#you're not doing it for the benefit of *women*; that's for sure

[creatingblackcharacters]

Question: how do you feel about Black writers with Black OCs with traits that may fit certain stereotypes at first glance? For example, one of my OCs is a psychologist. She's intelligent enough to have 2 doctorates, and a gentle hearted therapist.

I'm worried because she might fall into the Mammy trope. Giving too much of herself to build others up. Part of the reason I made her with that specific profession is because I never see Black women in mental health. Definitely not in fiction and honestly? Barely IRL. We are nurses but never doctors. I'm not sure if my intent outweighs what may be on the surface.

What do you think?

[I love your blog and your work. I have had to look at my own OCs harder and I thank you for giving me the tools to question and better myself. ]

To your example: My good sis, I'm going to give you the same answer I give everyone else!

There's nothing wrong with your character off rip. I'm glad that you're writing that representation you want to see! You've already done some of the footwork here- recognizing that she gives too much of herself to lift others up! How do you as the writer treat that? Do you recognize that? Is it your intention that your readers say "hey, she sure does this a lot, is she going to care for herself?" Does your plot intend to address this within her and allow her to grow, which may mean letting others care for her, or putting some of that weight down on her own? Or do you treat her as though that's just Her Role and everyone else (usually white characters) benefits from that?

As for your first question, it honestly depends. I usually have more grace for the intentions of Black writers, mainly bc I expect that we are more aware of what we're writing about ourselves. For example, I can watch Menace II Society and go "ah! Okay. Yeah there are gang bangers here, but they are there to tell a specific story. This is not what the author thinks we all are, this is them telling about the world around them". Unfortunately I can't have that much grace off rip with nonblack writers.

That said, if something is a stereotype, it's gone be a stereotype regardless of who wrote it. Antiblackness is very often perpetuated by Black people who may have certain destructive beliefs about themselves. I think Soul Food is the most misogynoiristic films I've ever seen, and it's written and directed by a Black man 😅 So yeah, we can always take time to step back and look at how we can improve our own work.

[maddy-ferguson]

#me

[handkinkbis]

It's hard to deny that most women don't seem to care about protecting their own rights. Far right parties might be gaining popularity worldwide, but feminist gains are a given, right? It's better to be liked for speaking out against your own civil rights movement than to identify yourself as a feminist and possibly receive vitriol for it, right? A man might say something mean online, right? It's safer to fuse with the wallpaper than to stick your neck out by calling out the misogyny you see, right? Maybe it's a task for someone else - some woman other than you. And life gets in the way of such trivial things as the preservation of your own rights.

You have no love for other women because you've failed to properly love yourself as a woman. It's the self hatred that turns you away from the sisterhood and towards seeking allegiance with women's oppressors. Conform and obey and you might get some of your basic needs met. After all, scraps are better than nothing and you're just trying to survive. You might even receive love from a man if you perform femininity in just the right way for him. Then you'll finally be worthy once he bestows worthiness onto you, right?

But that's all right. I'll love and adore women on your behalf. I'll praise women on your behalf. I'll love both of us on your behalf. I'll fight for both of us, so that one day you might discover that you're worth fighting for.

[constant-state-of-self-discovery]

Does anyone else occasionally skim through a blog you might have had a small argument/unpleasant interaction with to make sure they aren't vagueing about you every time or am I just paranoid bc of the way people can randomly decide to start smear campaigns on this site lmao

[tyrannuspitch]

relatedly. i've seen a few fics that one way or another feature odin essentially. getting angry with loki for being queer. and for reasons mentioned above i just cannot buy it sdkjfsk. like. is odin a homophobe? absolutely. does odin want loki to be or act straight? um. NO

[queerbauten]

I love how people (particularly men) think they get a free pass to be misogynistic when their target is the "pick-me girl", a phrase which increasingly means nothing

[k0kichiimagines]

its so insane to me when i see certain women say that period leave is somehow offensive i am begging you stfu i would kill for period leave dont ruin it for the rest of us because you dont want it 😭😭

[ekho-ekho-ekho]

know those bear-proof trashcans at Yellowstone Nat’l Park? hard to design one that’ll keep out the smartest bears without hindering the dumbest tourists? deadpan sarcasm is like that.

[maddy-ferguson]

women will literally accuse women and esp lesbian circles of "not unpacking ""man-hating""" alleged ""misandry" sweetie xo" getting offended ppl aren't appropriately uplifting how "men are amazing and awesome and attractive and i won't be shamed for thinking so" as if appreciating men is a real counter opinion than blame whatever gave women of every sexuality instance to be jaded weary cautious and tired and who'll complain every now and then and continue on with her life until she dies putting up with patriarchy. just welcome to the "woke" internet where misogyny's over and "man-hate" "shamed for not hating men" is worth springing to defences for

yeah i've only seen people talk like men's rights activists and think they're being unbelievably progressive on tumblr it's kind of fascinating. like i can see how seeing people hate on men could mess with people and stuff but you can't demand men appreciation posts that's literally the whole world outside of idk your tumblr dash (or even on your tumblr dash because fandom misogyny from people who think they're not misogynistic at all is really something). men get praised for "babysitting" their own kids like be serious? it's very let men be masculine

i don't think being like men are soooo gross and we hate them is actually constructive and it can definitely veer into transphobia (you'll always be a man/"a male" and thus a danger to women/why would you ever want to become a man they're the enemy and the bane of society etc) and homophobia relatively quickly?

but the way people ON TUMBLR ""combat that"" is often so off to me like if the most basic feminist principles offend you then i'm not really sure where to go from here. i remember seeing a post that was like "men aren't your enemy. they're your friend/brother/father/colleague/neighbor" with a lot of notes and like i don't know how to tell you this but that's literally who's most likely to harm a woman, the men she knows?😭 and obviously not every system of oppression is exactly the same but would you say the same thing to someone criticizing white people like...just very weird

i think women who are attracted to men and dating them making jokes about how they only tolerate being attracted to men because they have no choice and especially the whole i'm bi so i love every woman and only find 1 in a 1000 men attractive (very often said while in a relationship with a man) thing is obnoxious and annoying for like everyone who has to hear it lmao but also when women who date men make jokes about it (not about them being ugly or unattractive or whatever but about them being bad partners in general) it's like. what else are they going to do like you said they're gonna endure patriarchy for the rest of their lives and as girlfriends/wives/mothers they go through the most it's very bleak? idk. it's not like you can date a better man yourself out of patriarchy

of course men aren't a all as bad as the worst guy you can imagine and they're not all out to get you or whatever but saying things like "men don't all benefit from the patriarchy rich men benefit from the patriarchy but jake, 23, is not oppressing you" is like. kind of insane. jake, 14, was oppressing me like have you never interacted with boys in school😭 and it's not like it was entirely their fault we all have to outgrow misogyny it's just you know society etc but some of them never outgrow it lmao and just...the takes you see on feminism on tumblr are astounding i hate it here

[hussyknee]

Wonder how far I can prod libs into finishing their full thought bubble behind all this "harm reduction" "genocide is a single issue" "you don't care about marginalized people in the US" "dyou want fascism WITH genocide???" screeching.

Okay, class, say it with me: "I don't want to live in a third world country like the ones we keep destroying."

Because you know. The countries your war criminal leaders keep bombing and starving and destabilising and leeching dry? We don't have trans or gay rights or women's rights or disability benefits or environmental or labour protections. No one would want to live in our countries obviously. You'd kill yourselves before you had to live like we do. Sure, we're only like this because you keep us trapped in poverty and violence and we still have full, happy lives worth living despite it but that's because we're used to it! We don't know any better! Not like you! You know what you deserve and you shouldn't have to lose anything as a consequence of your own political choices! Your government is supposed to happen to other people! Not you! So like, yeah, it's bad that the poors are being massacred wholesale or whatever, but like. That doesn't mean you gotta die with them, y'know? And by "death" you don't mean actual genocide like what's happening over here but "death" as in "having to live like we do".

The trolley problem metaphor is so goddamn attractive to you because you see yourself outside the tracks, objectively assessing the situation and making the "tough" "moral" choice for the collective good. It's imperialist horseshit. You don't have a democracy and it's not a trolley. What you have is an imperial death machine running on an apartheid system that decides who gets fed to it and who gets fed by it. That's your "two tracks"— the colonized and the colonizer, the core and the periphery, the white and the coloured. "Harm reduction"? Have you counted how many fucking millions in and around the world your death machine eats to keep how many of you "safe"? But our losses are a foregone conclusion, a matter of course, a regrettable necessity. The only variable is yours.

Every political choice in 200 years of your settler colony has been "genocide AND". "Genocide AND women's rights". "Genocide AND workers rights". "Genocide AND fascism". "Genocide AND democracy". The difference is that for the first time in your history you're now watching it livestreamed to the entire world in real time 24/7, exactly as your colony is about to capsize under the weight of its own bloodlust. A sea change from when your parents threw parties watching bombs dropping on Baghdad and then spent twenty years watching movies about sad it made the soldiers.

How do you count the victims when we are numbers and you are people? You scream about trans rights in the US while Palestinian trans children don't have the right to reach puberty. OSHA for you but Congolese children have to die in mines. Reproductive rights for the US while Sudanese women are raped in millions. Yes, but it's always been "genocide AND" no matter what, right? Do we want to sabotage the party that has never fucking cared about us and don't now even with half their own country screaming at them on the off-chance they might possibly maybe one day do?? Why are we acting so mad like it's YOUR fault that you're fighting for your quality of life over our corpses?? Do we want YOU to lose your rights over it??

Yes, actually. We do. We want you to have a taste of the reality that generations on generations of your illegal illegitimate white supremacist occupation has inflicted on us just so your worthless hide can sit there and call our genocides a single fucking issue. And let's be real: that's what you're so fucking afraid of.

[leonstamatis]

one of the more interesting parts of the barbie movie i think is the presence of weird barbie, actually. like yes, the kens serve to show how women being in power isn't actually that much better than men being in power, because consolidating all that power in one group means the other becomes disenfranchised and lower status or class by default. but there are also interesting things to be said about femininity and the way this movie addresses it!

like, look at every single barbie and you'll find a lot of extremely feminine women. yes, they win nobel prizes for literature and they're scientists and they have a whole range of skills. but they're all also conventionally attractive and feminine, for the most part -- excluding that one line about "you're a physicist, do you want some pants?" (very odd, bc it's not as if scientifically inclined women cannot also be effeminate, but that's a whole other point i'm not going to get into right now.)

the only one who is not stunning, who is not put together, is weird barbie. and despite her status as part of the socially established higher class via being a barbie instead of a ken, she is still ostracized, because her version of being a barbie is not what is expected of the group. she does not comply with the guidelines and rules and structure of femininity. sure, she has a dream house, but it's away from everyone else. sure, she's a barbie, but everyone calls her weird and stays away from her, and she's a sort of old wives' tale about what could go wrong.

while she may receive some benefits of being a barbie, i.e. a woman, in this hierarchical structure, she does not receive all or even most of them -- because she performs it incorrectly. (aside: i wish they hadn't cleaned her up and made her into an attempt at hot alt pink fashion toward the end. when she's more put together, she loses a lot of what makes her special, i think.)

allan fills a similar niche, in that he is neither allowed a place within the power structure when the barbies are in control nor when the kens are. he is a man, as far as we know, but he is not a ken. and because he is not performing his identity in the ken-approved way, he does not reap the benefits when they take over. he continues to exist as lesser, and aligns himself with the barbies.

i suppose the point i'm trying to make is that both weird barbie and allan serve an important role in this movie in pointing out the ways that those who exist outside of perceived binaries or structures are still yet harmed or disenfranchised by the enforcement of them. if that makes any sense at all.

[the-californicationist]

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever. 

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age. 

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade. 

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice. 

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones. 

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.   

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?” 

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain. 

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin. 

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high, 

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively. 

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing. 

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot. 

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size. 

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself. 

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood. 

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal. 

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated, 

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus. 

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony. 

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help. 

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes. 

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you. 

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility. 

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure. 

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely. 

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session, 

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.” 

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves. 

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life. 

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure. 

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said. 

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.” 

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.” 

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs. 

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale, 

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication. 

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm, 

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real. 

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then. 

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own. 

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again. 

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done. 

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss. 

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved. 

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts. 

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan. 

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you, 

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival. 

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts. 

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame. 

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time. 

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars. 

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip. 

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots. 

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry. 

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual. 

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself. 

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement. 

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated. 

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick. 

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience. 

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused. 

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious. 

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance. 

Another loud slam. Another rejection. 

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned. 

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again. 

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation. 

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it. 

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well. 

Alpha Price had imprinted for you. 

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time. 

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people. 

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed. 

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform. 

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you. 

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.” 

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black. 

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch. 

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting. 

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent. 

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face. 

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle. 

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice. 

He chuckled a bit, sighing, 

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly, 

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you. 

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key. 

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will. 

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control, 

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back, 

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command. 

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there. 

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water. 

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him, 

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him, 

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million. 

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you. 

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs. 

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake. 

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center. 

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate. 

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done. 

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform. 

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed. 

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony. 

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply. 

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant. 

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened, 

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them, 

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave. 

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar. 

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land. 

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to. 

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him. 

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil. 

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms, 

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you. 

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega. 

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done. 

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived. 

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power. 

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence. 

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard. 

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what. 

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance. 

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings. 

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly. 

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time. 

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure. 

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock. 

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power. 

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you. 

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet. 

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.      

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat. 

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response. 

No deal. 

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor. 

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in. 

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot. 

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed. 

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need. 

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped. 

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body. 

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness. 

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest. 

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him. 

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars. 

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core. 

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. . 

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief, 

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream. 

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland. 

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core. 

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste. 

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see. 

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you. 

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight. 

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths. 

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais. 

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever. 

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest. 

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again. 

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love. 

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

[shotmrmiller]

ps!ghost is very interested, to put it mildly. can't seem to stop re-watching your debut video that was released a week ago. it's always the same premise. black leather couch casting. nice little bird in a modest dress or shirt and jeans who gets undressed because the "director" has to take in measurements and the like, only to end up getting railed from the back with their pretty face pressed into the cushion.

it's a thing male viewers like. they love to watch a professional break in the new girl. he, though, not so much. he doesn't go for the new girls. doesn't like to be the one to test the limit like others do. (big cock anal on their debut? ghost finds it a bit much.) he hears one tiny gasped ouch and he's not finishing the shoot.

no, what gets him going is the enjoyment one can get during sex. it's why he ended up in this business in the first place. he likes sex. a lot.

likes to have men, women, young and old alike writhing beneath him gasping his (stage) name due to the pleasure and not because a script said to. and the benefits of working in the porn industry means that he gets paid doing what he likes, and can stay safe while doing so.

this is where you come in. the only reason he'd sat down to watch your video at all is because you'd been given a contract by the same company he is under. he's bound to come across you at a later date, might as well learn what he'll be eventually working with.

and he's hooked. whatever initial nervousness you might've had at the very beginning (because this is your very first professional shoot, of course) bleeds from your shoulders once price, the lucky bloke, gets his hands on you. you're a bloody natural.

and you enjoy it. there's no faking the way your nails bite into price's scalp when he licks at your pussy through your thin knickers. you gently wrap your hand around his fingers that's rolling your hardened nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze. he's doing it too rough. you buck your hips into his face, riding it even though you're the one on your back.

ps!ghost has to swallow the mouthful of saliva when he notices strings of creamy white sticking to price's body hair, a frothy ring around the root. the best part of all of this, is that you're giving as good as you take. you're no passive participant. you could, under price's big bulk, just get folded in half and do nothing other than feel the sweet burn of his cock stretch you, turn you inside out.

but you don't. you know exactly what you like and how you like it. you look for your orgasm, make sure it happens under your manicured fingers or price's thick ones. you don't let him be too rough on you nor too gentle.

simon loves it. you're new to this. you could've just accepted what he gave you without so much as a peep of complaint and gone home to soak in an epsom salt bath. but you didn't. you didn't let him pinch your sensitive clit, didn't let him mindlessly claim a fistful of hair.

but you did open your pretty mouth so he could spit in it (fucking lovely, it was) and let him keep your soft hips in the air as john's pace turned frantic and the best of all (in his very biased opinion) you crossed your ankles around his waist to keep him there as he fucked you full of his come.

(had simon been there, he would've begged for a taste if he had to.)

he feels a bit desperate, after. can't get you out of his head. the thought of your slick pussy hot around his cock is what gets him to finish at times. the other times, it's your video. he swears he's found his equal (sorry, soap) one that'll forget that he's supposed to be putting on a show for the viewers.

sorry price, he's about to unfuck him out of your pussy until all it'll ever remember is simon.

(what he doesn't understand is that he's about to forget more than the viewers. why is price watching yall again? it's almost intimate the way you let him fuck you on a creaky mattress. he's drunk on the smell of you, your hair, your cunt. lost all thought when his fat cock slid with relative ease into your wet heat and all he'd done was let you make yourself come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you'd pleased. you'd latched onto his neck, maybe out of habit or whatever, it doesn't matter. he'll be telling the makeup artists to leave the bites you left. he earned every single one. and where he usually pulls out because it's easier to clean up for everyone? you'll not be wasting a single drop. it appears he has a lot bit of a breeding kink.)

[gureumz]

project aphrodite

rating: explicit

member: jungwon

premise: in a post-apocalyptic world, you and jungwon are excellent scientists and are at the relative top of the list of people who are ideal parents for the next generation of this dying world. it's now your job to repopulate this earth so you ask your co-worker to pretty please knock you up.

notes: sci-fi elements, dystopian au, scientist!reader, scientist!jungwon, fem-bodied reader, reader is referred to as a woman, dom!jungwon, breeding, impreg kink (like heavily), dirty talk, platonic (?) breeding, co-workers with benefits (?), idk this is kinda speculative fiction but also suspend your disbelief a bit lol

a/n: first of my 1k follower special! not quite sure what order i'm following here but i hope you stay for the ride nonetheless! enjoy!

it's a strange feeling.

in your line of work, 'strange' is hardly any cause for concern. as a biologist with a concentration in genetics, you've seen all the ways nature does its job. from the familiar concepts almost all people learn about in science class like the basic 'mom-meets-dad-equals-baby' to the eerie methods organisms in the deep sea evolve to survive.

you've learned about it all, pored over each punnett square, stressed over the formulas. so, this shouldn't be anything to worry about.

and yet, you're still worried.

"i mean...what did we expect?" jay speaks up from beside you, eyeing the phone in his hand.

"we're presently some of the world's most brilliant minds so...," he adds, locking his phone before hunching over his desk. to your ears, it sounds as if he's trying to convince himself rather than you.

you scan over the document flashed on your own laptop screen. the harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzz nonstop, going on and on, a background hum all of you in the bunker have grown used to. at this moment, it lulls you into a daydream, vision swimming as you repeat the words in your head.

all government personnel with a status level 7 and higher are recommended to partake in project aphrodite. those falling under level 10 are strictly required. participation at this level is compulsory.

common citizens with a status of 9 to 10 are also required to participate. ample compensation for those successful will be provided.

"you're a level 8. it's not as if you have to," you mutter, fingers digging into your temples.

jay snickers. "how many level 10 government personnel are there in this ruined world? a few hundred or so doctors, another few hundred scientists, even fewer world leaders. that's not taking into account the difference in sex. my information's not up to date but last time i checked, there is a hell of a lot more men than there are women. it's a shitshow waiting to happen."

you turn to meet jay's eyes, not meaning to convey any certain emotion, but the way jay's expression falls leads you to believe that you look way more upset than you're letting on.

"oh shit, yeah," jay curses. "you're a level 10. i forgot."

you sigh, tilting your head back against the headrest of your seat.

"i'm sure they'll release more regulation soon," you begin. "this is just the initial memo. with our world hanging in the balance as it is, no one's gonna let this devolve into some patriarchal anarchy, i hope."

"yeah, of course," you hear jay agree. "most of the proponents of project aphrodite are women, anyway, so i'm sure they'll take extra measures to keep you safe."

you sit up straight, looking at jay once more. "this is the world, huh?"

you and jay pause before sharing a quick chuckle.

"'go make babies, or else,'" you say in a mock radio announcer voice. jay lets out a laugh, his voice echoing off the empty office walls.

the two of you fall into silence, as if retreating to your respective thoughts. all that's in your mind at this moment is your current project, the very thing the few people more powerful than you had assigned for you to do: leading your team in stopping that godforsaken virus ravaging the outside. you've been making steady progress so far, but with the weight of this new responsibility, you're not sure if you could keep the momentum up.

you realize with a passing thought that most of the scientists on your team are level 9s and 10s.

"well," you begin before you could stop yourself. you're suddenly overcome with a feeling of suffocation, the office space seemingly too small and continuously growing even smaller.

"i hope you find someone you'd like to procreate with," you say lightly, pushing yourself off your chair. you quickly gather your things: folders and binders and other loose papers in your arms.

you catch jay looking at you, a pensive look on his face. you stop as you're grabbing your reusable coffee jug.

"no," you deadpan. "not me."

jay's eyes widen, as if realizing he'd said something without really saying anything.

"i—no, wait—i mean...," jay stutters, ears quickly turning red.

you smile, patting jay's shoulder reassuringly. "in case you were thinking about it."

jay's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water and you can't help but laugh.

"these are desperate times, but i'm hoping it's not too desperate," you add. without waiting for a response, you turn towards the door, already making your way to it.

"besides, dr. isa lee seems more your type," you say over your shoulder one last time before pushing the door open and stepping out into the hallway.

---

"hey."

you look up from the microscope, tearing your attention away from the specimen you were examining. your eyes readjust to their normal focal length as a tall figure enters the lab, perfectly crisp white coat hanging off his broad shoulders, thin-wired spectacles resting on the bridge of his tall, straight nose. your lips feel strangely parched as he makes direct eye contact with you and you're left with no choice but to moisten them with your tongue.

"oh hi, dr. yang."

the other scientist chuckles, setting down a stack of papers on a desk in the corner. "i've been here for three weeks. please, call me jungwon."

you swallow. "right. jungwon."

dr. jungwon yang was a new import from the seoul bunker, having come to your own area's bunker merely a few weeks prior. he was immediately put under your supervision, an addition to your already elite team of biologists, geneticists, and virologists. off the bat, you could tell he was a man of many talents, coming up with unconventional solutions and arriving at answers quicker than anyone else.

his presence in your lab made your heart swell. in pride, adoration, or desire, you're not quite sure.

"uh, yesterday's results are in that binder over there, in case you want to go over them," you begin. jungwon walks over to your side of the long table, peering over the slide loaded into the microscope.

ignoring the way he brushes ever so slightly against you, you continue. "the director's dropping by later this afternoon, but i wouldn't be too bothered with that. he's just looking for someone to blame for the slow progress at this point. if only they could get us those materials we asked for..."

"have you read the memo?" jungwon asks abruptly, straightening up. he towers over you, his eyes downcast as he stares at your face.

"of course, you've read the memo," jungwon corrects himself, chuckling. "what i meant was...what do you think of it?"

"it's a government-issued memo, it hardly matters what i think," you respond, focusing back on your work in front of you, although all you do is stare blankly at the moving microorganisms, mind unfocused with how much of jungwon's perfume you can smell.

"it's your reproductive health that's on the line. i'm pretty sure your opinion counts for something," jungwon says with a pinch in between his eyebrows.

oh, a feminist. that's even hotter.

"okay, yeah. i appreciate the new guidelines they put out," you admit, looking back up at jungwon. "though it's the bare minimum, i'm glad they're letting us keep the autonomy of choosing who to...boink."

jungwon laughs at that.

"and free fertility drugs for anyone who wants or needs it. oh, also, thank god they didn't have the brilliant idea of putting a time limit on it. having read some crazy speculative fiction myself, the things people are willing to do in fiction are crazy. who's to say they can't do the same in real life?" you continue.

you don't notice the way jungwon's smirk grows as he listens.

"kind of makes the whole thing unsexy, don't you think?" jungwon cuts in, raising an eyebrow. you blink, unsure of what he's talking about.

"i'm surprised they're not monitoring us with cameras and hooking us up to EKGs and shit," he adds.

"oh," you say with a soft giggle, finally catching on. "i'm sure some people are into being watched."

"are you?" jungwon asks.

"am i what?" you answer.

"into being watched."

a pause.

you shake your head. "how about you?"

"oh no," jungwon says. "i prefer to keep what's mine for my eyes only."

"hm. possessive. that's kind of sexy," you mumble under your breath, a sudden surge of confidence coursing through you.

jungwon just stares at you, but you can see his pupils dance in amusement, taking in your whole face and all your features. you might have imagined it but he seemed to have peeked down at your chest for a second.

"do you think it's attractive for someone to be into lego-building? or at least, used to be into it. i'd give an arm and a leg for a complete lego set nowadays," jungwon asks, leaning against the table, and only now do you notice the veins running over the back of his hands.

you think about whether his arms are just as veiny.

"do you think it's a good trait to pass on an offspring? lego-building, i mean," he presses on.

"uh, yeah. good problem-solving skills," you answer, humoring his question.

jungwon nods. "do you think leadership skills are important?"

you smile, leaning against the cabinet opposite jungwon. you nudge his foot lightly. "i lead a team of scientists myself. of course, i think leadership skills are important."

"you and i both," jungwon agrees.

jungwon shifts, placing his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.

"how about dimples? do you think dimples are cute?" jungwon asks once more, one corner of his mouth upturned. a deep crease on his cheek appears.

a dimple.

"very," you admit.

"i see."

there's a silence that stretches over the two of you, and the weight of uncertainty is daunting as you stare at a spot on jungwon's tie. finally, after a few seconds, you heave a sigh, unable to take the tension any longer.

"this is the weirdest way anyone has ever flirted with me," you declare, looking up at jungwon through your lashes. he's grinning and you nearly shiver at how utterly attractive you're finding him at this moment.

"but it's effective," jungwon says. that was a statement, not a question.

you tilt your head to the side. "how do you know?"

"because you would have blown me off two minutes ago if it wasn't," jungwon reasons, crossing his arms. by doing this, he just made himself appear even wider than he is.

"always so calculated," you say, impressed.

you stretch your neck, easing your head from side to side, watching as jungwon fixes his gaze on the taut tendons of your neck. "are you also this precise in bed, dr. yang?"

jungwon approaches, a large hand resting on your hip. "that's for you to find out."

your breath hitches as you feel his thumb rub through the fabric of your skirt.

"later?" he asks.

"my place or yours?" you reply, fingertips grazing the front of his polo. you can just about feel the slope and ridges of his toned muscles.

"i'd like to be a gentleman, so mine," jungwon offers. "i'll walk you back to your room after."

"i was kind of hoping i wouldn't need to walk back after," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice.

"is that a challenge?" jungwon says, his other hand pressing firmly on your lower back. he pulls you to him and your hands involuntarily reach out towards his shoulders to steady yourself.

a few seconds pass before any of you speak again.

"that's for you to find out," you say.

---

"kind of weird, isn't it?" jungwon asks, panting against your neck.

your back is pressed firmly against one wall of his sleeping quarters, a wide, loft-like room, similar to yours. a luxury offered only to level 10 government personnel, the room gives its occupants enough space and enough privacy.

and boy, did you need privacy.

"what's weird?" you say breathily, fingers threading through jungwon's hair as he kisses down the column of your neck. his fingers nimbly undo the buttons of your blouse and you whimper when you feel him lick at the valley between your breasts.

"coming up to coworkers or friends then asking them to reproduce with you," jungwon responds, tugging your blouse off of your shoulders.

(you both held enough respect for the institution that employed you both, so your work lab coats were neatly thrown over the back of jungwon's couch before anything got too frisky.)

"see, it's the way you say it that makes it weird," you giggle. you pull jungwon back up to your face, kissing him fervently, tongue licking into his mouth.

"oh yeah? how would you say it?" jungwon challenges as he pulls away slightly, his nose grazing your cheek. he licks a stripe on the underside of your jaw.

"please, jungwon," you whimper, playing up the whine in your voice just a little bit. "need you to knock me up. make me pregnant, please."

jungwon grunts in your ear, reaching behind you to rip the zipper of your skirt down. you let the fabric fall to the floor, stepping out of it quickly, revealing the matching red lace panties you had in tandem with your bra.

"yeah? want me to cum inside you so many times that there won't even be the tiniest chance that you're not pregnant?" jungwon says lowly, kneading one of your boobs in his hands.

you nod, hooking a leg around jungwon's hip, pushing your core right up against the bulge in his pants.

"yes," you breathe out, dragging your clothed pussy over his straining cock. "let's be good citizens and have a whole bunch of kids, yeah?"

jungwon chuckles, hands hurriedly working on his belt. you take this time to kiss up his neck, still rutting against him, desperate for any contact.

"come here," jungwon says through gritted teeth as his pants and boxers fall to the floor. he kicks them off unceremoniously, yanking you towards the couch. your eyes briefly catch the flash of white that were your lab coats.

the two of you fall onto the cushiony surface, with jungwon sitting up and you falling a little less gracefully on him. the two of you laugh as you adjust yourself, righting your posture so you could look at jungwon.

"take this off," jungwon commands, pulling at your panties. you swing off jungwon for a moment, pulling off the garment in record time. you reposition yourself over jungwon, his cock standing tall, hard, and painfully red.

"come on, show me how bad you want those kids," jungwon teases, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you roll your eyes. "you gotta help with the diapers."

a second later, you sink down on jungwon, moaning wantonly at how much he stretches you out, filling you up effortlessly. jungwon throws his head back, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

"i'll quit my fucking job at the lab if this is how good it feels to make babies with you," jungwon groans, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

you whimper at his words, rocking back and forth on his lap. you angle your hips a certain way, the tip of his cock kissing at just the perfect spot inside you. you shudder, repeating your movement.

"god, you feel amazing," jungwon praises. "so warm, so tight."

"yeah," you respond. you're gliding up and down his cock, swiveling your hips as fast as you can. you clench down around him, the thought of jungwon cumming inside you your only motivation.

"filling me up so good," you add, watching as jungwon screws his eyes shut, neck shiny with sweat.

you move forward, attaching your lips just below jungwon's ear. you suckle on the salty skin, running your tongue over the spot, savoring the way jungwon lets a moan rip out of him.

"gotta let the whole bunker know this one's mine," you whisper as you let up on jungwon's neck. a faint red spot is left in the wake of your lips on his skin.

in a blink of an eye, your whole world tumbles upside down, jungwon's hands forcing you down on the couch by your waist. in a daze, you realize that jungwon has you pinned under him, his eyes wild with a hungry look in them. he pushes your legs right up against your chest, lining himself up with your entrance.

"the moment you start showing, no one in this goddamn bunker will have a single doubt who gave you that baby," jungwon counters, thrusting into you. he gives you no time to adjust, picking up where you left off.

you cry out, trying to anchor yourself on anything your hands can find. eventually, you find purchase in jungwon's shoulders. he feels your nails digging in, and he mutters a soft 'fuck', speeding up his movements, the wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours so incredibly obscene in the confined space of his room.

"give it to me, please," you say, meeting jungwon's eyes as he continues to fuck into you. his forehead is creased, a look of concentration washing over his face.

"cum inside, fill me up as many times as you want, fuck it deep in me," you continue, cradling jungwon's face in your hands, the tender gesture a contrast to how rough he's bein.

"god," jungwon groans, voice breaking at the end as he speeds up, but then he halts abruptly, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. you feel him twitch inside you and you gasp, clenching down as hard as you can.

"fuck, yes, milk it all out," jungwon says. he starts to thrust up into you again, watching as his cock is slowly coated with his cum spreading all over your cushy walls.

you whine, your fingers finding their way down to your cunt, your middle and ring finger pressing onto your clit. you rub at it ferociously, the idea of jungwon's sticky release inside of you turning you on impossibly.

"i'm getting hard again, jesus christ," jungwon complains but his movements don't cease. he's shaking from the overstimulation but he wraps his arms around you, pulling your limp form up against him.

"rub that pretty pussy for me, babe," jungwon requests, thrusting up into you shallowly.

"make yourself cum while i fill you up for a second time."

---

"so?"

you jump a little at the sudden intrusion. you look up at jungwon through both of your reflections in your bathroom mirror. three pregnancy tests lie in a neat line on the edge of the sink.

"i just started the timer, jungwon," you reply with a laugh. jungwon turns you around to face him, kissing you briefly.

"hm," you say, looking up at jungwon questioningly. "you never kiss me unless you want something."

"well," jungwon begins, hands slipping under your sweater. "we can always kill time while we wait for the results."

you shake your head, but you're already pressing yourself up against jungwon. "you're insatiable, dr. yang."

jungwon winks at you, undoing your bra under your shirt. "you know it."

"plus, you just look too good in this damn lab coat."

[barcaatthemoon]

turned on || alexia putellas x reader ||

a night out forces you and alexia to finally do something about your obvious attraction to one another.

alexia was awkward. you had known that long before you'd ever met the woman. the two of you were respective superstars for your countries, both the faces of your women's leagues. the news of the famed (y/n) (y/l/n) going from bayern to barcelona had shaken up the european football world. however, the events that would follow would do so once again, perhaps to a bigger magnitude.

you had been at bayern since their youth academy. there had never been another club for you, not even for a loan. however, when your contract with bayern ended, you had decided to look elsewhere. you loved the team, and the things that everybody was doing together, but you wanted a change.

barcelona had come knocking on your door the loudest. they were willing to shell out a lot of money, nearly three times as much as your old club. it wasn't just about the money, but you had to admit that it had a nice ring to it. there were things that you could do with this money that you felt would benefit your community much more than you just scoring a few goals during your games.

your first few months in spain had been difficult. you weren't exactly conversational in spanish, nor were you all that great with english. your teammates were patient with you, especially frido, ingrid, and caro. they were like your lifelines, none of them ever leaving you completely alone at training. unfortunately for you, they were all around enough to notice the way that you and alexia stared at each other.

"hmm, that's a very interesting shirt choice. it looks oddly familiar," frido teased as she grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt. you didn't give her little comment the decency of a response. yes, you had picked this outfit out because the last couple of times that you had worn it, alexia hadn't been able to take her eyes off of you.

"i think that our captain will like it. although, i'm not sure she'll appreciate the attention you'll get from it," ingrid said. you blushed a little as you turned away from them to finish getting ready. you had done your makeup a little bit edgier than normal. alexia seemed to like the darker look on you, at least that was what mapi had told you.

you checked over your outfit one more time before you followed your friends out of ingrid's room. mapi was flexing in the mirror, something that had both you and ingrid laughing at her. mapi ignored the two of you and continued, much to aitana's annoyace.

"let's go." frido wrangled everybody into her car, letting you have the passenger's seat. you were still getting used to things like the famous spanish affection and lack of personal space. befriending mapi through ingrid was a big help, but you were still even more awkward than caro in most situations.

at the club, you were immediately whisked away to the bar with pina, cata, and patri. they fed you shot after shot, which you enjoyed until alexia, irene, marta, and sandra pulled your group back from the bar. irene had been the one to grab you, but you didn't let that last for long. with some difficulty, you put yourself in alexia's grasp, allowing for pina to scurry off towards the dance floor.

"hi, oh wait, hola!" your accent was normally bad, but tonight, it was atrocious. alexia cracked a small smile at your accent. you returned it tenfold, absolutely beaming at her. "you are so beautiful. do you like my outfit? i wore it just for you."

"o-oh?" alexia questioned. her voice had cracked, something that you didn't miss, but chose to ignore. "you look very nice, but you shouldn't dress for other people. dress for you, i'd like any outfit you wore."

"that's not the point. i want you to take me home. i need to impress if you're gonna do that." you were slurring your words pretty badly, and alexia wondered how long you had been feeling like that. she wasn't going to get her answer though, not when you were whisked off towards the dance floor.

alexia didn't see you for nearly the entire night after that. you had been moving around enough to sober up quite a bit. alexia noticed that you didn't sway on your feet when you came over to where she was sitting. however, there was still just enough liquid courage for you to let alexia know that you wanted to dance with her.

"i think we should dance. you've been sitting here all night. even irene got up at least once." if it had been anybody else, alexia never would have even really considered moving. however, it was you, and unbeknownst to you, alexia had developed quite the soft spot for you.

at first, she told herself that she wanted to take care of you because you were younger than her and in a new country. however, much to alexia's annoyance, mapi pointed out several times that alexia's gazes towards you were never friendly. alexia thought that she was good at masking her feelings, but mapi was one of the few people in the world who could see right through her. it took a while, but alexia had finally admitted to herself, and an eerily excited mapi, her feelings for you.

"i'm not much of a dancer," alexia warned you. she had never been a good dancer, especially not sober. you weren't a professional or anything, but you were fairly decent in the scheme of things.

"it's fine, i'll take the lead." your words didn't exactly make alexia feel much better, but once the two of you were on the dance floor, she didn't do much thinking. you were just sober enough to know that this wasn't something that alexia normally would have agreed to so easily. you'd been around the team long enough to know that alexia rarely ever left the booth or table whenever the team went out.

"a-are you sure that this is okay?" alexia asked as you placed her hands on your waist. normally whenever you'd dance with the other girls, their hands were glued to your hips. it was a far less intimate hold, but your body craved a bit of intimacy, specifically from alexia.

"shh, don't think about it. just feel the music and move with me," you told her. it was fine for the first couple of songs, but then things slowed down dramatically. alexia's hands stayed right where you had placed them, but you weren't prepared to feel the press of her body against yours.

for someone who wasn't spanish, you were teased a lot for being touchy. it was always in good jest, and because of that, you often forgot how handsy your teammates could get. alexia was no exception, despite being the most reserved with her affections. you realized in that moment that alexia wasn't unaffectionate at all, she was just picky. tonight, it seemed that she had picked you.

"can i have one more dance?" alexia asked as she rested her chin against your shoulder. her face was partially buried in the side of your neck. alexia's breath tickled against your skin, something she couldn't have known would have you turning red in the face like it was. "please, i'm having fun with you. i don't want it to end just yet."

"i think i can handle one more." it was a total lie, but you didn't know it yet. the next song was more upbeat than the last, but alexia didn't move any further away from her. you could feel her hips press against your ass with each movement that she made. alexia was dancing with you like before, only closer now. it was reminscent of something that you hadn't experienced in quite some time.

alexia kept her hands around you even after the song had ended. the two of you made your way towards the booth, where several of your teammates were not sitting as well. alexia sat down first, and without hesitation, pulled you into her lap. they all quieted down at the sight of you, but neither you nor alexia missed the looks on their faces.

"problem?" alexia asked. her arm was snaked protectively around your waist, and as patri moved in closer, alexia's arm tightened. she had already been holding you tightly, but the addition of force managed to pull a squeak from you that unfortunately did not go unheard by anybody.

"the free show was nice, even if this isn't that kind of club," patri teased as she tapped on the tip of your nose. you swatted her hand away as you cursed at her in german. frido and ingrid's faces went red at your words, but they didn't let patri in on what you had said.

"what is that supposed to mean?" alexia asked.

"are you so oblivious that you don't see how turned on (y/n) is with her on your lap, capi? i mean, look at her. it's a shock that she's not squirming," cata pointed out. you grumbled as you tried to hide your hands. alexia looked at you questioningly, and when you refused to meet her gaze, she realized that there was a lot of truth to their words.

"you, uh… you… i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you… i mean…" alexia stumbled through her words unlike anything you had ever seen before. the girls at the table laughed at her, which made a bit of anger flare up inside of you.

"hey, it's okay. you didn't know," you said sweetly. alexia bit her lip as you turned in her lap and cupped her cheeks. "i asked you to dance with me. besides this isn't anything that won't pass eventually."

"aren't you embarrassed?" alexia asked. she looked really guilty, and you wanted to kiss the pout off of her lip.

"it's fine, ale. if you really feel bad, you can buy me breakfast or something tomorrow morning," you told her. alexia looked confused for a moment before the cheering and hollering of your teammates clued her in. with that, she quickly stood up and walked you out of the club and away from them. you both knew alexia wouldn't just sleep with you, but you were surprised when she let you come over and stay the night with her anyway.

[darkbluekies]

I just read Jerry and Hedwig reacting to us bleeding on the sheets what about the guys👀 specifically silas (cause my daddy issues run wild for him)😩

Silas, Dr Kry & King Edmund drabbles: bleeding through at a "sleepover" (or in their house)

The girls reaction male!yanderes (mob boss, doctor & king) x fem!reader Warnings?: sexual indication, disgusted by blood, yandere

Silas:

You're on a mission with him, staying in a house belonging to the second in command. Being the boss’s little darling has its benefits — especially in these situations. If you hadn't been his, chances are that you would get killed for ruining someone's sheets.

"Silas", you whisper while shaking him carefully. "Please, wake up. Oh, God, please wake up ..."

He grunts and opens his dark eyes, looking around confusedly before fixating his eyes on you. He freezes.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asks raspily and grabs your arm.

"I bled through ...", you whisper weakly, body full pf panic. "I didn't know, I wasn't supposed to start now!"

Silas removes the cover to look at the stain. He doesn't say anything as he removes them all before picking up his phone to call one of his most trustworthy men.

"Don't worry about it, baby", he says tiredly. "I'll fix this."

"Will your second in command get mad?" you ask hesitantly.

"He won't. He knows better." Silas holds the phone to his ear. "I need you to bring me new sheets and to send someone to buy whatever Y/N tells you to get. Here Y/N."

He gives you the phone. You tell the man on the other side what you need. He replies politely, knowing better than to talk informally to you. Silas stands by, watching carefully and rubbing your back.

As soon as you get what you need, you get out of your bottom clothes and change. Silas sits down in bed with you in his lap. He brings his legs up to trap you in his embrace. His rough hands sneak under your shirt to massage your aching stomach.

"You know ...", he whispers in your ear, hand traveling lower. "Exercise helps with cramps ... I know something that is a great form of exercise. Want me to show you?"

You grab his hand, moving it back to your stomach.

"Come on", he smirks against your jaw. "You'd like it."

"I'll kick your nuts if you continue talking", you warn him.

Silas chuckles and pulls the blankets higher, kissing your forehead.

"Women and their temperament", he grins and softens his face. "Guess I have to wait then. Why don't you try going to sleep, little thing? It's late."

"Are you sure your second in command won't be mad?" you ask carefully.

"If he even dares to snarl at you, I'll stain his sheets with his blood instead." Silas kisses your lips with a reassuring smile. "You have nothing to be worried about, little thing, I've always got your back."

Dr Kry:

He has installed a baby monitor, just a week prior, to being able to supervise you 24/7. He wakes up by hearing shuffling from the machine and takes a look to see you grabbing all of your sheets in your arms. Dr Kry frowns. Are you going to sleep on the floor again? You have such weird ideas to entertain yourself. But the look of sheer guilt and horror paints your face, knocking those thoughts out of his head. Dr Kry hurries to grab his silk robe and hurry up to your room.

You're currently washing them in the bathtub. You freeze when you hear him unlock the door and enter the room.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"Here", you reply quietly, watching how he enters the bathroom.

Dr Kry crouches down beside you on the floor, putting his hand on your shoulder. He glances between the sheets and your face.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I-I bled through", you say. "I'm so sorry, doctor, I will fix it-"

"No, you're not." Dr Kry grabs your arm and pulls you up in your feet. "I'll fix it. You're not well, you shouldn't do this."

You feel bad. Dr Kry works long shifts and during his only rest, you've forced him up to clean up the mess you've caused.

"Y/N, it's fine", the doctor reassures you and walks over to give you a short hug. "Things like this happens. You should look at it from another angle — you can be pregnant. You're fertile. Alright? That's a good thing. A very good thing."

He's secretly glad that his poisoning hasn't affected your reproduction organs. You need them. He wants you to have them. Dr Kry wants nothing more than to have children with you.

"Let's stop crying and realize that this isn't a big thing, okay?" he says and wipes your tears. "You don't have to be ashamed. I've watched much, much worse things."

"Like what?" you ask quietly.

Dr Kry smiles teasingly. "I've seen people spill urine samples on themselves, have had people using the rear temperature stick for a patients mouth, and whatnot. This is nothing. It's natural, nothing to be ashamed of."

You try not to smile. "Did someone really use the wrong temperature stick?"

Dr Kry grins and nods, happy to see you a bit calmer.

"Let's get you some painkillers now so you can go rest", he says and puts his hand on your back to guide you. "I'll change the sheets, and you can just sit by, okay? Everything you need is in the bathroom."

He sits with you until the cramps stop, and decide to stay in the room with you while you sleep, just in case you would wake up again. He smiles slightly for himself. The poisioned air hasn't ruined your chances of ferility, he couldn't be more greateful.

King Edmund

You're terrified of telling him. Edmund is the type to believe that you can hold it in. With absolutely zero knowledge about females, risk is that he will get mad at you for ruining his expensive sheets instead of understanding. You know that he buys them from special places. One of a kind.

Edmund has never been taught how women work, it has been taboo and unnecessary for him, as a king, to learn. The only thing he knows is that a woman bleeds once a month, and that is it. Nothing more. He doesn't know how it works or why it happens.

But you can't stop the maid from telling him. He comes walking from his office with a deep frown on his face. You're dead. Before sending the maids out, he walks over to the bed and inspects the damage. When the girls are gone and the door is closed, he turns to you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks.

"I thought that you would get mad", you admit quietly. "It's your expensive sheets ..."

"And you think that it'll help the situation by sending one of the maids to tell me, instead of telling me yourself?"

"I didn't send her. I didn't want you to know ... at all."

"Why?"

"I told you ... I was scared that you'd get mad. You'd have told me to keep it in."

He groans, hiding his face in his hands. "For fucks sake, Y/N!" He removes his hands. "Why in the living Hell would I care more about about a pair of sheets rather than my own wife?"

You don't answer. Edmund walks over and grabs your shoulders before pulling you into a hug.

"You underestimate me, my jewel", he mutters and kisses your temple. "Now, go take a bath."

He tells a maid to fill the tub with scalding hot water to soothe your cramps and tells another maid to change the sheets.

"Burn the sheets and the night gown", he tells the maid. "I don't want anyone unworthy to see my queen's blood, got it?"

And the maid nods quickly before running off.

While you sit in the steaming tub, Edmund sits on the floor beside it, keeping you company. He should be doing work, but instead he's here, with you.

"I'm sorry about your sheets", you sigh and lean against the tub. "I know that they're expensive."

"Shut up about those fucking sheets now", Edmund groans and caresses your cheek. "I have enough to buy a hundred more sheets. I could buy the entire world, if I wanted to. A few sheets are nothing for me."

He leans over to kiss your wet forehead.

"Are you disgusted?" you ask carefully.

"A bit ... but not as much as I thought I'd be", Edmund replies with a grimace. "I'm more concerned about you, to be honest. Seeing you bleed, in any way, makes my heart sink in a disgusting way. I'm just angry I don't have anyone to blame for your pain."

You try to joke. "Blame my parents for making me a girl."

But he looks deadly serious. "No, never. They made you ... my wife and queen. I could never blame them for giving you this pain." He sighs and taking your hand. "If there is anything i can do to take the pain away, tell me. Teach me."

"Well, you actually had this right, the warm water. It helps."

"Anything else?"

"Sugar. Just for the hormones."

Edmund nods, thinking. He shouts for a maid to tell the kitchen staff to make cakes. He then turns back to you and smiles proudly. Maybe he isn't as bad as you thought?