sore cunt. “Fuck Din don’t stop, almost.”

“Let go baby I’ve got you,” He buttons his comment by pushing your shoulders down further, you’ve never felt so safe yet so utterly exposed to one person. “so good for me sweet girl.” He coos while his cock ripped so perfectly against your walls, pulling your final orgasam of the night out of you. A string of curses you couldn’t begin to understand flow off his tongue as he cums deep inside you, you squeeze around him desprate for every drop of him. He kisses your chest as he lets his body rest on top of you fucked out blissfully.

“Wait,” You whisper as he tries to pull out.

“Yes kitten?” He asks, his cock spent and softening slowly inside you.

“Don’t want it to end, don’t want to wake up tomorrow without you.”

“Love if you’ll let me, you’ll never wake up alone again.” He says, you can tell his eyes are on your face, when you smile he pulls out of you. Snuggling in next to you he laughs before saying “If you kept me in there any longer i was gonna have to fuck you again.” You groan playfully, snuggling and crawling onto him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You ask him, without seeing his eyes drift close with you on his bare chest.

“Since the first time I saw you in a skirt. It was at a bar on your day off. I left early, couldn’t stop imagining,” He pauses and you wish you could see the images he’s clearly seeing in his head. “You stretched wide around my cock, skirt teasing glances at your ass.” His thoughts and voice ebb and flow as he slips in and out of consciousness. Making a mental note to wear skirts more often. “Couldn’t sleep last night, we rest for a while?” His voice is just a whisper, you smirk as you snuggle into the bulky man.

“Guess I chose the right outfit. Sleep long and deep my dear Din.” You smirk to yourself before falling asleep, already picking out what skirt you’re going to wear tomorrow in your head.

___

My longest fic to date, let me know what you thought 💖

[teddiee]

Into Each Life: Chapter 12

Summary:

“Tony,” Bucky says carefully.

Tony doesn’t answer immediately, too busy trying to breathe through the sudden, searing cramp in his lower abdomen. The sharp tang of his own scent—sweet and ripe—tickles his nose, and the realization hits him like a freight train.

“Oh, no,” Tony moans.

Words: 13,933

Explicit Content: 18+

The world outside the window is still wrapped in the deep indigo of pre-dawn when Tony wakes.

He stirs. His lashes flutter as he blinks blearily, his vision hazy from sleep. His mind is foggy—caught in the delicate space between sleep and wakefulness—but it takes two slow, orienting breaths to realize his cheek is pressed against the warm, golden plane of Bucky’s bare stomach.

Tony feels like he’s moving through molasses, his limbs sluggish and weighted. Even the simple act of opening his eyes feels like a monumental feat until the faint tick of the clock on the bedside table anchors him in the present.

5:54 a.m.

He takes a brief, necessary moment to acclimate to his surroundings.

A thin blanket is pushed low on his hips, his own chest bare and his skin warm. His scent lingers in the sheets, stronger in places where he and Bucky had tangled together during the night—reminders of the hours that passed in a blur of sweat, whispered promises, and Bucky’s soothing, hypnotizing drawl.

It’s like a thunderclap in his chest. The memory of it rushes in with a startling clarity that makes his breath hitch.

The hazy fragments of the night stitch themselves together—the way Bucky had touched him, the way his hands had soothed and coaxed and held.

Color floods Tony’s cheeks as he remembers how he’d melted into Bucky’s touch. How he had whimpered and begged in a way that felt both alien and horrifically inevitable.

The fragmented flashes of memory send his heart pounding.

The sound of his own voice, desperate and needy, crying out for Bucky; the feel of Bucky’s hands steadying his hips, guiding him through the waves of intensity; the rasp of Bucky’s voice murmuring in his ear, “You’re so good for me, Tony. So perfect.”

He cuts the traitorous thought off with a sharp inhale, clenching his teeth on his bottom lip to steady himself and suppress the strangled, muffled groan that rises in his chest.

So much for remaining calm, cool, and collected.

Tony barely suppresses a flinch as Bucky stirs beneath him. The Alpha’s hand slides up from his bare back, fingers curling into the mussed strands of Tony’s hair. The touch is slow, almost absent-minded, sending an involuntary shudder down Tony’s spine.

“You’re thinkin’ too hard,” Bucky murmurs, words rough with sleep. His eyes are still closed. When Tony blinks up at him, his lips quirk faintly like he’s caught Tony in the middle of something. “I can hear you from here.”

Tony freezes, his face burning hot, though he doesn’t know whether it’s from embarrassment or the warmth blooming low in his stomach.

“I’m not—” he starts, his voice cracking awkwardly—Christ—but Bucky cuts him off with a soft hum, his fingers working gently through Tony’s disheveled locks.

“Sure you’re not,” Bucky drawls, his tone teasing but warm, a quiet rumble that seems to settle right under Tony’s skin. His hand pauses to scratch lightly at Tony’s scalp, the lazy rhythm as soothing as it is disarming. “You always get that little crease right here—” His thumb grazes Tony’s forehead, just above his brow. “—when your brain’s spinnin’ too fast. Relax, sweetheart. Stop panicking. You don’t gotta figure it all out right now.”

“I’m not panicking,” Tony says stupidly, though Bucky's solid, delectable torso muffles his words. The resulting small puffs of air cause the Alpha’s abdominal muscles to jump and twitch beneath him.

Bucky doesn’t push, just keeps threading his fingers through Tony’s hair like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s not purposefully lulling Tony back into a soft, pliant headspace. “You don’t have to think so hard about last night, either,” he says after a beat, softer now, almost raspy. “We were good, weren’t we? You and me? That’s all that matters.”

Tony’s mind feels woolly, slow to piece itself together, and his body aches faintly in the way it always does at the tail end of his heat. He doesn’t answer, not right away, his chest tight with the weight of his chaotic, spiraling thoughts. He rests against the smooth expanse of Bucky’s bare skin, his cheek pressed close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of the Alpha’s breathing.

“Yeah, we were good,” Tony says quietly.

His voice is small and still raspy from sleep, but there’s a lingering edge to it that betrays his unease.

Even now, when Bucky’s hands are gentle and unhurried. Even now, when everything is quiet and safe, and the thought of what happened still twists his gut in a way he can’t quite shake off.

Bucky’s hand drifts from Tony’s hair, fingertips trailing lightly down his neck to rest at the base of his skull.

The contact is gentle, deliberate, like Bucky’s trying to coax him into something, though Tony’s sluggish brain hasn’t quite figured out what.

Either way, it’s grounding. Like always.

Tony sinks into the steady warmth of Bucky’s hand on the back of his neck, and he feels a jolt of tension dissipate as Bucky’s thumb starts to massage small circles there, just above his shoulder blades. He swallows down his moan.

Tony doesn’t know how long he stays there, pressed against Bucky’s body, but it feels like a small eternity. His heart is still racing, his body a live wire, and he’s hyper-aware of every shift of muscle beneath him.

But then Bucky’s hand slides up and down his back, broad and sure, his thumb brushing in soothing arcs along Tony’s spine.

“You know,” Bucky says, low and easy, “if you keep fidgetin’ like that, a fella’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Tony lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh, burying his face into Bucky’s toned stomach. “Don’t encourage me,” he mumbles.

“Encouragin’ you is my favorite thing,” Bucky counters smoothly. His fingers drift back to Tony’s neck, tracing idle patterns that somehow make Tony feel lightheaded and more flustered all at once.

Bucky’s still in his underwear. Tony is too, if the familiar touch of damp fabric clinging to his thighs is any indication. The thin white cotton of Bucky’s boxers does little to conceal his erection—not having softened once since dragging a heat-fueled Tony into his bedroom after supper last night.

Tony peers down at the tented fabric—erect, imposing, a small wet patch where the tip strains against cotton—and conspicuously squirms under the blanket. He licks his lips and rubs his own thighs together.

That warm, tight feeling still lingers. Unmistakable as it pulses low in his belly,

Sure, it’s noticeably muted compared to the inferno that had consumed him just days ago. His skin doesn’t feel like it’s on fire, and he’s not choking on the overwhelming sweetness of his own scent. This isn’t the all-consuming demand for an Alpha’s presence that had left him clinging to his bed sheets, dizzy and desperate.

But still, it’s heightened in a way that makes his breath hitch and his pulse stutter. There’s a new edge to his constant state of fluctuating arousal—something sharper, more focused.

It’s not just his heat. It’s heat and Bucky.

A spark in his veins that only exists after experiencing the press of strong hands against his hips. After shuddering under the low rasp of Bucky’s voice, coaxing his body through mind-blowing relief at an Alpha’s hands for the very first time.

Tony's chest hitches slightly, the flutter in his belly spreading outward, warmth pooling deep in his core. It’s a slow flare, but it’s there, building as Bucky’s fingers continue to work at the sensitive spot on the back of his neck, sending electricity down his spine.

He shifts slightly, trying to ease the ache blooming low in his stomach, and the friction sends a small, unbidden whine tumbling from his lips. He swallows hard, feeling his flush creep down his neck, his body betraying him in the most inconvenient fucking way possible.

He was just starting to find a sliver of calm, too, but his blood spikes and reacts to Bucky’s touch like it’s still in the crux of his heat. To his scent, thick and earthy in the air around them; to his voice, still rough with sleep as it curls into Tony’s ear; to the way his hands never stop their soothing rhythm, even though Tony knows he can feel the minute shift in pressure as Tony’s scent swells.

Bucky stiffens beneath him, the hand in Tony’s hair faltering for the briefest second before resuming its slow, soothing rhythm.

“Tony,” Bucky says carefully.

Tony doesn’t answer immediately, too busy trying to breathe through the sudden, searing cramp in his lower abdomen. The sharp tang of his own scent—sweet and ripe—tickles his nose, and the realization hits him like a freight train.

“Oh, no,” Tony moans.

Bucky hums low in his throat—a sound that might have been reassurance if it weren’t for the way his other hand comes to rest on Tony’s lower back, fingers flexing slightly. Like he’s grounding himself as much as Tony.

“You still feeling it?” Bucky asks gently. His own scent deepens. Cedar and smoke, rich and heady, curling around Tony like a protective cocoon.

Tony shakes his head against Bucky’s abdomen, his breath hitching as another wave of heat surges through him, leaving his skin flushed and damp. “It’s… manageable,” he grits through his teeth, though the way he squirms against Bucky betrays the truth.

Bucky lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle. “It’s got a funny way of sneakin’ back up on you.” His thumb on Tony’s spine moves in slow, grounding circles. “You’re okay, Tony. I’ve got you.”

The Alpha’s scent has sharpened, his body impossibly warm beneath Tony’s, and there’s a tension in his muscles now. Coiled and ready.

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t press, just keeps stroking Tony’s skin like he’s got all the time in the world.

“You with me?” Bucky asks quietly. The question is a low rumble, reverberating in his stomach and vibrating against Tony’s temple.

Tony nods jerkily, though he doesn’t trust himself to speak.

He’s with Bucky. He hasn’t stopped being with Bucky since last night, when he sobbed and spilled into the Alpha’s fist.

Historically, Tony has coaxed himself to a—frankly countless—number of orgasms.

Since presenting at sixteen, he’s undergone a handful of heats. Entirely alone, except for the company of his own hand. Enough to get the job done, maybe, but never enough to fully extinguish the flames licking at his veins. Never enough to dull the throbbing, empty ache between his legs. Never enough to satisfy his body’s biological urge to bask in Alpha pheromones and succumb.

So after years of unfulfilling self-gratification, Bucky’s hand on his dick felt almost synonymous with the closest thing Tony had ever experienced to a religious experience.

Warm. Tight. The Alpha’s scent glands occasionally brushing against the sensitive underside of delicate skin. Tony’s face pressed to his neck, gulping down lungfuls of a scent tailor-made to light up his nerve endings.

Bucky’s molten praises caressing his ear. His own stiff, clothed, pulsing erection pushing against the bare skin of Tony’s thigh.

It wasn’t sex, not fully. It wasn’t the stretch of a knot in his ass; it wasn’t a complete claiming where his body ached for it most. But it was enough.

Enough to convince his body that he was being cared for, that he was being guided through his hormonal frenzy by an Alpha.

You know. Finally.

Tony doesn’t remember much after the first orgasm. The immediate, toe-curling relief had been staggering—almost debilitating—and the quick surge of hormones that flooded his body had rendered him useless.

He can vaguely recall fragments of Bucky’s fingers gliding through his hair. Soft, soothing praise whispered against his temple. Gentle hands coaxing between his legs with a warm washcloth.

He remembers being poured into Bucky’s bed, drifting into a deep and immediate sleep. And Bucky joining him later—damp from his shower, strong arms pulling Tony back against his bare chest and curling around him. Nosing at his scent gland.

He was satisfied. Satiated. Blissful.

Until he wasn’t.

Until he awoke a few short hours later to a bedroom cloaked in darkness, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting soft silver streaks across the walls. Eyes flying open, lungs hitching sharply as the heat in his body clawed its way to the surface. Sharp and pulsing.

12:14 A.M.

Tony can’t stop the small, choked whimper that escapes his throat as he pushes himself up on his elbows. His skin is feverish, a sheen of sweat prickling along his brow, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He curls in on himself, trying to ride out the sudden wave of tremors coursing through his veins, but the ache—the need—is sharp. It gnaws at him from the inside out.

His skin feels too tight, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated as he rotates against Bucky’s chest. He moans—a strangled, needy sound that rushes out of his throat as he buries his face against the Alpha’s skin, desperate for the comfort of his scent.

“Tony?”

Bucky’s voice is low, thick with sleep, but instantly alert. His hand finds Tony’s neck, warm and steady, its weight grounding in a way that cuts through the worst of the haze.“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Tony quivers under the gentle press of Bucky’s palm, his throat too tight to answer. He tries to take a deep breath, but it breaks halfway through, trembling.

“’M fine,” he croaks.

Bucky huffs. “Yeah, and I’m the Pope.”

He slides closer. The mattress dips under his weight and a second hand joins the first, this one grabbing Tony’s hip. Bucky’s thumb brushes against his skin in soothing arcs, his touch careful, deliberate. He pulls Tony closer into his neck, coaxing the Omega to breathe in where Bucky’s scent bleeds strong.“You’re burnin’ up again.”

Tony nods jerkily, his eyes squeezing shut as he wills his body to calm down. “I—I don’t know why it’s worse now,” he mumbles. “It was getting better, wasn’t it? Thought it was over.”

Bucky laughs into his hair. “It’s just a spike. Bound to happen. Your body’s still sorting itself out. Doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”

“I didn’t want t’wake you,” Tony slurs. Still, he clings tighter to Bucky. His hips shift instinctively, chasing relief he can’t name. Slick leaks into his clean underwear. “Hurts.”

That makes Bucky’s hand pause, his fingers pressing into Tony’s hip just firm enough to draw his attention. “Yeah,” he drawls, rich and warm, “because it’s such a chore, takin’ care of you.”

Tony doesn’t know what he needs. His dick throbs, and the pressure in his stomach coils tight. Clenching and unclenching.

But Bucky does.

“You’re okay,” Bucky coos. He shifts them, suddenly. Kicks the blanket off their legs. Pulls Tony up by his armpits until he’s seated between Bucky’s thighs, his back flush with Bucky’s chest. The Alpha leans against the headboard and spreads Tony’s knees with his own. Tony shudders, legs parting like water, arching into Bucky’s hold. “I’ve got you. Sweet boy, I’ve got you.”

Tony melts back against him, his head lolling onto Bucky’s shoulder. Every nerve in his body feels frayed, exposed, and he can’t help the way his hips shift, seeking relief from the ache that’s consuming him. Bucky’s cock is hard against his back, straining against the fabric of his boxers, and the Alpha hisses when Tony pushes against it. His hands drop to grip Tony’s waist, steadying him.

“Bucky,” he whines. His hands grip weakly at Bucky’s thighs, trying to hold onto something solid. “I— I don’t—” The words stick in his throat, his mind too foggy to string them together.

Bucky’s arm lifts to wrap securely around Tony’s shoulders, his chest warm and solid against Tony’s back. His other hand grazes the bare skin of Tony’s thigh.“You don’t have to know, sweetheart,” he says, raspy. “That’s what I’m here for. Let me do the thinkin’ for you.”

The scent of Bucky is everywhere now, heavy and potent, and Tony can’t breathe without it, can’t think past the burn building deep in his gut.

And then Bucky’s hand skims past his stomach and finally dips past the waistband of his briefs.

“God, Tony,” Bucky chokes, his voice thick with approval as he feels the wetness gathering at the inside of Tony’s thighs. His fingertips glide over the slickness, and Tony shakes, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through him at the light touch to such a sensitive spot.

Bucky’s breath hitches, and Tony can feel the low growl in his chest, the shift in his scent deepening. Pine and smoke fill the air, mingling with the sharp sweetness of Tony’s own, creating a heady, intoxicating blend. Bucky can’t help himself. “You’re so wet for me, baby. So fucking perfect.” His voice is rough, hungry, and when his strong, callused palm finally wraps around Tony’s leaking cock, Tony keens.

They both moan. Tony’s dick, now forty-eight hours past a comfortable soreness, is approaching painful after days of unfulfilling stimulation instigated by Tony’s own hand. Bucky’s touch burns hot, like a brand, and Tony exhales a hiss through his teeth.

Bucky’s movements falters immediately, feeling the tension coil tighter in Tony’s body.

“Tony…” His voice is low, rough with an edge of worry and something headier. His fingers spasm from their grip on Tony’s shoulder. Still, he doesn’t fully let go. Keeps his grip on Tony gentle but firm.“You’re sore, aren’t you?”

Tony’s own fingers tighten their grip on Bucky’s thighs, pulling himself closer as if trying to push through the discomfort. His mind is clouded, thoughts scattered, but the aching pull in his core is the only thing that keeps him tethered to the moment.

“Don’ stop," Tony’s voice breaks, a quiet, ragged whisper as he presses himself closer to Bucky. His hips thrust up of their own volition, seeking more, and Bucky’s grip tightens imperceptibly. He doesn’t care if it’s messy, doesn’t care if it’s too much—he needs it, needs him.“Please.”

The plea is raw and desperate, and it doesn’t even feel his own. It comes from a place deeper than logic, from the heart of the heat that scorches through his veins.

But Bucky’s fist—steady, grounding—tightens, just enough to make Tony feel every tiny nuance of touch.

Tony sags, collapsing back into Bucky’s embrace. The breath leaves his lungs in a whine.

“You sure, sweetheart? You don’t have to take more than you can handle.” His words are soft, almost reverent, but there’s something underneath it—something darker. Intoxicating.

“So sure,” Tony exhales. “Fuck, don’t stop. Bucky. Alpha.” His voice falters but then steadies, the desperation in it clear. “Don’t care. I can take it. Just—don’t stop.” The pleasure will outlive the pain, he’s certain. And he craves it. Craves Bucky’s touch like he’s drowning in it.

He shivers as Bucky shifts behind him. The Alpha’s hand moves again, his grip on Tony’s cock slow but sure, and Tony’s resounding moan is so loud that Bucky’s hand shoots up to cover his mouth. Gripping Tony’s jaw.

“Oh, you sweet thing. I’ll give you exactly what you need. But we don’t wanna wake Stevie, do we?” Bucky murmurs into his ear, pure gravel.

Tony freezes, eyes wide, his hot breath huffing against Bucky’s hand. His body stills for a moment, processing the words. And then, in the next breath, the sound of his desperation is muffled, but still there—caught in his throat, vibrating through Bucky’s palm. His eyes roll back into his head.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises roughly. “I’ll help you, baby. I’ll take away the ache. Just need you to keep it quiet, yeah? Just be good and take it.”

Tony’s breath hitches in response, a wail escaping his muffled lips before he can stop it. The pressure in his core flares again, sharper, more intense, and his fingers dig into Bucky’s skin as if trying to anchor himself.

“Fuck, Tony...” Bucky murmurs, his voice thick with a hunger that makes Tony’s fuzzy, syrupy head spin.

Tony’s always drippy during heats. He’s practically leaking into Bucky’s hand, aided by pre-cum and the slick pooling between his thighs, and the only sounds in the room are the wet, squelching noises of Bucky jacking Tony off and their combined belabored breathing.

Tony squirms. He moans. His hands shoot up to grip Bucky’s arm, back bowing, and Bucky has to wrap his ankles around Tony’s to keep the Omega’s hips anchored where he needs them.

Bucky starts babbling. The rise and fall of his chest echoes against Tony’s back. He can feel the Alpha’s strained breaths. The words tumble out of his mouth, seemingly unwittingly.

"You’re so fucking soaked, doll,” he husks. His words are low, dragged from somewhere deep in his chest as he feels the slickness on Tony’s skin. As Tony drips shamelessly into his lap. “All this for me? You can't even help it, can you?”

His thumb brushes over Tony’s cockhead, smearing pre-cum against Tony’s sensitive slit, and Tony sobs and bites down on the flesh of Bucky’s palm. “So fucking needy," Bucky continues, reverent, his lips brushing the side of Tony’s neck. Tasting his pulsing scent gland. ”Can’t even stand it, huh? Need your Alpha to fix you. I’m the only one who can, Tony. You know that, don’t you?”

Tony’s response is a low, strangled groan, stifled by Bucky’s hand, but it’s enough for Bucky. He feels the way Tony’s body arches, the way he shifts under him, dizzy and desperate for more.

“Look at you,” Bucky whispers. “You can’t even control yourself. Just a fucking mess for me, aren’t you? So perfect, so beautiful like this.”

There’s pain—pressure, oversensitivity, the sharp sting of contact against Tony’s delicate flesh. But the pleasure is blinding, and the combination of sensations has Tony writhing. Panting and pleading.

Bucky alternates pace and pressure, gauging all of Tony’s smallest, most subtle tells—the slightest hitch of his lungs, the barest flex of his fingers around Bucky’s forearm—to work his body like a finely tuned instrument.

He speeds his hand when Tony’s hips stutter, arching to chase the delectable heat pooling in his belly. He eases up when Tony’s pleasure bleeds into something sharp, something a little more pointed, subduing the Omega and bringing him back to that sweet spot that has him moaning unabashedly like a feral animal.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” Tony warbles. He pumps his hips to meet Bucky’s thrusts, and when Bucky grinds his own cock against the small of Tony’s back, seeking friction, it pulls a shocked, helpless noise from his lungs.

Bucky chuckles darkly, rolling his hips in time with his hand. A crude imitation of Tony’s deepest, headiest desire.

“Sweetheart,” he croons. His pace quickens, hand stripping Tony’s cock with barely-restrained urgency. The obscene sound of wet skin echoes through the room. He lets out another laugh when Tony quakes, this one tinged with disbelief. Awe. “You can feel it, can’t you? How much I want you? How much I need you?”

Bucky’s breathing is becoming heavier, more labored, and Tony feels it like a pulse in the air, like the rhythm of a storm about to break. Each exhale from Bucky is a low, brutal sound that vibrates against Tony’s back, and he can feel the slight tremor in Bucky’s muscles as his hand strokes firmly over Tony’s weeping dick, as his arm tightens across Tony’s chest, fingers flexing against his mouth. Holding himself back, trying to give Tony exactly what he needs without breaking.

“I could—fuck—I could come like this. Just from this, you rockin’ in my lap like a goddamn dream. Whimperin’ and cryin’, lettin’ you Alpha know how good he makes you feel.”

Tony’s hands tear Bucky’s palm from his mouth. He sucks in a gasping breath, lungs burning.

“Please,” he begs. His voice cracks. He doesn’t care. “Please, please—want it. Oh—my, fu—Alpha.”

Bucky curses. His hand travels to Tony’s throat. Not gripping, but holding. Tony’s brain immediately goes a little woozy, a little lightheaded.

“But this ain’t about me,” Bucky grits. “I want you. I wanna be inside you more than I want my next breath. It’s all I think about. You’re mine, Tony. You fucking belong to me.”

The words are magic to Tony’s heat-fogged existence. His spine bows, ribs expanding. He feels like he’s floating.

With the hand to his throat, Bucky tilts Tony’s head back, just far enough to press a kiss to Tony’s temple. Tony moves like a puppet. Bucky lingers there for a moment, lips pressed to Tony’s damp skin.

A sweet, striking contrast to the filthy reactions he’s pulling from Tony’s body.

“B–Bucky,” Tony chokes. Sobs, really. “M’gonna, I’m so… ohhh. You’re—”

“Yours,” Bucky interrupts, his tone rough and sure. “Every piece of me, Tony. Yours. Come for me, doll.”

Tony’s body sings at the command, his submissive instincts surging in a way he so desperately works to suppress when he’s clear-headed. He comes so hard his scream breaks off halfway through it. He finds himself once again choking on Bucky’s palm.

“There you go, honey. That’s right, let it go. Let your Alpha have it.” Bucky can’t seem to shut up as he works Tony through the aftershocks, Tony trembling and shaking in his lap with the force of his release. It lasts forever, his thighs vibrating with released tension as he wets up his stomach with come, coating his dick and Bucky’s hand.

“Baby doll. Pretty Omega. Fuck. That’s it.” He strokes Tony through it until Tony is crying out from the overstimulation, squirming against his grip. It’s perfect, it’s endless—the release floods his veins like euphoria. His spine goes soft.

“C’mere”, Bucky breathes once Tony is left a limp, wheezing shell of an Omega. He pulls Tony back into his arms, tucking his head under his chin. He’s still hard underneath Tony, pulsing hot enough for Tony to feel between their thin layers of clothing. Tony whines, dropping his check to Bucky’s chest. Wet with his own spit. He shudders, and Bucky’s arms tighten.

“Feel better?” Bucky asks, and Tony—despite everything—snorts.

Bucky grins against the crown of his head. “There he is.”

“I think you killed me,” Tony says. He rubs at his nose, his limbs leaden.“I might be dead.” He can hardly move his tongue to form the words. The base of his spine thrums pleasantly. He’s pliant and sweaty in Bucky’s arms, overwhelmed with the aftershocks of his pleasure.

“You’ll live,” Bucky replies, lips twitching. “Now, shut up and let me hold you.”

As the fog of need clears, Tony sinks into something warmer. Something safer. With Bucky’s erection pressing into the small of his back, he slips back into unconsciousness, covered in his own spend.

3:46 A.M.

“Jesus Christ. It’s been over three days. I should be… ugh. Done.”

Bucky laughs, his body curved toward Tony’s. His chest is flushed down to his stomach, heated from the steady, blooming aroma of Tony’s growing arousal. Even in the dark, Tony can make out the size of his pupils. Glittering, blown.

“It’s not a race, doll. There’s no prize for getting to the finish line faster. You’re finally just gettin’ the attention you deserve. You know it; your body knows it.”

“Yeah, well, my dick knows it, too,” Tony grouses. “And I think if anyone touches it again, it might fall off.”

The tight, coiling feeling is back. Softer, less urgent than before, but no less persistent. Every flicker of warmth in Bucky’s gaze draws attention to the need pooling at his spine, every pull of desire amplified in ways that make Tony feel like he’s coming apart at the seams.

He fights through the fog. Tries to ground his syrupy, sluggish brain to the present.

“What do you need, baby?”

Tony rolls onto his back, swallowing thickly. He brings his palms to his eyes and exhales toward the ceiling.

“Dunno,” he admits. His voice sounds small, even to his own ears. Feeble. “Might just wait for this wave to pass.”

Something he used to do often, after his body had been wrecked by overstimulation. Now—familiar with the touch of Bucky’s hands on his body, familiar with an Alpha’s presence guiding him through his pleasure—it sounds like torture.

Bucky makes a low, thoughtful sound.

“Or,” he says,“we can get creative.”

Tony tenses. “I thought we weren’t… you said you weren’t going to—” he trails off, the unspoken ‘fuck me’ forming on the tip of his tongue.

Bucky’s lip twitch again, infuriating. Perfect. Tony wants to kiss him.

“There are plenty of things we can do,” Bucky says easily, “that don’t involve me getting my cock inside you, sweetheart.”

Tony’s feeling a little bratty. A little petulant—his skin is too warm, his body teetering somewhere on the confusing precipice of agitation, arousal, and exhaustion. His perpetual state of desire evokes a vulnerability that summons endless frustration, both physically and mentally. His dick aches, despite its constant persistence. It rubs against his underwear in a way that has him gritting his teeth.

And still, none of this negates the side effects of his lingering heat. It clouds his judgment, clinging stubbornly as Tony tosses and turns in the arms of his Alpha. In sheets that smell like his Alpha. As he inhales lungfuls of Bucky’s glorious, rich scent, as Bucky trails his hands along all of Tony’s most sensitive spots, fingers constantly sweeping across his glands, his neck, his hips.

Turns out he drops pretty easy, under the right circumstances.

Especially when he’s half-naked in his Alpha’s bed, dragging through his heat, listening to said Alpha drawl about fucking Tony on his cock.

Like clockwork, Tony’s brain goes a little soft. A little spacey. The fight zaps out of his bones.

The orgasms are nice. Perfect. The pleasure that Bucky so easily pulls out of his body is intense enough to instill immense amounts of humility inside a teenage boy overly familiar with jerking off. He’s starting to think there may never have been pleasure before Bucky—true pleasure, the kind that seeps into his bones and renders him useless. Needy. Complete.

It’s a type of relief he’s never been able to provide for himself, not truly. Not the way his body and his biology require.

But even this—coming with a hand on his cock (however perfect Bucky’s grip, no matter how unwaveringly devoted his attention to Tony’s body may be)—merely begins to scratch the itch of his repressed, earth-shattering craving to be knotted.

It’s easier to hunger for it, when he’s like this. Fucked out, soft and loose and pliant in the grip of his heat-addled submission. When his deep-seated fears and insecurities seem to be nothing more than mindless afterthoughts; memories of a past self.

Still on his back, still staring at the ceiling, his heart pounds against his ribs as he chews on his lip, suppressing the innate whine crawling up the tunnel of his throat.

He’s too busy knuckling at the corners of his eyes, caught in the undertow of sensation, to catch the Alpha’s expression. It shifts from something smug to something softer, like worship, and his scent morphs with it, washing over Tony like the tide.

Bucky’s hands roam with a practiced ease, pulling Tony’s hands from his face by his wrists and hovering over him like he was made to fit there. Slotting his thigh seamlessly between Tony’s legs. “Don’t hide from me. You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” he continues, quiet. He pushes Tony’s wrists up above his head, and Tony goes willingly. Easily. Fingers flexing in his Alpha’s grip.“The way you look at me when you’re all dazed like this... makes me wanna wreck you and put you back together a hundred times over. Make sure you never forget how good you can have it, now that you’re with me.”

Tony pushes out a rushed laugh. He feels manic.

With his free hand, Bucky tilts Tony’s head back slightly, just enough to press a firm kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “I’ve got you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’d move heaven and earth for you. Hell, I’d rip ‘em both apart if it’d make you feel even an ounce better.”

It’s nonsense. It’s indulgence. Ridiculous and perfect. The exact kind of absurd sweet-talking that sends Tony under, as quick as anything.

Bucky’s lips find Tony’s jaw again, lingering this time, the press of his mouth deliberate and firm.

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t let the heat of the moment pull him out of his rhythm. His lips are slightly chapped, but warm, leaving a trail of kisses down the curve of Tony’s jawline. Each touch feels heavier than the last, sinking into Tony’s skin like a brand.

When Bucky kisses just beneath Tony’s ear, Tony shudders and gasps, his fingers clenching weakly at nothing. His wrists still pressed firmly into the mattress. “Right here,” Bucky murmurs. He tilts Tony’s head slightly, angling him so that he can press his mouth more firmly against the soft curve of Tony’s throat. Teasing the edge of his mating gland.“Can’t get enough of you, gorgeous. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He kisses down the column of Tony’s throat, slow and savoring. His lips mold perfectly to each dip and curve, the slight scrape of his teeth dragging just enough to make Tony arch against him. Bucky hums low in his chest, the sound vibrating through both of them as he presses a firmer kiss just above Tony’s collarbone, lingering there like he doesn’t want to leave.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes, the words barely audible against Tony’s skin. He pulls back just far enough to cradle Tony’s cheek in his hand, tilting him up, their foreheads almost touching. “You feel it too, don’t you? How good this is?”

He doesn’t let Tony answer. He just kisses him again, this time on the mouth.

It’s slower than Tony expects, like Bucky’s savoring every second. He presses in close, coaxing Tony’s lips apart with gentle insistence, his tongue brushing softly against Tony’s lower lip. The kiss deepens naturally, their mouths sliding together with an ease that makes Tony’s head spin.

Tony feels a frantic, kinetic energy pulsing inside him. He whimpers and tries to deepen the kiss, trembling against the bed, but Bucky gentles it each time Tony’s urgency bleeds through. Unhurried and deliberate. Coaxing Tony into a dizzying, boneless headspace.

When Bucky pulls away, Tony’s vision feels spotty.

“Look at me.” Bucky’s hands move to frame Tony’s face, propping himself up on his elbows. Tony’s arms obediently stay stretched up by his ears. He blinks rapidly into focus. Bucky’s lips brush Tony’s temple, then his cheek, soft and grounding. The faint rasp of stubble catches on Tony’s overheated skin, the sensation somehow soothing. Bucky's voice, low and deliberate, breaks through the haze.

“Everything we do is supposed to feel good, Tony,” he says, the words careful but firm, like he’s staking a claim against some ghost of doubt. “That’s how it’s meant to be. If it doesn’t feel good, we stop. Doesn’t matter how close you are or what you think you’re supposed to do. Got it?”

Tony blinks sluggishly, the fog in his mind too thick to navigate. Bucky’s words swirl in his head, heavy and meaningful, familiar, but they don’t quite land.

He glances up at Bucky, his brow furrowed. “Was this… is this about Arnie?”

Bucky stills for a moment. His lips part and he exhales slowly, choosing his next words carefully.

“You don’t have to think about that right now, doll,” he says, his voice laced with a kind of tenderness that only makes Tony more confused. “Everything I’m doin’ is to make you feel nice. Nothing else matters. Not me, not anyone else—just you. So if it… hurts, if it feels like too much, you tell me. No one gets to tell you what’s normal except you.

Tony huffs, the sound more desperate than frustrated. “No, I—” He shakes his head, trying to find clarity in the haze of heat and exhaustion. “I remember… what he said. And you got mad?” His words tumble out in fragments, disjointed and uncertain, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that’s missing half the pieces.

And then he tenses.

“Oh. He… he said I lied to him,” Tony whispers. “That I told him it wouldn’t hurt.”

Bucky’s jaw ticks. “He was upset,” he says carefully, tone measured. “And maybe he had a right to be, in his own way. But that doesn’t mean he was right to put that on you.”

Tony frowns, the weight of Arnie’s words pressing down on him again, mingling with the persistent heat thrumming in his veins. “But I did tell him that. And I knew—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I knew I was lying.”

Bucky’s hands spasm, the smallest movement, and Tony watches the Alpha’s chin raise, his lips brushing Tony’s hairline. “You weren’t, baby,” Bucky says gently, but there’s a firmness in his voice that leaves no room for argument. “You told him what you thought was true. What you wanted to believe for him—and for yourself.”

His mind is still too clouded with need to form a coherent response, but Bucky doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Listen to me,” Bucky says, his voice low and unyielding, and Tony feels it vibrate through his chest. “It’s only ever supposed to feel good. Every damn time. No matter what. I know you’ve been through shit, Tony. I know you’ve got these scars inside of you,” Each word is clipped, each syllable dripping with intensity. “But that ain’t your fault. And I’m not gonna let you forget that this?” He pushes his own hard, straining cock against Tony’s hipbone. “It’s supposed to be good, sweet boy. So good—every damn moment of it. You hear me? If it doesn’t feel good, we’re doin’ it wrong.”

Tony stares up at him, a little wet around the eyes. Stunned and speechless.

“You don’t owe anyone anything. Not Arnie, not anyone. You deserve to feel good. To feel safe. And I will always take care of you, Tony. Always.” Bucky presses a kiss to the side of his head. “You trust me?”

Tony nods before he can stop himself. The haze is still there, dense and thick, but Bucky’s warmth cuts through it. His touch grounds him.

“Say it,” Bucky urges, his voice a little rougher now. “Tell me you trust me.”

“Yeah, always,” Tony finally whispers, his voice barely a breath. “Always, Buck. I trust you.”

Bucky’s entire demeanor shifts. The tension in his shoulders eases, and the edge in his voice softens, though a hint of raw vulnerability lurks behind it. He lets out a deep, rumbling breath, like a weight has been lifted, and he moves his hands gently over Tony’s body, brushing the stray strands of hair from his forehead.

“Good,” he says.“That’s all I needed to hear.” He kisses Tony’s nose. “Now that we’re on the same page,” he flashes Tony that same roguish smile, the one that always makes Tony’s heart skip in his chest. “I wanna try somethin’. I think you’ll like it.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of uncertainty roll through him. “What are you—” he starts, but the words die in his throat as he yelps, Bucky’s deft hands flipping him onto his stomach.

“Oof.”

Bucky presses his smile into Tony’s shoulder blade. He grazes his teeth along the skin when Tony shivers beneath him.

“Relax for me, baby.”

“Easier said than done,” Tony grumbles into his pillow. His heart is beating in his throat.

Bucky’s hand slides over Tony’s back, tracing the curve of his spine with gentle fingers. Just like that, Tony sinks into the mattress.

“That’s it,” Bucky croons. “Still with me, doll?”

Tony, eyes half-lidded, nods, but the haze of arousal makes it hard for him to form any coherent thoughts. “Yeah, m’fine,” he mumbles, voice hoarse.

Bucky’s thumb brushes against the back of Tony’s neck before he leans in, kissing the back of Tony’s ear softly. “Say the word, and we stop. Got it?”

“Which word?”

“Go ahead, honey, crack all the jokes you want. I’ve got you pegged. Smart mouth and all.”

Tony is Tony, and he tries for a clever retort, but all that escapes is a high, shocked sound as Bucky tugs his briefs over the curve of his ass, down to his knees.

He can’t move, can’t speak as Bucky shifts behind him, fingers tracing up the inside of his thighs. Gliding through rivulets of slick.

“Still burning for me,” Bucky muses. “Even after I’ve made you come twice. You don’t know how much I love seeing you like this, darlin’. So needy. Trusting me to take care of you.” He nudges Tony’s hips up, urging a pillow between him and the mattress, and Tony moves easily. Boneless.

“I think about this a lot,” the Alpha continues. Easy, casual. As if he and Tony are discussing the weather. He palms the flesh of Tony’s ass, and Tony moans, scrubbing his forehead into the mattress below. His fingers fist the sheets on either side of his head. “Oh, darlin’. Have you ever touched yourself here?”

Tony nods, more than a bit desperate. His skin is flushed from his hairline to his toes.

“Uh, huh,” he admits. “In heat.”

Bucky makes a cooing, sympathetic sound behind him. His thumb presses into the give of his flesh, barely brushing along the rim of Tony’s wet, aching hole. Tony’s lungs collapse into his ribs. The whine he releases is loud, unhinged.

He truly, desperately hopes Steve Rogers is a heavy sleeper.

“Poor Omega. You touched yourself here this weekend, didn’t you? When you were all alone? Cryin’ for something bigger? Something to fill you up?”

Tony’s shocked laugh morphs into a choked hiccup. “Jesus, Buck.” He squirms against the Alpha’s touch. “Yeah. Yeah.”

He might die like this, he thinks.

“Did you think about me?”

Correction, he will die like this.

“Bucky,” he gasps. Color floods his cheeks. If he grips the sheets any harder in anticipation, he’ll tear them.

“Tell me, Tony.” Bucky’s voice has a sharper edge, now. Something darker, richer. “Did you think about me when you were fucking yourself with your fingers? When you were achin’ and wigglin’ to reach that soft spot inside you? Did you imagine it was me?” Bucky’s thumb hooks into the rim of his hole, and a gush of slick pours out. The Alpha’s scent blooms. “My fingers inside of you? My cock? My knot?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tony wails. He pushes his hips back to meet Bucky’s touch, desperate, but Bucky’s hand on his hip stills him. “Thought about you. Always—oh!—Always thinking ‘bout you.”

Bucky makes a low, pleased noise, leans over to kiss the dip of Tony’s spine, and then sinks his pointer finger inside Tony to the second knuckle.

Both boys curse.

Despite his nerves, Tony’s body is warm, willing. Pliant and softened by his heat. Bucky’s finger sinks into him like a stone in water, aided by the copious slick gushing out of his body.

“Baby doll. Jesus. So tight, so perfect.” Bucky sounds like he’s speaking through clenched teeth. Tony can’t do anything but bite down on his pillow and take it.

Bucky works his finger into Tony slowly, praises spilling from his lips as Tony adjusts to the stretch of the unfamiliar digit. Longer and thicker than his own. Pushing into him at an unfamiliar, dizzying angle. Tony clenches around it greedily, his body adjusting so easily to the stretch that it craves.

It’s everything.

His resilient dick is rock hard against his stomach, grinding lazily into the mattress with each careful thrust of Bucky’s hand, but Tony doesn’t even register it. All of his focus, his entire existence is narrowed down to a fine point—to Bucky’s dexterous, practiced finger dragging in and out of him, his hole sucking in the intrusion greedily.

Tony can feel every nerve ending in his body. When Bucky’s finger finally pushes in all the way, nudging past the easy resistance of tight muscle up to the third knuckle, stars explode behind his eyelids.

“Ohhh,” Tony groans. “Oh my God. More. Alpha, More.”

Bucky laughs behind him, the sound tinged with disbelief. “How many have you had before, baby?”

The slow-moving cogs in Tony’s brain work to dissect Bucky’s question.

“Two,” Tony gasps. “Jus’ two.”

Bucky rewards him with a curl of his finger, and Tony’s back arches so much that Bucky has to use his own hips to hold Tony to the bed.

Tony can hear Bucky’s smug triumph. It pours into his scent.

“Two’s perfect. Two’s all we need.”

A second finger begins toying at his rim. Tony cries out in ecstasy.

“Easy. Easy. Just like that. Nice and relaxed for me, doll.”

Time becomes fluid, ebbing and flowing. Tony doesn’t know how long Bucky pumps a lone finger into him—unhurried, unrushed, letting the mewling Omega underneath him squirm and shake under the sensation as he continues to whisper filth into his mouth.

“I fucked my fist in the shower, thinking about this.” Bucky licks the sweat-dampened shell of Tony’s ear. “You were asleep, poor thing, all worn out from spilling all over my hand. I got myself off with you still on me, drippin’ all over my fingers. So fucking beautiful, sweetheart. I closed my eyes and pictured this—stretching out this poor, aching hole on my fingers. Making you come again, just from strokin’ inside you, all nice-like.”

Tony’s nodding frantically. He might be crying. He can’t tell if his face is wet from tears or drool.

“You’re better than a dream. So good for me like this, Tony. So sweet and perfect. You ready for another?”

“Please,” Tony begs. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Good boy,” Bucky husks, and then he’s biting into the skin at the crook of Tony’s shoulder the exact moment a second finger breaches Tony’s body. Tony jolts, and then lets out a keening wail.

“Fuck, Tony. You’re tight.”

He is, he knows it. But the stretch is wonderful; it’s exactly what he needs, exactly what he’s never able to give himself.

What his body is made for. Just for Bucky.

Desperate pleas spill from Tony’s lips—a warbled mixture of “Bucky” and “Alpha”—as Bucky works diligently to scissor his fingers inside of Tony as much as the tight space allows. Tony can only hear his breathing, can only feel the press of Bucky’s chest against his own sweat-slick back, but his Alpha sounds wrecked.

“Feelin’ good, honey?”

Tony makes an unintelligible noise, but thrusts his arm out beside him. Gives the Alpha a thumbs up.

Bucky barks out a laugh. Fond.

“Atta boy,” he praises. “Hang tight, doll.” He twists his wrist and thrusts deep. Crooks his fingers downward.

“Fuck!”

And then Bucky is cooing something about a sweet spot, assaulting it with the pads of his fingers with practiced aim and flawless pressure until Tony is writhing and sobbing and vibrating against the bed.

“Oh my god, Alpha, oh my god…”

“You sweet fucking thing, bet you didn’t even know how much you’d enjoy that.”

Tony is a man of science. He knows biology. He knows, in theory, about the existence of his prostate.

It doesn’t stop Tony from screaming out as Bucky fucks his fingers in and out, aiming for that soft spot each time and building Tony’s pleasure up to a speeding, frenzied crest.

He’s never been able to reach it himself. Has never known any pleasure as overwhelming that hasn’t derived from a hand on dick.

But this—Bucky’s fingers inside him, buried in the most intimate part of his body—he can’t help but preen. Revel. Succumb to the nature of his body, his designation. He ruts against the mattress and grinds subconsciously back into the force of Bucky’s fingers, making quiet “unh, unh, unh” sounds as the warm, indulgent feeling in his belly drags him further into that fuzzy headspace.

And Bucky gives it to him. The grip on his hip is ironclad as Bucky pumps his fingers with purpose, pulling choked-off, pathetic noises from Tony’s throat with each wet slide. And Bucky keeps cooing and murmuring sweet nonsense into the pheromone-rich air while he watches it all.

“Right there, right there. That’s it, that’s perfect. So good, so good for me. My gorgeous boy.”

Bucky tugs Tony’s hips upward and reaches underneath with his hand, presumably to assist in stroking Tony over the edge, but Tony whines and pulls away.

“Don’ need it,” he grits out. “Can—just like this.” He’s so, so close.

Bucky groans like he’s been shot. 

“Fuck. Yeah, okay. Just like this, baby. You’ll feel so much better when you come on your Alpha’s fingers. Come on, sweetheart, give it to me.”

And Tony is nothing if not obedient in heat. He listens to his Alpha.

A few more well-aimed thrusts and the whisper of a hand on the nape of his neck and he’s falling apart, coming untouched as the pressure in his gut snaps. Dick spitting white onto the sheets beneath him. Whimpering and mewling pathetically into the mattress, mouth gaping, tears spilling out of his eyes.

“Christ,” Bucky whispers, fucking him through it. His resolve sounds shaky. “Fucking hell, Tony.”

It just keeps going. Bucky rubs and rubs and rubs over that spot inside him that lights his nerve endings on fire, and Tony’s hole flutters greedily around his fingers, clenching like a vice. Luxuriating in the indulgence his body was made for. His orgasm drags out of him, come dribbling out the tip of his cockhead one last time as Bucky pushes his fingers in and presses.

Tony blacks out, after that.

6:11 A.M.

“What do you need?” Bucky asks, selfless and perfect. Dragging his hand through Tony’s curls.

Ready to provide again at the drop of a hat. Sounding genuinely pleased—God bless him—at the very notion, no less.

The echo of Bucky’s touch lingers everywhere. Tony glances up at his Alpha.

He’s leaning back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Entirely at odds with the visible tension thrumming through his body.

The hand not touching Tony rests on his thigh, clenched into a tight fist. Like he’s willing himself into control.

Tony’s gaze drifts lower again, back to the unmistakable strain in Bucky’s boxers, the sharp curve of arousal that makes Tony’s mouth go dry.

The Alpha hasn’t let Tony touch him once.

A new kind of yearning pulls at the thread in Tony’s stomach.

“Enough about me. What do you need?” Tony asks, his voice hoarse but tinged with something light. “You’re killing yourself over here, pal.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into the faintest of smiles, but he shakes his head. “I’ll live,” he murmurs, his voice steady but noticeably rough around the edges.

Tony props himself up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, but will you? Because, uh—” He gestures vaguely toward Bucky’s lap, his tone turning shy. “You look like you’re one stiff breeze from a happy ending.”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head again, but he doesn’t move.

Tony’s brow furrows. The teasing edge in his voice gives way to something quieter, a little more uncertain. “I can help. Why won’t you let me… you know, return the favor?” His cheeks blaze red at the thought.

Realistically, Tony wouldn’t even know where to start. He’s never seen Bucky’s cock, not unclothed, but he’s felt it. He’s pressed and moaned and writhed against it. He knows there’s a lot to work with—perhaps, even, close to double what Tony has to work with.

In length and girth.

He swallows thickly.

Bucky exhales slowly, his head tipping back against the headboard. “It’s not about that.”

Tony sits up fully now, the blanket pooling around his waist. He crosses his legs beneath him, momentarily forgetting his own roiling, turbulent need. “Okay. Then what’s it about?”

Bucky’s gaze flicks to him, his eyes flickering with something unidentifiable as he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from Tony’s face. “It’s about you,” he says simply.

Tony’s stomach twists, the warmth from moments ago giving way to something colder, heavier.

“Me,” he echoes dully. “Yeah. Alright.”

“Hey,” Bucky says, his hand shifting to cup Tony’s cheek, his thumb stroking over the delicate, paper-thin skin beneath his eye. “Don’t do that. Don’t twist it into something it’s not.”

Tony huffs a laugh, but it’s brittle. “I’m not twisting anything, Eagle Scout. Just seems pretty clear you don’t want—”

“I want,” Bucky interrupts, his voice sharp enough to make Tony stop mid-sentence. “Jesus, Tony, I want so bad it hurts.”

Tony blinks, caught off guard by the rawness in Bucky’s voice.

Bucky lets out a slow breath, his arm lifting to prop behind his head. “But this isn’t about what I want. It’s about you. You’re still coming down from your heat, still raw, still figuring out how to let someone be here for you without feeling like you have to give something back.”

Tony’s lips part, but no words come out. He chokes on air.

Bucky’s gaze holds his, steady and unrelenting. “You’re not a transaction, sweetheart. You don’t have to earn this. You don’t have to earn me.”

Tony deflates.

“Stupid, noble Alphas,” he grouses, and before he can second-guess himself, he’s pushing the rest of the blanket away to clamor into Bucky’s lap.

Bucky lifts a brow but doesn’t say anything as Tony situates himself on top of him, ass pressing firmly into the intimidating splendor of his stubborn erection. Only separated by thin layers of flannel and cotton. He catches Tony easily, strong hands settling instinctively at his slim waist as if they were made to hold him.

“Tony, what are you—”

“Just… shut up for a second,” Tony says with no bite. He tucks himself into the Alpha’s chest, inhaling. Centering himself. He doesn’t say anything for several moments, just burrowing closer, his forehead resting against the curve of Bucky’s neck. The scent of him is stabilizing, and Tony lets himself get lost in it for a moment.

Bucky trails his fingers along his spine, patient.

“I know you just want me to feel good, baby,” Bucky whispers into the crown of his head, breaking the silence after a few short minutes. “And I do. I swear it. Helping you makes me feel good.”

Tony rolls his eyes and nips at Bucky’s collarbone. “You’re allowed to want an orgasm. It won’t traumatize me.”

“Honey, I have no clue what’s goin’ to traumatize you on any given day.”

“Fair.” Tony wiggles in his lap, prompting a hiss from Bucky. His fingers tighten around Tony’s waist. Tony grins, close-mouthed and sheepish. “I want to watch.”

Bucky freezes.

“Tony,” he says slowly. A warning.

“M’serious. Your steadfast virtue is duly noted. But I’ve come three times since getting dragged into your bedroom. If you try to get me off again, I might slip into a hormonally-induced coma.”

“Doubt it,” Bucky retorts. He’s smirking again. “You’re easy, honey. All I need to do is whisper a couple a’ sweet things at you and you’re putty in my hands. You’re forgettin’ that I can smell how much you need me. Bet I could get you over the edge again in two minutes, flat.”

Tony knows, albeit reluctantly, that this is likely true.

“Not the point,” he says diplomatically. He clears his throat.“As an Omega, I’m essentially biologically wired to want to please my Alpha. It’s basic science, actually.”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, that’s you alright. Textbook Omega.”

“I’m vulnerable right now. Super sensitive. If you deny me this, I might weep.”

Bucky tilts his head back, a bemused expression on his face. “You’re definitely something, ya brat.”

Tony grins, unabashed. “I prefer ‘resolute’. Emphasizes my convictions. S’much more flattering.”

“It’s not.” Bucky gives him a pointed look. “This is… a bad idea, Tony.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony says, swatting lightly at Bucky’s warm, olive-toned arm. “You’re acting like I’m gonna collect your sperm and sell it to the highest bidder. I just want to watch.”

Bucky snorts, his hands tightening on Tony’s waist. Composing himself. “You don’t see how this might be... unnecessary?” His voice lowers, his brow furrowing. “I don’t need this, Tony. You’ve already given me everything.”

Tony shrugs, all faux nonchalance. Inside, he’s buzzing. “We’re way past necessary, Buck. You laid siege to my prostate until I passed out. Watching is, like, a logical next step.”

Bucky’s jaw works, the conflict flickering in his eyes as he searches for the right words. “It’s not about whether I want it or not,” he finally says. “’Cause believe me doll, I do. God, I do. But this… chasing my own pleasure like that, when you’re still—” He cuts himself off, his throat bobbing. “It’s different for me. It’s… instinct. It’s raw. And I never want you to think that’s all I’m after.”

Tony’s teasing expression dissolves completely, but he doesn’t drop the subject. Instead, he leans forward, his nose nuzzling the hollow of Bucky’s throat. “I know that, Bucky,” he says quietly. “I do. But this? This isn’t about proving anything. It’s about… I dunno, being close to you. Letting me see you. Knowing I’m the one who makes you feel like that.”

His own honesty shocks him. He attributes it to pheromones and post-orgasmic glow. Making his tongue loose and aiding substantially in vocalizing his desires.

Bucky tips his head forward to rest against Tony’s shoulder. “You’re impossible, y’know that?”

“Impossible and curious,” Tony quips. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper. “Come on, Sergeant. Show me what you’re working with. Purely for science.”

Bucky groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. You win. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tony’s beam is wicked. “I’ll make it worth your while. Pose all pretty.” He twists gracefully out of Bucky’s lap and launches himself back onto the Alpha’s pillow, feeling entirely too pleased with himself. “And I promise to be very professional about this.”

Bucky huffs. “That’s one word for it.”

As the quiet moment stretches between them, Tony feels a tiny flicker of unease creep into his chest. He replays the conversation in his mind, wondering if he pushed too hard—if Bucky’s softening isn’t him giving in, but him giving up. The thought makes his stomach churn, a sudden pang of guilt knotting his insides.

“I—” Tony starts, bravado dissipating, the words tangling in his throat. He doesn’t even know what he’s about to say, just that he feels the sudden need to backpedal, to give Bucky an out, a way to say no.

But then Bucky is shifting, pushing up from his reclined position, and before Tony can blink, the Alpha is looming over him. The bed dips under his weight as Bucky settles his broad frame over Tony, bracketing him between solid arms. The heat of him is overwhelming, and Tony freezes beneath the intensity of his presence.

“Hey,” Bucky says, nudging Tony’s nose with his own. His steel grey eyes find Tony’s, and everything Tony sees in them makes his panic dissolve like mist under the sun. Bucky’s gaze isn’t strained or reluctant. It isn’t even hesitant.

It’s burning.

There’s a hunger there, deep and consuming, but tempered with the same steady warmth and vigilance the Alpha constantly radiates. There isn’t a single ounce of reluctance in the way Bucky looks at him, only need and affection so strong it almost steals Tony’s breath.

“Hey,” Tony says back. Barely a whisper.

Bucky’s breathing is heavy, shallow, but Tony can see the gleam in his pupils—the edge of something dangerous and beautiful.

He doesn’t have time to say anything, to question or analyze. Bucky’s mouth drops to his, deep and bruising and urgent, lacking the usual tenderness Tony’s come to expect. His lips press into Tony’s with the same force that radiates from every inch of him—muscles tense, chest heaving, the heat of his body engulfing Tony’s. It’s the kind of kiss that consumes, leaving no space for anything else in the world but the two of them.

Tony melts into it and moans.

His lungs spasm as Bucky's hand tangles in his hair, tugging him to the right angle, and Tony’s legs part instinctively. The bed creaks beneath them as Bucky shifts, the weight of him settling over Tony like a furnace.

“Open,” Bucky commands roughly, dragging his thumb across Tony’s bottom lip. He dives back in and Tony succumbs easily, shivering as he feels Bucky’s tongue plunge deep and take. He can’t fight the way his own body responds with an instinctive desperation that mirrors Bucky’s. Every touch feels like it’s been building for days, every movement between them drenched in the heavy, suffocating pressure of desire.

Through all of it, Bucky’s eyes—when they finally break away—glitter with something unspoken.

“Gonna touch myself, sweetheart,” Bucky says against Tony’s lips, voice ragged and raw. “Gonna show you what you do to me. How you make me feel, every damn minute of the day.”

Tony nods eagerly, chasing Bucky’s lips. Bright, cherry red and shiny with spit. Bucky pulls away, and he whines.

Bucky smiles, but it’s almost feral, a flash of teeth that sends a thrill coursing through Tony’s veins. “Desperate for it, huh?” His fingers run along Tony’s jawline, tracing the outline of his lips before brushing back through his hair to hold him still, a reminder of how easily he can take control. “To see your Alpha’s cock? His knot?”

If anyone knew just how desperate Tony was, they’d probably have him committed to the nearest mental institution.

“Tell me you want it, Tony,” Bucky breathes, pulling back just enough to look into Tony’s eyes. “Tell me you want this.”

Tony’s heart thunders in his chest, and it’s impossible to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, Buck. Yeah, God, I want it.”

Bucky groans. “Good.” He pulls back, sitting back on his heels. He’s painfully hard, a noticeable wet patch staining the fabric of his boxers where his cockhead strains. His hair falls into his eyes and his chest heaves, perfect expanses of smooth, sweetly tanned skin.

Tony’s never wanted anything more than he wants him.

He wets his lips. Drags his eyes to his Alpha’s crotch and clenches his thighs together.

And then waves a hand in the air for loose emphasis.

“Proceed,” he says, though it comes out like a wheeze.

Bucky gazes at him from under his eyelashes, the corners of his mouth twitching into a crooked smile. Tony’s favorite smile. He places his left hand on Tony’s knee, thumb caressing the skin, and dips the other hand into his boxers.

“This is what you do to me, Tony,” he rasps. He pushes the fabric past his hips, down to his knees, and Tony suddenly wishes the sunlight dipping through the window was softer. His eyes go wide, wide, his jaw dropping open to suck in a strong gasp.

He knew Bucky was going to be large. He’s felt it by now—straining through layers of fabric, mostly—but clearly imposing, nonetheless.

And it’s not like Tony has endless frames of reference. He’s seen his own dick, obviously—normal, average, if not a little on the smaller side due to his presentation. He hasn’t had time to be insecure about it, not with Bucky’s hands sending him to orbit every time he gets a decent grip on it.

He’s seen crude drawings in textbooks.

But Bucky’s cock is massive. Frames of reference be damned.

It curves against his stomach, shining at the tip, and when Bucky drags his fist down the length of it, the Alpha’s own long fingers hardly wrap around the circumference.

“Bucky,” he whispers, reverent. He squirms against the bed, and Bucky’s fingers tighten on his knee.

Be good.

Bucky doesn’t seem shocked by Tony’s stunned, awestruck gaze. Instead, his chin falls to his chest, hiding his smile. He gives himself another long, smooth stroke, and the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

Tony gapes. He wants to touch him. He wants to lick him.

Bucky’s cock is red. Angry from hours of neglect without release. Pre-cum gathers at the tip and Bucky swipes his thumb over the mess to ease the slide of his fist, shuddering at the sensation. His eyes, when they peer down at Tony, are black.

Tony lays immobile. Raptured.

Bucky lets go of Tony’s knee to press a thumb under Tony’s chin. Urging his mouth closed.

Something dark flashes across the Alpha’s weighted gaze, then. Something predatory.

His hand doesn’t drop. Instead, he cups Tony’s face near his jaw. Presses his thumb to Tony’s bottom lip until it gives.

The digit slips into his mouth. Bucky growls.

Tony knows they’re on the cusp of something dangerous. The air in the room, a mixture of their combined pheromones, suddenly feels electric. Charged.

“Before you, I hadn’t popped a knot since my last rut.” Bucky speaks in an octave Tony didn’t know he was capable of. A deep, throaty baritone. His fingers flex around himself as he increases the speed of his strokes, the tip of his cock leaking as it pushes past the ring of his fingers. Clear fluid gathers and spills down his knuckles.

Tony says nothing. Inhibited by the warm, salty pressure of Bucky’s thumb on his tongue.

“Then I met you. The most beautiful boy. Smelling—fuck—like a goddamn dream. I was done for, after that. I’ve popped a knot every time I’ve thought about you with my hand on my dick since.”

Tony’s own dick stirs in his underwear. He ignores it.

“Never knew I could do that before. Had only popped a knot when I—” The Alpha breaks off, hissing through his teeth as he squeezes around the base of his length. He tips his head up toward the ceiling, mouth parting in pleasure. Breaths ragged.

The implication is clear—Bucky had only been able to produce a knot during sex.

For whatever reason, this particular revelation doesn’t sour Tony’s snug and cozy headspace. Doesn’t pull him out of his rapt mesmerization.

His eyes widen, his breathing becoming shallow around Bucky’s thumb as Bucky groans and trembles, the Alpha’s lip tucking into his teeth as the skin of his flushed, leaking cock starts to swell at the base.

It’s obscene. Decadent. Bucky ignores the rapidly expanding knot, fingers gliding up and down the slick shaft as lewd noises fill the space between them. Bucky’s eyes snap to Tony’s, gaze ravenous, and Tony quakes when Bucky edges his thumb further into Tony’s mouth.

He doesn’t choke, but it’s a close thing. It takes superhuman levels of restraint to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head, Bucky’s thumb pressing heavily onto the back of his tongue. His hand gripping Tony’s jaw and keeping his mouth pried open.

If Tony drools a little, well. That’s between him and his salivary glands.

Bucky’s knot swells at the base, the size of a small fist, and the fleeting expression of panic that reveals itself in Tony’s expression (for the sake of his asshole, truly,) has Bucky smirking. He pulls his thumb out of Tony’s mouth, a line of spit dragging from Tony’s lip.

“You’re gonna break me in half,” Tony coughs out once his mouth is free.

Bucky laughs. Hoarse and rough. He wraps his fingers around the engorged flesh and moans, louder than Tony’s heard him so far, and the sound of it rattles something inside Tony’s bones.

“It’ll—oh—it’ll fit, doll. We’ll make it fit. You’ll take me so good, sweetheart. Fuck. I know it.”

And, well. Tony, with his mile-wide competitive streak, has certainly never shied away from a challenge.

So he nods, and whines, and sinks blissfully under the delicious weight of Bucky’s filthy assurances. “Want you to come,” he whispers, a little shy and still a little heat-stunned.

Bucky’s responding exhale is slow, controlled. His tongue darts out to wet his lip and his brow furrows. If Tony could move his limbs, he would smooth out the wrinkle with his thumb.

The Alpha leans down, his face so close that Tony can feel the heat of his breath. His knuckles drag across Tony’s belly as he drags his fist up and down. “Oh, you want me to come, huh?” His voice is a low, gravelly purr, and the sound sends a shiver down Tony’s spine. “Sweetheart, you gotta know—every time I come now, it’s for you. Always for you.”

Tony gulps. His face burns, but he doesn’t look away. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“You have no idea, do you?” Bucky continues, his thumb circling the swollen knot, a strangled sound breaking from his throat. “This—God—this is yours, Tony. Everything I am, everything I got, it’s yours. You’re the only one who gets me like this.”

Tony’s lips part, but no sound comes out. He can only watch, utterly captivated as Bucky moves, deltoids flexing, dragging out his own pleasure like he’s savoring it.

The Alpha’s breath hitches, and he swears under his breath, his free hand bracing against the bed next to Tony’s head. “Christ, you’re so fucking pretty,” he rasps. “Just layin’ there, lookin’ at me like that. You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me, do you?”

Tony swallows hard, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Not my fault you’re a sucker for a pretty face,” he says shakily.

Bucky’s smirk widens, lazy and confident. The only sign of his dissolving composure is the flush on his cheeks, the steady increase of his breathing as he works his cock harder. Faster. “Pretty face, gorgeous everything else. I’ve told you, baby, you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Tony’s stomach does a weird little twist at the words. It’s a fluttery, almost nauseating feeling, and for a moment, he has to fight the urge to deflect with a quip. He’s saved from having to respond when Bucky’s moving again, sitting back, his fingers brushing against Tony’s thigh as he fucks his fist, slow and deliberate.

“God,” Bucky murmurs, his head tipping back just slightly, exposing the column of his throat. “You’re so good to me, you know that? Just sittin’ there, bein’ mine, lookin’ at me like you’re starvin’ for it. You make it so easy, Tony. So damn easy to lose my mind over you.”

The confession hits Tony like a lightning bolt, his breath catching in his throat as the raw, unfiltered emotion in Bucky’s voice wraps around him and holds him tight. There’s a flicker of something in Bucky’s tone—something unspoken, something neither of them is quite ready to say.

Tony simply squirms, his hands finding their way to Bucky’s thighs, grounding himself in the solid warmth beneath his fingers.

“Alpha” he manages, begging a little, though his voice cracks on the word.

Bucky chuckles, low and warm. “Patience, doll. You’ll get your show. Can’t blame me for wantin’ to drag it out a little.” He bites his bottom lip, groaning as he picks up his pace, his hips jerking slightly in time with his hand.

The sight has Tony’s head spinning. Bucky, all broad shoulders and rippling muscles, flushed and wrecked in the best way. And all for him. The thought sends an electrifying shiver through him.

“You like watchin’ me, darlin’?” Bucky rasps, his voice thick with heat and amusement. His eyes, half-lidded but still sharp, find Tony’s. The intensity in them is magnetic, pulling Tony further into the spell of the moment.

Tony swallows hard. “Uh-huh.”

Bucky’s laugh is low and guttural. “Uh-huh,” he mimics, teasing. “Look at you, sweetheart. Always so eager for me. Even when you’re too wrecked to move.”

Tony nods faster. Eager, near-delirious.

Bucky must be able to see it, clear as day in his spellbound expression. His lips curve into a softer smile, and he lets out a shaky exhale. “That’s my boy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Tony. And then he’s leaning back. Basking fully in his own pleasure.

He’s… ethereal. Lean muscle and a shimmering sheen of sweat. Bathed in the soft morning sunlight, he resembles something carved by Michelangelo himself.

He shudders, his entire frame taut and trembling like a bowstring pulled to its limit. His hand moves faster now, more insistent, the slick sound of his strokes drowning out his ragged breathing. His pupils are blown wide, the stormy grey of his eyes swallowed by a darkness that burns with desire, and his flushed skin glistens.

“Fuck, Tony,” Bucky groans, his voice guttural and broken, every syllable drenched in raw need. His gaze remains locked on Tony’s as if he’s drawing every ounce of strength and urgency from the Omega sprawled beneath him. “You do this to me. Every—fuckin’—time.”

Tony’s breath punches out of his lungs, utterly transfixed. He can feel the heat rolling off Bucky in waves, each one igniting something deep and primal in his chest. Every flex of Bucky’s forearm, every roll of his hips, every hitch in his breath—it’s all for him. Because of him.

Bucky’s movements become erratic, his chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven rhythms. His head tilts back again, exposing the thick line of his throat, and Tony can see his pulse thrumming wildly beneath the skin. His jaw clenches as a sharp, savage moan tears free, and his entire body tenses, muscles locking in place like he’s bracing for impact.

And then it hits.

“Shit—Tony—”

Bucky’s hips jerk forward, his breath catching in a low, broken sound as the first thick pulse of his release hits his chin. His hand slows but doesn’t stop, purposefully avoiding his knot, dragging every ounce of sensation from his body as his chest heaves with the force of it. The flush on his skin deepens, spreading across his neck and up to his cheeks as he groans Tony’s name, reverent and wrecked.

Tony’s eyes widen as he takes it all in, his gaze flickering between the blissed-out expression on Bucky’s face and the way his muscles ripple with every aftershock. It’s mesmerizing, watching the Alpha unravel like this, so open and unguarded in a way that feels almost sacred.

Bucky’s free hand digs into Tony’s thigh, his grip bruising as he comes, and comes, and it goes on seemingly forever as copious amounts of release jet across his chest, his stomach, dripping down past his navel and pooling to his thighs. He rides it out, moaning Tony’s name like a prayer.

When his hand finally falls away after what feels like minutes, his body sags slightly as he catches his breath. His eyes flutter open, and the warmth in his gaze when it meets Tony’s is enough to send a fresh wave of heat pooling in Tony’s chest.

“Fuck, baby, look at that,” he slurs, glancing down at the mess he’s made of himself. “All for you.”

Tony doesn’t think, doesn’t pause, doesn’t wait for the haze of the moment to clear. Scorching, he just reaches out, his palms sliding up Bucky’s bare chest, the muscles still shuddering with aftershocks, and hooks his arms around the Alpha’s neck. With a tug that feels more instinct than thought, he pulls Bucky down.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, and Bucky barely has time to brace himself before Tony’s lips are on his.

The kiss is messy, heated, and entirely uncoordinated. Tony can still taste the ragged breaths Bucky is fighting to catch, can still feel the lingering tremor in his Alpha’s frame as their mouths move together. It’s not perfect—Bucky is too unsteady, too drained—but there’s a raw, open tenderness in the way his lips slide against Tony’s, a kind of devotion that makes Tony feel like he’s being lit on fire from the inside out.

Bucky groans into it, low and throaty, his weight settling over Tony in a way that’s almost overwhelming. His chest presses against Tony’s, warm and sticky from the aftermath, but Tony doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, holding him there, deepening the kiss until it feels like the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Doll,” Bucky rasps, breaking away just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead dropping against Tony’s. His hands, broad and steady, cup Tony’s jaw, his thumbs brushing reverently over his cheekbones. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got it backwards, after that performance art.”

Bucky chuckles, a low, satisfied sound that vibrates through his whole body. His head dips, and he presses a softer kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth, lingering. There’s something unbearably gentle in the way his lips move there, as if he’s savoring every second, every inch of skin.

“You make me crazy,” Bucky murmurs, quieter now, as if the words aren’t meant to fill the space between them. His forehead presses against Tony’s, the bridge of his nose brushing Tony’s in a fleeting, tender gesture.

Tony swallows hard, his fingers threading through the damp strands of hair at Bucky’s nape, holding him close. The heat between them is still electric, still charged, but there’s something softer now, something that makes Tony’s chest ache. “Yeah,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I know.”

For a moment, they just stay like that—Bucky above him, Tony wrapped around him, the Alpha’s spend cooling between them as their breaths mingle in the heavy quiet of the room. It feels grounding, like the world has narrowed down to just this—just them. When Bucky finally tilts his head and kisses him again, slow and deep and consuming, it feels like a promise neither of them is quite ready to say out loud.

Bucky has to go to work.

It’s almost seven in the morning, and Tony would quite literally rather die than untangle himself from the Alpha.

Bucky shifts above him, his weight easing off slightly, and Tony tightens his arms around his neck in protest.

“Nope,” Tony says, muffled against the crook of Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re staying right here. Work’s canceled. World’s canceled. It’s you, me, and this bed until further notice.”

Bucky chuckles, his hand smoothing down Tony’s side in a slow, deliberate sweep. “Wish it worked like that, kid. Believe me, I do.”

“It does,” Tony argues, leaning back just enough to shoot Bucky a pointed look. “I’ve decided. Executive heat decision.”

“Is that right?” Bucky grins, his thumb tracing lazy circles against Tony’s hip. “Well, hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but my boss doesn’t exactly take orders from Omegas. Not even ones as cute as you.”

Tony groans, tucking his face back into the Alpha’s neck. “I’m devastatingly cute. I could charm a rock. Your boss wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Tony doesn’t need to return to school until Tuesday, officially, so it doesn’t require much arm-twisting from Bucky to convince him to remain in the apartment while he and Steve are gone.

Bucky sneaks out into the kitchen and returns with a warm washcloth, and Tony blushes profusely when the Alpha gently wipes them both clean.

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now, gorgeous.”

Tony’s body feels heavy in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant, like he’s been melted down and poured into the mattress. Every limb hums faintly, the echoes of his heat simmering just beneath the surface, but the overwhelming fire has cooled to something manageable. He feels warm, almost boneless, as if he’s finally surfacing from days spent at the mercy of his own biology.

The ache is still there—a dull, persistent reminder that his body’s instincts haven’t fully let go yet—but it’s bearable now. His muscles are tired, stretched in ways they haven’t been in a long time, but they feel used in the best way. Thorough. Satisfied.

His skin tingles faintly where Bucky’s hands had lingered—his jaw, his waist, his thighs—like the Alpha’s touch has left a permanent mark on him. Even now, with Bucky moving around the room, gathering his things, Tony feels the absence of his warmth like a chill he can’t quite shake.

He watches Bucky with half-lidded eyes, too lazy to move but too entranced to look away. The Alpha is dressed from the waist down now, but his shirtless torso gleams faintly in the early morning light. His movements are efficient but reluctant, his jaw tight as he sets a glass of water down on the nightstand. Tony can see it in the set of his shoulders, in the way his hands linger over every task: Bucky doesn’t want to go.

The thought makes Tony’s chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with his heat.

“You sure you’re okay?” Bucky’s asks, rough with hesitation. He’s standing at the edge of the bed now, his cool-grey eyes scanning Tony like he might fall apart any second.

Tony snorts, letting his head loll to the side as he gives Bucky an easy smile. “I’m good, Buck. Seriously. Just tired. Go to work, contribute to society.”

The words are true—he is okay. The worst of it is over, and he’s coherent enough to take care of himself for a few hours. But there’s a part of him, buried deep, that wishes he wasn’t okay. That wishes he could use his lingering heat as an excuse to make Bucky stay, to keep him here just a little longer.

Tony doesn’t voice it, though. He knows Bucky would stay if he asked. Knows the Alpha would drop everything without hesitation to keep him company, to see him through every last second of this.

Still, when Bucky fusses—fills the glass after making Tony drink the whole thing, sets him up with a (third) pair of clean underwear—Tony doesn’t stop him. It’s sweet, in that achingly Bucky way, and Tony lets it happen because he likes it. Likes knowing that even when Bucky has to leave, he’s leaving a part of himself behind, a little piece of care that Tony can hold onto.

“You eat something while I’m gone, yeah? Kitchen is yours. Try not to set anything on fire.”

“Is that supposed t’be a joke about my cooking?”

Bucky lingers, his hands twitching like they don’t know where to go, and for a moment, Tony almost calls him back. Almost asks him to crawl into bed, to wrap his arms around him, to hold him just a little longer.

Instead, he reaches out, fingers brushing Bucky’s wrist as the Alpha turns to leave. “I’m fine, Buck,” he says, his voice gentler now. “I’ll go bother Steve until he has to leave. Go, I’ll be here when you get back.”

Bucky kisses him as he’s heading out the door. “Be good.”

“Sure. Always.”

Steve finds Tony shortly after that, sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in Bucky’s clothes and Bucky’s quilt.

Screwdriver in hand. Fixing the toaster.

[pudding-parade]

Any simmers who are also survival game fans out there? If so, I thought I'd give this game a rec, to anyone who doesn't already know about it. It's Stranded: Alien Dawn, published by Frontier (who developed Planet Zoo and Planet Coaster) but developed by a smaller studio. I might call it a copy of Rimworld, only not as difficult and without the cannibalism, organ harvesting, and other war crimes, but it has some different (and interesting) mechanics of its own. And, perhaps most importantly, is in very pretty 3D. The 3D makes it sort of Sims-like, in some ways, but it is definitely more of a survival and resource-management game. I bought it a long time ago, when it was still in early access, but just recently decided to play it, since it's in full release now.

The building aspect is more fun in this game than in Rimworld, because it is 3D and, among other things, you can make multi-story buildings. LOL It is the most Sims-like aspect of the game, which is why I think people who like to build in Sims games and who also like survival games might like it. Especially because you can build literally anywhere on the map you're playing on.

Above is a simple little cozy cabin that I built for the two survivors in one of the saves I'm currently playing. They hate each other. I thought they might develop a romantic relationship, since I decided to start this save with just two survivors (the default is to start with four), but nope. Just hate. Still, they're stuck in a little house together, possibly forever, alone on an alien planet (though maybe one day they'll find other survivors to join them) surrounded by wildlife, some of it hostile. LOL

The inside of the cabin looks like this:

You don't need bathrooms or plumbing at all in this game (though you can add it via mods, if you want more realism), so it's just two bedrooms and a common area for cooking, eating, storage, and crafting. It doesn't have electricity quite yet, but it will soon, once I have the stuff I need to build solar panels and batteries and a fueled backup generator.

Oh, and also?

The game has pterosaurs. Purple, featherless ones, but pterosaurs nonetheless. Which launches it straight into the awesome category, in my book. They fly around and scavenge dead critters. The one in the pic is going for that giant dead beetle that my survivors killed. (The enemies in this game are literal and increasingly-large hordes of various kinds of giant insect-like critters. So maybe it's not for the bug-phobic, alas.) But yeah. Pterosaurs. The game also has dogs and other critters that you can tame/domesticate as well as mechs that you can build and use, but I don't have any of those in my saves yet.

Anyway, yeah. I've been playing this lately instead of sims. Sorries! LOL Hope everyone had a nice New Year's.

[bestducky]

Fragments of Tomorrow

Master Chief x female reader

Chapter 1: Static

Prologue.

Summary: Stranded and alone aboard the crumbling wreck of the Forward Unto Dawn, (Y/N) searches desperately for answers in a place that feels more dead than alive.

When a strange voice — calm, commanding — reaches out to her from the ship’s systems, (Y/N) finds herself an unwilling witness to something far beyond her understanding: the awakening of a soldier unlike any she’s ever seen.

As the ship groans and tears itself apart around her, (Y/N) realizes the real nightmare hasn’t even begun yet.

Notes: Chapter one is here, around 3k words :D. I hope I'm writing it well, if not, someone please tell me! <3

The machine lay half-open on the worktable, its strange internal wiring catching the flickering light of the broken bulb overhead. (Y/N) tightened a tiny bolt with shaking fingers, feeling the satisfying click as it slotted into place. She sat back on her stool, adjusting her glasses with the back of her wrist. Her head was starting to pound — too much concentration, too little water, and the strange electric tension that had been slowly thickening the air all evening.

She should have stopped hours ago. Normal people would have. But curiosity was a stubborn thing. It dug into your ribs and refused to let go.

She wiped her hands on a grease-streaked cloth, eyes scanning the machine again. It didn't make sense. None of it did. Most old tech was predictable — gears, wires, printed circuit boards — simple things she could rebuild in her sleep. But this? This machine was... different.

The crystalline filaments running through the device hummed faintly under her touch, shifting colors in ways she couldn't explain. The casing wasn't any alloy she recognized. There were no screws, no visible fastenings — just smooth plates sealed with a precision that felt alien. Almost like it had grown instead of being built. And the strangest part — it wasn't connected to anything. No external power. No visible batteries. And yet it was waking up.

The apartment was silent except for the occasional creak of settling wood and the soft rasp of her breathing. Outside her window, the city lights shimmered in the humid night air, smearing neon trails across the glass.

(Y/N) leaned forward, elbows resting on the worktable, and studied the exposed core of the machine. There, at the very center, something glowed — faint and blue, like the last heartbeat of a dying star.

Maybe it was foolish, but...

She reached out carefully, fingertips hovering just above the pulsing core. The air around it felt... thicker. Heavier. Like standing at the edge of a deep, deep pool and feeling the pressure of the water dragging you down.

Go on.

The thought flickered across her mind, not her own voice exactly, but familiar all the same.

Go on. Find out.

Her hand trembled slightly as she pressed a fingertip to the edge of the crystal.

The first jolt was soft. Barely a static shock — like brushing a balloon after rubbing it against your hair. But then it deepened. The vibration grew under her skin, humming through bone and blood, until her vision wavered at the edges and her ears rang with a rising tone that wasn't quite sound.

(Y/N) staggered back, nearly knocking over the stool. The machine pulsed once, twice — and then the lights overhead blew out with a sharp pop, plunging the room into darkness. She gasped, clutching the edge of the table for balance. A deep, low thrumming filled the room — a vibration so strong she could feel it in her teeth. And somewhere inside the machine, the glow sharpened into a blinding point of light.

Curiosity battled fear inside her chest, fists clenched, heart racing. Part of her wanted to run, to get out, to abandon this thing before it could drag her into whatever nightmare it had been hiding. But another part of her — the stubborn part, the dreaming part — stayed rooted in place.

This was it. This was the moment she'd been chasing all her life without even knowing it. The moment when the ordinary ended. The moment when the world changed.

(Y/N) lifted a hand, squinting into the blinding light, and took a single step forward.

The machine exploded.

Not with fire. Not with sound. But with light — a wave of it, so bright and pure it seemed to strip the world down to its bones.

The floor vanished under her feet. The apartment walls tore apart like paper. The city beyond the window melted into nothingness.

And (Y/N) fell — not downward, but inward — folded into a place with no up, no down, no time, no breath.

Floating.

Sinking.

Burning.

She tried to scream, but no sound came out. The pressure around her crushed her chest, squeezed her bones, pulled at her mind until thoughts scattered like ash in a storm.

Every nerve ending flared with pain. Every heartbeat was a war cry. She was being torn apart and rebuilt at the same time, stretched across places she couldn't see or name, pulled through cracks that shouldn't exist.

The light tore through her glasses, blinding her. She reached out blindly, desperately, for something — anything — but there was only the endless roar of static filling her ears, her lungs, her mind.

Come.

A voice? Or her own thoughts, unraveling?

Come through. Come home.

Then the world snapped. Like a rubber band pulled too tight. Like a door slamming shut behind her.

And (Y/N) hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her lungs, pain lancing through her ribs.

She lay there for a long moment, dazed and broken, blinking up at a ceiling she didn’t recognize. Steel beams. Flickering emergency lights. Distant alarms echoing through endless corridors.

The air smelled wrong — cold, sterile, tinged with something sharp and chemical.

(Y/N) coughed weakly, curling onto her side, her body trembling with aftershocks. Everything was a blur of shifting shadows and red warning lights. She pressed her palms against the ground — smooth, cold metal — and forced herself to sit up, muscles screaming in protest.

Her ears rang with a high, thin whine. Her mind spun, trying to piece together what had happened.

Where was she?

What had she done?

The machine. The machine at the shop. The humming, the light—

And then... this.

The emergency lights flickered again, revealing long, empty corridors stretching in every direction. Pipes dripped overhead. Sparks rained from severed cables. The ship groaned and shifted, metal hull flexing under unseen pressures.

A low, rhythmic thud sounded somewhere far off — heavy, mechanical, steady.

Footsteps?

No — too slow, too deliberate.

(Y/N) pushed herself to her feet, swaying dangerously. Her hands scraped against the rough surface of the deck plating, leaving faint streaks of blood. She staggered toward the nearest wall, pressing a hand against it for balance.

Panic clawed at the edges of her mind — hot, sharp, relentless.

Stay calm, she thought wildly. Think. Breathe.

The ship — if that’s what this was — vibrated under her feet, the distant rumble growing louder. Another flash of red light illuminated something stenciled across the wall in large, blocky letters:

FWD UNTO DAWN.

(Y/N) stared at it, the words swimming in and out of focus. She had no idea what it meant. She had no idea where she was.

All she knew was this:

She wasn’t home anymore.

The corridors stretched out before her, endless and hollow.

(Y/N) staggered forward, hands scraping along the steel wall for balance. Every step echoed into the silence, a hollow, ghostly sound swallowed almost immediately by the weight of the place. Shapes lurched at the edges of her sight — broken machinery, shattered panels, puddles of stagnant water pooling on the warped deck.

The emergency lighting pulsed in slow, sickly heartbeats, casting jagged shadows that crawled across the walls. Something creaked far above her — the metallic groan of a ship too long adrift.

(Y/N) hugged herself instinctively, trying to stop the shivers racking her body. Her clothes — a simple T-shirt and jeans — were thin armor against the unnatural chill that seeped into her bones.

Where was she? What was this place? Had she died somehow? Was this some twisted version of the afterlife, a purgatory built of broken machines and endless dark?

The static buzzed faintly at the edge of her hearing, a whisper growing louder with each staggering step.

Her fingers brushed against a console jutting from the wall — slick with condensation, sparking weakly from exposed wires. Above it, a shattered screen flickered fitfully.

Text scrolled sluggishly across the fractured display:

WARNING: HULL BREACH DETECTED WARNING: LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS FAILING WARNING: UNKNOWN PRESENCE DETECTED

Her throat tightened.

Unknown presence.

Was that her? Or... something else?

(Y/N) turned a corner too fast, tripping over a broken pipe jutting from the wall, and tumbled hard to the floor. Pain flared in her wrist and knees, sharp and immediate. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting tears. This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

Somewhere in the flickering darkness, a heavy, metallic clang echoed through the ship — closer this time.

(Y/N) forced herself upright, biting down on a sob. She had to find a way out. She had to find someone. Anyone.

The next corridor opened into a cavernous chamber — ceilings soaring high above into shadow. Rows of massive glass pods lined the walls, half-buried in frost and condensation.

Cryo chambers.

She'd seen pictures of them once — in sci-fi movies, in dusty history books. Not real. Not supposed to be real.

She stumbled closer, squinting through the cracks of her glasses. Most of the pods were empty. Shattered. Dead. But one, near the center of the room, still held a figure — massive, still, suspended in cold blue light.

(Y/N)'s breath caught painfully in her throat. The figure was armored head-to-toe in dark green plating, battle-scarred and battered. A rifle was magnetically clipped across its back. Its face — if it even had one — was hidden behind a gold-plated helmet, reflective and cold under the emergency lights.

The air crackled faintly as (Y/N) stepped closer to the cryo chamber. The figure inside loomed behind a thick wall of frost and reinforced glass, massive, intimidating, and utterly alien. She wiped her glasses on the hem of her shirt, trying to clear the smudged lenses. It didn't help much.

She was about to take another uncertain step forward when a voice echoed above her — soft, clear, and very human.

"You're not one of ours."

(Y/N) yelped, stumbling back, her heart hammering against her ribs. She spun around, searching wildly. No figure. No body. Just the voice, threading through broken speakers embedded in the walls.

"Who's there?" she called out, voice shaking.

There was a brief pause — almost thoughtful.

"I'm... Cortana," the voice said at last. "An artificial intelligence assigned to the UNSC Forward Unto Dawn."

Artificial intelligence. (Y/N) turned in a slow circle, trying to spot anything — a camera, a projector — something. Anything.

"You’re... what?" she whispered, stunned.

"A.I.," the voice repeated, a touch of amusement coloring her tone. "A holographic intelligence. Designed to assist in ship operations, combat strategy, and tactical analysis."

(Y/N) stared up at the cracked ceiling, at the broken lights and severed conduits. Talking to a ghost. Talking to a machine. And somehow, the machine sounded more sane than she felt.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.

"This is real?" she croaked. "You're real?"

"In a manner of speaking," Cortana said. "And you are very real. Biological signature confirmed: human, female, early-twenties, no UNSC service record detected. Civilian."

(Y/N) swallowed hard.

"Where am I?" she asked.

A pause. Then, evenly: "You're aboard the UNSC vessel Forward Unto Dawn. Current status: critical. Structural integrity compromised. Life support failing."

Her mouth went dry. "What happened?"

"That is... complicated," Cortana answered carefully. "At this moment, our priority is survival. Yours and mine."

The words sank into (Y/N) slowly, cold and heavy. Survival. Not escape. Not rescue. Just survival.

She turned back toward the cryo chamber — toward the silent giant sleeping inside.

"And him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Alive," Cortana said immediately, and there was something fierce in her tone. "Still alive. He's our best chance."

(Y/N) hesitated, heart pounding painfully against her ribs.

"I don't even know who he is."

"You'll find out soon enough," Cortana said quietly.

Another deep rumble shook the floor under their feet — distant, but growing.

"Hostile forces are boarding the ship," Cortana continued, voice sharpening. "I need to bring him back online. He can protect you."

(Y/N) stared at the chamber. The armored figure. The machine's voice in her ear.

Trust a stranger. Trust a machine. Trust a nightmare.

Not much of a choice.

Slowly, she nodded.

"O-okay," she said hoarsely.

Above her, unseen machinery stirred. Systems groaned back to life. The cryo chamber hissed violently, releasing a blast of cold steam. Locks disengaged with a heavy metallic clunk.

The man inside began to wake.

[adollt]

Alien dawn still need to finish, just a slog on year 7 with about 1 more year left.

Conan was fun but uh.... I'd rather play it on PC 😜 something seems wrong that a Karen removed nudity in a barbarian game fr. Consoles are for babys lol

Dayz gone was fun, it's kinda odd the games I play end up getting updated like just yesterday they released a remastered trailer for Dayzgone lol.

Which I'm still playing, it's quite decent. The everlasting silence reminds me of Zomboid as it's quiet, like really really quiet

I think I got drunk and stepped on my controller or it finally clocked out over the past 3 years of using it and the stick drift is there a bit and with Witcher it made the game unplayable.

I also tried out bad north, fun mini-game / flash game. But the UI on the PS4 kept freezing and going slow eventually leading to frustration as it took longer to select my users to fight then the matches lasted.

I wish I had my PC cause I wish I was playing my Dark Cloud II save

Anyone wanna play PlayStation?

Also been doing an Ironman osrs save, having a blast NGL

You know what game sounds good to beat next?

Witcher 3

As I'm finishing up Alien Stranded Dawn.

Also gonna try Conan exiles again to see what I missed as I just focused on a small server I was on.

And prolly mess around more with dayz gone.

[bogleech]

bog please help me which specific book is this i'm interested

It's Dirge, the second book in a trilogy about how humans and thranx came to form a single integrated civilization, though technically there are four books about this history; one standalone novel about first contact, and the trilogy that begins 20 years later. I'm gonna quote their wikipedia synopses:

Nor Crystal Tears: "The story follows a Thranx, Ryozenzuzex (i.e. Ryo, of Family Zen, clan Zu, Hive Zex) who came from an odd-numbered hatching (thranx offspring almost always come in multiples of two) immediately making him somewhat different from his brethren. Setting himself aside as different Ryo decides that he has to know what is the secret of the new space-faring race that supposedly wear "their skeletons inside".

Phylogenesis: "Desvendapur is an anti-social Thranx poet native to the colony on Willow-Wane who believes he can find new inspiration for his poetry by coming in contact with the physically repulsive humans, an intelligent mammal race that is unlike the insectoid thranx."

Dirge: "The Pitar are a close human analog to humans, appearing to be perfectly human except for a wider variety of hair and eye colors (including blue and violet among them) along with nearly god-like physiques. Most humans almost immediately view the Pitar as perfect. This complicated matters for the insectoid Thranx who wish to form a closer alliance with the humans. Some xenophobic humans go so far as to invade the small Thranx colony in the Amazon, killing many of the insect colonists. While this causes a political nightmare for both humans and Thranx, it also brings together the human chaplain and Thranx spiritual advisor who form the United Church."

Diuturnity's Dawn: "In the third and concluding novel of this trilogy, an uncomfortable archaeological alliance of Thranx, humans, and AAnn, explores the well-kept secrets of the lost civilization of the Sauun on the frontier world Comagrave. After a series of accidents that occur where the AAnn are convenient for helping an injured or stranded human, the chief Thranx scientist starts suspecting an anti-Thranx conspiracy." The AAnn are major antagonists throughout this continuity; they're its "war-loving" race ala the Klingons but they're desert dwelling flesh eating "reptiles" (it IS acknowledged that things like mammal, insect, bird etc. are just human colloquialisms for convergently evolved aliens, though) who look down humans and thranx in part because we both look like and taste like their favorite staple prey. For some reason however an AAnn has never been officially illustrated outside an RPG module:

In case you want to know going in what the lovable bastard asshole dinosaur people look like.

[sanjoongie]

Breed! Chapter 2

Research

ღPairing: Reader (f) x Park Seonghwa x Kim Hongjoong x Choi San x Jung Wooyoung

ღGenre: smut with no plot (if you squint, there's fluff)

ღAu: alien!teez, s2l, established relationship

ღWord Count: 2,757

ღWarnings: bdsm (tied up San), voyeurism, exhibitionism, jerking off by machine, virgin! seonghwa, corruption kink, reader is always cock hungry okay, penetrative sex with no protection, breeding kink, using cum as lubricant, m licking m cock, colored alien cum!, territorial! hwa, m orgasm x 2, degradation kink

ღRated: 18+ MDNI

ღSummary: it's seonghwa's turn to experience how humans breed. San's restrained for safety reasons but two more aliens are introduced to observe. how better to learn how humans breed if not to feel it for yourself?

ღDedication~ @thelargefrye you can blame smalls for hongjoong and wooyoung being included @mejuii @downtoamagicalland for being my ever-supporting beta readers

ღChapter 1~ Abduction | Mini Masterlist | Chapter 3~ Experiment

Slithering white rope-like strands suddenly came out from the ground and wound themselves around San. San yelped at the sudden attack and started to pull and grunt in an attempt to save himself. "Seonghwa?"

"I will take up your offer of data gathering," Seonghwa replied.

San momentarily stopped struggling and you watched with horror as the ropes slithered along his skin, tightening against his bronze skin. "Wait, really?" His face was both surprised and curious, "You're gonna fuck her?"

You stood up quickly, your skirt falling against your skin with the change of gravity. "What are you doing to San?" You demanded. Suddenly the severity of being kidnapped by aliens was starting to dawn upon you.

"We have observed that human males tend to get territorial with their mates. It's better if we restrain him while I…" Seonghwa licked his lips, "...how did you put it? Fuck her pussy full of my cum?"

You whimpered. You knew Seonghwa didn't know how dirty those words were, but that somehow made their effect more lethal. "San, look what you started!"

San was completely immobile now, only his pecs and shoulders peeking beneath the ropes. "I'm sorry I like watching other men fuck you?" He mockingly apologized, making you scoff.

Seonghwa cocked his head, stepping towards you. "Do you not wish to volunteer? We can find another suitable unmated female--"

"No," You cut him off rather firmly. You cleared your throat when San began to snicker in amusement. "I mean, it would be more efficient to use me, wouldn't it? You won't have to waste the time to explain it to another."

That sharp foreign language punctuated the air again. Seonghwa sneered a bit but quickly smoothed his features. "The others will join us now."

"Others?" You squeaked, twisting your fingers together in anxiety, "More are coming to watch?"

San started to cackle, throwing his head back. "Oh, this is getting better."

A hole opened up above and a disc descended with two individuals on it. They were shorter in stature than Seonghwa but not by much. They also simply appeared as two human males; both had faces that you couldn't read.

"I thought only Hongjoong was coming to replace me?" Seonghwa said in a tone that seemed to you like he was not impressed there were two of them.

"Wooyoung insisted," Hongjoong corrected Seonghwa. "He wants to try after you."

You began to stutter and moved closer to Seonghwa. "Seonghwa?"

Hongjoong laughed dryly. "The female is amusing in thinking that you would save her from such a fate."

Seonghwa’s arm, nonetheless, curled around your waist. He tilted his head at you. "Why do you search for solace in my arms? Is it because I chose you to mate with? Was it my tongue inside of you? Is that the appeal of this animalistic urge you humans endure for offspring?" Seonghwa pulled you closer. "Do you seek protection from other males penetrating you?"

You cleared your throat again. "Actually, I was wondering if you would allow it."

Seonghwa blinked at you profusely and then Wooyoung and Hongjoong broke out into laughter. "She wishes for more cocks. Clearly the more diverse DNA she absorbs, the better her child will become."

San was snickering again and you sent him a scathing look. "San!"

Wooyoung strode over to your restrained boyfriend. "You no longer struggle. Is it because Seonghwa licked your cock? Do you feel a sense of connection with him?" Wooyoung turned back towards Seonghwa. "Was that another part of the breeding process? Perhaps another must respect the cock that penetrated previously."

San coughed and blushed and stared high, high up to the ceiling. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Seonghwa’s fingers tightened on your body. "I am next. I have observed and now I will attempt to replicate."

His robe dropped to his feet and you let out a low moan. His body was more slender and flatter than San's but your fingers smoothed over his chest in appreciation nonetheless. "I should remove my clothes as well."

Seonghwa’s eyes were hooded and his cock bounced angrily against his abdomen. "Is it the proper way to do so?"

"Me and San just fuck with clothes on because it feels more forbidden," You admitted quietly.

Seonghwa kept his voice to the same level yours was. "This is quite forbidden."

"You should speak louder," Hongjoong interrupted. "If you're going to replicate, we need to hear everything for our turns."

You swallowed and found there was no moisture in your mouth. "How…how many are there of you?"

"Six of us,” Hongjoong reported, “It is not known how many of us should learn. In case it is decided that without enough data, we cannot make a concise choice, so the more data we all gather, the better."

"Surely the more data the better," San said in a slight squeal, trying to sound serious like the aliens but beyond excited. Was it going to be a gang bang? San knew you had always secretly wanted that experience, although you were plenty happy just fucking San.

"Precisely, human," Hongjoong smiled dangerously.

"I shall begin!" Seonghwa announced. 

His hands cupped your face and he brought his lips to yours. You held perfectly still as they danced along yours with such feather light touches that you whined and pushed up on your tippy toes. You wrapped your arms around Seonghwa’s neck and slanted your lips over his. His eyes widened in surprise before he closed them and let your tongue take over in dominance. You whimpered when he melted under your touch. You suddenly wanted Seonghwa everywhere at once.

"You don't have to prep me, like San did," You whispered against Seonghwa's lips, your foreheads pressed together, "His cum will work fine."

San moaned in his spot. "Fuck, that's hot," he said as he bit rather harshly on his lower lip.

Seonghwa turned you around easily. "Then shall you bend over for me?" He asked.

You shook your head and turned around back to face him. "We can try a different position."

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed. "You use more than one position?"

That's when San started to struggle in his restraints once again. "Let me out! I won't be bad, I'll just help!"

Wooyoung bounced on the balls of his feet, looking ecstatic that the show was about to begin. "He's not entered her yet. Let's be safe and keep you confined."

"I love having my dick squeezed but this is not the interpretation I prefer," San grumbled in an adorable pout.

Hongjoong snapped his fingers and suddenly San yelped and panted. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Mingi thinks it's a good idea to acquire pure, unmixed cum from the male," Hongjoong supplied to the room.

"Who---hhhnnnnn--okay that--wow!" San was a whimpering mess and you knew that noise. 

"San, are the ropes pleasuring you?" You demanded.

"Your mate will be fine, human," Seonghwa insisted, drawing your attention back to him. "What do we do next?"

"Well, I guess--" You managed to pull your eyes away from your boyfriend whose features were contorted in pleasure. "I'll need to wrap my legs around your waist--!"

Seonghwa placed his hands under your ass and leveled your lower half with his cock. "Like this?" He asked with raised eyebrows.

"Wait," Hongjoong commanded, stepping closer. "I wish to observe you penetrating the female."

"Female or human is kinda clinical to refer to me as, don't you think?" You whined pathetically.

"The male called you Babe?" Seonghwa tilted his head cutely.

You shook your head. "That's what San addresses me as. I want something different for you. Please?"

Seonghwa looked at a loss for words, face truthfully unsure. "What do I do?"

"Interesting. The female seems to want a further connection with you, Seonghwa," Hongjoong observed out loud.

"Mingi, adjust the bindings," Wooyoung said from his spot beside San still. "Let's see his breeding in action. We can collect more data with him outside of the pussy."

San choked again. The ropes adjusted until they revealed the ropes convulsing around San's very happy cock. "Fuck, I thought you were the only one that was going to have fun after this," San said, clearly directing his words towards you.

Hongjoong abandoned his post near Seonghwa and walked towards Wooyoung and San. "Figure it out, Seonghwa. I will begin the ritual by licking the male's cock and then yours."

"What?!" San and Seonghwa exclaimed at the same time. 

"But I thought I was going next!" Wooyoung protested.

"Is there something you adore in your world?" You asked gently.

"There is a moon that orbits our planet. It is the most beautiful pink color I have ever had the pleasure of viewing," Seonghwa responded solemnly.

You pressed your lips inwards. "Will you call me your moon, then?"

"My moon," Seonghwa tried out the words carefully.

You smiled at the cute moment before giggling as San cursed loudly, which is usually what he did when he got his dick sucked. Hongjoong walked back to your side with a thoughtful expression. "He tastes interesting." Hongjoong locked eyes with Seonghwa, "Will you taste differently?"

Seonghwa let out a garbled gasp as Hongjoong gripped Seonghwa’s cock between the two of you and licked the head daintily. "Different but not in a bad way," Hongjoong observed. When Seonghwa simply stared at him in shock, Hongjoong directed Seonghwa with a jerk of his chin, "Focus, Seonghwa, you have to fuck the female!"

"My Moon," Seognhwa tried out the nickname again, "I'll use San's cum as lubricant and fuck you?"

You nodded eagerly and it all started up again. Seonghwa slid into you, with no restrictions. The look of pure enrapture on Seonghwa’s face made you realize, somewhat belatedly, that this was Seonghwa’s first time. He came at it with such an analytical mind that it made you forget he had never had sex before.

"I have discovered why humans copulate in such a way," Seonghwa said with reverence. "This pussy is so good."

Hongjoong stared up at Seonghwa, eyes studying the taller alien's faces. "Explain."

"The warmth and the wetness give unfathomable pleasure and comfort." Seonghwa's hands tightened on your ass and then began to move you up and down on his dick, like you were his own personal fleshlight. The moan he let out, the way his eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain, Seonghwa was pussy drunk on his first pussy.

"I told you there is no greater pleasure than fucking that pussy," San spoke up.

"Speed it up, Mingi," Wooyoung commanded, "He’s close."

"I don't think--!" San's back bowed as the ropes contracted and released around his dick. He was a babbling mess at that point and Wooyoung was quite interested in the whole display. 

Hongjoong gripped Seonghwa’s jaw and turned his head. "Your mind is unraveling, what is wrong with you?"

Seonghwa shook his head and fucked you enthusiastically. The way he was hitting the end of you was making you feel some type of way as well. "You must experience it! That is the only explanation."

Hongjoong stepped back and was about to remove his robe. Seonghwa snarled almost animalistically towards Hongjoong, like he was snapping his jaws at Hongjoong to stay away from his meat. “You will not interrupt me until I am done.”

Hongjoong smiled pleasantly. “Seems like it is not just the human males that become territorial. Theory confirmed.”

Seonghwa appeared stuck between the pleasure he was experiencing and his role as researcher for data. His head swung towards San’s direction. "How do you STOP fucking this pussy? How do you not procreate all the time?"

San laughed and sighed at the same time. "My point exactly. I tell her all the time that it’s a crime we don’t just stay in bed all day and fuck."

Seonghwa sent you a wounded look. "How dare you deny him this?"

You laughed in amazement. “I guess males are all the same, regardless of the planet they are born on.”

Seonghwa grew serious. “I will complete my research now.”

Hongjoong clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “You’re starting to sound human. Be more patient! I would have you observe how you’re feeling more.”

Seonghwa shook his head, looking almost nervous. “I don’t believe I have a choice.”

You couldn't help but smile in pride. “Are you going to come so quickly, Seonghwa? Are you that pussy drunk that you can’t help but come inside of me just like that? I didn’t know it would be so fun to fuck a virgin.”

San’s cries began to crescendo and you watched, along with Wooyoung, as San tossed his head back and spurted across the room. His noises were like music to your ear, only making you even wetter, impaled on Seonghwa’s dick. San panted as he came down from his high but still he was not released. “Can I take these rope things home with me when you release us?”

Hongjoong scolded him, “Wooyoung, you were supposed to collect his cum! This is not a leisurely pursuit!”

You clenched down on Seonghwa and he let out a choked gasp at the feeling. “Please, do not do that! I am already close.”

You decided to play into your devious tendencies. Teasing Seonghwa was almost too much fun. “Come for me, Hwa. Fill me up with your cum. I want to be the first one to receive your cum. I want to be the first one to watch your pleasure written over your face. Come for me, Hwa.”

“Hwa?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed as if he was feeling intense pain, “Th--” He made the most wonderful moan as he came for the first time. His features were etched in bliss and your eyes captured it all. 

You bit down on your lip. You thought that you couldn't get any wetter yourself, but regardless of all the cum that was filling you up right now, you quickly knew you were going to get addicted to seeing these aliens come for the first time within you. 

“And?” Hongjoong prompted, not even giving Seonghwa a moment to breath.

Seonghwa ignored him and instead focused on you. “Is it customary to shorten your partners name when speaking to them during the fucking process?”

You felt your heart flop a bit. Who knew Seonghwa could be so cute? “It just felt natural. Did you like it?”

“It--” Seonghwa cleared the potential whine from his throat, “It urged me to come.”

You smiled happily. “Good.”

“Good?” Seonghwa frowned in confusion. 

Hongjoong began to huff at being ignored. “This was an utter failure. Seonghwa you can remove yourself from the female. Wooyoung, you will send down Mingi to observe, you’ve been useless.”

Seonghwa pulled out of you and it was your turn to be confused. Green, shimmering, viscous liquid pooled out of you, mixed with San’s pure white cum. “Oh,” was all that Seonghwa could say.

Hongjoong’s eyes were on your cunt, watching everything. “Our cum is a different color than the humans. Interesting. Mingi, make sure that’s recorded. We will extract Seonghwa’s sample another day.”

“I will be back,” Seonghwa whispered to you before carefully settling down on your feet. Even as he picked up his robe and put it back on and walked towards the disc that would take him upwards, he still sent lingering looks back to you. Had the alien formed a bond with you since you were his first?

“What about me?” San pouted. He did tend to get clingy after a climax.

Hongjoong’s eyes moved up and down San’s restrained body, San’s soft cock still out of his confines. “Two climaxes should have subdued you.”

Wooyoung snickered and drew Hongjoong’s attention. “I told you to leave,” Hongjoong commanded.

Wooyoung kicked at nothing, sulking immediately. “I’m going after you!” he shouted rebelliously as he walked to the disc to join Seonghwa.

“You’re going to be as useless as Seonghwa, I can already tell,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath.

You held up a hand as Hongjoong made to disrobe. “I need a break. Please. Water and food would be appreciated.”

Hongjoong pulled back up his robe and you were almost sorry you said something. Hongjoong almost had as nice of a chest as San. “Very well. You should gather your energy and then we will come back. I will find out if there is no greater pleasure than fucking your pussy.”

Somehow the sentence coming out of Hongjoong’s mouth felt more like a threat than a promise, but it made you even wetter. New kink unlocked

ღChapter 1~ Abduction | Mini Masterlist | Chapter 3~ Experiment

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