This is a week-long fanwork event dedicated to the pairing of Simon the convict and Jack the welder from IRON LUNG (2026). It will be running from June 22nd-28th.
All kinds of fanwork are welcome! Visual art, writing, playlists, collages, etc.—feel free to be creative! Prompts will be provided, but following the prompts is not mandatory; they’re simply there for inspiration.
There will be two separate prompt lists: the main list, which will have three SFW prompts per day, and an ‘after dark’ list, which will have one NSFW prompt per day. Therefore, this event is open to all ages who feel comfortable participating; we simply ask that underage participants use their discretion and filter the #after dark tag.
Main prompt list
NSFW prompt list
There is an AO3 collection that you may post your works to. Additionally, any works posted to Tumblr that tag this blog will be reblogged here!
Askbox is open for any questions!
This event is organized & moderated by @roundtriptojupiter
so i got a job. which really threw off my Everything but i have returned with some fuckass irish revolution au ironbutcher bullshit for the historical au & secret relationship prompts for @ironbutcherweek
read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87825886
Thank you to everyone who participated in this little Ironbutcher Week of mine! And, if you're still working on a contribution, please don't fret; the Ao3 collection will remain open indefinitely and you can continue to engage with these prompts for as long as you'd wish.
On a slightly more serious note, I'd like to apologize for my inactivity during the majority of the week. I very unexpectedly acquired a job on day 3, and settling into a new routine with it was more draining than I'd hoped. I still intend to complete my own works for the week, and if anybody posted works that I did not reblog, please tag me or DM them to me so that I can rectify that! Thanks so much!
If anybody has any feedback on the event or ideas for other Ironbutcher-themed events they'd like to see, feel free to respond to this post or send an ask to this blog.
As Simon's rut goes on, it gets easier and harder. Tamsin had warned Jack that he wouldn't really go into heat, not fully, but that's been a good and a bad thing.
On one hand, he's not completely lost in pleasure and instinct the way Simon is. He's got more presence of mind. All the better to enjoy the sight of Simon, so completely unashamed of himself for once. Just chasing what he wants with all the gusto he can manage. But the hormone boost has made Jack a little bit calmer, a little more sensitive. He's sure he's going to have a massive crash when it wears off and he's made aware of all his aches and pains. But right now, when Simon's railing him like a cheap fleshlight every other hour, treating him like a chewtoy… Fuck, it's really good.
On the other hand, part of him almost wishes he was properly heat-drunk. Because unlike Simon, Jack has the presence of mind to be concerned with things like hunger and thirst. And by the fourth morning, Simon's rut is in full swing, for better and for worse.
He grunts insistently when Jack tries to leave the bed, pressing his chest firmly to Jack's back. He wraps his arm tighter around Jack's waist. His scent has taken on a weird undertone, something Jack can only describe so nebulously as protective, but pained.
Still, Jack tries to gently prise Simon's hand off him. "Come the fuck on, man, I'm starving. Aren't you?"
He ought to be, they've been fucking nonstop for what…sixteen hours? Simon doesn't keep an alarm clock handy, so it's hard to say. He's been willing to stop for snack breaks, but now he acts like it's the end of the world. What gives?
Simon's hand slides up to cup Jack's pec. He presses his nose to Jack's scent gland. "Need to stay."
Jack tsks. "Why? I'll be two seconds, I swear."
Simon's grunts of dissent rise to a threatening growl. "Can't…hfff… Somethin's coming…"
Jack turns his head as best he can, not that he can get a good look at Simon's face from his angle. "Fuck does that mean? What's coming?"
Simon moans quietly, nipping at Jack's shoulder blade. "I dunno… Hurts… Please stay…"
Jack threads his fingers through Simon's and finally manages to loosen his grasp. He presses his lips to Simon's palm. "Two seconds. I swear. I'll be right back. C'mon, I'm dying for a drink…"
Simon makes another dissenting noise, but Jack's had enough. He kicks against the bed and wrestles Simon off him for long enough to fall inelegantly to the floor, out of reach. His legs are quaking so hard he has to brace himself against the wall, and his ass is on fire, but he can power through it.
Simon, apparently, cannot. He lets out an almost comically sad low purr, and rolls onto his back, face contorting with anguish. His scales are definitely changing color. When they started, he was still mostly bony white. Now, more than half his scales are vivid reds and greens. Shiny too. Which is especially weird, given that they're essentially teeth as far as Jack has heard.
It strikes Jack as inconvenient, that some weird shit like that is happening during his rut. Maybe it's just a weird side effect? Salmon change color during their spawning season or something, right?
With no mate to hold, Simon's hand rests over his abdomen. The scales taper off there, leaving a rare patch of unmarred skin. He was malnourished when they first found him, but now he has a little pouch of fat above his pelvis that Jack would love to nibble on. But he seems…different? Maybe a little bloated. Even though he hasn't eaten since midday yesterday…
"I'll get snacks," Jack offers, hobbling to the door before Simon can drag him back to bed.
God, his stomach is gnawing at him. A pizza delivery would kill right now. But as hungry and tired as he is, he doesn't wanna keep Simon waiting that long. He tries to be quick with his little supply run. He downs a massive glass of water, crams some plain bread into his mouth just for the calories, and grabs a few bags of the first snacks he can find in the pantry.
On his way back to Simon's room, he passes through the living room, and he stops in his tracks. One of his own sweaters has been sitting on the sofa for a few days. It's soft, probably even still smells like him. Jack has never felt inclined to build a nest in his goddamn life, but… Fuck it. When in Rome or something, right? Maybe it'll make Simon less clingy the next time Jack has to get up.
He returns to the bedroom with his sweater over his shoulder, a few bags of chips held precariously between his fingers, and a glass of water in his other hand because Jesus, being thirsty sucks when there's a knot keeping him trapped in bed. It does make opening the door a bit of a task, but he gets it eventually.
In Jack's absence, Simon seems to have kept himself busy by bunching up their clothes and piling them on the foot of the bed in a half-assed horseshoe shape. He looks up at Jack with desperation, like the two minutes he was gone may as well have been two years. He reaches out to Jack with an amusing grabby-hand motion.
"Come back. C'mere," he insists.
Jack scoffs with endearment. He's smart enough to put the water glass down first, because the moment he gets close enough, Simon drags him back onto the bed, burying his face in Jack's neck.
"Easy," Jack gripes, tossing the chips onto the nightstand next to the water. A few of Simon's pill bottles clatter to the floor. He's going to have to convince Simon to take them in a few hours… That can wait, though. Jack shrugs his sweater off into the pile of clothes.
"Brought my shirt over," he tells Simon. "Looks like you beat me to the nesting thing, though," he chuckles.
Jack always thought nesting was an omega instinct. It's oddly cute, that Simon took the initiative on that.
"Mm-hm," Simon hums against Jack's throat. He manhandles Jack, pushing him back to lie against the foot of the bed. "Safe. Needed— hng— Time. It's time…"
"Time for what?" Jack asks. He's awkwardly lying on his sweater, which he wriggles out from under him and folds up as a makeshift pillow.
Simon gazes down at him with tenderness and hunger as he lifts Jack's leg over his shoulder. Jack takes the hint and does the same with the leg Simon can't reach as easily. Simon leans forward, folding him in half in a way Jack's really starting to like.
"Dunno," Simon replies. His voice is rough with arousal again. "Just have to…" He shakes his head. "Mmf. Gotta— Fuck— Just…"
His expression twists in frustration. Apparently deciding that words are a lost cause right now, he rocks forward. The head of his cock slides between Jack's buttocks, and after a few misses, he sinks inside. They purr and moan in unison.
Jack has taken it up the ass with other betas (and even one very enthusiastic omega) before, but it's never been this easy. Now that he's used to it, even being knotted…well, it doesn't not hurt, but the pleasure outweighs the pain a little. With Jack's body getting more accustomed to Simon's rut, that first slow thrust always feels amazing.
He sort of wishes Simon would fuck him a little bit slower, but his rough, frenzied rhythm really does it for him in its own way. Simon quickly works up to pounding Jack ruthlessly, and Jack hooks his legs around Simon's waist, toes curling as he purrs ecstatically. The pleasure teeters back and forth between uncomplicated bliss versus an intense 'hurts so good' sort of feeling. Especially when Simon leans down enough to kiss Jack, or inhale his scent, or renew those fuckin' brutal claiming bites.
And Jack thought that he was bitey. He just doesn't hold a candle to Simon's enthusiasm. He never imagined he'd get off on being handled like this, and maybe it's the pseudo-heat, but fuck, it's thrilling. And Simon sounds so adorably, hopelessly aroused whenever he breaks the skin, getting a taste or scent of Jack's blood. That seems to get him going like nobody's business.
This time, though, Simon's extra whiny. He sounds a little pained, even, but he won't stop for long enough to let Jack ask what's up. A litany of gasps, whines and growls pour from his mouth, when he's not wincing and baring his teeth.
"Oww…" he keens. "Hhah— Gotta— Uh— Hfffhuh— Fits so good 'nside you— God— Can't stop, I can't stooop— Fuck! Ohh fu— Hnnnnh!"
Suddenly, like he's picked up a second wind, he doubles his efforts and slams into Jack hard. He's got to be close, the way his knot is catching.
"Fuck! Gonna— hff —knot me again, big guy?" Jack croons. He drives his heels into Simon's back, mindful of his spine.
Simon's jaw drops, and he looks like he might fuckin' cry. An airy, shrill sigh escapes him as he nods.
"Juhh— Just… Feel so… Hnk— I can't— Gonna fill you up, 's'comin', it's— fuckfuckfuck it's coming, I can't, I'm sorry, oouhhhh—!"
Grinding hard against Jack's hips, Simon bottoms out. His knot swells rapidly, coaxing a hiss of pain and satisfaction from Jack as he rides out the burning stretch. Simon violently shudders above him, groaning so harshly it sounds like he's been punched in the balls or something.
"Jesus, you okay—? Guh—"
Simon's knot swells impossibly wide, and Jack grits his teeth against the unexpected pain. His knot is already huge when it's full, what's—?
How—?
It feels like the knot is moving somehow. Or duplicating? Jack is still stuck at the base of Simon's shaft, but something is swelling up higher along the shaft. Until it eventually reaches the tip, and Simon cries out sharply, choking on a sob. But then he moans with relief as something is released impossibly deep into Jack's channel.
His mind is reeling with so much confusion, he can't even ask what the fuck that was before he feels it again. The knot swelling 'til it threatens to split Jack open, then a smaller knot sliding up the shaft, Simon gasping and moaning as the intrusion escapes into Jack's guts.
"Fuck're you—" he winces as Simon's knot swells again, "—d-doing?"
Simon seems beyond reach. He's quivering, tensing his muscles, purring arrhythmically between moans and groans. Whatever is filling Jack up is far too solid to be cum. Staring up at Simon's colorful scales, Jack's stomach tightens as he connects the dots.
"Are you laying eggs in me?!"
Simon jerks his head to the side. Jack can't tell if he's shaking his head or just spasming. "So-Sorryyy," he croons. "Feels…sooo…"
He drops his head, letting out an insanely deep, multilayered purr. It sounds like if a tiger was a deep sea creature or a dragon or some shit. Jack can hear Simon's teeth chattering, but he can hear and feel a resonating sort of clicky-clattery sound somewhere deep in Simon's chest. The noise is comforting and terrifying at the same time.
Another egg pops out and slides into Jack. They're not painfully big, once they get past Simon's knot, but they're so warm and so incredibly dense. And Jack's honestly sort of scared about how fucking deep they're going. He feels another one accompanied by a rush of warmth that makes him whimper.
There's nothing he can do, is there? Not unless he's ready to pull Simon's knot out of him, and like hell he is. He lies limp, clinging to Simon's biceps and taking sharp, quiet breaths.
Not a word is said as Simon purrs into Jack's chest. When he lifts his head for a moment, he looks like he's in absolute bliss, eyes closed and jaw slack. His legs and hips twitch violently now and then, when an egg passes through his knot or into Jack. Even if Jack had had the presence of mind to try counting them, he's sure he would have lost track by now.
"H-How fuckin' many do you have?" he asks, as if Simon's going to have a clue or be coherent enough to answer. He doesn't, of course.
All Jack has to go on is that the heat in his abdomen is building up so much, it's hard to feel individual eggs as they enter anymore. His stomach feels tight, like he's had a full meal. It's getting uncomfortable.
"Are you almost done?" Jack asks, a tiny bit desperate for an answer. He rubs Simon's shoulders, as if the contact will snap him out of his stupor.
Simon's purring falters, rising up into a more normal sounding growl for a moment. "Close," he slurs, before his voice drops back down to that inhuman register.
"How close?"
Jack's not sure why he's trying to get answers Simon doesn't have. He slides one hand down Simon's arm to rest over his belly. It's taut even to the touch. When he looks down, his lower abdomen looks swollen in much the same way Simon's did earlier.
Jack tips his head back against the bed, trembling. Despite his mounting anxiety, his body is still milking Simon for all he's worth. He clenches as hard as he can, moaning as he feels every inch of the next egg rising up Simon's shaft. His dick twitches when the egg pops out, settling into his guts with the rest of them.
Fuck, he shouldn't be into this. He's not, is he? It's scary, but he feels…good, he thinks. He's sure as hell never been this full, and probably never will again.
Goddamn it all. They're already inside him, and his hormones are running wild. Might as well get weird with the hand he's been dealt, right?
The hand still clinging to Simon comes down to cover Jack's eyes, trying in vain to shield himself from embarrassment when his other hand coils around his cock. The fear killed his boner, but it's coming back stupidly fast.
The clicking undertone to Simon's purr gets even stronger, as if encouraging Jack to get off to this. Jack bites his lip and swallows the urge to whine bashfully. He feels another egg and strokes himself a little faster.
He swears under his breath. He's pretty sure the omega hormones are making his dick leak more precum for some reason. That's the only explanation for why he can pump himself so tight and fast, why every stroke sounds so goddamn wet.
"Fuck," he hisses, hand rising to his forehead. He's sweating, but not as hard as Simon. His chest is covered in little droplets that must have dripped down from Simon's hair. Jack wheezes for breath, covering his eyes again, throwing his head back, and tightening his strokes. "Fuck…more…"
Simon stutters out a low growl, nosing into Jack's throat. The scrape of his teeth goes straight to Jack's cock, just the same as the feeling of another incoming egg. Jack tightens his legs around Simon's waist, heels digging into Simon's ass as if to pull him impossibly deeper.
"God, 'm almost there," Jack whimpers. Pain be damned, he rocks back on Simon's knot as much as he can get away with. Anything for a little more friction. "Mmmake me come, Si… God, gimme another egg, fuck…!"
It sounds so wrong, but it feels too good to care. He's too full, he's so close, but if he gets filled much more it'll hurt too much for him to come. He's stroking frantically now, tears pricking his eyes. The hand on his face comes back up to curl around the back of Simon's neck.
"Please— hng— please…"
"Almost," Simon suddenly grates out. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief when his egg releases. Another is quick to follow, but when this one is close to dropping, Simon arches up, his face drawing tight as he shudders again.
He moans severely, and his egg pops out, accompanied by such a rush of warm fluid that it makes Jack's brain short circuit. But at the same time, it makes him feel even fucking fuller, and it's too much, too much, it hurts, but it hurts so good and oh, god, fuck—
Jack comes with a long, broken moan. Simon drags his teeth along Jack's throat, pressing hard against his already tender scent gland. Jack quivers and squirms under the onslaught. He strokes himself as fast and firm as he can, from root to tip, until his cock is sticky with cum and far too sensitive to keep touching.
When that happens, he goes limp, legs twitching as his chest heaves. Lord knows it's been a long time since he came so hard he forgot to breathe. He feels dizzy. Lightheaded. Like his blood pressure is plummeting straight to Tartarus after that impressive showing.
Simon trills and purrs softly, nipping Jack's scent gland just hard enough to break the skin. His lips close over the wound, laving over it until Jack keens.
God, he's exhausted. He's so full now that it really hurts. He's already fretting over how the hell he's going to get them out, but it's a fruitless endeavor. His ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton, and Simon's chest rumbling against his makes for a shockingly effective lullaby.
---
When Jack regains consciousness, something hard is digging into his back. He's propped up against the wall, leaning against the windowsill. The curtains tickle his shoulders. They feel damp, with either condensation or Jack's sweat. His lower back is supported by something awkwardly-shaped, but soft. He's still on the bed, in that haphazard little nest. Simon's looming over him, his calming scent grounding Jack as he wakes up.
But when Jack tries to sit up, he remembers just how goddamn full he is. His hole throbs involuntarily. Simon's knot is still inside him, but it's deflated. Something is dripping out of him already.
Jack grimaces. "How 'm I getting them out?"
Simon's lips brush against Jack's cheekbone. "Here. Now. Made the nest for you."
"What?"
Jack feels Simon pull out ever so slightly. His rim clenches around the widest part of Simon's knot, and he chokes back a moan.
"Simon, c-come on, no…" Jack bites one of his knuckles. "It's such a fuckin' mess…"
But it's a little too late to move to the bathtub or anything like that. And when Simon pulls his knot out, the rest of his softened cock follows suit. Jack shakes at the feeling. How can he feel empty when he's so goddamn full?
Not that that empty feeling lasts long. Not when the eggs start dropping down. Jack claps a hand over his mouth. He's not sure if the noise that escapes him is fueled more by pain, pleasure, embarrassment, fear, god knows what else. All he knows is that eggs are coming out of him right fucking now, whether he wants them to or not.
It's disgusting, it's strange, but they feel unfairly good stretching out his rim. A string of curses bubble out of him without his input, because what else could he say? Fluid gushes out of him, between and alongside the eggs. He's afraid to look at the awful mess he's making.
But Simon is staring down at it, transfixed. His hand strokes up and down Jack's side, his thumb caressing Jack's deflating stomach. He lets out a chorus of comforting trills and chirps, lips and nose brushing across Jack's face.
It would be endearing, if Jack weren't so preoccupied with the goddamn eggs coming out of him. He doesn't feel empty now, but he's going to have to strain to get any more out. It feels like there might be two stuck to each other or something, holding his channel open in a way he really wishes he didn't kind of like.
"Fuck… How many are there?" he pants.
He looks down and sees some of the eggs sitting on top of absolutely ruined sheets. They're a strange orange-y brown, and smaller than they feel, like weird oblong little golf balls. And most of them have an odd spiral pattern encircling them.
Why the fuck are they shaped like that? As if it wasn't enough for Simon's dick to be ribbed, his goddamn eggs are, too?
He can't see the whole pile though. He's glad when Simon pulls back to check for him. "Uh…" He blinks. "I think…six… F-Five or six?"
Jack thumps his head back against the wall. "Fuck."
Simon has said before that he used to be better at counting before he ended up in that submarine. Not surprising that it fucked with his head; his concussions had concussions when they found him. It doesn't even matter. Jack's not concerned with how many eggs he's already laid. He wishes he knew how many were left.
He moans in pain. "I need help. I think they're stuck."
Simon perks up, his hand sliding down to Jack's ass. He spreads his legs a little more for easier access. Simon's fingers slip inside incredibly carefully. In mere moments, he feels one of the eggs being tugged down. It drops out suddenly, followed by the one it was stuck to. Jack grimaces as another rush of fluid pours out. He's pretty sure it's cum. He dreads to think what else it could be.
"Ugh. I feel like a jam donut."
Simon snorts abruptly, letting out a hoarse, wheezy burst of laughter.
"Fuck!" he coughs, clutching Jack's knee for purchase. Seems that remark took him by surprise.
"Glad one of us thinks it's funny," Jack drawls. He strains again, but the next egg feels dangerously far inside. "Fuck. Can you keep helping?"
Simon hums affirmatively. His fingers are gentle, and thank god for that. He ends up working his hand inside over a few minutes. More than ever, Jack is thankful for the pseudo-heat keeping him fairly pliable.
The whole experience is foul, to be honest. It's almost a shame. A few eggs drag right over his prostate as they come out, and Simon fills him up so nicely. Some part of it feels good, but he's too exhausted and grossed out to eroticize the situation. Far too much dubious fluid, and Jack can't get over the novelty of being filled with fucking eggs.
By the time they think they've got all the eggs, Simon has worked his whole goddamn wrist inside. When he withdraws, slowly and carefully, Jack's thighs tense and quiver. Simon's hand pops out with an obscene noise, and Jack groans, hole flexing around nothing.
The room positively reeks of sex. Jack's entire ass is drenched in sweat and slick and a downright stupid amount of cum.
"God. I need a shower," he complains.
Simon whimpers. He stares at Jack without saying anything, face twitching slightly.
"I don't want you to leave," Simon admits. He sounds bashful about it now, though. Like he's a little more lucid than he was this morning.
Jack puts a reassuring hand on Simon's shoulder. He presses his thumb to Simon's scent gland gently, coaxing out a blissful chirp. "I'll be back, big guy, you know that."
"F-Feels…dangerous." Simon's face twists, and he clears his throat. "'M being stupid. But the nest— The bed feels safe. Don't want you to leave."
"Yeah, I know. You wanna protect your mate," Jack sighs. "Well, your mate just laid all these fuckin' eggs for you and feels kinda gross and sticky, so can you just do me a favor, man?"
Simon sighs despondently. He looks back down at the pile of eggs. Jack is going to want to change these sheets, too, but the mattress is probably fucked anyway. Simon's eyes flicker between Jack and the eggs. His skin flushes.
"I can… I'll…mmph…pr-protect the eggs." He shrugs his residual shoulder, scratching his jaw across the scales there. "You go. Just come back."
There's no goddamn way those eggs are fertilized, but at least they give Simon's hormonal alpha brain something to redirect its protective instincts toward. For now, anyway. There's every chance Simon will get rut-drunk again in half an hour and be desperately wailing for Jack to return.
Jack figures that's a problem for his future self. God only knows when his next shower would be if he doesn't take the opportunity now. He rubs his cheek against Simon's, scenting him. "Thank you."
The second he gets out of the bed, his legs buckle. He still crawls to the shower anyway.
Halfway through, when he's done washing himself and just basking in the warm water, he remembers they're only four days into what could be a two-week long rut.
Jack has never caterwauled in distress before, but now he knows that's a sound he can make. Will wonders never cease?
ironbutcher week day 1: "modern au" + "fake dating"
read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87335781
"So." Jack sits down on the edge of the kitchen table and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks over at Simon. "Christmas break is coming up."
Simon looks up from the cup of coffee that he's absentmindedly nursing, partially lost in thought. He grunts in acknowledgement, but says nothing.
"Which means that I'll be heading home for the holidays," Jack says. "To spend time with my family."
"M-hm." Simon nods. He takes a sip of his drink and continues fixing Jack with a flat stare, the sort that urges him to get on with it.
"My..." Jack hesitates. "My deeply Irish Catholic family that has never supported my sexuality and only vaguely tolerates the fact that I fuck and/or date men sometimes."
"Yes." Simon is familiar. Jack has griped about them on numerous occasions. "What does this have to do with me?"
"They've been bugging me to bring a girl. And I was thinking about asking Kate to come with me, y'know, as a friend-date, I guess, but she's flying back to Algeria for the break, so even if I did ask her, she can't." Jack drums his fingers on the table; it's a nervous habit of his that Simon has become acquainted with. "And then I was thinking... I don't have to bring a girl. Maybe I just want to bring who I want for once, yeah? And maybe I bring someone that is guaranteed to piss off my parents, just for the hell of it."
Simon thinks he's starting to follow. "Someone like your ex-con atheist roommate," he says, "who loves booze, rock 'n' roll, and taking it up the ass."
Jack visibly swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing along the line of his throat. "Yeah," he replies. "Someone exactly like that. Though, they're Irish, so they're really not against booze. Or rock 'n' roll. It's mostly just the 'taking it up the ass' part." He hesitates. "Obviously, this is crazy shit to ask, and if you already have plans, it's no big deal. Just thought it might be the kind of crazy shit you would be down for."
Simon snorts a laugh. "Hah. Yeah. Honestly? I'm in." He pauses for a moment and cocks his head slightly to one side as he muses. "Is there gonna be whiskey?"
"Simon." Jack hits him with a flat, are-you-serious stare. "Need I remind you. Again. We are Irish. Of course there's gonna be whiskey. The good stuff, too. We don't fuck around with that shit."
"Get me a whole bottle just for me, to take home, and I'll do it," Simon promises. "I'll be the best awful boyfriend you've ever had." He takes another sip of his coffee, and wishes he had a bottle of the good stuff right now to dump into it. "Not like I've got anything better to do over the break, to be fair. Shacking up with a cute guy to piss off his family and get free food and booze out of it sounds like a hell of a lot better than just fucking around in the apartment by myself for a couple weeks."
Jack blinks at him. "You think I'm cute?"
Simon chuckles. Of course that's what Jack got out of everything he just said, not the bit about how Simon would be desperately lonely without him—which, to Simon, is objectively gayer. Not that Simon is gay for Jack. Simon's just gay, and Jack's easy on the eyes, and a good friend to boot. That doesn't mean that he wants to actually be Jack's boyfriend, or anything. His fake boyfriend, though? Fake boyfriend, Simon can absolutely do.
In any case, he sets his mug down and wanders over to the table so that he can fondly ruffle Jack's hair. He's glad that his hair is already messed up from a long day of classes, or else he might feel slightly bad about it. "Yeah, obviously. Anyone with eyes can see that you're cute, dumbass," he tells Jack. "You're literally a twinky white dude."
Jack snorts and shoves Simon's hand away. "Yeah, yeah, alright, you don't have to be a dick about it," Jack grumbles, good-naturedly. "Fuck off. Do you want to be my pretend boyfriend or not?"
"You didn't say that I had to be a nice pretend boyfriend," Simon protests. "Arguably, it should piss off your family more if I'm a dipshit to you. They'll be like 'wow, you can't even find a nice man to fuck? At least bring home one that's not an asshole next time, Jesus. We knew you were gay, Jack, but we didn't know your standards were that low.'"
Jack smacks Simon's shoulder with a bit more force than the shove, but still not enough to actually hurt him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying this," he says.
"Damn, I guess you don't know better, then, 'cause I sure am enjoying this," Simon replies, with a smirk. "Not my fault that you're fun to tease." He reaches for Jack's hair again, and Jack ducks, then scrambles out of the other side of his chair.
"Oh, that's it, you bastard, you're really in for it now—" Jack growls, and he circles around the table to lunge playfully at Simon.
Simon throws back his head and laughs, easily jumping back out of Jack's reach. "Catch me if you can, motherfucker!" he exclaims, and he takes off into the other room.
They're going to have so much fun over the break...
When Jack finally returns to Simon's room, it doesn't look like he's moved an inch. It smells like he's been sweating buckets, and he may well be, given that he seems to still be fully clothed, shivering under his blanket. He has his hood back on, but he visibly stiffens and perks up when he senses Jack standing in the doorway.
"Jack— B-Back— You… You're back…"
Jack nods sheepishly, letting the door close behind him. "I'm here, Si."
Simon lets out a shudder and a sickly-sounding moan. He flips his hood down and kicks his blanket off and— ah. As Simon walks across the room towards him, Jack is distracted by two things.
One: Simon isn't fully clothed, and is in fact naked from the waist down. Two: Simon's dick is just as monstrous as the rest of him. Huge, erect, and covered in strange little bumps and ridges. At least it's not scaly? Though he doesn't get a good look at it before he's pulled into a tight embrace.
With his face this close to Simon's neck, Jack's brain promptly goes blank. His scent is more sour and musky than ever. It's objectively not a pleasant smell, but it alerts something in Jack's hindbrain. Must be the omega hormones. Whatever it is, it's enough to get Jack from six to midnight disarmingly fast.
And that's before he feels Simon's nose brushing against his own neck. He squirms and parts his lips at the contact. Simon lingers over Jack's scent gland, inhaling slow and deep, only to release a low, stupidly erotic groan.
"S-Simon," Jack gasps hoarsely. His mouth has gone dry, and his hands come up to cling to Simon's shoulders.
"Hnngh… Jack…" Simon whispers back, before pressing his nose to Jack's neck again.
God, his warm breath is so damn ticklish, and Jack can't decide if he's more embarrassed or turned on by how enthusiastically Simon is sniffing him. He's very much aroused, though, by the way Simon moans when he drags his tongue over Jack's scent gland.
"Mmmn… Mate…" Simon breathes. He presses his teeth to Jack's scent gland, and Jack's whole body twitches involuntarily. "M-My mate? Yeah? Hmm?"
"Oh god," Jack moans. He knows this is probably a bad idea, probably moving way too fast, but he's never felt this way before. Simon's holding him so tight, breathing him in, drowning out all other scents…it's intoxicating. Good lord, is this how omegas in heat feel? How do they function?
"Yeah, Simon," he finally answers, once his brain fires up again. He brings his hands a little higher up, thumbs rubbing tiny circles at the junctures of Simon's neck, just beneath his scent glands. "I'm here for you. You're not riding this out alone. I've got you."
Simon lets out a low, rumbling growl against Jack's skin. Jack can feel drool dripping down his clavicle, and he has to wonder how pent up Simon must be if he's salivating this soon.
"Mate," Simon pants.
Suddenly, there's a sharp pain in Jack's neck. He instinctively freezes up, crying out at the sensation. His scent gland is held tightly between Simon's teeth, and he feels it bursting under the pressure.
Right. Maybe he should've kept the neck guard on to prevent this. At least it won't change his scent permanently…just, y'know, for a few months. Long enough that there'll be no hiding this whole situation. The crew will never let him hear the end of it.
But it's hard to be annoyed about that when Simon is holding him so tightly. They're chest-to-chest, Simon's hand skating up Jack's back. He can feel Simon purring like a goddamn chainsaw. The pain is switching from sharp stabbing to a strong, bruising ache. Jack digs his fingers into Simon's shoulders, though the sensation's probably muted through the fabric of his hoodie.
Just when it borders on too much, Simon laves his tongue over the wound. Only to immediately switch to the gland on the other side of Jack's neck and sink his teeth into that one, too.
"F-Fuhh— Simon!" Jack whines, giving Simon a gentle slap on the shoulder. It does nothing to dissuade Simon from his mission. "Ask before you bond someone, fuck!"
If anything, that only makes Simon bite harder. The rumbling in his chest gets louder, lower, deeper. It doesn't feel like a human sound anymore. Especially not when it underlies his speech. "Mine…"
The possessive growling is straight out of a bad porno, but fuck if it isn't doing something for Jack. He whimpers with pain and arousal, wrapping his arms tighter around Simon. "God…"
Simon raises his mouth from Jack's neck, only to savagely nip his earlobe instead, coaxing out an abrupt hiss. Simon nips again at Jack's jawline, and the upper part of his neck, before bodily spinning them both around and shoving Jack towards the bed. There's no time for Jack to catch his breath before Simon is on top of him, caging him in, crushing their mouths together.
Jack tries his hardest to kiss Simon back, but he's absolutely ravenous, almost feral. Jack's not sure he could even call it a kiss; it's more teeth than lips, and he's pretty sure Simon's dental situation is only partly to blame for that. It's hard to focus, anyway, when he feels Simon grinding against his stomach. He rucks up his shirt enough to expose his belly, and Simon lets out an oddly clicky purr when he slides his cock against Jack's bare skin.
"Mate," Simon pants. He's half chanting, half slurring it under his breath between kisses. He suddenly growls, and Jack feels his scaly residual arm thump against the side of his chest. "Off… Clothes off…"
Jack huffs a laugh, pushing against Simon's chest. "If you let me sit up, I can make that happen, mister caveman."
Simon emits a vaguely unamused noise, but he rears back and gives Jack enough space to pull his clothes off properly. The moment his shirt is off, Simon drags him into another kiss. Jack can't help but laugh at his voracity. He probably could stop himself from cupping one hand over Simon's as it cradles his face, but he doesn't want to.
"Mmph—" He breaks the kiss suddenly. "Wait, hold on…"
Jack empties the lube sachets out of his pocket before kicking his pants off. Fuckin' hell, he could feel how hard he was getting, but it's a little embarrassing to see himself almost fully erect. They've barely even started.
Simon's hand skims across Jack's body, squeezing one of his pecs, gently dragging his nails over Jack's belly, down his thigh, until Jack shivers. "Good," Simon murmurs. "Pretty… Pretty boy…"
Seeing Simon effectively lost for words is the only thing that can distract Jack from the uncomfortable, infatuated fluttering in his chest. "Tryin' to flatter me, big guy?"
Simon grunts affirmatively, before finally sitting back to yank his hoodie off. It's soaked with sweat; again, not a pleasant smell, but something about it makes Jack's brain yell yes please. When Simon tosses it to the floor, Jack almost fishes it up to take a big whiff, but he doesn't get a chance. Not when Simon bends down to kiss him again. His feverish skin and rough scales rub against Jack's bare chest enticingly, and Jack purrs into his mouth.
All too soon, Simon pulls away again. He hooks his hand under Jack's thigh and pushes his leg up. It's embarrassing to be exposed like that, but Jack hikes his other leg up anyway. He grabs a sachet from the small pile on the mattress - how fuckin' many did Tamsin give him? - and he passes it to Simon.
"Use that. It's lube."
Simon hums in acknowledgement as he rips the packet open with his teeth. He pours its contents over his cock, his face tightening in response to what Jack can only assume to be unpleasantly cold lube. But then he gets a hold of himself, and he tips his head back with a low, contented purr, more felt than heard. When his jaw goes a little slack, that purr evolves into a moan that goes straight to Jack's dick.
"Fuckin' hell," he murmurs. As pretty as Simon's blissed-out face is, it's hard to look away from his cock. It has honest-to-god ridges. The head is a little tapered, and lined with what look like tiny spikes, like some sort of fucked up fantasy dildo. And Jack knows it's a false stereotype that all alphas are hung, but Simon is…really living up to the stereotype. That's not even getting started on his knot…
It's stupidly hot to look at, until Jack realizes that beast is going inside him, sooner rather than later. His stomach twists with nervous anticipation. The wetness between his thighs is a strange new sensation. An omega's slick glands would be in overdrive by now. He wasn't sure his own even worked until a couple minutes ago.
Finally, Simon pulls his hand away from his erection with a rough gasp. It flexes a few times, and Jack feels his own stir in reply. He's fumbling for another packet of lube when Simon leans forward, sliding his cock between Jack's buttocks.
"W-hah— Uh, h-hey, Simon, wait a sec…" Jack blurts out in a breathless chuckle.
His voice catches in his throat when he feels Simon's tip pressing firmly against his hole. Even more when the pressure only increases. A gravelly sigh escapes Simon as he shakes his head.
"Nnngh… Can't…wait, anym-more…"
"Sim— Simon! Ahh—!"
Jack's body yields with surprising ease, not that it doesn't sting like hell. Simon moans, practically fuckin' roars as the tip of his cock slides in. Jack grits his teeth and hisses. It fucking hurts. He can hardly focus on anything else. The lube helps, sure, but Jack really expected a little more foreplay. Simon's thicker than he looks, and while Jack is relieved that the spikes and ridges don't hurt much, they feel so fucking weird. The burning pain of being stretched so quickly is shocking Jack's nerves from tip to tail.
It's not his usual instinct to purr when he's in pain, but that's what his body decides to do. Perhaps Simon takes that as a sign to continue. He draws back carefully, only to thrust back in quickly, sharply, hard. Jack squeals, fingers and toes flexing uncontrollably as he's split open that much further.
He pulls back and gives another harsh thrust. And another. His rhythm is inconsistent but the force is enough to punch the air from Jack's lungs. Simon leans forward again, bracing himself on his elbow, and Jack digs his nails into Simon's back. It's all he can do, really, when Simon settles into such a frenzied, savage pace.
"Si-i-ah— Simon!" Jack rakes his nails down Simon's back, but it does nothing to dissuade him. "Fuck! It hur—ssssstss— ngh! You're hurting me!"
He's not sure Simon can even hear him, because he doesn't slow down. That weird click-purr-growl noise won't stop. Suddenly, Simon lets out an extra harsh growl, and sinks his teeth into Jack's neck again. A pitiful cry of pain escapes him.
Tears sting at his eyes. He tries to beg Simon to stop or slow down, but he can't muster the breath. His body jerks and twitches at random. He's sure Simon's probably loving the feeling of Jack's hole squeezing him impossibly tight, even if it's mostly a pain response. At a loss, he lifts his head up and sinks his own teeth into Simon's shoulder. His growl is nowhere near assertive enough, and laced with pain, so he just bites down with all he has. If anything, that only makes Simon fuck him deeper.
What's weird is that his body is warming up to it. He's enjoying this despite the pain. Way more than he thought he might. He's steadily adjusting to the stretch, and the burning is starting to recede. Even all the biting does something to stoke his arousal. Even if Simon could stand to be gentler. Even if he's pretty sure Simon is breaking skin.
Simon laves his tongue over the bite wound. It's a balm against the sharp sting of his teeth…for all of a few seconds. Simon makes some kind of downright rabid noise before biting down again twice as hard. His hips slam into Jack's with enough force to push him up the bed. His knot is starting to catch. And he's growling so goddamn hard that the vibration makes Jack's whole chest tingle.
It's so much. Too much. He can barely breathe, let alone get a word out. Not that it's going to stop him from trying, when he drops his head back to the pillow.
His fingers tighten against Simon's back. His neck is on fire. He's sure he's bleeding, not that he can feel it with Simon fervently licking his wounds. Every thrust is getting a little tougher, a little more painful. Is his knot about to pop? Already??
"Nnngh no no n— Wai— Si— Don't— Fff— Don't knot me! 'M not hah— r-reeeady!"
Something warm drips down Jack's shoulder. Whether it's sweat or drool or blood is anyone's guess. It's like Simon's a thousand miles away. His jaw tightens, and Jack feels a twinge of nervy pain zap through his arm. That can't be a good sign, but his mind is being scattered to the wind.
In just a few moments, Simon snarls into Jack's neck and hilts himself. His knot swells, forcing Jack open so much more painfully than before. The stretch is mindnumbing, agonizing. It's like going from two fingers to a whole fist with no inbetween. He feels his rim swallow around the knot, and…fuck, now he understands exactly why they call it a knot. Simon tries to thrust back out, but the knot locks him inside. It really does feel like they're literally tied together.
Still, that's not enough to stop Simon from bucking as much as the knot will allow. He groans and pants warmly against Jack's ragged flesh. Jack rakes his nails down the length of Simon's back. His nails catch against some of his tougher scales, but he doesn't care. He just has to score Simon's flesh, try to give as good as he's getting. One of his fingers catches on one of the spikes growing down Simon's spine, earning a full-body twitch and a strangled grunt, and Jack can't tell if it's a cry of pain or pleasure.
"Close," Simon growls, barely coherent. "Can't— Can't stop— F-Feel— Too good— Caaannnh—"
Switching to Jack's other side, he digs his teeth right into Jack's scent gland. It's so sudden, so blinding, Jack can't stop the scream that escapes him. Nor can he stop the way his entire body seizes. He can feel Simon's cock inside him, throbbing, swelling, carving space for itself…
With another feral, forceful growl, Simon starts to come. Jack feels the swelling knot more than anything else. It's so fucking hot, pulsing in time with Simon's heartbeat. Or perhaps in time with rope after rope after rope of Simon's release.
Just when Jack wonders how long rut orgasms last for, Simon finally withdraws his teeth from Jack's throat. The pain makes Jack's breath stutter, even as Simon licks and inhales from the wound. That deep, inhuman-sounding purr is back, satisfied, almost calming.
Simon rests his forehead against Jack's chest, his hand coming down between their bodies. Jack squeaks and twitches when he feels a tight grip around his cock. Oh, Jesus, has he been leaking precum the whole time or is Simon's hand still lubricated somehow?
It doesn't matter. The glide is perfect, and the pleasure is overwhelming and unrelenting. Simon's breath fans out across Jack's torso in a way that gives him goosebumps.
"Come," Simon demands. "Want...ngh… Gon' make you come…"
He wants to. Fucking hell does he want to. He's so full, so sore, so pent up…he just can't get there. Why can't he get there? He lets out an embarrassing desperate whine. Simon purrs a little louder, pressing his lips to Jack's sternum.
Jack teeters frustratingly close to the edge. Simon's knot throbs inside him, his rough hand squeezing firmly around Jack's cock. The slick sound of his hand is deliciously lewd, and the kisses he places against Jack's chest are such a far cry from the painful bites he inflicted before.
Eventually, Simon's lips wanders to one of Jack's nipples, tongue flickering over it. Jack jolts at the motion. He feels himself throb in Simon's hand. Simon takes the hint and closes his mouth over the nipple, sucking and licking until Jack keens desperately.
"Hnnnnhh— Yeah, god, keep going, I'm so…"
Simon sucks extra hard as he pulls his head up, releasing Jack's chest with a soft pop. He blows on it for the briefest moment, only to switch to Jack's other nipple. He sucks this one between his teeth, tugging and pinching, and oh god, yeah, that'll do it.
Jack finally spills over with a hoarse, shuddering moan. He bucks into Simon's fist, clenching again around the knot. The stretch still hurts like hell, but fuck, something about being filled up so thoroughly makes his orgasm that little bit stronger. And Simon's gentle, crooning purr makes Jack's heart stutter against his ribs.
The air between them reeks of sweat and blood and sex. The afterglow is always fun, and maybe it's the pseudo-heat talking, but Jack has never savored the scent more.
"Thank you," Simon wheezes after god knows how long.
Jack purrs as hard as he can. He weaves his hand into Simon's hair and scratches his scalp affectionately. He makes an adorable trilling noise Jack has never heard from him before.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
Simon lets out a warm, sharp breath next to Jack's ear. "Lil' bit. Feel good. Hngh… Burning up…"
"Yeah, you're a furnace right now," Jack huffs mirthfully.
Simon tries to pull back, but the knot tugs painfully for both of them. He looks down between them, an almost comical puzzled look on his face.
"Can't move," he mumbles, looking back up at Jack.
"Yeah, 'cause you knotted me, dumbass." Jack playfully smacks him in the sternum, but he regrets it when Simon pouts.
"Right… Sorry…"
Jack sighs. "It was gonna happen sooner or later, it's fine. I knew what I was getting into."
Maybe not all of it, but it's fine. He'll live, if this is the worst it gets. Simon starts to purr again, nuzzling into the less painful side of Jack's neck. The skin is still raw and tender, and Simon's warm breath aggravates the bite wounds, but it's worth it for the way Simon's purr gets even deeper and more satisfied.
"Yeah, that was you," Jack smirks, giving Simon another affectionate head scratch. "What have you got to say for yourself?"
Simon lets out a forceful little moan against Jack's neck. "You smell good. Mmmh… Your blood…" He presses his nose to the wound and whines - actually whines. "Fuck…"
Jack feels goosebumps tingle up his arms, and he chuckles nervously. "Little fuckin' freak…"
Simon ignores that remark in favor of purring some more and basking in Jack's scent. Jack, for his part, just lays back and tries to relax.
They'll be tied together for a long time before Simon's ready for another round. Might as well save whatever strength he can.
