As a writer and fan of Legend of Korra, I always promised myself three things.

1. Never, ever, EVER write fanfiction.

2. NEVER, EVER, EVER write Amorra.

3. NEVER! WRITE! OMEGAVERSE!

So of course, I caved and decided to indulge all three at once.

I'm really surprised I cranked this out before I caved into writing Korrasami smut. Needless to say, you better enjoy this, you perverts…

If you are not familiar with omegaverse, I suggest you google it. Don't worry, this isn't one of the crazy ones with male pregnancy and animal body parts. It's just, well, omegaverse. You've been warned.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Late Autumn's Heat

Korra's nightmare was dissolved away by flames before the heat forced her to wake up. A quick glance at the platinum walls encasing her reminded her of where she was—still trapped in the metal box, but this time in the basement of an Equalist hideout. Korra reflexively bent a flame in her hand before she allowed herself to sigh in relief, slumping back against the metal. As long as she had her bending, there was still a way out of this.

It had been at least a few hours since she had been transported to this base, and at least 24 hours since she had left this box. Korra was surprised when Amon had shown up, but she had been hoping for a chance of escape. Instead, they merely carted the box out of the cabin and put her in the back of the truck. Things would have been so much easier if they'd had the guts to open the damn box and fight her. They had to open it at some point—hopefully before the rally.

The air in the confined space was unbearably hot. Korra sucked a deep breath and wiped the sweat off her brow before noticing that she was burning up, already sweating through the rest of her clothes.

Damn it, she thought bitterly, gritting her teeth and trying to fan herself. So much for making my clothes last in this place. What I'd give to be an airbender…

Korra kicked off her boots and untied the pelt from around her waist, shoving them to the other side of the box gracelessly. She was just about to tighten her wolftails to get the hair off her neck when her muscles began to tense involuntarily. Korra stopped and frowned, feeling as her fingers twitched and the tension raced down to her gut and spun into an irresistible coil, just like it always did right before…

Korra slammed a fist against the box and groaned as she realized what was going on. Her heat was starting. She was being held captive in an Equalist base, and her heat was starting now, of all times. It was over two months early. She hadn't had access to her masking perfume in over two days, so the entire base would be able to smell her soon.

I only have three days before they take my bending at the rally, she realized. How am I supposed to make an escape when I'm in heat?

Her escape plans definitely worked better without her heat, but maybe she still had a chance. When the Equalists noticed she was in heat—which they inevitably would—they'd be much more likely to underestimate her. An omega in heat can be vulnerable, but not Korra—she could take them all by surprise if she stayed in control. And that depended on how the Equalists reacted.

Okay Korra, she told herself. You have three possibilities here. One, they ignore you. Two, they toss in some suppressants. Three, an alpha gets in and…

A spike of fear and arousal rushed through her at the same time as she considered the last option. There was no way she would let an Equalist help her through this. Then again, the throbbing between her legs said otherwise…

Korra crossed her legs and grit her teeth in an effort to focus. She only had about a minute of sanity left—this was going to be a particularly bad heat.

There's no way they'll actually let an alpha in here, she assured herself. I'm the Avatar, they all hate me too much to try and mate with me…right?

Then again…what happens if they try?

A dam broke in her mind and released a wave of repressed thoughts—suddenly she was imagining alphas clamoring outside her box, fighting to get to her and win her favor, and she thought of the strongest alpha chasing them away, and then tilting up his porcelain mask and—

Korra jerked out of her thoughts to find herself breathing raggedly and her hand halfway past her waistband. She whimpered softly before yanking her hands back and baring her teeth. No. If an alpha came in here—especially him—she was going to fight. She immediately undid the knot on her drawstrings and retied it tighter with the most complicated knot she knew. When she was satisfied with it, she drew herself into the lotus position and attempted to meditate.

Breathe. Focus. It's only hormones. Breathe in…focus…

She lasted less than a minute. Before long she was curled against herself on the floor, desperately fighting to ignore the dampness between her thighs, the fire pooling through her limbs. All she could do now was pray to the spirits that she was given suppressants instead of a rutting alpha.

They don't know I'm an omega, she realized in her daze. What are they going to think?

"What the fuck is that smell?"

Amon and the Lieutenant were supervising the training camp when they first smelled it. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, but before long it was getting hard to ignore.

The Lieutenant was the first one to speak up, just loud enough for Amon to hear him. Amon sighed deeply, being sure to breathe through his mouth so the scent wouldn't distract him even more.

"It smells like it's coming from the next station over," Amon murmured back. "And hopefully, whoever it is will take care of it soon." He practically bit the last few words out. He was about ready to plug up the nose holes on his mask—either that, or he would give in and try and track down the scent.

"Whoever it is has it bad," the Lieutenant said. "Might as well send them home and put them out of their misery."

A few moments later, one of the omega guards that was posted in the prison ran up to them.

"Sir," she said, bowing quickly. "It seems that the Avatar has just gone into heat."

Amon was thankful that his mask hid his surprise. His face was burning up behind his mask, and he wasn't sure if it was because he was aroused, or because he was embarrassed that he was attracted to this scent to begin with.

"That can't be right," the Lieutenant said. "Isn't she an alpha?"

"I think you're mistaken," Amon said. "The Avatar is a beta. I assumed she was an alpha as well, but I've never detected any pheromones from her."

"Then she must have a scent masking perfume," the guard said. "Last time I checked, you didn't post fifteen alphas outside of her cell."

If Amon hadn't been wearing his mask, he would have been rubbing his temples by now.

"This can't be right," the Lieutenant scoffed. "She's been sitting in her own piss for over a day—she's not allowed to smell good!"

"Never mind that," Amon disregarded. "Somebody needs to deliver her suppressants immediately. We can combine that with some scent masking perfume to get her through Thursday's rally. After that, she's none of our concern."

"I can get some suppressants from the storage room and deliver them," the guard began, but Amon cut her off.

"No," he said. "I'll do it. We can't risk her trying to escape. I'm the only one who stands a chance against her if she tries anything."

The Lieutenant and the guard stared at him uncertainly.

"That's a bad idea if I ever heard one," the Lieutenant muttered. "You realize anybody else can do this, right? Somebody who's not biologically programmed to mate with our greatest enemy? They can just use a glove and electrocute the box to knock her out—"

"We discussed this Lieutenant, that won't work," Amon sighed. "She's sitting in a Faraday cage. Everything inside is impervious to electrical shocks. I'm really the only one qualified for this."

"Sir, Michael Faraday did not exist in this universe, how could you possibly know that"

"Are you sure, sir?" the guard asked. "Forgive me, but you wouldn't be the first alpha with this idea—"

"I have no ulterior motives," Amon growled. "She is a bender, and the enemy. No biological urge would be enough for me to act against my beliefs. The keys?"

The guard looked at the Lieutenant worriedly before relenting, fishing into her pocket and handing Amon the ring of keys to the prison cells. Amon gave her a terse nod, and with that, left for the storage rooms.

Amon immediately regretted his decision as soon as he rounded the corner with the Avatar's cell.

At least twenty chi blockers—all alphas—were standing guard outside the cell. They were all pretending to be doing their job, but it was obvious from the scent clogging the hallway that they weren't focused at all on the task at hand. The smell made Amon's head spin for a moment—he stopped walking and closed his eyes to wait for it to clear from his nostrils. It never did. Even when he tried to hold his breath, his lungs quickly expanded for another breath, as if a part of him was keen on being tortured by the sweet air saturating the hall.

Never was Amon more thankful for the flap of cloth covering the front of his trousers.

This is simple, he told himself as he approached the crowd of chi blockers. Enter the cell. Open the box. Hand the Avatar the suppressants. Leave. Nothing else. Nothing. Else.

The other alphas parted as soon as Amon began to press through the crowd. As tense as the unspoken competition between them, the chi blockers knew their place. By the time Amon reached the door, half of them had already dispersed, and the rest were stalking away. Amon put the key in the lock and braced himself.

Nothing could have prepared him for what happened when he opened the door.

A wave of pheromones blasted into him, constricting his lungs, wrapping around him and ensnaring him with arousal. A yelp rung from the box, and he could hear the Avatar fumbling with something and scrambling to her feet. Amon shook his head to try and clear the haze from his mind, but it was useless.

Open the box. Hand over the suppressants. Leave. Leave, quickly.

Amon turned around and locked the door behind him—he wasn't sure if he was motivated by security or ulterior motives. He slid the keys next to the suppressants in his pocket, then shifted his hand to grip the cardboard box of pills.

Hand them over. Leave. It will take seconds. The sooner the better.

Amon made his way toward the box one hesitant step at a time, his footfalls echoing in the near-empty room. At last he stood before the box, and he paused. Amon was typically able to restrain himself from the worst of omega's pheromones. But this was something else entirely. His barest instincts had fallen for the Avatar's scent. Would he be strong enough to restrain himself if he laid eyes on her?

Amon swallowed thickly and forced himself to pull the door open. It was like having a match tossed on him, the spark that set his body on fire. The Avatar stood, supporting herself shakily on a wall with one arm, with most of her garments scattered around her. All she had left were her bindings and her trousers, which hung loosely around her hips. The drawstrings looked like they had been burnt through. The Avatar's eyes were wide as she watched him, pupils dilated, and her breath came shakily through parted lips. Every inch of her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, and it was hard to ignore the slick gloss coating her fingers. Amon could barely fight back a groan.

Hand. Over. The Pills. Amon's hand had gone limp around the suppressants. He was paralyzed, torn between the urge to fight and the urge to give into his instincts.

He felt her chi surging before she moved—Amon leaned out of the way of her arc of fire just in time. The two of them froze again; Korra in a firebending stance with her fist still extended, chest rising as she panted lightly, and Amon still leaning to the side. His hand was still in his pocket, hovering over the suppressants. All he had to do now was tighten his grip. Remove his hand. Extend his arm. Then he could leave. Did he even want to leave?

The Avatar seemed just as torn as him. Her eyes were darting around the room: to the cement under his feet, to the door, to the cot in the corner of the cell and to the increasingly obvious bulge at his groin. When she finally met his eyes, the fear that he had grown accustomed to seeing had been dimmed by exhaustion and lust.

Amon stepped forward, and Korra reacted with a feeble punch. Amon caught her wrist before the fire could extend to his mask. She didn't bother trying to pull away. Amon was so entranced with the electrifying heat of her skin that he didn't even notice that his hand had left the pills in his pocket. Amon's eyes fell on the gloss still coating her fingers; Korra's cheeks darkened in embarrassment, but Amon was too captivated to notice. He entwined their hands together and felt the slickness on her fingers, and he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. His other hand reached out and cupped her jaw before trailing down her shoulder. Korra's eyes closed, and a soft whine escaped her lips.

When they opened their eyes again, it was like they didn't even recognize each other.

He can't remember who rushed forward first, only that the next thing he knew, they were tangled together and stumbling against the back wall of the room. They fought for dominance briefly, but it ended quickly with Amon pinning her to the wall, his hands around her bare waist. Amon buried the nose of his mask into her neck and breathed deeply—he hardly cared about what happened just as long as he stayed wrapped in that scent.

A small part of his brain resurfaced as Korra pushed back his hood, and he stopped breathing when she started fumbling with the ties of his mask. It was then that he remembered who this was: his sworn enemy, the Avatar, the corrupt figurehead that served as an idol to benders. She was all of that and more, and worse, all that and less—just a seventeen-year-old girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Amon was about to pull away when Korra slid off his mask and pushed her lips against his feverishly. Amon's tension instantly melted away as he drowned in her scent again, and he deepened the kiss hungrily. Her eyes were closed, ignoring the scars painted on his face. Instead, her hands explored his shoulders and back through the fabric of his coat. She reached the dip in his spine, and Amon hummed and pressed his hips against hers. Korra gasped as his hardness ground against her core, and as he did it again, her head fell back against the wall, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan. As soon as her neck was exposed, Amon dipped down and nipped into her pulse, leaving trails of bite marks across the sensitive flesh and running his tongue across them. Korra squirmed beneath him, fingers digging into his back to egg him on.

His fingers trembled as he undid the knot on her bindings. They fell around her hips, and he pushed them down to the floor along with her trousers. Amon forgot how to breathe for a moment. She was not the Avatar, she was not Korra. She was the most beautiful omega he had ever seen. Her abdomen was just as toned as her arms and shoulders, hardened from a life of training. She didn't look like she could fracture beneath his fingertips, like most omegas. Yet somehow her body was soft, the swell of her breasts and the dip between her thighs just as gentle as any woman. It was as if her body had been worn down to perfection like a stone in the ocean waves. Smoothed by the elements, he thought vaguely, before the hands tugging at his tunic muted the voices in his mind. Korra yanked him forward and locked her lips with his again, and Amon closed his eyes and began to knead her breasts.

Amon found his lips wandering down again, leaving a trail of damp kisses and soft nips down her neck, collarbone, and chest. Korra melted in his grip as he lingered over her nipples, flicking over each one with his tongue in a way that drew harsh whines from her throat.

A sharp gasp and a jerk of her hips reminded him of his goal, so he left her breasts and dropped to his knees. He kissed down her toned abdomen before reaching the thatch of hair on her mound, and he groaned deeply. He rested his head against her pelvis and took a few moments to breathe in her scent. It was like the scent replaced everything in his mind, all his drives and aspirations were buried at her core. He was straining against his pants more than ever before, and his head was spinning.

Amon barely brushed his tongue against her folds when Korra shook under him. Her hands twisted in his hair, and Amon hummed and drove his tongue deeper. It took him a moment to realize that Korra was trying to get him to stand up.

Amon rose to his feet, and she instantly began fumbling with the buttons on his chest. He pushed her hands away, instead pulling the coat over his shoulders. He cast it to the floor, and the keys jingled piercingly at the impact. Both of them flinched at the sound.

Korra blinked, and doubt resurfaced in her eyes for a split second as she glanced at the coat. Through his haze, Amon felt a panic well up inside him.

No, he thought firmly. Let me have this. He pressed her back to the wall and teased her earlobe between his teeth, making her shiver. Before long it was as if nothing happened; they were back to peeling his undershirt off, and then kicking off his boots and unclasping his belt, until they were finally pushing his pants to the floor. They crashed together, skin against skin, lips colliding and teeth clanging as they ground their hips together.

Korra paused, grabbing his shoulders and grunting. At first Amon thought she was pushing him away, but after following her gaze to the cot in the corner of the room, he understood what she wanted. Amon growled and hoisted her up, staggering over to the cot until the two of them tumbled onto it. The cot couldn't have been too comfortable, but from the look of pure ecstasy on Korra's face, Amon figured she didn't care. He was grinding his hardness against her slick folds—she bit her lower lip and dragged her nails against the taut muscles of his lower back, desperate to pull him closer.

"Please," she breathed. "I…need…"

Amon didn't need to hear any more. He lined up his member and sank into her, growling lowly as they connected at last. Korra cried out in bliss, and the mere sound—the heat of her walls, slick, wet, clenching around him—was enough to disjoint his sanity. She wriggled underneath him, frantic for some movement, and he snapped.

Amon snarled and bit into her collarbone, causing her to gasp and freeze beneath him. He snatched her wrists and pinned them down above her head. She quivered beneath him, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, but aside from that she was still. He growled in warning, and Korra whimpered in response.

Satisfied that she had surrendered, Amon unlatched his teeth and rolled his hips into hers. The friction made him see stars, and Korra moaned loudly before he silenced her with his lips. He picked up a relentless pace, and immediately knew he wasn't going to last long.

Amon remembered a few things through the haze of his passion. This was the Avatar, a girl less than half his age. Before the thought was enough to make him pull away, but now it fueled the fire burning in him. The alpha in him was reveling at the catch he had made, swelling in pride that he was strong enough to make even the Avatar, the most powerful of omegas, surrender. This wasn't about her scent anymore. This was about domination. This was his victory.

Korra's hips rose to meet his more and more erratically, and she began breathing in strangled hitches. Amon tightened his grip around her wrists and began thrusting faster. He could feel himself roaring towards a precipice he couldn't escape. He buried his nose in her neck one last time, letting himself go.

"Mine," he grunted. He dug his teeth into the side of her neck, harder than before. He repeated the word to himself like a mantra, hardly noticing when a faint taste of blood began to mix with the salt of her sweat. Mine, mine, mine…

Korra's hips bucked against his, and she let out a disjointed cry. Her walls spasmed and clenched around him, and Amon groaned, pounding into her until his own orgasm seared through him. One last shred of sanity warned him not to knot her. Thankfully, he was able to use the last of his energy to hold himself back.

At last, the two collapsed against each other. Amon's mind was blank, too numb from the post-orgasmic bliss buzzing through his body. He was content with lying on top of the omega as sleep began to overtake him. He was sure that they would have drifted off together if a harsh gasp didn't rouse him.

Amon lifted his head and was immediately locked into her intense, cyan gaze. Korra's eyes were filled with horror and panic, a mirror image of the night he ambushed her on Avatar Aang Memorial Island. A pang of guilt seared through him on its own accord.

"You…" she breathed, "How dare you—"

She began to move, but Amon reacted faster—he jabbed the pressure point between her neck and shoulder. Korra's eyes rolled back before she collapsed back onto the cot, unconscious. Amon sat up and moved away, burying his face in his hands so he wouldn't have to look at her. This was a mistake. This was beyond a mistake. No alpha should ever been allowed in this room, not even him.

A few moments later he was brave enough to drop his hands and look at her. He wasn't sure if she was the picture of peace or death. Her hair clung damply around her face, and her lips were slightly swollen. There were smudges of his makeup all over the lower side of her face. And of course, it was impossible to ignore the distinct mating mark on the side of her neck. Amon hissed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

He finally forced himself to his feet and stepped over to where his clothes had been discarded. He picked his mask up and tied it back to his face—the light provided by the single bulb above the metal box was dim, but he knew the risks of having it off in front of the Avatar, especially with his makeup smudged.

Amon went back to the cot next. After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the girl into his arms and carried her back to the box. He laid her down as gently as possible—so she wouldn't wake up and attack, of course—yet he found himself gazing at her softly as he tried to step away. He scowled and tore himself away. He picked up her trousers and bindings, then fished the suppressants out of his pocket, before tossing all three into the box unceremoniously. With that, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it in relief.

Three more days, he told himself. I cleanse her at the rally, then she's no longer my concern. Three days.

Amon took a minute to redress himself, his hands putting everything into place numbly, mechanically. He left the cell as he pulled his hood over his head, and tried to fight back the urge to look at the box one last time, as well as fight back the nagging remorse weighing him down.

He could still smell her on his clothes when he stepped out of the cell. Amon grimaced; he needed a shower and a change of uniform, quickly. He was about to leave when he noticed the omega guard from before standing next to the cell.

"Everything alright, sir?" she asked. He could hear from the hesitation in her words that she knew more than she wanted to. He'd have to have a word with her later.

In the meantime, Amon was at a loss for words. He stared back at her for a moment, emotionless with the protection of the mask, before turning on his heel and leaving. The guard stared after him before pushing her questions away. Now alone in the hall, she stepped back to her post in front of the door.

It was all the omega could do to ignore the muffled sobs echoing faintly from inside the cell.

I'm sorry for the Lieutenant's OOC sass, I needed an outlet for my inner monologue.

If you happened to like this monstrosity, please message me and be my friend, because I have NO FRIENDS THAT I WOULD TELL ABOUT THIS AND NEED A FACE TO SCREAM INTO?

Also does anyone agree with me that Tarrlok's box qualified as a Faraday cage? I know it's up for debate because of the space between the bars at the top of the cell, but she shouldn't have had to hang from the bars to avoid an electric shock!

This may or may not have a sequel. Or three. Three more chapters planned out so I can make it clear that this isn't a single event with no repercussions. Also, so Korra can burst forth in righteous fury like the god-queen she is. And so my no-t-otp can interact like human beings instead of...well, you know.

Reviews are quite welcome, even if they're just 20 lines of "what the actual fuck." You'd still be validating my feelings.