#I Left My Love In The Past (pre tag)

[sanatomis]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ──── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄.

it's been on your mind for a while now. and, even though he's a little confused at first, it takes satoru very little time to warm up to your enticing offer.

დ content. fr3e use kink, cursing, female!reader, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, consensual somnophilia, deepthroating, cum-swallowing, mentions of satoru eating it from the back <3

დ notes. second attempt at posting this on tumblr, don't mind me. it's crossposted on ao3 bc my previous attempts at posting all failed miserably (it never showed in the tags ://)

Satoru is confused. It doesn’t take you much time to notice that your softly spoken words have him quite rattled, as the results of them can so clearly be observed on his face. There’s his nose that scrunches up cutely, and a little tilt of his head to the left which comes accompanied by a few snowy strands of hair shifting across his forehead. A small furrow of his brows, the soft gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about it; mulling over your offer. 

Three times, he tries to say something. His mouth opens once, twice, and it’s futile. Not a word escapes, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. You almost believe that, if you weren’t currently seated opposite him, he’d smack the side of his head a few times to make sure it’s still screwed on right. 

“So, I just. . .” The third time really is the charm, it seems. Though, he never quite manages to finish what he was going to say. 

“Just put it in, yeah.” 

You finish it for him, you’re sweet like that. It does really seem as if he could use the help.

“Wh—whenever I. . .” 

There’s a little voice in your head, chiming and chattering about how all of this is weird. It makes you nervous, and your fingers itch to play with your necklace to fight it. 

“Whenever you want,” you confirm. It’s as if your heart has suddenly moved to your throat. 

“Wha—what if you’re asleep?”

“I said whenever you want, didn’t I?” 

He almost lets out a little squeak at the words you so casually give him. They surprise him, as they do you. Your last sentence wasn’t one spoken by your mind, and you shift in your seat as if it’d shush the part of you that did. 

It’s as if you’re telling him what you’d eaten for breakfast this morning, not giving him permission to slip, bully and sheat his cock into your needy cunt at any given time of the day. Without needing to ask, too. Satoru can fill you up, stuff you full, and dump so much of his cum into you until you’re overflowing, and he can do it whenever he feels the need to—because he’s Satoru, and you love your Satoru.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of apprehension laces his voice. Your heart almost swells at his concern, at his hesitancy and need to confirm your wishes; even if you’ve vocalised them so bluntly. “Maybe, think about it for a little long—” 

“I have,” you interrupt him. As gentlemanly as he’s being, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his eyes. The pretty, baby-blues making way for something sinister. You suddenly don’t feel so nervous anymore. “I have thought about it. Way too much, and for way too long.” 

A string of curse words tumble past his lips. They’re hushed, and quick, and from the way he, too, shifts in his seat you gather that he’s hard. Painfully so, if the bulge forming in his pants is anything to go by. Your relationship has existed long enough for you to know that drops of his pre-cum are staining the fabric of his boxers already—always so messy, your Satoru. The mere thought has you wanting to take him out, to put him in your mouth and lap at the sticky, white beads falling down his length. 

“Please,” you plead softly, and watch how he stifles a groan at the needy, saccharine sound of it. You want more, more of that sound. Right next to your ear, preferably. “Use me, Satoru.” 

There’s little you want more than that, little that arouses you more than that. The thought of Satoru taking you whenever he wishes, abiding by his whims and allowing him free-reign over your body—it instils a heat into your stomach, into your core. It makes you feel filthy, like a cheap whore picked up from the street; but you’d be his whore, and suddenly it all starts to feel like a dream. It’s Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. He’ll be gentle, and he’ll be kind, and he’ll stop as soon as you utter your safeword, and he’ll love you so much, even if he fucks you as if he doesn’t. 

You have half a mind to ask him again, to plead, to beg for it again, as it almost feels as if he didn’t quite hear you. But, as soon as you open your mouth to do so, he immediately latches his lips onto yours. It’s messy, and sloppy, and entirely fueled by the frantic state his mind is currently in—but you don’t complain, and never will. 

His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and you feel him almost buzzing with excitement. Your teeth clash against one another at the force of the kiss, your tongues greedily seek the other out, and saliva gets swapped from your mouth to his, and vice versa. It’s dirty, and sticky, and almost brings you back to your high-school years, when he’d been all clumsy hands and feigned confidence on the night you’d lost your virginity to each other. 

Satoru pulls back from your kiss first, and a small smile falls over his lips when he notices you chasing him. “Wait a minute, sweets,” he murmurs, forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, as is yours, and you don’t want to wait a minute—you want him, now, tomorrow, and each day after that. “Are you. . .” He chuckles when you kiss him again, and again, and again. You only stop when he holds your head in place. “Are you completely sure about this?” 

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Mhm,” you hum, and caress his cheekbone with one of your thumbs. Satoru melts in your hold, as he always seems to do. “‘S you, ‘Toru. I’m completely sure when it’s you.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. There’s a storm of emotion behind his eyes, but all of them point to the same conclusion—he loves you. So much, you might even get sick of it one day; he’d told you as a joke, one born out of fear. But you won’t. You never will. And you think he’s starting to realise it, finally. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your forehead. 

It’s delicate, and loving, and so opposite from the way he buries himself into you over, and over, and over again a mere five minutes after that. Satoru’s needy, and impatient, and so pent-up from your previous conversation that foreplay gets thrown out of the window. 

He bends you over the couch first, that cute little ass of yours jiggling right in front of his face as he mounts you from behind. He slips in easily, with a pussy as wet as yours, and a cock as leaky and hard as his—the lack of foreplay almost goes unnoticed. Almost, of course, as the sheer size of him never fails to elicit a hint of a burn as he stretches you out. Nevermind that you take his cock daily, or that your walls are bound to carry his shape after the many years you spend with him. 

The sounds that decorate your apartment are filthy, lewd, and borderline obscene, but you’re thoroughly obsessed with them. The slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching with each passing thrust, the deep groans and choked whimpers Satoru releases next to your ear just like you wanted. Even your own moans, your own babbles, and your own whines add to the experience; the combination of sounds. And you love it, because it’s you, and it’s Satoru—and it’s the two of you together. 

It doesn’t end after Satoru cums, nor does it after you do. The agreement between the two of you that was made tonight seems to have done a number on him, and he takes you a second time. On the balcony, where he puts you on display for the world to see as he fills you over and over again. And a third time, in your shared bed that’s never been safe from his affection and blatant desire towards you. And a fourth time, in the shower that was initially meant to clean you up, he decides to dirty you even further. 

If this is the reaction he gives to the mere idea of using you whenever he pleases, you long for the time that he actually does.

It’s well past midnight when Satoru finally decides he’s done with you. You’re curled into his side, a shirt that’s way too large for you (but one that you swore you didn’t steal from him) covers your figure. You’re asleep. Tired, exhausted, and completely knocked out. He smiles. You’re so cute. A love-sick expression is stuck to his face, and it may very well become permanent if he stays looking at you. 

One of his fingers reaches in-between your thighs, gently scooping up the remnants of his release. Satoru almost coos at the way your nose scrunches up cutely when he starts to finger it back into your pussy. It allows his digits to slip easily through your folds, and she sucks them in as soon as he reaches your hole. His cum doesn’t leak out this time. Not yet, anyway, but even if it does, he’s more than willing to repeat the process. 

He sighs. Mind full of thoughts, but at least his balls are empty now. There’s a little huff escaping his lips, and he’s amused at his own comment. Satoru shakes his head, but the small smile remains nonetheless. Strong, yet gentle arms pull your body tighter against him. 

You’re delicate, and sweet, and so precious to him; and he will do his best to take care of you. Use me, use me, use me. He kisses your forehead, his own eyes falling shut. 

He will most certainly try to. 

The very first time Satoru entertains the idea of indulging in your offer, is on a day where you’ve decided to wear his favourite lipgloss. It’s so shiny, such a cute shade, and makes you look so beautiful, but above all—it’s sticky. It’s sticky, and easily smudged, and he knows from experience that everything feels so much filthier when he steals a kiss from you with it on. 

Without meaning to, thoughts of you wrapping those glossed lips around his dick, creating a mess made-up of spit, cum, tears, and thus that delightful stickiness from your lipgloss, enters his mind. The coloured shade will leave a perfect ring around his length, there’s no doubt in his mind. Your pretty face will be all dirty, smudged stains near the corners of your mouth courtesy of his fat cock. You will be a sight for sore eyes. 

You’re talking to him, but Satoru can’t seem to listen. He’s enamoured by your lips, your soft-looking, plumb, and very glossed lips. He briefly feels pathetic, knowing that a mere make-up item has the ability to make his head spin to such a degree—but he doesn’t, as he quickly realises it only does so because it’s you that’s wearing it. 

Fuck, he really wants to stuff his cock into your mouth. 

Five, six, almost seven seconds pass before the realisation kicks in. If he wants to put his cock in your mouth, then he can. Satoru’s body moves on its own before he gets a chance to think about his actions, as is often the case with him, and it's not long before his large hand finds its new home on the back of your head. He falters briefly, watching how you quiet down, how your eyes widen slightly, but continues as he’s doing when you make absolutely no move to stop him when he gently guides your head down, and down, and down—until you’re right where he wants you. 

A small gasp leaves your lips when he puts you on eye-level with his crotch. It’s quiet, and he almost didn’t hear it, but it makes him pause nonetheless. The hand on your head loosens its grip, and he hesitates as he looks down at you. 

“Is this oka—” 

The sentence never gets finished, forever interrupted by a sharp hiss as you take his cock out of his pants with such unabashed eagerness. It slaps against his abdomen, leaky tip staining the fabric of his shirt. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, it seems, as you don’t waste a second in taking his hard, aching length almost entirely into your mouth. It all happens so quickly, and Satoru’s mind almost can’t keep up. All he did was think about filling your mouth, and now he’s actually doing it; the fat tip prodding near the back of your throat. 

His hands are shaky, he notices, and so is his breathing as a small whine escapes when one of your hands goes downwards to play with his balls. “Fuck!” he curses, caught by surprise at the boldness with which you reached for that part of him. In his startle, his hands return to the back of your head, and your words make their impromptu return to the very front of his mind. 

Use me. 

He will, then. 

Satoru isn’t at all gentle when he does. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he pushes you down onto his cock until your nose brushes against the soft, white hairs near his pelvis. Your poor little mouth is struggling, he can see, but he can’t seem to pay much mind to it; the sounds of you gagging around his thick length are too much of a pleasure to hear. The way he pushes you up-and-down nears the realm of brute force, and still you eagerly suck, and suck, and suck. 

A particularly loud groan echoes through the room when he steals a glance at your small form kneeling between his legs. It seems he knows you well; you are a sight for sore eyes like this. There are tears in your eyes, and some of them have already fallen down your hollowed cheeks; hollowed, to make space for him. Your mouth is filled to the brim with his cock, and even though he can see you fighting for breath, you never make an attempt at catching it—as if you wouldn’t dare to deprive him of the please your throat gives him. 

Satoru catches himself falling in love all over again. 

He fucks your face harder, and harder, and harder the closer he gets to the edge. Deep groans, and slurred curse words join your symphony of muffled moans, and his hold on your head slowly starts to falter. 

“‘M close, princess,” he mumbles, but that’s about all the warning he gives you. A few seconds later, he cums down your throat. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to. Not because you’d given him permission to use you as he sees fit, but simply because he knows you’re utterly obsessed with him doing so. “Fuck, f—fuck, look a’you, hm? Gonna take all of it like a good girl? Don’t waste it, m’kay? S’all for, fuck, for you.” 

It’s something he’s done countless times before, but Satoru swears that each time he spills his cum down your throat feels better than the last. Thick, sticky ropes fill your mouth, and you hum around him when it keeps going, and going, and going. You’re struggling to take it all, and he huffs in amusement when bits of it start to drip down your chin. His thumb catches it, and he quickly places it back in your mouth, forcing you to open it wider to accommodate both the digit and his slowly softening cock. You happily do so. 

He pulls out of you shortly after, with his chest heaving as he recuperates. His entire focus is on you, you, and you as he watches you wipe your mouth and swallow the last of his seed. There’s a smile on your face. It’s kind, and gentle, and innocent; almost as if he hadn’t just fucked your mouth and dumped his release down your throat. Satoru is utterly bewitched as he watches you, captivated by all and every little thing you do, and he cooperates as you tuck him back into his pants. 

And then, as if nothing at all happened, you sit down next to him again—and you speak, you continue talking, finishing the story he’d interrupted with his need to be sucked off. Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks are still stained with dried tears, but you pay neither of those facts any mind. It makes all of this look so. . . mundane. You were speaking, and then you were between his legs, and now you’re speaking again. 

Satoru’s heart starts to beat even faster for you. Fuck, that’s so hot. This time, he decides to try his very best to listen to your tale about some co-worker of yours that pissed you off this week. He pitches in every-now-and-then, adding a low ‘huh,’ or ‘mhm’ to keep you occupied, and he almost feels guilty—guilty, because all his adrenaline-filled mind can think about are the future possibilities of using you.

“And, wanna know what’s the worst thing about the situation? It was my idea to get donuts for everybody! That harlot didn’t even want them initially.” 

Satoru’s downward spiral is inevitable, and he finds himself falling victim to it more times than one would consider healthy in a mere seven days. He very quickly learns that he’s thoroughly obsessed with the notion that allows him to fill you up anywhere, and at any time. To him, it’s one of the highest honours. 

There’s such confidence, such unwavering faith encompassed in your view of him. There has to be, if you’re willing to allow him such a thing. Thinking about it almost causes a cute pink hue to colour his cheek. . .you really do trust him a lot, huh?

He’s never been able to tell you ‘no’ before, and he certainly isn’t about to start. So, he dutifully listens to you and abides by your delectable request. To satisfy you, of course. There’s absolutely no other reason for his actions, and the way he breaches your dripping cunt with his leaky tip, all while soft breaths leave your lips, and your pretty eyes are peacefully shut, is simply to indulge you. 

Use me. Use me. Use me. 

Satoru curses, the crude words that tumble past his lips being plenty colourful. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other hikes your (or rather his) shirt up to provide him with better access. It’s your fault, really, that he’s currently sporting one of the hardest boners of the century. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? Waiting for him to return and bury himself to the hilt in that sweet, sobbing pussy of yours. 

There’s no other reason for you to fall asleep with nothing but his shirt on. Not even panties covered your cute little cunt, your sticky folds fully on display and welcoming him home. Satoru wants to bury himself in it—in a multitude of ways if he’s being truly honest with himself. For now, though, he’ll stick to simply one. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, delicately rubbing soft circles into your upper thigh with his thumb. You whine faintly, feeling his cock fight its way past your walls. He splits you open, stretching you just wide enough to slip inside. Your nose scrunches up cutely, and he almost rouses you from your slumber.  “‘S me, really need you, baby.” 

And that’s all he has to say. It’s me. It’s your Satoru. A gentle whisper of those words, and he gets to use you as he pleases. All of his previous worries, all of the near-boiling anger he felt at his previous meeting with the higher-ups washes away as soon as he sinks himself balls-deep into your pussy. Satoru groans deeply at the feeling, and gentle, stuttered declarations of love are babbled into your ear with each slow drag of his cock along your walls. 

The garbled mesh of words that he deems too important not to say, even despite their poor enunciation, only ceases to exist a few minutes later—when he spills his heavy load into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. No, into that sweet cunt of his. Because, that’s who it truly belongs to, no? It’s his, to use, to spoil, to worship. You’d offered it to him so kindly, after all. And, well, Satoru has never been the type of person to turn down a gift. 

. . . You unknowingly create a monster. It seems that even the mere idea of being allowed to use you as he pleases has him tip-toeing around the line of borderline insanity. As each time he sees you, he wants you. . .and each time he wants you, you let him. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing at that moment. Even if you’re speaking, and he suddenly feels the need, no, the simple want for a blowjob. And even if you’re asleep, resting after what must have been a long day, you still allow him to slip his aching cock into you to satisfy the craving he’s had for hours. 

Even if you’re busy setting the table, you don’t push him away, and you still allow him to bend you over the wooden surface, to sink to his knees and lick, suck, and kiss around his pretty pussy with his tongue. Simply because he wants to do it, and you really do so, too. 

. . .And even now, when you’re cooking dinner. 

There’s a certain cuteness about the way your brows scrunch in concentration, about the way you gently bite on your bottom lip as you prepare the food for the two of you; it nearly makes him feel guilty for feeling the secret desire to ruin such a lovely, innocent view. The word nearly is important, however, as he’s acutely aware of your need for him to do exactly that—and so, any sense of wrongdoing melts away, similar to snow underneath the sun.

He’s not quite sure what it is that you’re cooking, but it smells delectable. There’s an array of spices, herbs, and vegetables strewn around the counter, and Satoru knows he’ll be eating like a King in a few minutes. As for right now, though, there’s a different craving, a different type of hunger slowly making its way forward. He fears it won’t be one that’ll be sated by your lovely culinary skills. 

“Smells good, baby,” he mumbles. It doesn’t take him long to settle himself behind you, large hands gently coming to rest on your hips. He sighs in the crook of your neck, and nudges the skin with his nose. “What’cha making?” 

You answer. He knows you do, as he feels the vibrations of your voice underneath his lips, the soft hum feeling quite soothing as he kisses along the column of your throat, but Satoru can’t find it in himself to focus on the words you give him. His ever-loose hands roam eagerly down your body, and the previous loving, and delicate kisses along your neck turn sloppy, wet, almost, as Satoru dips one of his hands underneath the waistband of your panties. There’s a grin forming on his lips, one entirely too big and full of confidence. 

“‘M startin’ to think you’re just always wet for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers entirely coated in your slick the second he’d sunk them into your dripping cunt. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you try to stifle a moan when he, so very, very slowly starts to move his fingers in-and-out of you. “I—I am,” you admit, and clench around his digits just as he’s about to take them out; as if it’s a last resort to keep them inside. “F’you, Satoru. Just for you.” 

“Hm?” He hums, and almost huffs in amusement as he sees you trying to continue what you were doing so desperately, as if you weren’t being fucked on your husband’s fingers. Just for that—he rapidly thrusts his fingers back into you, harsher, deeper, and so much quicker. “Just for me, yeah, princess?” 

“Y—Ah! Yes, yes,” you squeak, one of your hands seeking out some semblance of support from the kitchen counter.  “Only for you.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound hitting your ears, as each thrust of his absurdly long fingers is accompanied by your wetness squelching around them. You struggle to speak, to breathe almost, as he fucks you on his fingers. Satoru stretches you out, curling his fingers to find the spot he knows will leave you with those pretty tears falling down your cheeks, and to hit it over, and over, and over again. 

There’s such a heat gathered between your legs, such a pleasurable source of warmth, and Satoru suppresses a groan as he’s once again made very aware of that fact when your walls clench around his digits. His cock twitches, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he grinds it against your ass. “You are, aren’t you? Hm? C’mon, baby, don’t be shy. . .be a little louder.”

You aren’t shy. You haven’t been for a while now. There’s a certain hotness in the way you moan so unabashedly, so utterly shamelessly whenever Satoru gets his hands on you in such a way—it’s as if you can’t ever get enough of him. It never fails to harden his cock even more, to make his balls feel achingly heavy until he ultimately empties them inside your tight little cunt. And you know so, which is exactly why you do it. 

“‘M not,” you rasp out, one of your hands coming to rest on his wrist. The back of your head falls against his shoulder as you choke on a moan, seeking some very necessary aid to stay upright. “Please, I. . .’Toru, please.”

In all honesty, Satoru isn’t quite sure what you’re begging for. He knows it’s one of two options: either to cum on his fingers, or for him to push his thick cock inside your pussy already. There’s no desire to ask, however—he’d much rather make that decision himself. The hand that wasn’t currently burying three of its digits knuckle-deep into your pussy busies itself with his belt-buckle. 

There’s a pitiful whine falling from your lips, one that’s released immediately upon the removal of his fingers from your cunt. “Shh,” he coos in your ear, instantly soothing your upcoming tantrum. You stifle the complaint you’d prepared for him, the feeling of his fat tip prodding near your too-eager hole quickly puts an end to it. “S’okay, pretty girl, just wanna feel you cum around my cock, s’all. . .Think you can do that for me?” 

You nod, and rapidly so. “Mhm,” you hum, and open your mouth when he presents it with his soiled fingers. You clean them, suckling around them until each bit of your sweetness is gone. “Want to—really wanna cum around your cock, ‘Toru.”

“Of course, you do,” he breathes, and captures a quick kiss. And another. And another. And one more. It makes you smile, and that, in turn, makes him smile. When he does pull back, there’s as much love as there is lust dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, princess.”

Satoru is often greedy. There’s no such thing as savouring something with him—if he’s enjoying himself, he’ll be as gluttonous as he wishes. The exception is you, of course, as you always are to him. There’s no greater feeling than savouring you. It’s why he, more often than not, decides to fill you up slowly. To let his cock drag along your walls, to let your soothing warmth engulf him inch, by inch, by inch, until his firm balls press up against your ass. He does so this time, too. 

Your long, drawn-out moan as he fills you up slowly sounds as if it were gifted to him by the Heavens, and Satoru’s cock twitches inside when he hears you mutter a soft fuck as you struggle to adjust to him. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve taken his cock, but the sheer girth of him still stretches you out—as it always does. Your husband loves you dearly, however, and waits. . .one second, two seconds, three seconds, and he doesn’t get any further before his self-restraint falters. 

Satoru nearly pulls himself out of your cunt completely, only for him to fuck himself back inside so deeply—it has you place both palms of your hands on the counter to steady yourself. It startles you, as he hears you choke on a moan, but he continues. His movements are quick and rough, animalistic even, as he pounds into your cunt. 

“Sa—ngh, Satoru, wait, I. . .” You interrupt yourself with a moan, the feeling of his tip near your cervix too sharp for you to properly finish a sentence. He’s so deep. It feels as if he’s in your womb, in your stomach—it feels as if he’s everywhere. “Fuck, I. . .f—fuck, ‘Toru. . .”

 “Hm?” He breathes out, a groan slipping past his lips. “Want me to, fuck, you. . .” His rapid movements dial down. The self-control needed for it is enormous, but you’d asked him to wait—so he will. Some beads of pre-cum drip into your cunt, as if his cock was upset that he’d suddenly slowed down. “Wan’me to go slower, baby?”

“No,” There’s a small whine near the end of your sentence. It’s the absolute last thing you wanted him to do, even if you originally asked him to wait. “No, don’t, please, keep going. Need—need more.” You feel Satoru wrap both hands around your hips, as if he’s preparing for something. “Harder, please. . .”

“Harder?” He asks, and you don’t need to see him to know there’s currently a sense of smugness ruining his pretty face.  “How hard do you want it, huh, sweets?” 

Little more than the tip remains inside you, and there’s not a moment for you to mourn the loss of his entire girth—as all air leaves your lungs when he immediately thrusts back into you with a newfound vigour, with such force that it has you bend over the kitchen counter. 

“Like, ah, like this, huh? That how you want it, angel?”

You don’t answer—you’re not able to, as Satoru uses the entirety of his thick length to steal your ability to speak coherently. Once again, you’re acutely aware of the sheer size of your husband. Satoru is tall, and big, and he likely isn’t even aware of it. It certainly doesn’t seem so, as he heads no mind to the way your feet are starting to lift off the floor. Each deep thrust has you inching further up the counter; his hands on your hips nearly holding you up and off the floor as he rocks into you from behind. 

There’s little you can do, except take it. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds that definitely do not belong there. Your wetness is prominent, the sound of it borderline embarrassing, and Satoru’s balls slap against your skin with each thrust. He’s relentless, and you want to cry. The good kind of crying; the kind that often comes accompanied with mind-numbing pleasure. You hiccup, and sniff, and try your best to stabilise yourself against the counter. 

Though, your efforts prove futile once Satoru brings one of his hands to your front. You choke on a whimper as he cruelly pinches your clit, toying with it, flicking and rubbing it in the way he knows will get you off. 

“T—Toru,” you warn him. “I—I’m. . .”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not letting up even for a second. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Me too, princess. S’okay, let, shit, let go for me, yeah?”

And because he’s Satoru—your Satoru, you comply. It hits you all at once, and you’re suddenly very grateful for both your husband holding you upright, and your expensive kitchen counter for adding some extra support. You’re still breathing heavily, coming down from your high, when Satoru hits his own. It’s a familiar feeling, but one you’ll never grow tired of nonetheless. 

You sigh in content. His cum fills you up rapidly, and to the brim. It’s hot, and thick, and trickles out of you even with him still inside—simply because there’s so much of it. The both of you are out of breath, and because of it, choose to stay within each other’s hold for just a little while longer. 

Satoru could—and would—stay in this position for the rest of his life. . .but he’s quite sure that you’ve put a lot of effort in today’s dinner and he doesn’t want it to be for naught. With a deep sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek, he goes against every fibre of his being, and pulls out of you. 

A shiver trails down your spine when he does so, and you let out a soft sigh in content. You’re still recovering, he notices. There’s a trail of his cum dripping out of you, though he wastes little time to push it back inside. Satoru takes matters into his own hands, and decides to place your panties back into place for you, too. It gets soiled by his seed rather quickly, but that’s a problem for later. 

After smoothing down your skirt, he tucks himself back into his pants, as well. He’s by your side as quick as he can, and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. 

It’s only then that he properly takes notice of all the stuff that’s been thrown around the kitchen. Pots, pans, vegetables, spices. It seems you really were busy.

And, as if he hadn’t just finished fucking you silly, he smiles. 

“So, what are you making?”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

[sturniqlo]

Piercings- C.S

summary: y/n has a surprise for chris which leads to something... more. BLURB

cw: cursing, SMUT; titty fucking, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), making out, creampie, hickies, oral!male, cum eating, fingering

an: looks like this concept won the poll but for the people who voted for the matt one, i WILL eventually post it @sturnluvs - wanted to be tagged (if u ever want to be tagged just comment)

masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

"Hi, baby." Y/n walks through the door, making herself known to Chris. She can't help but bite her lip to suppress an excited smile. "Hi, babe. Missed you today. Had fun with your friends?" He walks through the foyer, seeing her taking her shoes off. "So much fun." She leans up to press her lips to his. He puts his hand on the small of her back and he bends forward slightly, making her arch her back. "I have a surprise for you." She murmurs against his lips. "Yeah?" He smirks. She hums.

After a couple more seconds of kissing they break the kiss. "Go sit on the bed." She ruffles his hair. "Okay, I like where this is going." Chris jokes, looking back as Y/n follows behind. "You're annoying." She laughs as she pushes his shoulders into the bedroom.

Chris follows past instructions and sits on the edge of the bed with her arms behind him. As she closes the door, she crosses her arms across her chest and walks towards her. "Close your eyes, baby." She whispers. "Okay." He closes his eyes and smirks. Y/n places each leg on either side of Chris' lap. "I'm loving your surprise so far." He starts to feel himself grow hard in his sweats. He pushes himself forward, eyes still closed, and puts his hands on her exposed torso. "You're about to love it even more I hope." She gets situated on his lap and reaches to the bottom of her shirt and carefully pulls it off.

"Fuck, did you take your shirt off?" Chris is definitely hard by now, and he fights the urge to take a peek. "Maybe." She says in a singsong tone. The cold wind hits her nipples making them pebble. She looks down, and sees that they look even better with a small silver bar between her nipples. She also catches a wet patch on Chris' grey sweats. "You're not wearing boxers?" He shakes his head. "Can I open my eyes now?" He asks. "Okay, go ahead."

Chris opens his eyes and is met with the sight of Y/n's tits in his face but, there's something decorating them. She got her nipples pierced. "Holy shit, babe." He moans at the sight and his dick gets even harder if that's even possible. "You like 'em?"She says. "Do I like them? Baby, I fucking love them. Oh my god." He slides his hands up to cup under each of her breasts. "Can I touch?" She nods. "Be gentle, they're a bit sore if there's too much pressure directly on them."

Chris gently swirls his finger across her left nipple and is in awe of her. "So pretty." He mumbles. Chris' gently puckers his lips and replaces his finger with his lips, leaving feather like kisses on her pebbled nipple. "Fuck, Chris." She whines. Her nipples even more sensitive. She feels her panties start to grow a wet patch. "Feels even better? Hm?" She nods and sighs with pleasure. Chris moves onto her right nipple, giving it the same attention.

Y/n slides her hand down to his bulge and squeezes. "You're so hard, baby." She gasps. Chris detaches himself from her and she lifts off his lap so she can tug his pants down. His cock springs out, his tip a bright pink leaking with pre-cum. "Can I?" He nods. She goes in her knees, and Chris scoots closer to the edge. Y/n grabs his dick. Spitting directly on it and watches it as it dibbles down, mixing with the milky liquid. "Please, baby." He whimpers. She kitten licks his tip before wrapping her mouth around his leaky tip. "Fuck, just like that." Chris grabs her hair and wraps it around his hand tugging gently.

She goes lower, taking as much as she can as tears fill her eyes from the pressure. "Doin' so good, lemme see my surprise, hm?" He pulls her hair so her mouth pops off. Instead, she pumps him in her hands as she arches her back. "You wanna fuck 'em?" He immediately nods. "Yes, yes, yes." He groans. "Go ahead, baby." Y/n says, pushing her chest forward, fixing her posture. Chris puts it cock in between here tits and Y/n gently squeezes them together. He start thrusting his hips forward and back.

"Holy fuck. Swear your tits were made for me." He throws his head back, moaning. "Yeah, you like fucking my tits?" She says, clenching her thighs together at the sight of a blissed out Chris. "Fucking love it." He moans. "Shit, squeeze me hard. M' almost there." She squeezes her tits hard together, loving the ache that comes with it. "Cum for me, Chris. Make a mess on me." With her words, he comes undone. "Holy- I'm cumming- fuck!" His cum paints her chest, she sticks her tongue out to catch any that lands on her face.

Chris, still semi-hard, throws himself back on the bed to try and catch his breath. Y/n gets up from her knees and unbuttons her jeans shorts and slides them down along with her thong. She climbs on his lap and leans over him. "That was hot." She says as Chris places his hands on her bare ass. He groans at the fact that she has taken her bottoms off. "Can I clean you up?" His eyes direct down to the cum on her collarbones and cleavage.

"Please do." She plants a kiss on his lips. They continue making out for a couple a minutes before Chris rolls them over without breaking the kiss and he's hovering over her. Disconnecting his lips from hers, she whines, Chris discards of his shirt before placing his lips back on hers. He breaks the kiss with biting her lip lightly and kissing down her jaw, to her neck, and licking his cum off of her. "Let me have a taste?" She pleads. Chris smirks, getting a finger and dragging it along a spurt of cum that landed where her boob starts. "Open up, ma." She sticks her tongue out, Chris placing his finger directly on her tongue, she closes her mouth around his finger and swirls her tongue around it, sucking on it here and there.

"Good girl." She lets go of his finger. He groans, going back to her neck. Kissing, sucking, biting. He leave a couple of hickies along her neck and on top of her tits. He loves seeing her littered with lovebites that he did and only he can see. "Want me to fuck your pretty pussy?" He whispers. Dragging a finger down her torso, stopping on top of her mound. "Yes, please, baby." She lifts her hips forward and his finger goes to her clit and she moans. "So greedy." He bits her neck. Rubbing her clit, she's a whimpering mess under him. "Let me stretch you first, yeah?" She nods fastly and he laughs. He drags his fingers down her slit and slowly pushes his finger in.

"Chris, oh my gosh." He slowly pulls his finger back and pushes it back in. "Want another?" He makes eye contact with her. Her eyes glosses over in pleasure and her cheeks a light shade of pink. "Yes, give me more." She whines. Chris wastes no time in inserting in middle finger. "Oh." She moans. "So wet, just for me right?" He continues to thrust his fingers in and out of her. The sound of her wetness makes his tip leak. "All for you. Just you, Chris." She brings her hand to the back of his head and kisses him and he fingers her.

Scissoring his fingers in her, makes her come closer to her orgasm. "Chris, I'm close. I want to cum on your cock." She pushes his hand away. Chris brings his hand up to his mouth and sucks his two fingers clean. Moaning at the taste of her arousal. "Ready?" He asks, as he lines his hard cock with her wet entrance. "Yes, so ready." He slowly pushes in until he bottoms out. "Oh shit." He pulls out until only his tip is inside of her. He slams his hips against her and they both moan loudly. "Fuck, Chris." As Chris thrusts his hips against her rapidly, he looks down to her tits and sees them bouncing, the shine of the bars between her nipples making him chase his orgasm faster.

"Fuck, babe. Look at your tits. So pretty." He brings a hand up and gently squeezes it. Y/n moans. "I'm so close." She feels the pressure in her lower belly. "Come for me, Y/n. Fucking wet my cock." He continues fucking her fast, his eyes looking up to her eyes and back down to her tits.

"I'm cumming, fuck- shit." She yells, baby hairs sticking to her forehead. Cheeks now a bright pink. "Fuck, I'm almost there." Chris groans, feeling her orgasm wetting his cock even more. "Shit, where do you want me to cum?" He says, out of breath. "Inside of me. Fill me up." She arches her back as she starts to feel sensitive. "Holy sh- I'm cumming. Fuck, fuck, fuck." He cums inside of her. Riding out his high.

Chris slowly pulls out, seeing the mixture of both of their cums leaking out of her. "Look that that, my god." He moans. Chris lazily lays down next to her. "I'm taking you like my new piercings?" She laughs. "Just a bit." He makes them laugh even more.

"Can I fuck them again?"

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut

[viennakarma]

Satisfaction [Part 1]

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Four times you tried to befriend Lewis, and one time you didn't.

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: female!reader, asshole!Lewis (he will get better), physiotherapist!reader, no romance yet, Lewis is being rude, reader is trying, cursing, a bit angsty, not beta read

Note: Lewis is being kind of an asshole, but I promise he will grovel a lot. This is a two part story. Gentle reminder that english is not my first language (so please bear any mistake), I'm also taking requests for F1 drabbles and oneshots (at this moment I'm writing for Lewis, Fernando, Max and Toto Wolff).

Find me on Twitter!

I.

You drank the rest of your iced tea in one gulp, pushing the nervousness away. It wasn't exactly anxiety, but more first-day jitters at a new job. Adjusting your ponytail, you stood up as one of the team approached.

“Y/N? It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Ellie from the HR team, we spoke on the phone. Lewis is around, so we thought we’d introduce you two now, okay?”

“Of course, of course, it’s nice to meet you, Ellie.”

Ellie showed you around, giving you a tour of the entire motorhome. You were aware that it was difficult to join a team after the season had already started, especially to take the place of a person who was very loved by everyone and who had been there for several years, but you were willing to do your best to get along with everyone.

Finally, Ellie took you to a training room, where Lewis was inside. He was sitting in an armchair, drinking water from a bottle when Ellie introduced the two of you. You smiled and offered your hand for a shake, but he just ignored his hand with a blank stare.

“Lewis, this is Y/N Y/L/N, your new physical therapist, you'll be seeing each other every other day” Ellie introduced them, not seeming to notice the cold way Lewis greeted you.

“Nice to meet you,” you murmured, trying to ignore the awkwardness between the two of you. Lewis just nodded his head briefly and turned to pay attention to his own cell phone.

Ellie then went over your entire routine for the next few weeks, as well as giving you a short guide to Lewis's physiotherapy sessions over the past two years, and required exercises from fitness to pre-race and post-race.

Your official working day began the following Tuesday at seven in the morning at one of the Mercedes workstations in Brackley, where the entire team was gathered. You needed to be there to look after Lewis' fitness as he had team meetings, and you needed to follow him wherever he went to be able to do your job. Honestly, it wasn't a big problem since you used to work with the Real Madrid football team, so you were used to the traveling routine.

As soon as you entered the building's small gym, Lewis was already inside, tying the laces on his shoes.

"Good morning!" You walked in with a smile, setting your bag aside and holding the two glasses of iced tea you had purchased on the way, “the weather is kind of warm today, huh? I bought iced tea for both of us.”

“No thanks,” Lewis said, standing up, “can we get started?”

The sharp tone left you speechless for a moment, but you soon recovered, tying your hair into a ponytail. You had hoped that the mood on the day you met Lewis was just because he was stressed or had some problem on that specific day. But it seems that today he also wasn’t very interested in being polite to you.

You took a deep breath pulling your iPad out of the bag where you had prepared the day's entire session. Okay, you were patient, you could win him over with time and maybe you could even become friends, or at the very least, on friendly terms.

“Alright, let’s start today’s session with some intense stretching to prepare your body for the intensity of the next few days’ sessions,” you murmured, pointing to the mat on the floor.

“Angela didn't use an iPad during our sessions,” he commented casually.

“Because Angela had been with you for years and had already memorized her exercises. Can we start?"

II.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” you said, entering the gym, plopping your bag on a nearby table.

“You could have a little more respect for other people’s time,” Lewis said, suddenly. You froze in place, your eyes fleeting to the watch high on the wall, that showed you were barely ten minutes late for the session.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you repeated, pulling your iPad open.

You were a few weeks into your new job, and acquaintanceship with Lewis had not gone better in the slightest. If anything, it had gone even worse. Lewis was adamant in not opening up to you, not even in the professional sense of your work relationship. Every time you tried small talk, or even professional talk, he had shut you out barely politely. He was constantly annoyed by your presence, and didn’t engage in anything other than the exercises you were helping him with. You noticed his performance was going bad in the season, and you attributed his bad mood solely to that. That’s why you usually brushed off his rude remarks and his questioning of the quality of your work.

“We’ll do core strength today, Lewis.”

You spent the next two hours walking him through every exercise you had for the day. Sometime during your session, you tried to help him fix his posture by pressing a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed you off, only saying he was able to do it himself.

By the end of your session, he was visibly tired, and you reached in your purse to your small stock of protein bars. You grabbed two and tossed one to Lewis. He caught it in the air, staring at it with a frown.

“It’s a protein bar. It is healthy, vegan, and doesn’t taste like cardboard, for once,” you giggled, trying to strike up conversation, “honestly, I found this small brand from Hungary out of sheer luck and my life hasn’t been the same ever since, now I just order like this crazy-”

“Are we done?” He cut you off, you stopped smiling.

“What?” you said, staring at him going to his bag.

“Is our session done?” he insisted.

“Yes,” you said, deflated. Lewis walked away, and on his way to the door, he dropped the little protein bar you gave him in the trash.

You felt a lump in your throat, defeated. You had never had a client so difficult to deal with. Most of them were usually standoffish in the beginning, but they became friends with time, some of them you had a great relationship even now, years later.

Lewis just- he just hated you for apparently no reason, and it was making your professional life pure hell. It was hard not bonding with someone you work so physically close with. And honestly, you had tried everything in the book to help him acclimate to you, but he was just- immune. He didn’t like you, you had no idea if he even liked your job because he refused to give you any feedback whatsoever.

You refused to go to HR because it would make you look like a kid throwing a tantrum because the other kid doesn’t like you. What would HR do? Force Lewis to tolerate you? He would probably hate you more if that happened.

You just sighed, swallowing the tears as you left.

III.

“I was considering adding pilates sessions once a week, we can do reformer and clinical pilates alternating” you told Lewis as he did the final stretching of the session.

“I don’t like sudden changes in my exercise routine,” he said, getting up.

“Well, I believe it would do you good. And we can start slowly for you to adapt better. Does every other week work for you?” You taped your schedule on the iPad.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he muttered, visibly annoyed now.

“I can forward you a few articles I have been reading to show you, why I think it-”

“No, I don’t want that,” he shut you off completely, “can I go now?”

You sighed, enough was enough. You were pissed at him, being difficult, being annoying, fucking up your routine by being rude and being a fucking asshole.

“No, you can’t,” you said, voice firm, which kind of surprised him, since it was the first time you ever used that tone with him, “what is your fucking problem?”

“What are you talking about?” He folded his arms.

“What is your problem with me? Is it something I did? Or maybe something I said?” You pressed, walking towards him, the closest you have ever been to him.

“I have no problem with you,” he said and you scoffed, “we are not friends, you’re just my physiotherapist, nothing more, nothing less.”

You felt grateful he left as soon as he said that, otherwise he would have seen the tears filling your eyes.

IV.

“I went back to therapy, because I’m feeling like a failure,” you told Angela over the phone.

“Is he being so difficult?” She asked, sounding worried.

“You have no idea…” you whispered, pressing your temples.

“You want me to talk to him?” Angela said, concerned. You stared at your own reflection in the mirror inside the gym, seeing the dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep. The last encounter with Lewis was enough to take a toll on your mental health and trigger a bit of insomnia.

“No, I think it would make it worse, but I appreciate the offer,” you sighed, exhausted, “I’ll work around these difficulties, and if it gets any worse, I’ll call you so you can talk to him. Deal?”

“Deal. Just- Don’t burn yourself out, ok? I know how he can be hard to deal with. Let me know if you need anything.” Angela offered, and you wanted to cry with the kindness in her voice.

“Yes, of course. Thank you very much for letting me vent, yeah? Talk to you later” You said, and noticed how Lewis entered the gym, seemingly surprised that you even were there.

That would make two of you.

This time you went through your training session in complete silence, only talking about his physicality and the exercises. You didn’t joke with him, nor did you make commentaries on the session. You just did your job silently, staring at him with a blank face.

As you finished, you packed your bag and left without a word, going straight to HR to put in your resignation letter you had written during your day off.

V.

Lewis noticed your absence as soon as he entered the gym for your session. You hadn’t been late ever since that time he called you out the first and only time you were late. Since then, you were always there when he arrived. But you weren’t there and he felt something was off. Maybe you had a cold or something and HR forgot to tell him.

He walked up to Ellie’s office, knocking lightly before entering.

“Hey there, Lewis! Can I help you?” She asked, putting away a few papers.

“Hey. Where is Y/N?” He asked, sitting down.

“Oh, I thought she had told you… She resigned two days ago.” With Ellie’s words, Lewis felt his stomach drop, but Ellie just continued talking, “she said she didn’t adapt very well to the routine, which is sad considering she is such a big fan of Mercedes and Formula 1. And, you know, since she was a recommendation from Angela Cullen, I really thought she would fit perfectly with the team.”

Lewis felt his mouth go dry. He didn’t know any of this. He didn’t know you were a fan of the team, as he didn’t know Angela had put you in her own position after leaving. He felt so, so bad, he was suddenly nauseous.

“Did she say exactly why she was leaving?” Lewis asked, heart beating in his ears.

“She said she wasn’t adapting to the traveling routine and it took a toll on her. She also apologized profusely, but I told her it was alright, it happens more often than she thinks.”

Lewis knew exactly the reason you left. He had made you go through living hell by being a stubborn asshole. You tried to befriend him, to be nice, to start small talk, to be kind and his only response to your attempts were flat out rudeness.

“Well, these things happen, right?” Ellie shrugged, sympathizing with you more than Lewis ever did. “So, while we find someone to fill her position, you’ll do your pre-race and post-race with George and his physiotherapist.”

Lewis didn’t hear any of the other stuff Ellie said, guilt eating up at him with such force he was out of breath. He didn’t even think before treating you that way, his brain just turned to that everytime he remembered he was alone now, that he had lost his best friend and confidante. Stress of the season had also caught up to him making him more irritable than ever.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered as he left Ellie’s office, he needed to do something.

He called your phone, but you had blocked him already.

“Fuck, I need to fix this.”

[Part 2]

[kaybreezy3000]

Looking for Happy Five Hargreeves X FTM Reader -anon request)

~Explicit sexual content -if no likey-stay away please.

Hilariously simple but true summary: Five Hargreeves is sad and horny and wants to fuck, and all he wants is you.

(Don't worry, I will try to take you a little emotional rollercoaster that's not all the dirty-dirty 👍)

~Reader is post-top surgery and pre-bottom surgery.

~This story was done as an anon request, asking if I'd be willing to do a pairing of Five X m reader, or Five X ftm reader. The request left the plot open for me to decide if it had much of one or how deep I went with it. Anon did give me a few fun ideas to include if I could, and I did my best to deliver and had a lot of fun doing it, so I hope you enjoy. Thank you, anon. And special thanks to my buddy Bad Kitty @badkitty3000 for proof reading this and catching my zillions of mistakes.❤️

(18,900 words)

Content Warnings and additional tags: Dom Five and some Sub Five, small 'Scream' movie add in per anon's personal love of the movie with sexy Billy and Stu, light praise kink, daddy kink, rough sex, choking, spanking, public sex, Five being sweet, Five being a cocky jerk, masturbation mentions, flirting)

NOTE: This story takes place during season four and after it, using a series of flashbacks, so it moves between past and present several times. Also, this was obviously written before season 4 came out, with an alternate season 4 ending written my way. It has lots of season 4 trailer and interview mentions to make it more fun and hopefully tie in a little with the real season 4.

~~~~~Looking for Happy~~~~~

Coming out of one of the empty offices at the Temps Commission headquarters, Five is met with silence. He still holds the title to the main building of the time controlling agency that he founded, but now, he and his family are the only ones that know it ever existed. 

He has no reason to be there.

It’s as it should be, but like always, he can’t seem to move on.

As Five told The Handler, he is a man that no longer belongs anywhere, only when he said that, he didn’t realize he was the driving force behind so much of his own suffering, or that in the end, it would all come down to him.

Everything he’s done was to restore life as it should be, and finally, this time they won. They are all alive. He should be happy. They are back in their original timeline where they should have always been, but the concept of time and Five’s place in it have always felt like pieces of a puzzle that were never meant to be solved. 

For everyone but the Hargreeves, with their exceptional powers given at birth, it’s as if the final battle that brought on the end, and then opened the door for the new beginning never happened.

That means you don’t remember him.

The rest of the world didn’t need to remember the terror. You just needed to live.

Strolling along, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast as the heels of his dress shoes echo down the vacant halls, despite his wins, Five feels empty. All he wants is to go back to a time and place that’s no more, back to when he could feel your lips pressed to his with a desperation that matched his own.

Reaching the end of the hall, he enters the narrow room filled with screens and panels of little white and blue blinking lights. He sinks into one of the industrial style chairs that’s placed in front of the Infinite Switchboard’s main frame.

Five clicks on the outdated looking monitor, his fingers turning the knobs, dialing.

~~~

Not long later, Five’s face is glued to the screen when Klaus peaks in at him from the hall.

Knowing Five would be here, Klaus passes over the threshold, loudly clearing his throat before saying, “Hey there, big bro…watcha doing?”

Five doesn’t even look up. “Yeah, lucky me. Is it time for our weekly check-in already?”

Treading lightly, Klaus approaches. “When you missed dinner tonight, we were a little worried you’d fallen asleep on the countertop in the break room again, but here you are...”

Klaus lightheartedly laughs at his attempt to make a joke about Five’s odd sleeping habits, but Five continues to ignore him.

“Thank goodness we still have a few of these things hanging around, otherwise the rest of us wouldn’t be able to visit this lovely place,” he says as he lugs up one of Five’s time traveling briefcases, waving it in his face.

Five glares at him.

“Really, man,” Klaus continues. “Everyone was there tonight. It was all the usual banter you’d expect from such an amazing group of misfits, but it would have been so much better if you were there too. Things even got a little out of hand when Diego insisted on coming here to force you to eat what was left of their disgusting vegan goulash, but don’t worry, I put him in his place.”

“Sure, you did,” Five mumbles.

Taking a step closer Klaus asks, “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Klaus’s eyes follow his brother’s unbroken gaze to the monitor, just as you enter your apartment building, where you stop in front of the wall of mailboxes. Your hand comes up, bringing your key to your lock, but your eyes remain fixed on the mailbox above yours.

“That was your mailbox,” Klaus points out, like Five doesn’t already know that.

Five once stood right there by you in that entryway. He hadn’t thought anyone that wasn’t part of his family would ever have the balls to try to put him in his place, but you did, and by doing it, you opened a part of him that before that, he hadn’t been willing to let anyone touch.

After shoving your mail in the back pocket of your baggy jeans, just like the day you met, with your face obscured by your sweatshirt, you stomp up the stairs, your anger evident.

The screen hisses with static as Five adjusts your location until it shows you walking into your bedroom. 

“Why don’t you just go there and talk to him? Maybe jump him in the shower or something. Sounds like something you kinky boys would both enjoy,” Klaus unhelpfully suggests.

“He’s not in the shower, you dumbass,” Five says, letting out an irritated sigh afterwards.

“He might be in a few minutes…”

“No.”

“Hey man, I know it wasn’t supposed to happen, but he remembers you,” Klaus insists, spinning Five’s chair around.

Swinging around, Five almost falls out of his chair. “What the fu-!"

“Five, I know you’re only trying to do what you think is right, but just look at him, something is wrong!”

Five does look, just as you pick up the stack of papers and news clippings from your bedside table. He doesn’t need to zoom in to see the one you are holding. It’s a famous image of him in his academy uniform, mask and all, standing like the smug little jerk he was while posing in line next to the rest of the superpowered Hargreeves children.

“There is no other explanation for why he is looking up all this stuff about you, and there’s other reason why he keeps coming by my old place,” Klaus furthers, “Why won’t you let me go talk to him? We were friends. He might remember me too.”

“Leave him alone!” Five snaps, but his bark has no bite, and his eyes can no longer hide how painful this is seeing you this way.

“Everyone is worried about you. We just want to help,” Klaus pleads.

“You can’t help me with THIS!” Hands shaking, Five jumps up, his voice breaking just a little as he says, “Klaus... I can’t.”  He looks back over at the screen, right as you furiously toss a tiny collector figurine version of him across the room. “Just because I want to see something in this doesn’t mean it’s real,” Five whispers, looking anywhere but at his brother, or you.

“He maybe wasn’t supposed to remember, but I think he does. As we all know, there are a lot of things that make no sense in this world,” Klaus disagrees. “There is something going on with him. Can’t you see he’s falling apart?”

Jaw working anxiously, Five drops back down in front of his screens again, flipping them to what is clearly a random time and date, somewhere in the past with ladies in long billowing skirts and the men in fancy dress coats, escorting them down muddy streets filled with steaming piles of horse shit.

It’s over.

This is how it always goes.

Klaus remains silent as Five pulls out a notebook, pretending to be taking notes on whatever he is pretending to get out of watching things from the past when there is no longer a reason to monitor it for corrections. 

Klaus knows that Five isn’t going to budge, but before he leaves, he says, “Five, I know you are only trying to do what you think is best for him, but what if it’s not best. It’s not too late to fix this part of what was broken too.”

Five’s pen slows as he looks up at his brother standing over by the door. He nods, trying to smile but Klaus can see it’s so hard for him to do it. “I promise I’ll be there next time. Tell Lila that I am sorry.”

“Tell her yourself,” Klaus shoots back, followed by a small chuckle, “She’s pissed. She worked for hours cutting up all those fancy organic carrots for you, so don’t be surprised if the next time you drop by, she chops something off that you find equally important as wanting us all to eat sustainably. And by important, I mean your wiener,” he unnecessarily clarifies.

The hint of a real smile fights to come out and wins this time as Five says, “Lila hates to cook, so I know she did not help make me dinner, and if she was going to chop off my dick, she would have done it by now.”

Klaus smiles too and shrugs. “Maybe… She was pretty mad at you though, so I guess you’ll have to come over to their place to find out if you are still besties. And hey, maybe think about bringing my friend along with you next time. Everyone is dying to meet him and see that adorable smiling face of yours. It’s not like we all don’t know how you like being perpetually grumpy, but seriously…you’re so much prettier when you smile.”

While Five is telling Klaus to fuck off, hoping he finally talked some sense into him, Klaus quickly rounds the corner, hoisting up his briefcase, his fingers punching in the correct date to go back to the present.

As soon as Klaus is gone, Five’s smile fades. He turns the dial, bringing up the footage of you also back in current time, right as you’re screaming into your pillow. “What the fuck is wrong with me!”

His heart breaks a little more.

Nothing is wrong with you. He is the problem, that is why he never should have done what he did. 

He should have let you walk away, but he didn’t.

~~~

The invisible string, a connection that refuses to be ignored, tugs at your mind and it won’t stop.

You’re going crazy.  

Like the miniature resin version Five you just sent flying, the pillow on your face joins it on the floor.

It makes no sense, but you can still feel the tickle of Five’s breath against your neck as you cuddled together on your couch, him contentedly holding you like he never wanted to let you go.

Your eyes remain focused on your motionless ceiling fan, but your brain refuses to come back to the present.

The pain inside your chest tightens.

You try to push it away, but it only gets worse the more you try to tell yourself to stop this.

This is insanity. You need help. That’s what people would say if you told them about the things going on inside your head.

From anything you can gather, Five’s family seem like they aren’t concerned about anything at all, but not that long ago you remember them being shown on every news channel, doing unimaginable things while defending themselves from the barrage of artillery being shot at them.

Five left you only hours before that, promising to be back, but he never came back.

Long after he said he’d be home, you watched in shock as the news blasted stories about him and other people associated with him that made no sense. They said they were aliens! They said they were superheroes from another dimension! They flashed images of Five’s much younger face alongside the other people he grew up with, including Klaus.

Then a war started in the streets.

Almost immediately, the news reporters had given up trying to maintain their façade of calm. The holiday lights beyond their lens twinkled eerily as the sound of explosions filled the air and rocked the ground.

People screamed and sirens blared, and not just on the TV. You could hear it coming from outside your windows.

As the collapsed news camera continued to stream live feed, out of nowhere, Five appeared in the frame, enveloped for a fraction of a second in a flash of violet hued light.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. It couldn’t be real.

Five’s long coat tails flung like wings behind him as he grabbed ahold of the terrified girl whose picture you’d seen on the birthday invite Klaus had shown you. Five and the girl disappeared in another burst of light, just as bullets ripped through the metal garbage can she was hiding behind.

You smelled the smoke in the air when you ran outside. The earth shook, rattling your teeth as the echo of gunfire sent chills up your spine.

It all happened, only it didn’t. Nobody else remembers it.

Now, the Umbrella Academy is a thing of the past. The superpowered children that had once lived there are common knowledge, but they supposedly moved on with their lives long ago.

Klaus’s apartment isn’t his anymore, and the doors at the Umbrella Academy never open when you ring the bell.

The world in which you met is gone and the Five you knew is gone with it.

Five Hargreeves disappeared at the age of 13, never to be seen or heard from again.

Was any of it even real?

Again, you’re back to questioning your sanity.

“Fuck,” you curse, while raking your hand through your hair.

It’s been months. Three months and twenty-seven days to be exact since you first talked to Five, only then, you didn’t know that was his real name and not just a quirky nickname he preferred to go by.

He always had a nervous energy about him, and he always seemed distracted, so you usually paid no attention to him, but that day, something about the way he refused to acknowledge your presence set you off.

After he rudely stepped on your foot and pushed into you with his shoulder while reaching for his mailbox, you slammed your metal mailbox door closed, doing it much louder than needed.

You smiled with satisfaction when Five startled, even jumping a little.

He looked over at you with cartoon sized wide eyes.

Shaking your head, you’d said, “Not sure if you noticed, but you are not the only one trying to occupy this space. I exist too.”

Five’s eyes narrowed, the intensity of his glare slowly moving up and down as he took in your loose t-shirt and baggy jeans, comfortably paired with your favorite beat up low top sneakers.

You were sure the assessment he was making of you was not a good one. Especially when you consider that he was dressed impeccably as he always was, a long wool coat over a three-piece suit, with his hair a mess of chocolate brown strands, that though all over the place, only made him look even more unfairly attractive.

Compared to him, even though you stood over him by an inch or more, you suddenly felt like a tiny bug on the floor about to be obliterated under one of his shiny dress shoes. Your bodies outwardly didn’t look that much different, but you could tell that you were a little scrawny even when compared to his relative scrawniness. On top of that, he appeared to be close to the same age as you, but it was as if you were opposites, living in the same shitty apartment building, but he was somehow better than you.

You quickly concluded that he was a totally dickhead. Thinking about his stupid big black shoes, and then dicks as they related to shoe size, your mind started moving to certain ways that you were pretty sure you were different from him other than the fact that you weren’t an asshole.

You started to turn away, but before you did, you bitterly added, “I live here, by-the-way. We pass by each other almost daily. Not sure if you are aware of that?”

Ingrained manners getting the best of you, you extended a hand. Five looked at it like a foreign object.

He said nothing, so getting really mad, you casually as possible hooked a thumb under your waistline, while defiantly cocking your chin at him. “An I am sorry, or an excuse me, are just two options you could use to apologize when you just rudely rammed into someone, but it looks like you’re not going to do that since you lack even the most basic kindergarten level social skills.”

You tucked your mail in your back pocket and his eyes immediately moved down to your waist, openly checking out your striped boxers that were starting to show thanks to your pants sagging. Even more annoyed by this less than pleasant interaction, you started to walk away, quietly breathing out the word ‘jerk’ as you headed back towards the stairs.

“Wait!” he called out.

Surprised, you turned back to see the corner of Five’s mouth ticked up, the small movement hardly even noticeable if you hadn’t been suddenly hyper focused on the softness of his slightly parted lips.

“You aren’t wrong. Social graces aren’t where I excel,” he started. “I get lost inside my own head sometimes. I am sorry. Will you accept my apology, or is there something else I can do to make up for being so impolite? Wouldn’t want the neighbor boy thinking I’m a jerk.” 

He extended his hand. 

“You can call me Five, by-the-way.”

Fuck. He heard you, and what the hell, was he trying to be condescending? And Five? 

What the hell kind of name is that?

You looked back over at the name on his mailbox, it wasn’t Five.

“Five is a family nickname,” he explained. The dimple in Five’s cheek grew deeper the longer you dumbfoundedly stared at him. He lifted a brow. “I may be a lot of things, but deep down, I swear I’m a gentleman. I really am sorry for violating your personal space, but I am not that sorry about it because it meant we got to do this.”

What was with this guy?

Rarely did guys his age act so…

Shit… Was he hitting on you?

Five’s smile was like a superpower all its own and it was rendering you speechless, making you temporarily unable to maintain the level of irritation you’d had before. Feeling your face getting hotter, you couldn’t figure out why his words or his expression looked and sounded so flirty, but they did.

Maybe he was just trying to be nice?

Trying to play it cool, you threw a hand back through your slightly less shaggy looking haircut, then replied, “Sure… Nice to meet you and the apology is good enough. Very big of you. Thanks.”

Five’s taunting smile remained, as if you shooting him down was exactly what he wanted.

“Oh,” he breathed, digging through his stack of mail before pulling out an envelope, “I believe this is yours?” He frowned as he looked down at the feminine sounding name and your apartment number that was printed under the clear cellophane address window. “Your roommate, or girlfriend’s, I’m assuming?”

You took the mail from him. “No. No roommate and no girlfriend, just me.”

You were sure that Five looked relieved to hear that, and your breath caught, and your heart kicked up accordingly.

Adding the envelope to your back pocket, you breathed in, then slowly let it out as you rocked back on your heels. “That’s…my dead name,” you clarified.

Five said nothing. He seemed confused as his eyes wandered from yours and he rubbed his chin, but then his eyes suddenly came up, meeting yours again just as it seemed a lightbulb went off inside his brain.

His handsome smile took your breath away as he said, “I never would have guessed, but then again, there is a slightly unhinged, 64-year-old man hiding inside my head, and I am sure you never would have guessed that either.”

You laughed. You never would have guessed he’d be so funny or cute, but he was full of all sorts of surprises.

“You know, nobody reads the news that way anymore, other than grumpy old men, but I guess that makes sense since you’re a retiree,” you teased, trying to keep this whatever it was going by fucking with him again.

Unfazed by you making fun of him, Five nodded. “True,” he agreed, “When it comes to reading real newspapers and my other geriatric ways, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty from time to time on these ink smudged pages,” he waved his paper at you, “-or in other more challenging ways that are much more enjoyable. With the lifetime of experience I have under my belt, I’m sure I could teach you a lesson or two on how to have a good time the old-fashioned way.”

Taking his rolled newspaper, Five slapped it into his opposite hand, making a spanking gesture, all the while never taking his eyes off you.

You rubbed your palms down the front of your jeans. “Wha-what kind of fun?” you stammered, your brain clicking off as blood rushed between your legs.

“The crossword puzzle,” he clarified, followed by a cocky little chuckle. “There’s much more to the newspaper than doom and gloom news stories. It’s all about the delayed gratification. Seeing all those empty squares filled in the only words that can solve the puzzle is a sight well worth the effort.”

“You’re talking about doing crossword puzzles from the newspaper?”

“What else would I be talking about?” he countered.

Holy shit, you wanted to deck him.

~~~

A few days went by, and you didn’t run into your charmingly arrogant neighbor again, not until you were coming home late and you walked into a neighborhood pub to grab some dinner. You looked over, and to your surprise, you saw the familiar profile of a dark-haired asshole sitting alone at the bar.

“You can’t be twenty-one,” you said, sliding in next to him.

Five’s lips pulled to the side as he gave you the most mischievous looking side eye you’d ever seen. “So, you’re stalking me now? If my coworkers at the CIA knew how easily you tracked me down, I’d be fired.”

You scoffed, “You wish,” meaning both to the stalking and him working for the CIA.

Smirking fully, as if acknowledging he did wish you were stalking him, Five self-assuredly tipped his glass your way before sending the rest of the amber colored liquid down his throat.

With his head tipped back, tie pulled loose, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone, try as you might, you couldn’t stop looking at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Really. How old are you?” you pushed, trying not to drool.

Five let out a cocky sounding laugh, his eyes a mossy calm as his gaze flicked down and up, drinking you in like he was a lion, sizing up its prey. “19 going on 64, give or take. Doesn’t matter because here, the drinks are strong, and the bartenders don’t care.”

“Right…” Shaking your head at him as you smiled, you flagged down a server.

Knowing what you wanted already, you ordered, but when you asked for it to-go, Five unexpectedly interrupted. “Make that for here, and for two, and put it on my tab, please.”

The bartender looked at you and you nodded that it was okay.

When you were alone again and Five realized you were still looking at him like he was nuts, he calmly said, “What? I thought we were friends now, and I owe you, remember?”

“I suppose that talking smack to each other for five minutes, one time, means we’re friends,” you pointed out, before adding, “And as long as you don’t try to plow into me again, you don’t owe me shit.”

Five shifted his weight, leaning closer, so only you could hear him since the seats on both sides of you had just been taken. “As a man that hasn’t come close to mastering traveling through time, both forwards or backwards, and can no longer do either anymore anyway, I can’t promise anything with it comes to my spatial awareness issues, but that’s a whole different problem of mine among the many. When it comes to sticking my landings and running into you accidentally or not, I tend to think you like the idea of me plowing into you again.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, like you were a brainless fish, nothing coming out, because what the hell do you say to that!

Five burst out laughing. “You are so easy to fuck with.”

“And you are a dick,” you duly noted.

“A dick that you’re apparently not opposed to eating dinner with, and hey, I’ll even buy you a drink too, but only if you’re a good boy and keep looking at me with that handsome little smirk of yours.”

Jesus… Did he just say that?

He did, and his patronizingly suggestive comments weren’t the only thing getting you worked up. You could smell the heady scent of his cologne every time you had to move closer to him to let someone else get up to the bar, and damn did he smell good.

“Confident much?” you cocked off.

Five shrugged. “Yes,” he said, matter of fact. “But the truth is, most of the time I am not great with people. I’ve spent most of my life alone, and I have only ever been with one other person intimately, and that relationship wasn’t what anyone would call normal, and abstaining from any sexual relationship since then is definitely not my penis’s first choice, it's more of an existential problem.”

“Oh, my God!” You burst out laughing.

Your second conversation with Five was starting no less shocking and confusing than the first, and like the time before, you were loving it.

For the next few hours, you sat there with him, getting to know each other, having several more drinks that went down with plenty of laughs and hardly concealed innuendoes that proved over and over that what was going on between you was much more than just friendly chatter.

With his dark strands of hair dangling in his eyes and his perfectly tailored three-piece suit, Five looked hot as hell, and because of that, he was getting checked out constantly the entire time, but he never seemed to notice, and that was because his eyes were always on you.

You didn’t even think about leaving until the band that had been setting up since you got there started to play, and it got way too loud to hold a conversation. As you offered to pay again, Five refused. Then, having already had his foot resting on the rung of your barstool, he abruptly spun you around to face him more directly, giving you an innocent looking smile as he let the tip of his shoe glide up your ankle.

“I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he said, his voice low.

“You’re not?” you sputtered, trying not to spray the liquid you’d just tried to swallow all over him.

“This has been nice,” he said, velvety soft as he moved closer “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“That’s not all I want to do,” you found yourself saying back, your lips brushing his cheek as your hand lowered to his knee, your palm running along the smooth wool fabric, stopping mid-thigh.

Five’s leg tensed. For the first time since you got there, he was tongue tied.

He suddenly moved back, and you instantly removed your hand. You were sure you’d just freaked him out, but then he quickly said, “Maybe we should move?”

Not a second later, you were both making your way through the mob of people, all the way to the edge of the dance floor in front of the stage.

Five seemed so at ease in the crowd, even having fun listening to the live music. He was not at all who you thought he was, and just looking at him next to you made it feel like you had a swarm of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

With eyes glossed over, standing as close as you were, the music wasn’t the only thing Five seemed to be enjoying. Taking full advantage of there being no room to move, every now and then, his hand would brush against the side of your thigh, staying there a little longer than necessary. Then, after both of you were getting repeatedly shoved around in the crowd of inebriated people, Five strategically placed himself behind you, as he was trying to protect you.

With him standing behind you, your body got even warmer, and you smiled to yourself, remembering how Five had claimed to be such a gentleman. Whether he did it to be gentlemanly or not, Five seemed all too happy to have a reason to press up against your backside, because now he had an even better reason to place his face next to yours, humming in your ear as he said absurd things to make you laugh.

You weren’t so much dancing together as the people around you were trying to do, but that didn’t mean Five wasn’t intentionally or unintentionally moving himself against you to the rhythm of the music. Trying to figure out which one it was, you reached back taking him his belt, tugging him flush as you dropped your head back and arched your back into him.

Five let out a pained sounding whimper as his hard-on poked the back of your leg and almost just as fast, the tip of his nose brushed your neck as the warmth of his breath caressed your skin. “I’m sorry, but fuck, you’re making me hard,” he whispered before you felt his lips gently kiss your already tingling skin.

He had no reason to be sorry.

Turning around, you slipped your hand around his, assertively leading him through the crowd. You weren’t even off the main floor, a few feet down a side hall near the bathrooms, when Five was on you, taking your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss. He was so excited, his lips actually trembled as they pressed against yours, a low moan coming from deep inside his chest when you eagerly reciprocated.

It had to be a whole minute later before he let you up for air, gazing at you with darkened eyes as he smiled. "I really like you.”

Sliding your other hand around his neck, you grabbed at the soft tangle of hair brushing the crisp edge of his shirt collar, tugging it sharply. "You’re going to like me even more in a second,” you shot back, while moving your other hand lower.

Five let out the cutest sound as you started fondling him while also giving his mane another tug, but it must not have been all that upsetting that you were manhandling him because as you tightened your grip in his hair, his hips reactively bucked into yours.

Five’s hard cock pressed up against the crotch of your jeans as he ground himself against you, his hands hungrily groping your ass, pulling you back and forth over his dick.

"Fffiv-vvve," you panted into his frantic kiss.

He smiled against your lips and kept on kissing.

You trailed a hand up his inner thigh, cupping his erection through his clothing as your mouths parted wider. The heat of his tongue entered you, engaging you in a sloppy kiss that ended with biting and tugging at your bottom lip before he said, “You have no idea how bad I wanted this.”

Five let out a shaky sigh as he glanced over at the man carrying several cases of liquor, trudging by, heading towards one of the bars' storage rooms.

You were a little taken aback by how vulnerable he looked, his face flushed, and his lips wet and full from kissing you. You stayed silent for a few seconds, just looking at him.

You weren’t sure if he was going to stop. Something seemed off, only you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not that you were trying that hard. Your fingers were still busy doing something else.

Before you got too worried that he’d changed his mind, Five started kissing again, your oversized sweatshirt hood falling over your heads.

Going at it hard, with his hands latched on your ass, Five dry humped you into the wall, not even stopping when the door across from you flung open. Coming to your senses only slightly, you shoved Five backwards, forcing him into the men’s room.

Your adrenaline was pumping hard, and your heart was racing as the door closed behind you.

Five came at you again. Your hands went around him as he grabbed a handful of your ass, nearly lifting you off the floor. He pinned you to the wall again, his cock slamming between your legs.

His hands ran down your sides, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he kissed and sucked your collarbone, trailing teeth and kisses gently up your neck.

Breathing heavily as you momentarily broke apart, Five anxiously said, “You need to tell me to stop if this is too much, okay?”

You didn’t reply verbally, instead you kept kissing him. Five groaned into the kiss and pushed your crotches together with more determination.

Miraculously for as busy as the bar was, the bathroom was empty, but it wouldn’t be for long. Not even breaking apart, you walked Five backwards again, moving him inside the largest bathroom stall. Thankfully it didn’t appear that dirty, but again, you weren’t really looking.

You kicked the door closed, hand only leaving Five long enough to twist the lock. Lips coming off your neck, Five’s eyes trailed up and down your taller frame. He reached out as you cornered him, brushing some of your hair away from your ear while his other hand snuck between your legs and squeezed your crotch. Looking pleased with himself and what he was feeling, he tilted his head to kiss your neck while he rubbed his hand over your clothed sex repeatedly.

In return, you moved your hand over his dick again, unzipping and then tugging his pants down. His cock sprung forward with no underwear to prevent it from happening.

Naturally you both looked down, and wow did Five look proud as your eyes went wide.

“Impressed?” he asked.

“Hardly.”

He was clearly not buying that lie because fuck…

With no further ado, you lowered to your knees, and he watched you do it as if transfixed. Your hand wrapped around his ankle, then trailed up a bit further, before you stopped under his knee, rubbing lightly.

Five reactively opened his legs a little, and so did you in a futile effort to ease the slight feeling of friction you were experiencing against your briefs.  

You were buzzed and horny, and this was nuts, but fuck it. This was happening!

Five’s cock was already leaking. You licked your lips and positioned yourself. With the hand not already holding him, you reached out and gave his long cock a tentative pump, spreading the precum around with your thumb. He pulled back a little.

“You okay, big shot?” you teased.

A smile crept onto Five’s face, but his voice came out so broken it caught you off guard. “You don’t have to do this.”

Okay… Maybe he was nervous, that was fair, especially if all his arrogance was just a show and what he said about being inexperienced was true, but considering how he had just been all over you, and now you were on your knees in a bathroom stall with his dick in your face, you looked up at him in disbelief as you said, “I know I don’t have to do this. I want to. Now stop being so damn frustrating and let me suck your dick!”

It was as if something in him snapped, the darkness in Five’s eyes smoldered as he purred, "Just remember, pretty boy, you asked for it. I am going to fuck your face so hard you’ll think twice before smarting off to daddy again.”

Holy fuck that was fucked but it only made you wetter.

Just then, someone walked in, going straight to the urinals. Your heads both flung that way. If they looked behind them, they for sure would see Five’s shoes lined up against your knees. There was no question what was happening, and even more turned on by that, you started stroking Five gently as you could while playfully sticking out your tongue to lick up the glistening fluid running down his shaft.

Falling back against the partition between the stalls, Five’s head made a hilariously loud thunking sound.

You kept at it, kissing the slit of his rounded tip, working it in a circular pattern. Five let out the quietest hum of approval as his fingers at his sides clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

You kept toying with him, enjoying how he was struggling to stay quiet, but only until the door closed and you were alone again, then he brought his hand to your cheek.

You looked up as his hand moved into your hair. “You look so good with your mouth on my cock.”

To that, the throbbing between your legs had you tensing your thighs to increase the sensation but it wasn’t enough and you let out a moan of complaint over it that made the darkness in Five’s eyes look all the more wicked with delight.

You put his whole tip in your mouth, opening and closing your kiss reddened lips around it, grazing it just barely with your teeth. From above, Five let out a moan as his hand in your hair moved, brushing your fringe of hair out of your face.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you and God did you love it.

He was letting out breathy sighs and grunts as you serviced them, his free hand pushing back through his hair the more agitated he got.

Wanting to send him over the edge, with the hand you were holding him with, slowly pumping him at just the tip, you leaned in even more, letting the musky scent of him fill your senses as your tongue ran along his balls. You were rewarded for that with a deep groan and an unsteady hand coming to the top of your shoulder.

That was all the praise you needed.

“Fuck yeah,” Five hissed, then he bit down on his lower lip, as you took him in your mouth, moving over him just little deeper and faster.

Almost right away, Five started rocking his hips in strained, shallow nudges. Each time he entered you and hit the back of your throat, he’d break apart a little more, and you swore you’d never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

Petting you, and making your hair all sorts of fucked up, Five encouragingly murmured “You are so fucking good at this. Fuck- Ohh-ffffff-you’re amazing,” he gasped.

Even though it was happening, you could hardly believe you were seeing this normally composed man turning into such a stuttering, red-faced mess.

Tipping your head back and opening your throat to him, the thick head of Five’s cock moved inside with ease, fucking you deep and hard enough in quick but controlled thrusts that it took away your ability to breathe.

Your eyes instantly began to water.

“Fu-ck-ye-ah-take-my-dick,” Five stammered as he wildly fucked into you.

The door opened again, the music getting louder for a moment before it shut again. This time there were several guys in there, but between the sound of them pissing, and their talking, and the thrum of the bass coming from outside, it still wasn’t enough to hide Five’s sharply cut off breaths and curses.

They knew, but the way Five’s eyes kept drooping closed proved his brain was no longer running the show and he didn’t care.

His fingers gripped tighter, yanking at your hair. You took the abuse, gagging on him until Five suddenly clasped his hands on the sides of your face, stopping you. “I’m gonna-cum,” he quietly cried.

He had a panicked look in his eyes. His teeth were clenched, and it was clear he was trying so hard not to orgasm, but it was coming one way or another, even with the guys outside your stall snickering and making lewd comments.

“Fuck yeah you are, and you’re going to do it my mouth,” you commanded, right before sucking him raw again, taking him all the way to the hilt.

Losing all self control, Five started railing your face again.

You couldn’t breathe at all, and were choking on your own spit. Your fingers dug into his thighs as your body instinctively fought back, but Five held the back of your head tight, forcing you down on him over and over.

Then, while violently scrambling your brains with his throbbing cock, hot spurts of Five’s seed started shooting down your throat. His hips jerked uncontrollably as he dug his heels into the floor. He fell back against the wall again. The waves of his shuddering release came out in a cadence of grunted curses as he moved himself in and out of your gaping mouth, moving slower and slower with each thrust until he was spent.

Having dumped his load, he started to slide out. Getting oxygen again, your blurred eyes took in the sight above you as you gave his well worked shaft a few more loving licks and twirls of your tongue. Sure that you just blew his mind, you popped your mouth off and smirked.

Five’s doe eyes were only slightly open and the dreamy way he was looking down at you was priceless.

~~~

Five was temporarily out of commission but you were both still horny as fuck as you burst out in the cool night air onto the sidewalk. Both riding the high, you fully intended to take your fun back to one of your apartments. As worked up as you were, coming out of that bathroom, hand-in-hand, quickly cutting through the crowded bar, your discussion hadn’t gone much past both of you smiling like idiots, but you knew the night wasn’t over, that was until you saw Klaus.

“Five?” he questioned, sounding totally shocked to see him as he approached from the opposite direction with his colorful meditation robe bundled around him.

Five slowed to a stop, back peddling a little. You looked from him to your friend, as his hand slipped from yours.

“Hey there, little brother,” Klaus said, “Would have never thought I’d see you out this late. What’s this?” He pointed at you with one of his latex covered gloves, the motion exposing his usual weird bubble wrap inner padding system that he liked to keep secured around him, so as he put it, he didn’t die while accidentally getting run over. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other,” Klaus added as he waved the hand holding his Styrofoam cup between the two of you.

It was subtle, but Five moved away from you a little more as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying even harder to hide that he’d been touching you.

Looking very uncomfortable, Five cleared his throat. “Well, Klaus, what with the nature of my employment, I am known to leave my apartment from time to time, and it’s not like I see you that often, so you wouldn’t know that. I also wasn’t aware that I needed to keep you updated with who my acquaintances are.”

Five looked at you for the briefest of moments, no indication of the sweet guy he had been in his now hardened eyes.

“We live in the same building,” Five irritatedly furthered, as he looked at Klaus again. “Happened to run into each other a bit ago while picking up dinner, so yeah… That’s it.”

“You guys going anywhere else fun? I’d love to join you, catch-up on life before the big family reunion b-day party next weekend.” Klaus held up his drink again. “This tea is amazing. I got it at a place about a block down. I’ll buy you guys one,” he pushed as you silently tried not to let it show how confused you were.

You’d met Klaus over a year before while at a park. He was there alone, sitting under a shady tree, legs crossed, eyes closed while positioned in namaste, when one of your friends threw a frisbee that glided over and clocked him in the side of the head, which was the only part of him not covered with protection from germs or flying projectiles.

Running over to apologize, from that point on, you’d been friends with the slightly odd, but always interesting spiritualist. The fact that Klaus was Five’s older brother, one of the other six orphans he’d told you he’d grown up with, was as crazy and unsettling as the way Five was acting all of a sudden.

As if you weren’t already feeling like shit, then Five said, “No thanks. I’ll have to pass on the tea. I have work to do at the office. I’ll see you around.”

“You still doing cool secret government stuff?” Klaus questioned, but Five didn’t answer him, or specify if he meant he’d see you around, or just his brother, then he strode off, his breath a plume of white in the night air as he quickly rounded the corner like he couldn’t get away quick enough.

~~~

The work week came and went, and you didn’t run into Five again, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought about him about a million times.

Of course, you asked Klaus about him, and he asked you about you and Five. Klaus said that his brother was super secretive. He said that he thought Five worked for the government in some capacity, but really, he wasn’t sure, but you were pretty sure that was a lie.

Klaus said Five was a loner and that he didn’t get out socially that much, so he was floored when he saw him laughing and smiling, walking down the street with you, and that part you figured was true.

When Klaus pressed you about Five, you could tell that he knew you were lying when you went along with Five’s story, by not giving him anything new, other than you’d eaten dinner with him since you both happened to be sitting at the same bar.

You said you were being neighborly. That was it.

You both weren’t telling the whole truth, and you both knew it.

As much as you wanted to tell someone how mad you were about what Five had done, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be his older brother. The way Five played you was dirty, but you weren’t the type to start shit.

Five was a prick. End of story.

You didn’t know if he was ashamed of people knowing about him being with you, or it was just his family knowing about it, or if he just used you to get off and that’s all it ever was.

It didn’t matter.

You felt so stupid because you had felt like you had something real with him, something that was maybe a bit too much based on an intense sexual attraction and a shared craving to one up the other with cocky remarks and flirty jokes, but there was also something else. When you were with Five, it felt like you were all that he could see. And even more important, he saw you how you wanted to be seen.

You wanted to get lost in him and the feeling seemed to be mutual, but you were wrong.

What Five did hurt. There was no other way to put it.

When you came and went from your place, a part of you wanted to run into him, and another part of you never wanted to see him again. Some days when you couldn’t stop thinking about that asshole’s smile and those dark lashes of his fanning his pale cheeks, you contemplated going up a floor to kick his door in, to either jump his bones or kick him in the nuts, maybe both.

You didn’t.

It had been a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to go out. You were planning on having over a group of guys to watch a horror movie marathon. It was going to be a mixed group, old friends and Klaus.

Klaus always seemed lonely, too obsessed with keeping himself from getting sick or avoiding quicker, more gruesome forms of death, so you weren’t about to leave him out. He needed to get outside of his head and so did you. Klaus was someone that needed a friend and you were happy to bring him into your fold, even if he often remained quiet, or nervously excitable. He could be so hot and cold, and so detached, and something about that reminded you of Five.

They were brothers, so…

No. 

No, you were not going there.

Fuck Five.

You dropped some bags of chips and other junk food on the table in front of the couch, busying yourself with getting things ready for your guests, rather than wasting your time thinking about Five.

Life goes on, your friends showed up and as usual, Klaus was late, but when he knocked on your door with his brother in tow, you naturally did a double take because you were so floored.  

“Mind if I join you?” Five sheepishly asked while handing you a bottle of very expensive looking Scotch, the same brand he kept buying you at the bar.

There you were, wearing your favorite sweats and frumpy faded t-shirt, and there he was, looking amazing as always in his slim fit white dress shirt and usual black slacks, but gone was the self-assured guy who strutted into your life and then stomped on your dick.

He looked so nervous and unlike himself that all you could bring yourself to do was take the bottle as you nodded your head, stepping aside to let them in.

Klaus came waltzing in, minus his usual bubble wrap bumper vest, which you assumed he left at Five’s apartment before coming down to yours. He instantly took his place on your recliner since you’d abandoned it.

“Since, my dearest little brother lives in your building and you two are friends, I figured I’d stop by and see if he wanted to join us,” he explained, clearly aware that you weren’t thrilled. “With how chummy you two looked the other night, I was surprised that you hadn’t already plucked Five out of his boring man cave,” he added while wagging his eyebrows at you.

“Funny, when inviting my friends over, thinking anything about Five and our chumminess totally slipped my mind,” you muttered, as you glared at the jerk you did not want there who was still expectantly staring at you.

The asshole was standing there on your door mat, looking about as clueless as ever, so you waved him on. “Don’t just stand there. Come on in. Join the party. We’re about thirty minutes into the first ‘Scream’ movie.”

“Are you sure this is, okay?” Five quietly asked, clearly not wanting anyone else to hear as you shut the door behind him.

“Why wouldn’t it be,” you shot back, the anger in your voice impossible to hide.

“It’s not what you think. I am sorry,” he tried.

“Whatever,” you snapped. “Hey, Klaus!” He looked up with his mouth full of popcorn. “Introduce your brother, please.”

After dismissing him, with no other choice Five walked out to meet your friends.

Entering your kitchen, you got down some tumblers to pour everyone a glass of Five’s ‘you sucked my dick and then I rejected you,’ peace offering or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be.

“Gentleman, my ass,” you breathed before coming out to the living room with your hands full of the sloshing liquid.

Of course, there was nowhere to sit but next to him on your L-shaped couch. Five was at the hooked end, doing his best to look somewhat comfortable.

Like before they came, mostly everyone ignored the addition to the party as they zoned out, watching the movie, making comments here and there. As it was before, everyone was just chilling, lounged out on your furniture. Deputy Duey was being a dipshit that you couldn’t help but love, and terrified girls with big tits, and stupid horny guys ran for their life, screaming as the ghost-faced killer sliced and diced them.

It would have been great, exactly what you needed, but Five’s presence was making it anything but relaxing for you. He was so close; you could feel the heat of his leg next to yours as the silent tension between you grew. The way he was bouncing his knee made it clear he wasn’t feeling very comfortable either, but fuck him.

Nearing the end, when the masks came off, Five’s agitation had gotten noticeably worse. He could hardly hold still. You could tell he wasn’t okay. His hand laying against his leg was shaking. Not even thinking, you reached over, placing yours over it.

His breath hitched as he looked at you. “Excuse me,” he whispered, abruptly pushing himself up off the couch.

As he passed, Klaus gave his brother a worried glance, but you told him to stay put as you got up to follow Five.

Coming around the partition dividing your small living space, you saw that Five had himself leaned back against your kitchen counter, head down, pinching his forehead between two fingers.

“Not enjoying the movie?” you sarcastically asked.

Five pulled in a long breath AS he looked up at you. “I am afraid that as an ex-assassin, there is something about these tragically misguided young men happily stalking their prey before slicing them apart with blunt objects that hits a little too close to home.”

You blinked rapidly. “You’re kidding?”

His lip quirked up. “Not entirely.”

“Ah-huh,” you breathed before taking a long pull of your drink while glancing around the corner at the TV in the other room.

“At least part of the motivation for these two bonehead murderers being their secret love affair made this otherwise less than thrilling teen slasher film less boring,” Five furthered, seemingly a little less upset, almost playful as he smiled a little more when you looked at him again.

“What! NO! I love this movie,” you argued, forgetting that you hated him, even playing up how offended you were by his comment over your favorite scary movie. “And hell yes, them being mad as fuck for each other makes this better,” you agreed, followed by a laugh.

Five’s smile fell. “I wish I hadn’t done what I did the other night.”

“Then why did you?”

He ran his hand back, pushing his hair out his eyes, but it fell right back. “Because, when it comes to my family, it’s complicated, and not even factoring them into my life, I don’t know how to be with anyone, and I don’t know if I should be with anyone with the way I am anyway.”

“I don’t get it. If you’re ashamed-"

“It’s not that,” he interrupted, then he raised his voice. “I don’t care if the entire world knows how I feel about you!”

Klaus had been talking, but hearing that, the other room got very quiet.

“You are the first person I want to open myself to like this, or who has ever made me feel this way,” Five said, coming to you, his hands finding yours at your sides as he leaned into you. “I still want this more than anything, I just messed up because I am messed up.”

Coming closer, his lips touched yours so softly for just a fraction of a second. His eyes like gems, implored you-asking forgiveness.

“Since the other night, other than hating myself, I have wanted nothing more than to see your smile again,” he whispered, “even though what I did made it seem like I don’t care about you, that is about the farthest thing from the truth. Will you give me a second chance to show you how much you mean to me?”

You were pretty sure you couldn’t have made your lips form the word no, no matter how hard you tried.

“Are you sure you’re not embarrassed about this?” you questioned, your fingers making soothing circles along the undersides of his wrists.

Five smiled again. “I’m sure.”

“Prove it.”

“You forgive me then?”

“I’m working on it, but you have a lot of making up to do.”

Five’s hand moved around to your lower back, sliding up the back of your shirt, pulling you closer. You nudged his nose with yours.

“Like I said, prove it,” you softly repeated, daring him to show you that he meant what he said about not caring if his family or anyone else knew.

Five glanced over your shoulder, as if he could see your guests even though there was a wall in the way. His hand moved along your hip, slipping below the waistband of your sweatpants. “What do you have in mind for how I can prove it to you, handsome?”

He plucked the knot in your drawstring free, pulling the bunched cotton at your waist, loosening it so his hand could slip inside your pants.

“This, maybe?” he hummed against your ear, his fingers just under the elastic of your briefs.

You looked back at him with pleading eyes.

“Your bedroom is right over there but you want it right here, don’t you dirty boy?” he taunted.

There was no time for a comeback, only a shuttered breath before Five’s hand dove lower and you gasped at the sudden feeling of his finger abruptly entering you.

A devilish smile lit up Five’s face. “Awww… Wet for me already? Such a good boy,” he chuckled as his finger began to move, lovingly stroking the lubrication upwards.

You lowered your head against his neck, your body already tightening with pleasure from the feel of his finger rubbing against your clit.

Five kissed your forehead as you clung to him, his words tickling the shell of your ear as he spoke. "Wanna give our audience a show? You were amazing the other night, but I’m sure if we both try really hard, we can do better this time.”

You whimpered, trying to put your thighs together so you could increase the friction. Five brought another finger into the game trailing his digits up and down before flicking them against you, making you let out a small moan.

A shout came from the other room. “Hey! While you guys are in there, you should make some more popcorn!”

Twisting just enough, you snatched a bag of microwave pop off the counter, furiously tearing into the plastic with your teeth before spitting it out. You reached back, yanking the microwave open, carelessly tossing it in there without looking.

After you slammed the door shut, while smiling at you looking so fucking cocky, Five helpfully reached up, punching in the popcorn button before he hit start. He raised a brow. “Looks like I better get to work. We have a countdown, sweetheart.”

Moving his fingers quickly, jerking you hard, you let out a low groan that got much higher pitched when you felt the warmth of his erection nudging your hip.

Riding Five’s glorious fingers, but thinking of him slowly entering you with his heavy cock instead had your eyes rolling back in your head. The agonizing pace he was setting making your moans of complaint louder.

“That’s it, baby, louder,” he encouraged, gazing at you with half lidded eyes that were so beautiful.

“I need more,” you hissed, gritting your teeth.

“So needy,” he teased, just before his finger dipped inside you again, only this time crooked up just a little before he pulled it out again.

Then, just as you thought the bastard was going to really start finger fucking you, he slipped his hand out of your pants leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. After your waistband snapped against your tensed abs, Five brought his slicked finger to his mouth, making a naughty show of sucking it clean.  

“I fucking hate you!” you growled.

If he tried to leave you with blue balls again, you were going to kill him!

Five gave you a sly grin and you frowned. “I’m going to make you take that back,” he menacingly sang, then suddenly your pants and underwear were tugged down, and your legs were forcefully spread open by his knees wedging yours wide.

His hands come up your sides, moving under your shirt, over your rib cage. His eyes looked into yours, watching you for signs of distress as his fingers moved up, traveling over the flattened planes of your pecs.

You closed your eyes and you felt Five rest his forehead against yours.

His hand smoothed down to your hips again, stopping.

You took a deep breath.

“You are the most handsome man I have ever seen,” he breathed, throwing you off even more.

To say your senses were heightened was an understatement. Every sound your friends made in the other room only added to the tension brewing. All they had to do was come around the corner and they could see you back up against your counter with Five dominatingly standing between your legs as your pants and underwear lay in a heap at your ankles.

Five moved his forehead away from yours. “I will stop if you want me to. If not, you know what to say,” he soothed. “You want me to suck you off, right here. Right now. With them listening.”

 Little explosions started to go off inside the microwave.

 You had never been so hot and bothered in your life. You moaned desperately, “Five, you fucking-!"

"Shh...” Five teased as his hand moved up over your mouth to silence you. "Can’t have you getting too loud. Don’t want anyone thinking I’m in here doing awful things to you.” He leaned in, his breath ruffling the short ends of your hair, his words ominously intimidating. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please,” you whimpered under his hot fingers.

"Sorry, what was that?" Five asked, sweet as honey while moving his hand a little so you could say it louder.

“Please!”

“That’s it.” Five’s sinful looking grin spread across his entire face.

He got down on his knees. Not taking his eyes off you, he pushed up your t-shirt just a little so he could leave a trail of wet kisses along the fine trail of hair leading from your belly button downward.

He let out a heavy breath, hovering over your sex. “You’re perfect, you know that, right?” he said, then his tongue drug along your length before flicking against the tip of your swollen clit.

“Oh, FUCK,” you loudly cursed.

You tried to relax and keep your hips still as Five licked at you slowly, but with the way his tongue was pushing between your thickened folds it was impossible

A bitten whimper croaked out of you as he licked up a stripe while slowly palming his own dick. You lowered to your head, your fingers threading through his hair, tightening.

You gasped when Five began sucking you. His hum of approval and the sting of pleasure from his teeth accidentally dragging as he sucked a little too roughly, left your thighs shaking and the next thing you knew, you were grinding down on him trying to get more.

Undeterred, by you humping his face, Five continued to contentedly lap at you. At this point, you didn’t know what to focus on, the pleasure that was tearing through your veins, the screams coming for movie, the people who could come in the kitchen at any second, or the fact that there was no way Five was able to breathe correctly with the way he was going at it, his whole face buried between your legs, fucking you.

Everything clouded over. His hands were plastered to your thighs, his hair was sticking out in a million places, and his tongue kept probing inside your entrance, devouring you before he came back up to harshly flick at your clit again.

Your body fought against the invasive sensation. Vulgar noises were being forced out of you, but you couldn’t cum no matter how badly you wanted to.

The microwave beeped.

“I-I fff-fu-ah-ck,” you stammered as you tugged at Five’s dark waves, attempting to separate your throbbing sex from his mouth, but he wasn’t having any of that.

He grasped your waist, holding you in place, hungrily demolishing you. He was like an animal, the scratchiness of his very light stubble only adding to the brutality of what he was doing to you.

It felt like every nerve in your body was being touched at once. You were being torn apart more and more with each trail of his tongue and rub of his fingers, pinching and pulling you between forefinger and thumb as he sucked your clit like a dick.

As your orgasm hit, it felt electric, a flash after flash of hot white light.

Five made you cum so hard that you totally forgot that he was fisting his own cock, but he sure was, and he was loudly moaning while doing it and still sucking you with the most tender of kisses, making sure not to leave you until you’d ridden out all your crashing waves of pleasure.  

When he finally came up for air, his face from his eyes down was shining and his smug grin proved that he could have cared less that he was a mess.

 “So, did you enjoy cumming on my face?” he rhetorically questioned.

He lifted himself off the ground, staring at you as he leaned in, connecting your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

“I am not sure. It was okay, I guess,” you said, smirking when he pulled away, wiping his face and then yours with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Maybe one more try, with a little more tongue and teeth this time and you’ll have a more definitive answer?” he suggested.

He started to drop back down, and even though your body felt like jello, you pulled him back up easily enough.

As you were reaching to pick up your pants, Five took advantage of you dropping your guard to quickly spin you around, your socked feet slipping on the floor before he aggressively pulled your hips out, making you present your ass to him.

You heard him hastily unhooking his belt, the metal clanking together before you heard his zipper coming down, then his body molded to your backside, the tip of his thick cock dangling between your legs.

“We aren’t done and I’m not stopping until they know you’re mine,” he said while lovingly massaging the side of your ass.

He started nudging himself against your inner thigh and you let out a little whimper. “So cute, just like your little dick,” he mocked. Then he moved his hand around you, tugging you out a little more from the counter so he could grope you, making you shudder.

He slapped your ass hard, the thwack sure to make everyone’s head in the other room spin in your direction. You jolted up. You heard your friends laughing, then Five spanked you again. "Fuck!” you cried, moving your ass against his cock even tighter.

“You really want it, don’t you baby,” Five growled in your ear, slapping your ass again.

“Please!" you begged with your head falling back against Five’s shoulder before rolling to the side so you could see him.

“You want danger?” he purred as he yanked up his shirt, letting his predatory eyes narrow at the sight of his cock wedged between your cheeks.

You said nothing, so, looking like a mad man, he reached up, taking hold of your neck.

You whined and squirmed in his grasp as his other hand cupped you bare. He slid his fingers inside as his thumb swirled over your slippery clit. Before you could make a sound, he started to choke you. 

He fingered your hole roughly, as he cut off the flow of oxygen to your brain. You couldn’t even think. You were drowning with desire, your body submitting.

Five started to rut his hips into you as you lost your mind, moaning into the palm of his hand.

That’s when Klaus called out. “How’s that popcorn coming, boys? Better not be any dick in it!”

As Five fucked into you and his second finger slide inside, you all but screamed through his fingers. “Mmmfff-fuck, Ff-ive!”

If Five hadn’t thought to muzzle you, you were being so loud, it wouldn’t just be the people in the living room aware of what he was doing to you.

As if that wasn’t enough, Five bit down on your shoulder through your shirt, thrusting as hard and as fast as he could go.

You felt your orgasm building all the way from your toes to your stomach. Your calves painfully flexed as you bucked your hips, trying to get more.

Five let out a moan of his own, and the pleasure of his fingers, the dizziness of being choked, along with the pain from his teeth marking had you clenching around his fingers.

The only sounds that could be heard in the room were the sounds of squelching, your moans, and Five’s sexy grunting.

Yanking your face back, he took his hand off your mouth, forcing his tongue onto yours, aiming to take you for all you were worth.

Your walls contracted around him, spilling fresh liquid pleasure with his every thrust.

His breath and his movements started getting more erratic, and he let out a few manic sounding noises.

He only stopped slipping his dick up and down your crack for a second to reposition himself. Apparently, the new angle was even better for him because when he started back up, his fingers in you started to move again too and that got you cursing and gasping into his hand again.

"Good boy. Let it out. Your pussy is mine now,” he growled, but he didn’t let you let it out as he clamped down on your mouth harder and slammed into you with all the energy he had.

You peaked again, him clinging to you, your stifled gasps hissing through his fingers.

“So perfect,” he breathed, then he let you free, the air filling your lungs doing nothing to clear your clouded mind and you helplessly slumped over.

One of his hands kept a tight hold on your hip, the other taking care of his own need. The sight of you bent over on the counter in front of him had Five grunting and growling as he stroked himself, his cum splattering all over your abused ass.

When Five was done, he crashed into you, pulling you up in a lovers embrace from behind, panting harder than he had been the entire time. The second he had enough air to speak, he did. “That was- Fuck."

You were out of it, legs shaking, mouth agape, head lolling to the side. He grabbed your face and languidly kissed you before breaking away, his lips moving along your sweat moistened neck as he said, “I want you and only you and I don’t care who knows. Don’t you ever question that again.”

“Ready or not, the men out here are demanding a proof of life check after that beautiful screaming performance, and we need more sustenance, so pull your pants up! I am coming in,” Klaus suddenly shouted.

Scrambling, you and Five both untangled yourselves. He snatched your hand towel off the counter, taking it to your butt cheeks, doing his best to wipe you first, then himself.

Dropping to the floor, he started pulling your sweatpants up, then sure you had them in hand, Five started trying to fix his own rumpled clothing.

“Is my little brother behaving himself?” Klaus questioned and by the way he said it, you could tell he had a huge smile even before he rounded the corner, eyeing you both up proudly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Five fired back, with his pants only just zipped up, the ends of his belt hanging in front of the prominent tent he was still sporting. 

“Oh, I don’t know… Sounded like you were getting a little frisky in here is all,” Klaus replied.

Five reached over, opening the microwave, throwing the bag of popcorn at his brother.

As one would expect, Klaus started tossing the bag, hand to hand. “Ouch! Hot! Hot!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. That’s how mind blowingly dazed you were. You could tell it took a great deal of effort for Five to pry himself from you and you were still having a hard time standing up straight, so you had no idea how he was composing himself so well but then again, he didn’t just cum three times.

“If only I could blink us out of here,” he muttered while sticking the prong of his belt through the length, tightening it as he looked at you fumbling the strings on your sweatpants.

“Blink?” you questioned, unable to stop laughing as you said it because for the life of you, you couldn’t perform the simple task of tying a knot.

“What my adorable brother is referring to,” Klaus said, “is a thing we used to call a thing he used to do.” He reached out, ruffling Five’s already fucked up hair. “He’s super fast, but you already knew that,” he said while winking at you, “He used to be able to blink or as the common man says, telapor-"

“If you don’t shut your yapper, I am going to shut it for you,” Five snapped, while reaching over to tie your pants up since you’d failed and they were already slipping down.

“Oh… Not going there yet. Okay,” Klaus said as he shrugged off whatever Five was angrily trying to get him to shut up about. “You two joining us for the second movie?” Klaus mumbled with a handful of freshly popped kernels in his mouth.

You looked at Five. He took you by the hand, grabbing the bottle of liquor off the counter in his other, leading you out there.

Moving to your spot on the couch, Five sat down first, pulling you down next to him. As soon as you were seated, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tighter, his lower leg hooking yours to him as he took your throw blanket, tossing it over you both.

“So, you guys a thing now,” your buddy next to him asked while giving you a smart-ass grin.

Five glanced at you. He squeezed his hand that was already in yours. “Yes,” you firmly stated and just like the amazing friends they were, they all let it go. They could see this is what you wanted. It was written all over your hopeful face.

You leaned back against Five’s warmth, the comforting rise and fall of his chest reassuring you that everything was as perfect as it seemed.

Every so often, as his fingers absentmindedly trailed down your arm, Five would softly kiss the side of your cheek, then nuzzle his face into your hair.

~~~

When you woke, hours later to one of your friends leaving and Five attempting not to wake you as he quietly answered something his brother had just said, you had no idea what time it was.

“Klaus was planning on staying at my place,” Five whispered. “We have that family birthday thing early in the morning and we are riding together.” He slid you out from under him. “You want me to carry you to your room?” he asked, as he righted himself.

“I doubt you could,” you said back while smiling up at him in the dim light as you stretched your legs out, accidentally kicking your zonked out friend who was sprawled out on the other end of the couch.

“Goodnite,” Klaus whispered, before he went out the door.

Swooping down, Five gently kissed you and kept on kissing you until you started to laugh over how obviously he didn’t want to go. “Best night of my life,” he chuckled, his own smile stretching as he finally pulled away. “I’ll be back sometime early afternoon. Can I see you again?”

Stroking your fingers along his jaw, you whispered back, “You better.”

Five’s tired eyes softened even more. He brushed his lips against yours one more time.

Then he was gone.

~~~

Back to reality, your mind lost in a past that doesn’t exist anymore while your body remains stuck in a present form of hell you can’t escape, lying there in your bed, you keep trying to work through your memories of Five.

For his part, like he always does at night, Five stays with you in the only way he feels that he can, over 60 years of time separating you as he sits in his chair in front of the Infinite Switchboard.

After thrashing around in your blankets, reliving things you don’t want to let go, giving into your body’s most primal urges, you shove your hand in your pants, digging your fingers against your clit, tugging and pulling and rubbing. Breathing heavily, your release comes and goes way too fast, giving you nothing to replace the man you refuse to let go.

Finally, worn out and mentally broken, your breathing slows, and your eyes close.

You fall into a fitful sleep, your face pinched with the same stress it’s had since you entered your apartment earlier that night.

A few minutes before this, with his reddened eyes darting around as he tries to squash his own anguish, trying in vain to convince himself that what he’s seeing isn’t because of him, Five throws his arms down on the messy desk space, burying his face in the fold of his arm.

You’re upset, that much he is willing to admit.

You have old news clippings of him and his faded collector cards, and other silly trinkets from the days the Umbrella Academy meant something to the world.

You only have his.

Going through the list of issues in his head, Five comes up with only more problems with all this.

All that is something, but it's not like you would be harboring some old crush on the nerdy little 13-year-old he was in those pictures, because back when those cards were cool, you were only four years old! Back then, you probably didn't even know your address, let alone who the kids who lived at the Umbrella Academy were. But despite that, you clearly have something going on and it’s clearly aimed at him.

You moan repeatedly as the blankets covering you shuffle.

“Fuck…” Five breathes as he looks up, realizing what you are doing.

What you have going on is clearly at least partially a horny thing, and an angry thing, and fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Five can’t stop looking at you writhing against your hand.

He shifts his legs apart, refusing to give his hardening cock the attention it's screaming for. It’s bad enough that he’s watching you jerk off, but doing that with you, like this…

No.

“God damn it!” he curses, kicking his legs out, throwing his hands back behind his head as he forces himself to look at the floor.

No one else remembers, so there is no way you do! 

This has to be something else causing this, right?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looks back up. Your breaths are slowing. Your hand slips up along your stomach, laying limply against your t-shirt.

Your eyes stay closed and Five wants so badly to kiss the lids covering them. Since he can’t, he does what he’s always done, he imagines the things he wants.

Shutting his own eyes, he imagines himself there with you, protectively folded around you, your bodies illuminated by the muted silhouettes from the leaves fluttering outside in the canopy of trees outside your window. 

He can almost feel himself kissing the moonbeam dancing across your cheek, flickering along the ridge of your nose-almost.

There’s no warmth to this dream, no sensation of your touch lovingly holding him back.

This is all there had ever been for Five for nearly a lifetime, but now, thanks to you, he knows what it’s like to have something real, and now he is drowning in the shocking reality of his endless loneliness.

Chilled, but unwilling to move to an office to throw himself down on something more comfortable, when his breathing melts into a rhythm of rest, Five floats away with you, going into a nightmarish dreamscape, a place moments before the world fell apart and he lost you.

~~~

As your sleep deepens, you start tossing and turning, your mind projecting images of you bursting out the doors of your apartment. You didn’t care how terrified you were or that you had no weapon to defend yourself against whatever was happening. You had to get to Five.

You took off, sprinting down the sidewalk in the direction of the explosions, rather than in the opposite direction like everyone else was doing.

The sky was casting a strange glow of orange and violet light over everything. It looked like an alien landscape, not the loud city with its shops and business filled with people doing normal things, unless you considered running for their life normal.

You knew it was crazy for you of all people to think you could do anything to help, but it was also crazy that the Five apparently had superpowers, but you'd seen it for yourself on your TV, and the people with him did too.

You kept on, moving along, seeing the destruction getting worse the closer you got to where the news had shown the fighting.

The air near the ground was thick with black smoke as you got closer, but you kept going, knowing from what you’d seen on the news that Five was there, but nothing could have prepared you for it when you rounded a corner and saw all of them. Like some kind of science fiction movie on crack, everywhere you looked, unexplainable things were happening that shouldn’t be.

It was madness, all of it, the way Five was disappearing and reappearing, the way they were shooting laser beams from their eyes and throwing cars like they were nothing. Klaus was there too, like some kind of oracle, casting his hands out, making phantom-like figures appear out of nowhere, all the luminous bodies he’d created readily joining the fight.

Either brave or stupid, you started to cross the battlefield of flipped cars that lay between you and them, staying down, trying not to get hit by the barrage of bullets and other things flying in your direction.  

Five was yelling, calling for everyone to get together. He wasn’t okay, you could see that. He was staggering, trying so hard to stand in the storm that was enveloping him.

He fell to his knees, screaming for them. 

Blood smeared across his face as his hand came up, wiping his cheek. 

The blood was gushing from his nose and seeping down his neck from his ears, but he kept screaming for them. The near blinding light kept growing, extending out from his hands and entire body.

Between broken car windows, you watched as the group gathered around him, two of them looking like they were sending out some kind of force field that was keeping them safe from the bullets and the fire-like aura that was glowing down from the sky.

Then, to your horror, you realized the fire was actually coming from some of them. Their flesh was cracked and blackened, like lava was running under their skin.

They were burning. 

Five was burning!

Your voice cut through the air, penetrating the chaos. “FIVE!”

Just then, extreme pain was the only way to describe what you felt. 

A deafening blast sent you flying, slamming your spine against the door of an upside-down car. Pain radiated through you. You reactively curled in on yourself. You desperately clasped your hands over your ears, trying to block out the high-pitched sound that was trying to stab your brains out, but you painfully realized that the ringing wasn’t something you could stop.

You could hardly move, gasping for air that wouldn’t fill your lungs, but then suddenly Five was next to you, eyes wide, searching you over, saying something, but all you could see was his lips moving as his hands frantically moved over you, trying to cover all the places where your clothes were becoming wet with blooming circles of red.

You watched Five’s mouth repeating the words, “I will fix this.” He was saying it over and over.

Then, just like that, stinging pelts of liquid hit your face as the side of Five’s skull ripped open.

You watched as if in slow motion as the inside of his head spilled out like a macabre brain soup. Then you watched in horror as he tumbled over, your shell-shocked body not working fast enough to catch him.

The side of Five’s ashen face slammed into the glass covered concrete.

Scrambling to your knees, you pulled him to you, his broken head rolling limply in your lap as you screamed. 

Your tears mixed with his blood. 

You didn’t even notice Klaus until he was right there. He came sprinting to a stop a few yards away, seeing you and his brother.

“Help him,” you begged. You refused to take your eyes from Five’s, then Klaus took off, shouting something.

“No, no, no! Please, no!” you wailed as Five remained motionless, legs twisted in a way that made him look so small.

Five was not small. He was strong and he was…

He was everything.

Suddenly a wind from nowhere started whipping up tiny bits of debris from all around you. Looking up, you saw the impossible. There was a ghostly image of Five out in the street next to his brother where they were standing in a blue-ish purple electrical storm filled with glistening marigold, fire and light.

You could see Five over there, but he was also still with you, his warm blood matting his dark strands of hair, coating your fingers as you cradled his head as if you could fix the damage done to him if you willed the hole in him closed, but his empty green eyes continued to stare off at nothing.

The torrents of energy that Five had been violently projecting before he’d appeared over by you grew stronger, making it near impossible to make out anything happening over by them, but you were able to see him out there, lightning filled hands clenched like claws as fire like sparkles swirled around him and the strange static and twinkling lights of power weren’t just coming from Five. It was coming from all of them, as if mixing.

Dazed, and evidently not stable, they all simultaneously fell to their knees, but Five didn’t this time.

His face was no longer spattered with his blood as he looked up, past his siblings as they fell to the ground as if they were puppets whose strings had just been cut.

As your eyes met, it was as if you were seeing Five for the first time ever, seeing all versions of him, and it wasn’t just happening to him, though the ghostlike projections of Five were dramatically different compared to those of his siblings. He was older in some of them, but you were sure it was him, with that funny mustache and his same soft eyes.

Five was that man, and then he wasn’t again, he was just a boy, so young, so angry, nothing but skin and bones, his tormented face covered in ash and grime. 

All of them, all the different versions of them were morphing, snapping together with alternate images of themselves, like a flip book that’s pages clapped with thunder as they turned.

Then, out of nowhere, out of anyone who could have been out there in all that madness, Reginald Hargreeves, the richest man in the world, was towering over you. His expression was serene as he looked down at the dead boy you were crying over. Then he looked up, his expression not scared at all as he said, “Hold on to him. It will all be over soon.”

Bleeding out and going into shock, you looked back out at the other Five. Even in the distance, you could see his mouth. 

His mouth! The one you knew intimately, pulled up just a little as he gave you a dreamy smile, as if he was seeing something in all this that you couldn’t.

You screamed Five’s name as the ball of fire inside him began to consume what was left of his crumbling body.

“No!” you cried, but this time Five couldn’t hear it.

The bubble around them burst, life and death, creation and destruction, you, Five, all of it and time itself, all tied to him and the tale of rebirth, and it was coming for you in a wall of fire.

Your own terrified scream echoing inside your head was the last thing you heard.

Then you were all gone.

~~~

“NO!” You cry out, trying to free yourself from your knotted blankets. You’re in the darkness of your bedroom again, no longer holding Five’s dead body while you watched the ghost of him in the distance, being taken away by an otherworldly fire.

Your heart feels like it could rip out of your chest, it's pounding so hard.

Your hands come up, digging at your eyes as if you can make it all go away, but the heat of your tears is as real as the pain of losing him. “Please no,” you helplessly whimper as you pull your legs up under your arms so you can drop your head between your knees. “I need you, Five,” you sob, your body shuddering.

“I am here, please don’t cry, I am so sorry.”

Your head shoots up, your eyebrows flying halfway up your face, the thumping in your chest threatening to do you in as you blink, over and over, seeing Five right there, at the side of your bed, looking like he just woke up, but looking as beautifully disheveled in his three-piece suit as he always does.

“Ff-Five?” your voice cracks.

“Hey, handsome,” he quietly breathes as he sinks down on the bed next to you, his legs dangling over the side as he reaches over, gently brushing a sweat-dampened piece of hair out of your eyes.

“You you-you-"

“I know,” Five says, pulling you to him.

Arms around him, he squeezes you tight. You breathe in, your face buried against his collar because you’re still not sure he’s real.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but-” He stops, pulling back enough to make you look at him. His eyes glaze over in thought as he lets out a shaky breath. “No one else but us remembered, and I didn’t-" His teary words catch in his throat. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never should have-” A single tear rolls down his cheek. “I never should have let this happen, but nothing could have prepared me for you and how you made me feel, and I- Even if you remember me, I shouldn’t be here, but I heard you crying, and I had to-"

He tries to pull away.

“NO! Don’t you dare go!” You give Five’s shoulders a little shake, “Don’t you dare leave me again! And what the hell do you mean you heard me? Where were you, in my fucking closet!”

“No, I was pathetically hiding out in a musty old office building in 1955.”

“Okay- Okay-" Your heart is racing so hard you can’t think but that makes no sense. “What the fuck, Five!”

He lowers his face like he wants to disappear and that only makes you cling to him tighter.

“The place I am talking about, and my association with it is a long story,” he starts, “-and I promise I will tell you everything if you want me to, but the reason I was there now was because it’s the only place I could go to see you.” He looks up, his eyes filling. “There’s a machine I invented, it lets the operator dial in places and times. I have missed you so fucking much,” he rambles, clearly spiraling, but you refuse to let him go no matter how confused and mad you are.

“Look, the things you say are just- Yeah.” You let out a puff of air, shaking your head over all this craziness. “But I want you! I don’t care about the rest!"

“I’m not who you think I am. I have done so many horrible things,” he interrupts.

“Five, I know that you are so many more things than what I thought you were in the beginning, but I want all of them. I saw you! All of you! You had a mustache for Christ Sake! I know who you are!”

“You don’t know all of it,” he whispers.

“I don’t care! You saved us. I don’t understand it, but I know you did. You were the only one in the end before everything disappeared. I thought you were dead!”

“I know.”

“You told me that I’m the first person you wanted to open yourself up to,” you continue, “Did you mean it when you said that?”

His lower lip quivers as he nods. “I meant every word of it, and you are still all I want.”

“Then don’t leave me again!” you shout at him, pushing him down on your bed.

Five still looks totally lost but with your insistence, he surrenders himself to you heavily crawling on top of him.

Fully reclined, you throw your leg over his, coming down at his side to tuck your head under his chin, effectively detaining him but letting him breathe. You can hear his heart hammering in his chest as he looks down at you peering up at him. 

His eyes search yours he quietly asks, “Are you sure you still want this?”

“Yes, I am sure,” you insist.

His long fingers trace a line up your back, skating the surface of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Five. I meant it when I said I want this with you more than anything.”

“Why?” he questions, sounding so dejected.

You sit up, straddling him so you can keep him trapped but also take him on, face to face. “Because even with all the crazy things you told me, knowing what I know now, I think you were telling me the truth about all of it, and you know what, I am not scared. I don’t care how old you are, or if you were an assassin. I don’t care what you’ve done to get here. All that matters is you are.”

“You mean that?” he whispers, reaching around you, his long fingers tracing a soothing line up your back.

You nod and his hand comes up, moving to the back of your head, pulling your lips to his in a chaste kiss that ends all too fast.

You try to kiss him again but Five turns his head, squirming away, not letting you.

Your eyebrows come together in frustration.

“You know… For all my mistakes, I finally thought I had it all figured out, but then this…” His voice trails off as his hands move around your backside, grabbing your ass. “This never should have happened. You weren’t supposed to remember, but you evidently do, or you wouldn’t be trying to hump my leg because you know that getting me hard is going to help you get your way.”

You look down where your crotch is pinning his quad, and he laughs.

You’re just about to tell the asshole you are not trying to hump his leg when he says, “The reason I think you remember,” He cracks a sad smile, making him look so beautifully broken, “The reason you remembered, is because I fell in love with you. A part of you was with me in the end and I couldn’t let it go. You’re a part of me now whether you like it or not.”

“You love me?”

“More than anything.”

In the subsequent silence, your shoulders wither, a single thought floating among the sea of worries in your mind.

You love him too.

You come at him, there’s no stopping you from kissing him. Like you are doing to him, Five’s hands grasp at your body, everywhere they can reach, caressing, groping, pinching, anything to feel each other. 

Jutting your cunt across his thigh, you assault his lips, drawing your teeth across his pout in retribution for him thinking you wouldn’t want this.

Stroking his neck, his hands holding you in place, he moans as you grind his leg. Adding to your pleasure, Five begins exploring your neck with his tongue, tasting your skin, licking the sweat of your nightmare clean off as you rut into him, panting and gasping, filling the quiet of the small room.

Boldly sticking your hand down your pants, rubbing your cock, you lower your voice as deep as you can as you ask, “Did you watch me do this?”

“Yes,” Five rasps, his hands moving down, suddenly taking you by the waist. Like lightning striking, the air around you lights up, every nerve ending in your body comes alive as you’re flung through a swirling storm of sapphire, coming back to the present a millisecond later with your back slamming on your mattress.

Head still spinning, Five falls over you from the air, his body still glowing in his whirl of magical light. His irises dance with embers as he dives in, kissing your neck again.

“What. The Fuck Was That? Did you just teleport me?” you deliriously groan as he attacks you.

"No, I blinked you," he corrects, "It's a spontaneous reaction to having a very naughty boy trying to fuck my lap,” Five informs you with his lips at your earlobe, before kissing down, gnawing on your jaw, as he attempts to blindly unbutton his shirt.

Oh, my God, this man...

Not satisfied with the speed, you begin to help him, and his smile at your impatience is almost as hot as the sight of him laying over you, shrugging it off. Five is nothing but lean valleys of muscle, all pointing to the dangerous weapon he’s packing in his pants, but interestingly enough, his famous Umbrella Academy tattoo on his wrist isn’t the only tattoo he’s got.

Seeing geometrically balanced circles and lines criss-crossing in the middle of his chest must have you making the funniest looking face because Five starts laughing.

“This,” He points to the black and gray washes of ink marking him. “This is evidence of one of my many blunders through time, but it’s worth the pain and looking like a fucking idiot if it means I get to see you looking at me like that.”

You trace the lines. “You are beautiful, Five, all of you.”

“As long as you think so, because I think I’m stuck with it now,. I am a complete package of the old me, the young me, and the tattooed and very fucking horny me,” he says before much more seriously asking, "You ok taking yours off too?"

You nod and Five dips low, using his nose, he starts nudging your t-shirt shirt up. He playfully sucks and nips you all the way up to one of the darkened pink scars under your pecs. Your breath hitches as he traces a line over it with his fingertip, then slowly begins to kiss you there too, his teeth grazing your nipple for good measure.

“So perfect,” he hums, sending a direct signal from you’re the now hardened nub all the way down to your groin. 

As you’re reeling over him saying that and the feeling of him flicking his tongue across your other pec, Five’s hands start moving up your sides, slowly lifting your shirt over your head.

Your legs tense, fighting against the growing ache between them as Five kisses down your torso, marking you where the skin dips at your hip, the palm of his hand hot as it rests over your abs, firmly holding you down.

Already trembling, you let out a small cry of desperation.

Gazing up at you with his pupils blown dark with desire, Five tears open the button holding your jeans closed. Lifting for him, he pushes your remaining clothes down your flushed thighs.

With you fully naked, your bodies roll slightly as Five comes down on the bed next to you. You spread your legs and just as fast, he reaches between them, rolling your clit between thumb and forefinger.

You gasp your approval, “Fuck yeah, don’t stop.”

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Five groans, just below your ear, sending a shiver zipping up your spine as a gush of wet drips out of you. “I can’t get enough of your dick,” he says while playfully pecking your jaw.

“Same,” you gasp, your enlarged clit so sensitive, you can’t help but whine like a puppy when his hand starts to firmly rub it.

Your hand reactively grips his shoulder painfully hard the faster he goes, and his eyes narrow dangerously in response.

Knowing without words what you need, barely thirty seconds into it, two fingers start jabbing inside you, aiming at your sweet spot.

“Holy fuck,” you breath before Five can capture your mouth in a hard kiss again.

As your hips jerk into his hand, Five’s hand snakes down along your side to rub his own cock, all the while he never stops sucking at your neck or giving you needly little licks in between his kisses. Soon the nips get hard enough to make you throw your head back, thrashing.

With Five jerking himself, bucking against you, your hands grip at the sheets, hanging on for dear life as your walls start spasming.

Even though you’re flailing, moaning loud as your hips jerkily fuck into his fingers, you can hear that Five is humming all sorts of dirty things, the vibrations of his words against your throat sending your brain even further down the spiral of your fuckedy fuck land.

Having brought you over the edge, he pulls out. His hand on your thigh moves around you, gripping your ass to pull you in closer as he rolls on top of you.

Five licks at your lips before he slides his hands down to the back of your thighs to pick you up, grinding your crotch into his restrained shaft. “God, I want to fuck you so badly,’ he growls before crashing your lips together again.

Five’s powerful body bears down on you, the drag of his cock between your legs too much but also not enough. Encouraging him to keep up what he was doing, only with his pants off, you try to push his pants down, even as he’s still urgently rocking his hips into you.

“Fuck,” he groans, his teeth grazing your neck as he gasps for air. His hips twitch to a stop at the feeling of his cock about to spring free.

“I want all of you, Five,” you breathe, holding his cheeks under your palms as you pull his head up, making him look at you.

“Are you sure?”

“More than anything. I love you, Five.”

His soft eyes light up as if this wasn’t already obvious. He smiles down at you with an adoring look, caressing your face and pushing your hair aside as you blush under his loving gaze. He leans in to kiss along your jaw and down your neck as he scrambles to remove his pants with you helping him along, hooking your fingers under his tailored waistband, dragging them down his thighs, pushing them the rest of the way off with your feet.

“Oh Fuck,” Five groans as he lowers back down and his cock slips over the moist heat between your legs.

Instinctively, he starts to rut against you again. Before you can do more than hum a moan through your pinched lips, you feel the head of Five’s dick align with your throbbing hole. 

“Protection?” Five impatiently asks, coming to a full stop.

Drunk with desire, all you can do is shake your head no, but the message is clear. You don’t need it.

Tenderly squeezing your ass, with his eyes locked to yours and his voice barely above a whisper, Five asks, “You ready?”

“Yes,” you breathe, keeping your fingers threaded in his thick dark hair, holding him in place with one hand, the other sliding from his muscular back to gripe his shoulder.

He starts to push slowly. “Aw fuck” you moan as just the head of his cock slips in. You throw your head into the pillow, biting your lip to keep from crying out.

Five’s warm breath slowly fans over your neck. He’s not moving a single inch. “Does it hurt?”

“It- It’s good,” you huff, letting out a tense breath as you lift your hips higher, letting him know you can take it.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, as your body tightens and quivers along the thick length slowly filling you.

Not even full deep, your brain feels like it’s just flashed on and off and it’s not at all working right.

"You’re so fucking gorgeous," Five patiently huffs, his focus on gauging your every reaction, holding himself still as possible.

“More,” you whine.

You clench involuntarily, letting out a low moan when Five works his hips forward, then back a little, a pleasant change that has you twitching for him even more.

He dips to kiss you, gasping for breath as he opens you even more. Too much for him at once, he takes his kisses to your neck.

He takes a moment to pull half-out of you before digging back in. Firm, slow, and steady, he fucks his hips into you while he bears down with a hiss. Your walls clench him tight, the extra pressure drawing out a moan from both of you.

Your eyes flutter closed as your fingers scratch against Five back. His hips press up, aiming to get as deep as possible, where he stays for one moment before pulling out and thrusting halfway in again and again.

"Fuck, Five, fuck," you slur out as your body begins to slip and slide across your sheets.

He grabs hold of your knee, pushing it back to meet your shoulder, falling into you deeper on his next thrust and you let out wet gasp, before he starts fucking you at a maddening pace, in and out, in shallow thrusts.

As he looks between your bodies, watching with an adorable fascination as his cock disappears inside you, you cry out, “Faster.”

Five obliges.

He really starts moving and the feel of him pumping his whole length inside you has your body arching and writhing up from the bed, lips parted in broken moans that fill the room and your entire apartment and probably your entire floor.

“Yes, Five. Fuck yes! “Don’t stop-fucking-fff,” you stammer, moving your ass up slightly which drives him deeper and brings on more breathless curses from you both. He’s so deep each time his body meets yours he’s knocking the wind from your lungs in breathy consonants and vowels of nonsense.

“Mmmmffff- aaah-ahhh-"

“Fuck-you-rrr-such-ah-good-boy, so tight,” he incoherently gasps along with you, as he pistons his cock into you, his thick tip fucking your cunt just right.

You’re plunging into a freefall, the coiling inside you causing you to cry out his name. At the sound of it, Five’s mouth finds yours, sloppily kissing you.

You’re both breathing too heavily for the kiss to last very long because breathing through your noses isn’t giving either of you enough oxygen. Breaking away, his forehead presses to your shoulder, a curtain of his dark hair falling around it as his strong pelvic slams into you.

"Please- fuck- harder-" you plead, and your magical super boy grants your wish.

Your eyes roll back in your head as Five pounds you harder and faster. Head spinning, your heart feeling like it might burst, your entire body is screaming for release.

“Come on, cum for me,” Five growls before resting his palm over your clit, thrusting his hand in time to his hips.

Your brain is getting shook loose with each slam of his body smacking into yours, and your bed frame isn't doing much better as it creaks and thumps into the wall in a pattern that matches your curses.

"Fuck- Fuck- FUCK-"

You’re reduced to disjointed moans as you fall apart. Shaking head to toe through a mind-melting orgasm, the throbbing intensity as you cum hits you over and over until it completely overwhelms your senses and leaves you speechless.

“That’s right, cream on daddy’s cock,” Five encourages as he quickly flips his head back, his dampened hair falling right back in front of his eyes as he smirks.

“Five- Fu-ffff,” you wetly gasp.

“Ready for another one?” he asks, still undulating his cock as he quirks an eyebrow.

“Ww-wah? How are you doing this,” you ask, meaning how the fuck is he still fucking you! He said he’d been with someone else before, but… Fuck!

His smirk only gets bigger. “Lots of practice with a very receptive inanimate object, named Dolores,” he replies. “Now roll over. Don’t make me count to three,” he warns, before suddenly pulling out, leaving you reeling, his hands on your hips, rolling you over before he pulls your ass high in the air.

The heat of his cock hits your entrance with zero resistance and your body jumps forward when you feel his balls hit your ass.

That move gets you both hissing out strings of discombobulated profanities again as Five holds himself stock still, his eyes closing tight as if he’s in pain..

“Dolores?” you manage to choke.

“Desperate times,” he huffs in way of explanation, then just as the shocking statement he just made and the jolt of him bottoming out is starting to subside, Five smacks your ass, and he’s back to it, fucking into you with a relentless pace.

“Fu-ua-uch-yea-ah, so good,” he disjointedly praises as he rides your ass, hooking his feet inside your ankles so you can’t close your legs.

Your body tightens as his thrusts speed up. You shudder, mouth falling open with a shocked moan as you feel Five’s cock rutting against your insides, demanding every inch of your attention.

With your face down in your mattress, you gasp against moistened fabric. Your shaky fingers clutch at your fitted bedsheet, Five’s brutal pace making steady smack, smack, smack sounds.

You still have no idea how he’s doing it, but Five just keeps on going like his real superpower is that he’s the fucking Energizer Bunny.

Pulling your limp body up to his, Five’s face nuzzles against the back of your neck, hips rolling hard and fast, the sweat from your flush bodies only making it easier for him to fuck into like he’s a well-oiled machine.

“God, you’re magnificent. You feel so fucking good,” he breathes.

"Hnn-mm-unh, uh, uh, please, please-" you moan.

“I’m gonna cum inside you. And you’re gonna cum with me,” Five growls, bearing down on you harder.

You cry out, your next orgasm hitting you as Earth shattering at the first two. You’re shivering, open-mouthed and helpless as you start to feel his warmth spreading with each thrust, Five’s hips jerking slower and slower as he empties his throbbing cock.

He hisses, moaning out a melody of expletives as his hips stutter to a near halt. He just came hard, but that doesn’t stop him as he rolls you against the mattress, coming down next to you, his cock pumping into you a few more times until you’re both left panting and boneless.

He kisses the nape of your neck and tenderly brushes a sweaty strand of your hair from the side of your face. Five stays connected to you until your chests are both rising and falling much slower, then his softening length slips out on its own, a white ribbon of cum immediately spilling out of you, the feel and sight of it making Five let out the softest whimper of distress.

Not letting you go, he kisses your temple.

"That was amazing," he contentedly breathes.

You huff out a sigh in agreement, cheeks flushed, gaze half lidded.

"I didn’t hurt you?" he whispers, a hand coming up to brush over your jaw, so gently. The concern for your wellbeing is reflected in Five’s soft green eyes as he pulls himself up on a wobbly elbow to look at you better.

“Not at all," you mutter with a weak smile as you pull your blankets over, throwing them over both of you.

Five’s hair is sticking up in just about every direction and it’s only adding to the beauty of his dazed grin.

“I’m never leaving you again, that’s unless you make me,” Five murmurs as he lays back down, kissing your shoulder. 

“I can’t see that happening, unless you get all boring, getting up early, only to take afternoon naps on my couch before you finish your old man day with one of your exhilarating crossword puzzles rather than finding new ways you can pounce on me and spank my ass.”

He laughs. There’s an impish glint in his eyes, like the twinkles of distant starlight.

“Awww, sweetheart,” he mocks. “You make all my favorite hobbies sound like bad things” 

You lean into his touch, sighing in contempt before gently whispering, “Go to sleep and I’ll deal with you in the morning.”

Obediently shutting his droopy eyes, he whispers I love you. Then the prick sneakily pulls his hand back, then smacks you in the ass, making you yelp like a little girl.

Ass burning, your heart is full.

This is Five. The wonderful, amazing, sexy jerk you fell in love with.

Next to you, almost as soon as the quiet fills the space between you again, you can tell he’s drifting off to sleep.

Five is finally home.

You roll over just enough to watch him sleeping. 

He looks so peaceful. Like a very naughty angel. The best kind.

You kiss his forehead, and he pulls you back in, making you his little spoon.

Laying there, still trying to take in everything that just happened, you think about all the times Five made jokes about his traumatic life and his loneliness. You caught stolen glimpses of his pain in his sweet but sad smiles, shaking his head, eyelids fluttering closed as he determinedly set his jaw, acting like his memories didn’t hurt him.

Five tried to build a wall around his heart, the barriers entrenched by years of grief, but it all came crashing down at the world’s end. 

Now it’s time for happiness. 

~~~~~~~

Masterpost

Link to my other Tumblr story/art/and asks

Link to visit me direct on A03tua

[alexwilltellyouthings]

Payneland/DBDA fanfic recs

I'm celebrating 200 fics (yes I keep count, I'm a nerd) and over a million words read in these 3 months of dbd 🎉🎉🎉

SO here are a few of my all time favorites (trying not to mention too many of the already very known ones):

Joi de Vivre, by olympus_mons

my very first fave, explores Edwin's longing so so well. And the ending, bittersweet and so loving, uGH I LOVE THEM

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wanted to be something (you couldn't put down), by Ink_stained_quills

also one of the firsts, so very well written and great feelings realization with a bit of misunderstanding to make it sweet

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Of a youth who loves me, by Aliquis

ok yes this series is pretty famous but I can't just not mention it. it's so sweet and tender and aAAAAAAAaaa. just go read it. just go.

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job officially jobbed, by vernesatlas

e-rated, so it's +18 only! canon divergent and really just the right fic to follow up the handjob comment. as simple as that. I needed it deep in my bones and it's so fucking hot

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The Most Tender Place In My Heart, by coloursflyaway

also famous, although not as much as some of the others by the same author, but this is the best one in my opinion. the way edwin is open about his feelings here, the memories painting the whole picture, the way you can see charles working things out, it's so beautiful

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dulcet tones of broken bones, by gremlininthemachine

this one HURTS. it's a lot of angst, let me tell you that. it feels very true to Edwin's character. mind the tags if there's anything you feel is too much for you. I cried several times. it was amazing. the ending is hopeful, but not entirely conclusive, as there might be a sequel coming on. ALSO it's not really payneland centric, but anyway it was maybe the most emotional any fic has made me in a long time

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the ghost of the past that you live in, by ObsessedWithFandom

EXPLORING CHARLES' BISEXUALITY YESSSS I wanted something like this so much! really liked how it was played out, how each experience puzzled itself into his identity. the OCs are great. really lovely all around

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Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup?, by RoseGanymede95

this is also a series and I still haven't read the unfinished ones, but the first two are amazing. those are case fics through and through, pre-canon, and I just LOVE their dynamic even if not explicitly romantic, and also the cases themselves and how Charles acts and UGH EVERYTHING, really highly recommend these

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Nothing Left to Hide, by RoseGanymede95

listen this person is incredible what can I say. this is a very needed unpacking of hell's aftermath, mostly about how Charles is doing after seeing what he saw. it's a big hurt/comfort on this one. big on both. ugh so good

Well there's that. I hope you enjoy these as much as I did!

[spicycinnabun]

Good Omega

written with @batty4steddie for day 7 of @steddie-week! we used prompt ‘free space’ which we chose to fill in with rockstar!steddie and omegaverse. 🤘

wc: 19k+ ⋆ rated: e ⋆ tags: a/b/o dynamics, band au, friends to lovers, omega!eddie, alpha!steve, praise kink ⋆ tw: implied past sa, negative self-talk, smut ⋆ read on ao3

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“Damn it!”

Eddie glanced up. He leaned away from the mirror where he had been carefully smudging smoky black along his eyes. He spun around on his stool. “What ails thee, Sir Gareth?”

“My AntiScent,” Gareth answered, putting his head in his hands. “I fucking ran out. I thought I still had some left.”

Ah.

Eddie stood and walked over to the red leather sofa. With his mammoth spiked platforms, he towered over the other omega.

“Been there.” Eddie placed a hand on Gareth’s shoulder and squeezed it, briefly scent-marking him to try and dissipate some of the distressed stink he was giving off.

Over time, they’d developed a sort of familial relationship as the only two omegas in the band. Eddie had gained the little brother he’d never had, and Gareth had gained a hot mess older brother who helped him survive the Alpha-dominated entertainment industry.

Eddie went back to his station and grabbed his kit, digging through it. “Fret not. You can use mine.”

“You sure?” Gareth asked, lifting his head hopefully. “Don’t you need them?”

Eddie tossed him the box. “Nah, not my first rodeo without ‘em.”

It was actually a relief. Eddie hated wearing blockers, which they all knew since he was frequently bitching about it. The closer he was to his cycle, the more of them he needed to keep his scent contained. They itched like a motherfucker and made him feel contained. It was like wearing a prison, like chains with locks wrapped tightly around his body—and not the fun, kinky kind.

While Gareth peeled and stuck on the patches, Eddie finished getting ready with a bit more pep in his step, fogging the room in a cloud of hairspray. 

The stage manager popped her head in to tell them they’d be ready for them in about half an hour. Eddie groaned, spinning in place and vibrating with pre-show energy. He wanted to go now.

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Eddie’s scent was clouding the dressing room unexpectedly when Steve walked in. Usually, hairspray was the only thing he could smell. Eddie hadn’t put on his blockers yet.  

Steve’s mouth suddenly became very dry. He hadn’t talked much that day, trying to preserve his voice as best he could before the show.

He grabbed a water from the mini-fridge to hydrate before trying to settle on the couch. He couldn’t sit comfortably in his jeans, so he lounged back carefully in hopes he wouldn’t pop a button. They weren’t leaving much to the imagination. Everyone could see the outline of his cock and knot in them.

Steve had gone all out on his outfit for their last show. With his short-sleeved, spandex gold button-up that was almost completely open, he was displaying an impressive amount of belly and chest hair, even for an Alpha.

He hadn’t eaten much, either. His pants were way too tight to handle any food. It certainly didn’t ease his hunger with Eddie’s scent filling the room. He smelled like an extremely buttery and spicy Snickerdoodle.

Steve was effectively distracting Eddie from his tantrum of impatience. It was their last show of the tour, so they’d all done just a little bit more than usual. They had to say goodbye with a bang. Always did. Steve was certainly gussied up. He was glistening in metallic gold. Fuck, he looked delicious.

“I said it already, but I’ll say it again: really love that color on you, sweetheart,” Eddie said, flopping over the arm of the sofa dramatically, his head landing directly in Steve’s lap as his legs kicked in the air. He looked up, grinning with all his teeth. “You look like a gold medal.”

It was difficult not to close his eyes and inhale deeply, not to pull Steve’s head down and thrust that sweet mouth onto his. Steve was half a week away from rut, just like Eddie was from his heat, and he could feel it thrumming between them like a live wire.

Eddie had lots of practice controlling himself around Steve and his ludicrously tempting scent. Sometimes—most times—Eddie swore it was made for his nose. Steve, his straight Alpha bandmate and best friend. Friend only.

Years of playing together, touring together, and long nights sleeping on the bus in their bunks only a few inches away from each other taunted him. Eddie had heard Steve jerk off more times than he could count. Had secretly gotten off with him and felt ashamed in the morning. Even more ashamed the time he’d called out Steve’s name with a one-night stand who definitely hadn’t been named Steve. (After that, he'd asked his partners to gag him.)

Steve knew Eddie’s scent well but didn’t get to fully experience it often. It was going to be all over him now. He was used to Eddie’s antics and closeness. He always enjoyed it. He loved omegas; they were so sweet, and they loved being close to Alphas, too. It truly hurt their feelings when Alphas weren’t receptive to their affections.

It was easy being friends with Eddie. He was encouraging and thoughtful, and he always made Steve feel good. Hearing the compliment made him smile really big. He was getting pumped.

Steve had only ever had one other male omega friend in his life: Tommy. He’d fallen in love with Steve, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been mutual, and they’d ended their friendship for good during their senior year of high school.

Steve had only officially met Eddie when he’d decided to audition for his band. He’d seen The Mind Flayer at The Hideout dozens of times before he’d seen their flier looking for a lead singer. They had been purely heavy metal and instrumental until Steve had joined. He’d always thought about singing, but it wasn’t something his parents—well, his dad—had encouraged.

Steve and Eddie had hit it off right away. Eddie was passionate about music and sharing his opinions. Even their clashes created beautiful musical harmony. Steve pushed slower songs with better beats and even some piano ballads, and Eddie pushed him to be louder, more emotional, and to really lose himself in the lyrics.

Steve didn’t care that Eddie was an omega. He was so talented with the guitar and had written some gorgeous songs. Steve was in awe of his style and energy.

Every fiber of Steve’s being had wanted to be a part of the band. He’d had a good feeling about it and never could have dreamt of the places it would eventually take them outside of their small town.

It truly blew his mind how successful they’d become, graduating from a van and bus to finally flying from show to show and staying in hotels. It had become so much fucking fun to sing his heart out and fool around on stage with his best friend.

Eddie turned his face into Steve’s bare stomach, nipping at his belly button with a playful growl. Steve wouldn’t question shit like that. Nuzzling, hugging, cuddling, wrapping himself around Steve like a snake—he was used to Eddie’s jokes and flirtations. Used to Eddie teasing him and scenting him and almost pushing their friendship into friends with benefits territory.

Eddie always toyed with the line, and it was made easy by the demands of their fans. The fans loved seeing him all over Steve—went absolutely bonkers for it—and Eddie was too happy to oblige. Steve always played along, too. He was a good sport and secure in his skin. The most tolerant straight man Eddie had ever met.

And good goddamn, he could act. He always made it feel real. It fucked with Eddie’s head and raging hormones. It was a constant torture, but that was the nature of their relationship, and Eddie was attached. He didn’t know what he was going to do when it ended.

Because it was going to end eventually. Steve wouldn’t be unmated forever. He would find his omega. Eddie always backed off when Steve had a girlfriend. Mysteriously, none of them lasted more than a couple months. Eddie figured it was because of their lifestyle. They were frequently on the road, making relationships long-distance and difficult.

But once Steve officially courted an omega, his and Eddie’s connection would change forever.

Steve was already feeling butterflies for their impending performance. The bites made him squirm a little and suck in. It felt like he was being scented, and Eddie’s tiny growls sounded possessive.

“My mouth is too empty,” Eddie told Steve. Whined, really. “We got candy? Cigarette?” Eddie made no move to get either of those things himself. He knew Steve would take care of him. He pouted pathetically. “Help.”

Steve pushed Eddie’s hair back and bit his lip. Usually, when Eddie’s mouth was empty, he talked a lot or treated Steve like a snack—like he was doing now. Steve slipped out from under him. “‘Course we got candy, Eddie bear. Gummy bears are on our rider, just for you. Let me grab them.”

Steve felt a bit better standing up and being of service to the omega. He lightly caressed his scent gland as he walked over to the treats. He had peanut M&M’s waiting for himself but knew better than to eat them before the show. He was jealous that Eddie could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, and it never showed. He had the sluttiest little waist. Steve shook his head to rid the thought and tossed the candy to Eddie.

“Thanks.” Eddie caught the bag and opened it with his teeth, pouring an indecent amount of bears into his mouth.

As he stared up at the popcorn ceiling and noshed, his mind couldn’t help but betray him and conjure up a scenario where Steve had answered differently and occupied his mouth with something else.

Steve looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re gonna doll me up a little, aren’t you, with the eye stuff?”

Eddie jumped to his feet, gummy bears scattering across the floor. Oops. He set the bag down on the arm of the sofa. “Of course I am,” he answered with the confidence of a man who had not just been daydreaming about sucking his best friend’s dick two seconds ago.

Eddie usually helped Steve with his stage make-up. While the Alpha was an amazingly talented vocalist, his cosmetic skills were worse than a face painter at a pup’s birthday party.

Eddie knew more than any guy probably should have about makeup. In high school, he had been intensely into Dungeons and Dragons, which sometimes required costuming. Also, one of his close friends had been a cheerleader who had educated him on a lot of things—not limited to beauty and skincare—after she found out what a hopeless homosexual he was.

Steve perched on the dressing room’s stool, waiting patiently for Eddie to paint him up. The last time he’d tried putting on makeup himself, Eddie had laughed, which had bruised his ego, and then there had barely been any time for him to fix it before they’d gone on. He’d vowed never to do it himself again.

Eddie dug through his kit for his eyeshadow palette and popped it open, dabbing his thumb in glittering gold powder and blowing off the excess. “Close, please,” he requested.

It was hard for Steve to close his eyes because Eddie was so fucking pretty. Steve wanted to keep looking, but he obeyed the omega. Steve trusted Eddie. He always improved the way Steve looked, whether it was with makeup or outfit suggestions. Eddie’s dark aesthetic enhanced his preppy style, making him at least look more edgy. Eddie had that ethereal omega beauty most male omegas didn’t have. Truly, Steve never wanted to stop looking at him once he got started.

Eddie gently swiped his thumb along Steve’s eyelids and continued until the color blended to his satisfaction. “Done.”

Steve’s eyelashes fluttered open slowly, meeting beautiful doe eyes staring back at him. He smiled at Eddie sweetly.

Eddie touched Steve’s chin and turned his head for him so he could see the results in the mirror. “Look at that razzle dazzle.”

Steve blushed. Getting painted up was feeling way more intimate than it usually did.

Eddie grinned. “See?” He grabbed the same eye pencil he’d used earlier. Some liner would really make Steve’s eyes pop on stage. “Hold onto me so you stay still for this,” he advised. He had to lean in extra close to do this part, or he’d completely fuck up the lines.

Steve laughed at the instructions but quickly steadied himself and held onto Eddie’s hips. Steve rubbed them when he was finished as a thank you. Eddie’s hip bones were out of this world. “Thanks for making me half as pretty as you.”

Eddie laughed. Leave it to Steve to compliment Eddie when they both knew Steve was the better looking one. He was a gentlealpha for stroking Eddie’s delicate omega ego like that. “Stevie, you know better than anyone that beneath all the smoke and mirrors, there’s nothing but an ugly little rat of a man under here. You’re the beauty; I’m the freak.”

Steve made a face like he always did when Eddie insulted himself. He didn’t like it. He didn't think Eddie was ugly or resembled a rat. Regardless, he smiled a bit at the flattering remark. It made his chest puff out in the typical Alpha’s ego is successfully stroked fashion. 

He let go of Eddie but couldn’t withhold another stronger urge to give affection. As Steve stood up, he leaned in and nuzzled the hell out of the omega. It was an actual scenting, like the ones he reserved for his girlfriends. The breathy noise Eddie made in response and the jackrabbit kick of his heart confused Steve’s brain a little. He pulled back slowly, reluctantly.

The rest of the band shuffled into the room, interrupting them. Steve quickly checked his reflection again. Luckily, he hadn’t messed up what Eddie had just done, thanks to his big nose doing the brunt of the nuzzling.

They began their pre-show group huddle, and Steve gave them a speech reminiscent of his basketball and swim team championships. Gareth and Jeff’s eyes started to glaze over at the sports analogies.

It was dragging on a little, so Eddie slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and cheerfully interrupted, “Boys, let’s rock and roll!”

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There was nothing like the roar of the crowd, the sea of excited faces waiting just for them, chanting their name as they ran out. Eddie would never get tired of hearing that.

The confetti cannons burst at the start of their first song, and Eddie’s blood sang along with Steve's.

By the middle of their set, Eddie had lost his shirt and shoes, but he was still getting service from Harrington, who kept gyrating his hips in Eddie’s direction and, at one point, had grabbed Eddie’s nipple ring with his teeth.

Near the end of the set, Eddie was so sweaty he could probably bellyflop and glide down the stage like a Slip ’N Slide.

There was a break in their current song, about forty-five seconds of instrumentals, and no vocals: Eddie’s guitar solo.

Steve took ten seconds to play the crowd, going to the edge of the stage and touching the hands of star-struck fans. One girl nearly fainted, her friends catching her when her knees buckled.

Eddie watched, mouthing, “Your majesty!” when Steve turned around. He stuck out his tongue, bratty.

It had its intended effect. Steve crossed the stage and got right up in Eddie’s space. He wrapped himself around Eddie, draping himself along Eddie’s back like a cape. One of his big hands, warm and alive and buzzing from adrenaline and holding the mic, splayed across his abs. (Eddie had those now. Actual abs.) Eddie’s stomach jumped a little, and he felt the vibration of Steve’s laugh, his breath hot against Eddie’s scent gland.

Then, Steve actually had the balls to press his lips against Eddie’s skin and drag his tongue up the side of Eddie’s neck.

That was new for Eddie—and everyone else. The crowd went wild. The girls screamed so deafeningly loud it almost drowned out Eddie’s guitar. Probably a good thing because he fumbled a note and nearly forgot where he was.

Steve laughed again. That absolute fucker. Steve couldn’t have the upper hand. Unacceptable. And the crowd clearly wanted more, more, more. (Just like Eddie wanted more, more, more. Off the stage, away from the audience, alone in their hotel room, on the bed—maybe cuffed to the bedpost.)

Eddie relaxed, tipping his head back onto Steve’s shoulder as his fingers sped up, hammering the frets. He panted out his breaths and pushed his sweaty body back against Steve’s, so Steve was forced to take his weight and hold him tighter. “Two can play at this game,” he hissed playfully.

Because he thought that was what this was. Steve was just playing for the fans, like always. They were competing over who could push this the farthest.

But then Steve looked down at him with something dark and inscrutable in his eyes, something not so familiar that made Eddie’s stomach swoop hard, and then he was tilting Eddie’s chin up and—

They were kissing. Eddie hit the last note on his guitar, and it rang out, his pulse rushing in his ears, his lips moving on their own to kiss Steve back. Too eagerly, too seriously to laugh off to everyone later as a joke, and he let go of his guitar, and it hung there while he reached up to grab Steve’s face and his hair that was still somehow perfectly styled, messing it thoroughly as Steve’s tongue ravaged his mouth.

That was new, too. They'd never kissed each other before. They'd gotten extremely close more than a few times, but like this, for real? No.

The crowd was roaring, but the world around Eddie barely existed until Steve suddenly pulled away and ran back to the mic stand, straddling it, singing to the crowd in a deep, breathy tone. Eddie felt dizzy.

Gareth shot him a look, subtly nodding to Eddie’s limp guitar, and Eddie quickly got with the program again—a huge, fake smirk pasted on that he hoped was convincing. Fuck.

Panicking a little and needing something to obliterate his sudden manic horniness and confusion, Eddie thought, What better way to do that than to dive into a crowd of smelly, sweaty people? Insta-boner killer and slick stopper.

Barb, Mind Flayer’s manager, was going to kill him for this.

Letting out a war cry, Eddie ran towards the edge of the stage and jumped, spread eagle.

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The second they stepped on stage, Steve felt on fire with adrenaline. Goosebumps erupted over his arms when Eddie strummed the first note that kicked off the show.

Steve shot a sultry look in Eddie’s direction as he grabbed the mic and hit his cue. It wasn’t lost on him that what really got the girls and guys going was him and Eddie. Steve shared the spotlight with him. Alphas fawned over Eddie, and the omegas and betas fawned over him. When they played it up with each other, everyone went wild.

It started innocently enough. Embracing Eddie’s body while he played his guitar solo. Eddie losing his platform shoes made him slightly shorter than Steve, and being shirtless made it easy for Steve’s hand to graze Eddie’s hot, sweaty, and toned stomach. His mouth had gone dry again, he was dying for a taste.

Eddie’s scent had been clouding Steve’s mind since he’d walked into the dressing room. Intoxicated, Steve was high off Eddie. He was going feral for him. The second his lips touched Eddie’s skin, Steve knew he was going to scent him much harder than he had earlier. He gave Eddie’s scent gland a slow, rough lick. He could feel the effect immediately. His pupils blew like he’d just consumed the most delicious drug.

He laughed because he was in shock at himself for doing that. The crowd's reaction was one of approval, he could only assume, by the deafening screams.

Eddie leaned back against him while he continued to skillfully play the guitar. Steve had no other choice than to stand there and get rubbed against by the smooth leather covering Eddie’s ass. The payback was sweet; Eddie knew exactly what he was doing to Steve. The rough material of his jeans naturally created a delicious amount of friction between them.

When Eddie looked up at him, Steve guided Eddie’s chin towards him and kissed him. They’d gotten close to kissing a couple of times, but at the last second, one of them would smile or pull back. Always playing, always teasing. This time, it really happened.

Steve knew better than to scent an omega without explicit permission, but his hormones were absolutely raging, and they both consensually scented each other in the dressing room. The way Eddie kissed him back was with enough vigor that Steve felt it in his bones. Eddie’s reaction made him feel like what he had done wasn’t wrong. Steve did his best to let go and not suppress his urges anymore. He was burning up and melting.

Why had he waited so long to…?

Oh fuck, the end of Eddie’s guitar solo was his cue to get back on the mic. While Steve wished it was just the two of them on stage, he had to finish the show.

He caught his breath while he pressed the mic back into the stand. When he leaned in to sing the last line, his Alpha voice simmered just below the surface.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and Eddie’s guitar was thrust into his possession. With his baby in safe hands, Eddie took a graceful nosedive off the mother fucking stage. He was quickly surfing his way through the crowd.

All Steve could do was stand there while a sea of security guards hustled to grab the omega before he got eaten alive. Steve felt a white-hot rage he’d never experienced before as Eddie’s body got violated by their fans.

God damn it, Eddie was his.

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The fans were about as enthusiastic to get their paws on him as Eddie had expected. At first, it was actually pretty fucking fun, looking up at the metal rafters and travelling on an ocean of different palms.

Then, it got a little less fun. The touches got more aggressive—grabbing, squeezing, and tearing at his pants. All of his rings and jewelry were taken. He almost fell to the floor a few times. Somebody yanked out a whole handful of his hair and made him squeal. He was like a gangly zebra in a pack of hungry lions.

He’d never admit it, but he was starting to feel just a little bit frightened. By the time security managed to wrangle him back onto the stage, he was howling with laughter, although around ninety percent of it was relief. “What a fucking ride!”

The rest of the band were waiting in the wings. Only Jeff seemed amused. “Dude, that was insane.”

Eddie’s pants hadn’t come all the way off, but it was a damn near thing. The top of his ass cheeks and pubic hair were on full display. Steve moved to shield Eddie’s body from prying eyes. “I got him,” Steve told their main security guard.

Eddie swallowed his tongue when Steve stepped in. He wondered if Steve even realized he’d used his Alpha voice on Reggie.

Then, Steve pulled up what was left of Eddie’s pants, making him squeak, and started herding him back to the dressing room.  

“Steve,” Eddie said, not knowing whether to laugh more, feel embarrassed or get irritated. He felt like a naughty pup. And why was it also making him kinda horny again? Ugh, hormones. “I know you're trying to protect my modesty here, but it’s nothing a million people haven’t seen already.”

The paps had caught him with his clothes more than a few times in the past. Skinny dipping, drunkenly mooning someone, the list went on.

The dressing room door closed behind them, hushing most of the noise. Eddie got steamrolled by Steve’s scent. Usually, he smelled comforting, like a warm chocolate chip muffin. Now, that muffin was incredibly burnt.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, his voice naturally dropping to something lower and softer. Without the laces, his pants were a losing battle. When Steve let go, Eddie didn't bother to pull them back up again. Steve was seething. His baseline low rumble was currently a loud, angry growl emitting from his throat. No, Steve wasn’t okay. He couldn’t even smell Eddie anymore. His warm, buttery cinnamon cookie scent was gone, and any trace of his own scent on Eddie was long gone, too. All of it was buried under at least a hundred different scents. They all were flooding Steve’s sensitive nose. The concoction made his stomach hurt and his skin crawl. Eddie took that as a no. Steve looked pissed. Smelled pissed. Sounded pissed. They were all probably pissed that he’d ended the show abruptly like that. It must’ve just seemed like he wanted the attention—which, granted, wasn’t untrue because he loved attention even at the worst of times, but… “I didn’t mean to ruin the show.” “I don’t care about the show,” Steve replied. It didn’t feel like it was Eddie’s modesty that he was protecting. It was Eddie who Steve was trying to protect, albeit too late. Eddie had been so careless it made Steve sick to think about what could’ve happened. He was completely disheveled.

“You reek,” Steve blurted out, unable to hold back his emotion or muster any tact.

Eddie almost flinched. It was small—a barely noticeable hunching of his shoulders. Steve had never told him he’d smelled bad before, but of course he did after so many people had marked him.

It wasn’t like Eddie enjoyed having all their scents on him. It felt pretty repulsive, but doing what he did had given him something he’d needed. Being passed around like a toy by the crowd had bitch slapped Eddie back into reality. Steve hadn’t been scenting him for real. That kiss hadn’t been real. It had only been for show, no matter how much it had felt like Steve had wanted him in the moment.

Steve took his shirt off and threw it on the floor. He wasn’t planning on it but wasn’t above throwing a hissy fit. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, even though he felt like stomping them like a pup who hadn’t gotten the toy he’d wanted. His own scent had turned bitter. He knew it. What had he scented Eddie for? Why had he kissed him? Steve swallowed. He knew why he’d done it, and it hurt that it didn’t seem to mean anything to Eddie. Eddie seemed like he was okay—more than okay. He was acting like he’d had such a thrill and that it had been so much fun.

Steve was close to his rut, so it made sense he would be scentsitive and irritable, especially since he had to share a room with Eddie and would be sleeping near him. Maybe his rut was coming sooner than they thought.

Steve finally looked directly at Eddie, and that was when he noticed. “Fuck. You’re bleeding.” “I’m fine, Stevie,” Eddie said, giving the Alpha a smile that felt uncomfortable on his face. “I can barely feel anything. My scalp is just weeping because it’s gonna have to do some work to regrow that.”

Steve swallowed his pride, uncrossed his arms and went over to get a better look at Eddie’s head. He made a soft noise when he saw Eddie’s hair was just gone in one spot. Granted, the man had a lot of hair, so it could easily be hidden, but it still looked bad. He’d been wounded. “That’s gotta hurt. We gotta get you cleaned up, man.”

Some bruises were forming on Eddie’s alabaster skin, too, and Steve noticed all his accessories were gone. Eddie’s favorite belt, bracelets and rings.

Any other time, Eddie would have squeezed Steve’s shoulders to calm him, but it was clear that his touch would only make things worse right now. Steve looked so tense. He was shirtless. Steam was practically rolling off of him, and his scent wasn’t easing up. 

While Eddie was calm, crashing after the high of his ridiculous stage dive and body surfing stunt, Steve was just getting hotter and hotter.

Eddie grabbed his sweater from the crushed velvet armchair and pulled it on. The adrenaline started to wear off, making him cool down rapidly, and his hands began to tremble. Whether it was from nicotine withdrawal or the little stunt he’d pulled, or maybe both, Eddie didn’t know.

He realized too late that the sweater wasn’t his but Steve’s, and muttered an apology. Steve’s unburnt scent was embedded into it. Eddie resisted the urge to pluck the neckline up over his nose and hold it there. They borrowed each other’s clothes all the time when they were on the road. He’d have to make sure it got washed before he gave it back.

They only had one more night together before they all parted ways. Eddie was flying to Hawkins to visit Wayne for a few days before returning to his home in West Hollywood to ride out his heat. He didn’t know when he would see Steve again—maybe not until a few weeks later for their post-tour photoshoot and interview with Rolling Stone.

Steve spun in place again. Stopped. Eddie was wearing his yellow sweater. That gave him a tiny bit of relief. He liked Eddie wearing his scent more than he would admit. He also didn’t like it when Eddie was exposed when it wasn’t entirely his choice.

He shook his head. “We should head to the hotel now. I don’t think the afterparty is a good idea tonight, Eddie.”

Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t like his opinion, but he didn’t care.

Eddie glanced at Steve and then away, leaving the Alpha’s side to dig in his bag by the mirror for his jeans. He turned as he removed the tattered leather pants, kicking them into the garbage bin, and only turned to face Steve again once his jeans were zipped and buttoned. “Why isn’t the afterparty a good idea?”

The night was still young, after all. Eddie didn’t really feel like partying, but maybe getting blackout drunk would stop him from climbing into Steve’s bed and begging for more of what had happened on stage, which could very well happen if he stayed in. Eddie knew he’d be having slick dreams for weeks, if not months, of that fucking kiss. His mind already had it on replay. “Don’t think it’s safe. Not this close to your cycle. What if someone from the crowd got the wrong idea and took advantage of you?” Like they could’ve done when you threw yourself into the chaotic audience. Steve wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if something bad had happened to Eddie. Even if it would’ve been his own damn fault. He felt responsible for what had happened, almost like what he’d done had triggered Eddie to do it. Then, actually not being able to do anything to protect him was too much. He could control the situation by saying no to the party. “So, we’re going back to the hotel now.”

Whether you like it or not, Steve thought. He started to gather up his stuff and called for Barb to get them a car.

Eddie wasn’t as careful as an omega should have been, and Steve knew it. It worried him to no end when Eddie would go off to be with some rando after a show. If tonight was any indication of how reckless Eddie could be, Steve couldn’t imagine what else could be pulled and with who. 

Eddie paused, taken aback. They both knew he was an omega who was capable of protecting himself. He could be wildly irresponsible, too, but his self-defence skills were on the same level as an Alpha’s. The response only solidified in Eddie’s mind that Steve was very close to his rut—and for some reason, Steve’s pre-rut instincts were being directed towards Eddie.

He guessed it made sense, considering how close they were. Steve had no other omegas he’d been around as frequently as Eddie lately besides Gareth, but their relationship was more formal.

Eddie didn’t want Steve to come to the afterparty with him if he was going into rut. Forget Eddie; Steve could be taken advantage of. Eddie loved the guy, but he was painfully oblivious about some things.

He also didn’t want Steve to be alone in their hotel room while he went out. Not because Steve could potentially find himself a rut partner and bar Eddie from the room…

…Okay, exactly because of that.

Eddie opened his mouth, but Steve had already moved on from the subject and was trying to move out the door.

“Wait—“ Eddie stopped Steve with a hand to his bare, very furred chest. “You’re going to make the omegas faint if you go out like that.”

Christ, Steve was really warm. And he wasn’t thinking clearly. Eddie quickly let go when he noticed Steve reacting badly. He pulled out a tank top from his duffle and held it out. It was threadbare and soft—not likely to irritate Steve’s skin.

Steve put his hands on his hips and turned around. He didn’t know what to do. He was burning up, so he didn’t want to put the shirt on. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and take the coldest shower he could stand. He dropped his hands and took the top. The scent on the shirt was untainted Eddie, so he wasn’t going to object. Making omegas faint was a thing that had happened, but only a couple of times. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, so Steve complied. Luckily, it was just a tank top, too. He didn’t think he could handle a shirt with sleeves.

“Happy?” he asked Eddie once he pulled it on, magically feeling a little calmer.

Steve looked even sluttier now than he did shirtless, somehow. “Still going to make them faint,” Eddie muttered, stepping into his boots and hiking his bag onto his shoulder. 

Steve heard the quiet comment as he led the way out. It made him smirk, but he knew he didn’t have that effect on Eddie anyway. He’d never make Eddie faint.

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The rest of the band weren’t ready to leave yet and would get a separate car, so they said a quick goodbye.

“See you at the after party?” Jeff asked them, his arm around the shoulders of an omega groupie who was giggling into his neck.

“Maybe,” Eddie hedged.

At the same time, Steve growled, “No,” with enough force to raise Jeff’s eyebrows.

“Alright.” Jeff shrugged, happy to ignore them as the groupie murmured something in his ear.

Steve was deaf to Jeff’s response and blind to the slutty female omega hanging on his arm. He was too busy glaring at Eddie for having said maybe. He had said no and meant it. Neither one of them were going to the after party.

Eddie wrapped his arms around his middle as they exited the theatre, and security escorted them to their waiting car. A few paps got pictures of them despite security’s efforts to shield them.

Steve’s brow softened. Usually, they would huddle close together to make it easier for security to block them, but not this time.

Steve followed Eddie into the car. The smaller space wasn’t helping his nausea from the cacophony of scents still raging.

“You want me to shower in Gareth’s room?” Eddie asked once they were settled in the backseat. To be courteous to Steve’s scentsitivity. Gareth wouldn’t mind.

“No, of course you don’t have to shower in Gareth’s room. You can take the first shower, though.” He’d feel better once Eddie was in the safety of their own room and smelled like himself again. The ride wasn’t tense exactly, but Eddie could feel how much Steve didn’t want to be in the car with him. He was pressed against the door as far away from Eddie as possible. Eddie tried not to wilt in rejection.

Steve rested his hot forehead against the cool window. He felt bad for telling Eddie that he smelled bad, but he was angry, and Eddie really did fucking reek. “Sorry about what I said,” Steve added. “We had a good show. It was fun.”

Eddie was surprised by the apology, but he shook his head. “It’s okay, Stevie,” he answered softly.

He had an incredibly overpowering urge to take off his seatbelt and remove all distance between them. Climb into Steve’s lap and cuddle the motherfucking shit out of him. He held onto the seat instead, knuckles turning white as he resisted.

It stung a little the way Steve sprang out as soon as the car stopped, but Eddie understood.

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“You could have been seriously hurt,” was the first thing Barb said to him as she approached them, leading them into the hotel. “I know you don’t like them, but we have safety protocols for you guys for a reason.”

Steve nodded silently in agreement with her but decided not to pile on as Eddie took the gentle lashings with a hangdog head and a sheepish smile. “I know. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Barb replied, but her glare softened behind her gold-rimmed glasses, and she smiled back at him after a moment. She left them with a compliment. “You did great out there, by the way. Steve, you’ve never sounded better.”

Eddie smiled a little as Steve’s face turned pink under her compliment. “She’s right,” he said.

Barb handed over their room key, and they said goodbye. Steve led the way to the elevator, Eddie trailing behind slightly.

When they entered the room, Steve dropped his bag, popped the button on his jeans, and fell back onto the bed. “Eddie. Shower. Now,” he ordered. He turned over on his side and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “I’m calling room service. Do you want anything?”

The demand from Steve shouldn’t have sent a happy zing up Eddie’s spine, but it did. It made him wonder (probably for the millionth time since they’d met) what Steve’s Alpha voice would feel like. Probably fantastic.

“Yes, Alpha,” he sing-songed, dropping his duffle on his bed and kicking off his boots. “Pick something for me?”

Eddie didn’t feel like deciding what to eat, and Steve knew what he liked. He hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, too focused on prepping for the show. Steve might have fed him a few bites of his sandwich at lunch. He couldn’t remember. It felt like a long time ago.

Steve was still burning up, but the response from the omega made him shiver. He liked being obeyed. “Sure.”

“Thank youuu.”

Eddie went to the bathroom and closed the door. Didn’t bother locking it. His reflection almost made him laugh. No wonder everyone had had such a reaction. His makeup was smeared, and his hair was giving Medusa vibes. Those paparazzi pics were going to be interesting. He looked like he’d gone through a car wash without a car. “Bozo the fucking clown,” he said under his breath.

Even if Steve wasn’t straight, why the hell would he want this?

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Steve was starving. He was craving red meat and potatoes. He knew Eddie would want something lighter, so he ordered him a grilled cheese and the soup of the day. Then he ordered red wine, champagne and cake, too. Just because they weren’t going to the after party, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate.

While Steve wanted to undress, he figured he’d stay decent enough to answer the door. After he hung up the phone, he took off his shoes.

They were pretty high in one of the presidential suites. Their windows had no curtains, which had made sleeping in the night before difficult, but the view was worth it. Steve stood at the large window overlooking the city. He was still in a bit of shock that they were there. He hadn’t become used to the lifestyle or the fame yet.

Eddie’s shower was going on longer than Steve thought it would. He thought he heard Eddie cry out, but when he went to the door and pressed his ear against it, he didn’t hear anything else.

The food arrived pretty quickly, and Steve gave the bellboy a good tip. He poured some wine for himself and sat down at the table. The guy must’ve thought Steve’s mate was in the shower. He scurried around, insisting on dressing the table in a tablecloth. He lit two candles, too, making the room look incredibly romantic. Steve tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary but gave up and just allowed it since he didn’t feel like explaining.

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Now that he was completely down from his showtime high, Eddie felt everything that had been done to him. Every bruise was throbbing, and it would only feel worse in the morning.

His clothes hit the floor a few seconds later, and he stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the dried sweat, makeup, blood and itchy, filthy scents all over him.

He scrubbed hard and thoroughly, suddenly frantic to get clean, to be Eddie again so that Steve would like him again.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed. The shampoo was burning in the spot where he’d lost hair. He quickly rinsed it out, and the water turned pink.

Once every speck of dirt and scent had swirled down the drain, Eddie finally turned off the taps and stepped out into the foggy room.

The dirty towels from that morning were gone, but the towel rack was empty. Hopefully, the maid hadn’t forgotten to give them fresh ones.

Eddie floundered a little, then went to the door, opening it and sticking just his head out. “Steve? Are there towels out there?”

“Uh…” Steve furrowed his brow, confused as to why there weren’t any towels in the bathroom. Their room had been cleaned. Their beds had been made, too.

He got up from the table and looked around, spotting an abundance of towels stacked neatly under the nightstand. Usually, towels by the bed were reserved for heats and ruts. He grabbed two and brought them over to Eddie.

Again, Eddie’s delicious scent hit him, and Steve’s stomach literally growled out loud.

Eddie heard it. Poor guy. Alphas in rut needed an insane amount of protein to feel good enough to function. Their bodies burned through it quickly since they used so much energy fucking people’s brains out, Eddie supposed.

Steve rubbed his stomach. “Ugh, I gotta eat, man.”

“Thanks. Yeah, don’t wait on my account, big boy. Go eat.” Eddie shooed Steve and retreated to the bathroom.

He dried himself, then wrapped one of them around his hips as best he could. The towels Steve gave him weren’t regular-sized, he realized. Had about as much coverage as a loincloth.

Eddie came out and kneeled awkwardly to dig through his suitcase. He wasn’t prepared for the scent that hit his nostrils, either. Steve had flooded the room with Alpha pheromones, and they were getting stronger by the minute. Enough to make him lightheaded.

Steve took the dome off his plate and found the juiciest steak but nearly choked on the first piece when he saw Eddie. Steve averted his gaze slowly, catching a glimpse not so accidentally. He made a happy little noise, and not just about the meat. Eddie’s scent had returned, and Steve could feel a rumble bubbling up in his chest.

Eddie grabbed some comfortable boxers and an old band t-shirt he’d had since he was a teenager. He’d cut it in half during a particularly scorching summer, so it left his midriff nice and cool. He didn’t bother going back to the bathroom to put them on, changing right there.

When he turned around, he noticed Steve sitting at the kitchenette table.

“Oh,” Eddie said, heat flooding his face. He took in the champagne on ice, the soft glow of the candles, the tablecloth. His stomach lurched. Steve looked like he was waiting for a date. “Are you—um, did you invite someone over? Do you need me to go?”

It was strange, considering Steve had been so adamant Eddie return to the hotel with him, but maybe he had called someone while Eddie was in the shower. He had to realize by now that he was going into rut.

“What?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow. “No, and no. I told you I was ordering food for us. They kinda thought it was more of a romantic occasion… but I thought that since we’re not going to the party, we could still celebrate.” Steve felt bad for putting a damper on their last night together for a while. “I know you like the bubbly stuff.”

The little knot that had tied itself in Eddie’s stomach unwound. “That’s thoughtful, A—Steve,” he corrected himself.

One time calling Steve Alpha as a joke was acceptable. Twice in the same hour put him in the danger zone.

Steve flashed him a smile and got up to pull the second chair away from the table so Eddie would sit with him. Steve stopped him before he did, leaning into his space to scent him gently.

He couldn’t resist. Eddie smelled better than the food and looked like a snack in his comfy clothes. Steve had to restrain himself from licking and nipping him. He had food. He didn’t have to devour Eddie…right now, at least.

Eddie didn’t think much of being scented. He accepted it with a head tilt and a relieved sigh that he hid with a breathy laugh. Family and close friends scented each other casually all the time—he took it as a sign he was back in Steve’s good graces.

The Alpha looked much more relaxed. There was even that endearing rumble tickling Eddie’s ears. Steve sometimes did that when he was enjoying himself. The hotel’s chef must have really nailed that steak.

“Are you happy with the choice I made for you?” Steve asked. “If not, I know you’ll like the cake.” Eddie loved sweet things, so Steve knew the cake would do.

Eddie resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Steve and hang onto him like a koala. He lifted the metal dome over his plate instead. Soup and grilled cheese were the second thing he was craving. The first thing wasn’t on the menu. “You always know what I want,” he answered.

Steve was attentive like that. When it came to everything except… well, you know. Nobody on earth knew Eddie better than Steve, not even his only living relative.

Steve was pretty pleased with himself after receiving Eddie’s compliment. It fed his ego perfectly. He reached for the champagne. “You wanna pop it? I know it’s like your favorite part.” He chuckled and handed the bottle to Eddie.

Using his thumbs, Eddie popped the cork on the champagne bottle. They cheered as it foamed over, and Eddie poured them each a glass before sitting in the chair Steve had pulled out for him. “To Mind Flayer?” he suggested. “And another tour success.”

They toasted.

“Are you looking forward to going home and sleeping in your own bed again?” Eddie asked once he had sat down and taken a sip of champagne, trying to ignore the way the candles were making Steve’s eyes look darker than usual. Eddie probably wasn’t going to survive the rest of the night.

Steve sipped from his glass. The liquid was refreshingly cold from being on ice. Steve hadn’t cooled down yet, so he threw back the entire glass to help do that. He wasn’t aware of what was happening to him yet—what Eddie’s proximity and scent were doing to him.

He wasn’t sure how to answer Eddie’s question. “I’m going to miss you.”

Steve felt his lips tingle after he said it. He knew it wasn’t just from downing the bubbly way too fast. They’d kissed. Steve hadn’t had time to process it or reflect because of what had happened after.

Eddie did a lot of things that made Steve want to kiss him. Naturally, he was adorable, but finally, Steve had given in to his impulses. It wasn’t Eddie who’d instigated it, but he’d kissed Steve back, and Steve couldn’t quit thinking about it. Their kiss hadn’t been chaste. Steve had been able to taste the gummy bears Eddie had eaten and everything.

He’d always had a feeling Eddie had a thing for him. He’d tried his best to ignore it, feeling like it wouldn’t be right even though he played into it on stage. They’d never really crossed the line.

Off stage, he’d tried to be with women, but he hadn’t been able to commit to any of them. Weirdly, he felt like he had been betraying Eddie, and he hadn’t found anyone significant. He hadn’t been happy going through the motions every time their tours ended. He was not looking forward to going back home and being alone in his bed.

“I’ll miss you too, dude,” Eddie said, hiding a pleased smile behind a bite of grilled cheese. Maybe the casual use of dude would help deflect the way his scent perked up like a flower in the sun.

Eddie didn’t miss his place one bit. He was thinking of getting a cat. Now that the tour was over, he would have plenty of free time he wouldn’t know what to do with. Getting a pet was a solid idea. Eddie had never had one before. Cats were cuddly and warm and could take up some of the vast space and silence in his house. Maybe he would get several cats.

“It’s so hot,” Steve complained.

He had to take the tank top off. He pulled it from the bottom up and over his head in one fell swoop. Steve sighed as he let it drop to the floor, which only helped slightly.

He reached into the champagne bucket for ice. Steve got a piece and moved it up his neck to his jaw. It felt so good that he moaned a little, but the ice cube melted in seconds.

Any thoughts about felines fell right out of Eddie’s head when Steve started molesting himself with an ice cube. Eddie’s eyes widened into saucers, fist clenching around his spoon. What in the wet o dream was going on here?

“Gotta get out of these fucking pants,” Steve added. While the button wasn’t attacking him anymore, the heavy fabric was roasting him.

Eddie tried to keep acting normal. The shirt was okay—Eddie was used to Steve losing that during the night, but when the pants came off, Eddie dropped his spoon and choked on his soup. It went down the wrong pipe. He coughed. Thumped his chest. “Usually, it’s tequila that makes people’s clothes fall off,” he wheezed.

Sweet baby Jesus, he was gonna die today.

If this were a date, Eddie would absolutely be getting lucky. But since it wasn’t—

“How about we open a window?” Eddie got up, giving the almost naked Alpha a wide berth as he went to approach the one closest to them. He grabbed the handles and heaved upwards. Nothing happened. “Christ, it's stuck.”

He tried again to no avail when suddenly two muscled arms appeared by his sides, and two big paws circled his wrists. “Let me try, Eds.”

“Good day, biceps, my fair gentlemen,” Eddie said to them.

The joke was weak due to the fact he sounded like he was being strangled. He could feel Steve’s body heat along his back even though they weren’t touching. There was a small, minuscule space between them. Steve was like a furnace. Eddie let Steve remove his hands from the handles, and Steve’s hands settled onto them instead.

Steve laughed. He was still reeling over the tequila reference. It only stroked his ego more. His Alpha had a raging hard on from the omega’s continued praise. It stupidly fueled his faith that he could get the window open for them.

He leaned into Eddie instead of suggesting he move. It felt like Eddie being sandwiched between him and the window was helping somehow. His scent was so strong; the aroma was like Steve had just walked into a French bakery. The freshly baked chocolate croissant was calling his name.

Eddie should have ducked out, but for some reason, he stayed frozen where he was. There was straining, veins bulging, and some grunting right in Eddie’s ear that he really had to try not to imagine in a different scenario.

Finally, he could bear the torture no more. Also, the window wasn’t budging. Not a fucking inch. (And, of course, that had Eddie thinking about how many inches Steve had in those paper-thin boxers.)

“Steeeve, I don’t think these were built to open,” Eddie said, not turning around and subtly clenching his cheeks because his slick was trying to make a damn prison break and also, hey, that was an erection. “Maybe we should try the air con.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that first?

Steve should’ve realized the window was sealed shut. Hotels didn’t take kindly to people jumping out of their windows. Eddie was right, even though opening a window was his idea. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, pulling back.

Steve went over to the thermostat and cranked it down, then moved to stand in front of the vent and breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the cool air blasted hard enough to blow his hair back. A happy rumble left his lips, and after a minute, he joined Eddie, who had returned to the table. “Wine time,” Steve declared.

He poured a generous amount into their glasses and sat back down. Steve’s temperature was no longer spiking, but Eddie was smelling more and more delicious. “Eddie, you smell so fucking good. I feel like devouring you instead.”

Steve reached for Eddie’s hand and tugged it across the table, pressing his whole face against Eddie’s inner arm and nuzzling his way up. Steve scented him again and playfully gnawed. “Would you be okay with that?” he asked, eyes dark and hungry. 

Eddie had folded his napkin strategically across his lap. He had barely recovered from what would forever be referred to in his spank bank as the window incident when Steve unleashed more on him. Eddie was glad he hadn’t taken a sip of wine yet because he would have sprayed it all over the table. Instead, he failed spectacularly to repress a noise and a full-body shiver.

Was he hallucinating? Had the loud concerts finally gotten to his ears and damaged them?

“Would I…” Eddie swallowed. Hard. Would he be okay with that? Fuck yes! “I think we should have some cake! You probably just have a sweet tooth.”

Steve was leaning across the table, almost like he was going to kiss Eddie again (sweet mother of fucking mercy). In a desperate attempt not to give in and just let it happen, Eddie snatched his arm back and picked up his fork, stopping Steve’s trajectory with a big mound of cake. “Here, eat up.”

Eddie didn’t give Steve much choice unless he wanted icing smeared all over his face. While Steve worked on his mouthful, Eddie picked up his wineglass and threw it back, throat working as he downed the whole thing and stared determinedly at the wall instead of Steve, who was still trying to penetrate him with his eyes.

Jesus, who’d never listened to Eddie once in his entire life, help him.

“Alright, Alpha— fuck, Steve, you’re going into rut,” Eddie said. It didn’t feel right—not morally —no matter how happy his omega was by the turn of events. Steve seemed not in his proper mind anymore. At all. “You are in a vulnerable state. I can’t let this continue, even if I do want to offer my body as dessert.”

What was he saying? Was the wine already hitting him? He wasn’t really a wine drinker, but surely his tolerance for it wasn’t so weak. Eddie deflected and ripped his arm away so swiftly that Steve couldn’t compute what had happened. Since Eddie had shoved the cake directly into his mouth next, he couldn’t even make a noise in protest. The rush of moist chocolate cake wasn’t what he was craving. It was too much. Steve tried not to choke on it. He had difficulty chewing it and getting it down, so he had to sip the wine to dissolve it quickly. He wasn’t happy that Eddie had done that or about what he’d said. “You didn’t wear your blockers tonight,” Steve pointed out when he could finally talk. He still had enough sense to know that he wasn’t hot and bothered for no fucking reason at all. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth free of icing and crumbs.

Eddie was hot as hell, so there was always that, too, but he’d scented Steve. Threw himself in Steve’s lap and scented his entire stomach when he’d bit at it. The antics in the dressing room had only escalated on stage, and being that close and intimate enough to kiss an almost ripe omega had accelerated it, too. “I don’t have to worry about you taking advantage of me. And there isn’t a crowd of fifty thousand people you can throw yourself into in our room.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

Okay, so he still wasn’t fucking over that. He couldn’t stay mad, though. He cared about Eddie a lot.

Steve knew that he had the power to make Eddie succumb. He wouldn’t. He wanted and needed Eddie’s permission. Steve couldn’t take advantage of the nearest omega like some Alphas did. Eddie was the most important omega in his life. He wasn’t going to tarnish their relationship.

Eddie’s heart started to pound. “Gareth ran out of blockers. I gave him mine. I wasn’t trying to bait you or manipulate you or anything.” Not consciously, anyway. His instincts were a bit more tricky, but he hadn't had some slinky plan to induce Steve’s rut. “And even if I had been, I wouldn’t expect it to work. You’ve never been into me that way. Not in private.”

At least, that had been what Eddie had always assumed up until tonight.

As for his other behavior… Eddie shrugged weakly. He didn't have an excuse. “But I can’t always help the way I act around you.”

Eddie’s omega was convinced Steve was the one for him, and it was hard to argue with it.

Steve didn’t think Eddie was trying to do anything by not wearing his blockers, but he couldn’t deny what it had done to him. Steve already had a natural magnetic pull towards Eddie. He could never fully figure out why. He hadn’t gotten to experience Eddie’s scent like this until now. It was the missing piece.

Of course, Steve knew blockers were the best protection for an unmated omega, and they had to be worn constantly when they were in crowded public places. It kept Eddie safe against any Alpha that had bad intentions. It was imperative on show days where there were known to be rabid fans.

Steve reached out to touch Eddie’s arm again so the omega would look at him. “I know the timing is fucked up, Eddie, but I can promise that if I didn’t really want you, I wouldn’t have insisted that we come back here. Especially when you didn’t smell like you or me for a little while.”

That had really bothered Steve. He didn’t realize how much until now and what he’d blurted out. He’d never experienced it before. He didn’t like his omega smelling like anyone other than him. He knew he didn’t want Eddie’s scent to be tainted by anyone else ever again. Steve didn’t think it was his rut talking. He felt like claiming Eddie tonight so this wouldn’t happen ever again.

“The kiss on stage. Scenting me. That was for real,” Eddie said slowly. “Not just for the fans?”

It was maybe redundant after what Steve had just said, but Eddie wanted direct, verbal validation. Maybe it was the omega part of him.

“You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen, but chicks, man.” Steve thought he was one hundred percent straight. He had been a bit of a hound dog when it came to women. “Felt like I wasn’t allowed to,” he acknowledged. He thought he had to be with female omegas and hadn’t experienced a male one until he’d walked into Eddie’s band. Steve had always thought Eddie was attractive. He wasn’t blind. “You’re a guy,” Steve pointed out, then laughed because, yeah. “Obviously…” It had given him major reservations at first. Guys had liked him before, but he’d never liked any of them back until Eddie.

Steve had been apprehensive about fan service, but he was so comfortable with Eddie that it hadn’t felt wrong. It had only made their shows better. It had become fun to push the boundaries of his sexuality and their Alpha and omega dynamics. It had pushed other people’s buttons and had gotten them talking, making their band even more popular and Eddie a gay icon. “It was real,” Steve confirmed. “I wouldn’t kiss you for fan service, especially not for the first time. I couldn’t help it… I had to.”

Steve hadn’t been thinking. His hormones had been raging—still were—and his real feelings had taken over. He wasn’t sure if it’d make headlines since the more pressing news was the epic stage dive.

Eddie waited patiently while Steve explained his feelings in his own way, not trying to interrupt, just letting him work it out. It was probably the most quiet and attentive Eddie’d ever been in his life, but this was Steve. He was fucking important.

It all made perfect sense, even though part of Eddie still couldn’t quite believe his feelings were being reciprocated. And hey, what, hello, prettiest man he’d ever seen? That could not be correct. 

He thought it tragic that Steve had thought he wasn’t allowed to like omega men all this time. Didn’t surprise Eddie, but it made him sad and angry at their closed-minded society for drilling that into Steve’s head.

“I wanted to keep your scent on me.” Eddie touched Steve’s hand, upset with himself. Steve seemed genuinely wounded by what he’d done. He always got a little waspish when he was hurt. “I only jumped because I panicked. I didn't think it was real, and I didn't want you and everyone to see how much I…”

Eddie stopped. Poured himself another glass of wine because it was suddenly confession hour, and he was spilling his guts. He had been dreading this conversation since the day they’d met. Had hoped it would never happen because he had never pictured it ending well. He didn't want to lose Steve, and he was sure that would happen when Steve figured out just how deeply Eddie felt for him. This wasn't some light-hearted puppy love, as much as Eddie tried to twist it that way in his head when he was “harmlessly” flirting.

“I just don’t think I can do this if…” Eddie took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye, ”…if it’s going to be a one-time thing. I feel more than want for you, Steve—more than like for you, and I have for a long time. I’m not asking you to claim me,” he added quickly, nervously. “You don’t, uh, have to do that. Obviously. Just—I’d want to date you.”

Hearing Eddie's confession melted Steve’s heart a little. “You wanna date?” he asked. “You’ll allow me to court you? So, if we fucked tonight, it wouldn’t be in sin after all?”

Eddie went to toy with one of his rings but forgot it wasn't there, and he ended up rubbing his mating ring finger in an accidentally telling way. He smiled uncertainly. “I don’t want to be friends who fuck. Or friends who fuck and then go back to being just friends. Don’t think I could stand it, honestly.”

Steve’s teasing smirk softened. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d be okay if I never even got the chance to claim you.”

Steve knew his rut was responsible for him wanting to claim Eddie right now. He felt ready because he’d been so angry about not getting to have Eddie in the first place that he just wanted it to be official already. He knew he hadn’t scented Eddie thoroughly enough, so he got up and dropped down in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie’s body was practically vibrating with need for contact. Like Steve knew that, he was suddenly there, sinking his heavy, reassuring weight on Eddie and laying that delectable chocolate scent all over Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned back with a groan, making the chair creak (it probably wasn’t suited to hold the weight of two grown men).

“Babe, consider me courted.” Really, it didn’t take much more than that. This was his dream come true. Eddie laughed, and even that sounded like he was in ecstasy, threaded with a deep purr that didn't make an appearance very often. “Besides, you’re the one who needs my courting before I pop your cherry.”

Two could play at the teasing game, always, and Eddie was relieved to get back to their banter. Now, it was just sexier. Steve was a virgin who’d never experienced men before, after all—and there Eddie was, unworthy but happy as hell and honored to be the one to give him all the experience he could ever want.

“Hello, thunder thighs.” He meant that in the best way possible. Eddie squeezed them greedily because he was allowed to do that now. He tipped his head up to look at Steve, putting on his silky omega voice. “You know, a few perks come with dating a male omega, and one of them is…”

It had been enough time that his legs no longer felt like cooked spaghetti. Eddie stood up, taking all one hundred and sixty pounds of Steve with him, and dropped his sweaty body onto the bed. Eddie smirked. “ We can do shit like that.”

Steve was turning red, his temperature spiking again. It was a first, getting carried and thrown onto the bed like he was the one who was going to get fucked. Eddie was strong. Steve didn’t hate it.

“That was hot,” Steve said, rumbling as he pushed himself to sit up. He pulled Eddie by the shirt and guided him into his lap. “Don’t think you should be wearing this anymore.”

Steve removed it for him, and as soon as it was off, he went in for a kiss. Eddie tasted sweeter than he had on stage. It felt good to be kissing again. Properly, without a time crunch, and in the privacy of their room where they didn’t have to stop.

All of Eddie’s weight baring down on him felt good, too. Steve’s hands settled on Eddie’s ass. They needed something to hold onto. Since Eddie had shamelessly groped his thighs, it was only fair that Steve kneaded Eddie’s ass like dough through his boxers. It was the only other fluffy part of Eddie’s body besides his hair. Steve had always admired it.

“For the record, the only thing that’s getting popped tonight is my knot,” Steve promised, locking eyes with Eddie.

Like a trained dog, Eddie’s ears perked, and his pupils visibly dilated at the word knot. He’d been trying not to think about Steve’s most of the night. Trying very hard not to think about it stretching him out before locking inside. You know, respectfully, you didn’t think about your best friend’s knot fucking you stupid, especially when said best friend was in the room with you. (It was a little different when you were alone in your bed at 2 AM with your Turbo Knotter 3000 buzzing away.)

Now, that was mostly what was on Eddie’s mind as they kissed again, and Steve massaged his meagre ass like it was more than what it was. Eddie couldn’t resist rocking his hips in Steve’s lap, gushing slick like a river in preparation for it. The other thing that was on his mind was how desperately he didn’t want to fuck this up. He couldn’t be a lousy lay, had to be a good omega, the best omega, couldn’t do something to ruin this—but with his track record…

The thin material between them wasn’t leaving much up to the imagination. Eddie had a big cock—he acted like he did, too—so it wasn’t a surprise for Steve to feel it poking in his stomach. Steve smelled Eddie’s slick and then felt it saturating Eddie’s boxers. He was pleased. He knew he’d done a good job turning an omega on when slick started. He was ravenous for it and its source.

Steve broke the kiss to speak in his Alpha voice. “Let me get you out of these, baby. You soaked them, didn’t you? Just for me. I made you get that wet, huh?”

It was a shock, the filth that spilled from Steve’s mouth. Eddie was stunned into almost bashful silence (which wasn’t right because he didn’t do bashful), an aroused flush blotting his cheeks and working its way down his neck. He’d never experienced Steve’s Alpha voice. It was better than he’d imagined. Between his thighs, he throbbed with want.

In the past, he may have heard Steve’s voice through the paper-thin walls of the motels they used to stay at, but that was more painful than stimulating since it had been directed at whoever Steve had brought to his den for the night.

“Just for you,” Eddie echoed with a dumb smile.

Steve smiled devilishly. He pushed Eddie’s boxers down over his ass, then laid him back at the end of the bed so he could take them the rest of the way off. “I’m totally keeping these, by the way.” Steve sniffed them playfully, then tossed them to the floor.

Eddie had been reduced to a lovesick, brain-dead groupie. Future him would be sickened remembering his impulse to do anything for Steve’s voice. The way his body melted under it. He was glad he had the mattress underneath him for support. He was so wet, now rid of his boxers that Steve apparently wanted to keep as a snack for later, that he was making a puddle on the bed. “They’re all yours, gorgeous. Have them.”

Way to be subtle, Munson. Might as well have said you own me.

Speaking of owning, Eddie didn’t touch his dick, even though it was arching up along his belly and painfully hard, flushed dark red and ready for use. His omega was telling him that also belonged to Steve now. He could do whatever he wanted with it.

Steve sighed, rumbling deeply at the sight before him. He didn’t know where to start.  He spotted some slick on Eddie’s milky and much skinnier thigh and leaned down to lap it up with his tongue. “Fuck, it’s good,” Steve praised.

He got down between Eddie’s thighs and licked and sucked his way up to the source, lifting Eddie’s legs for full access to his ass.

Eddie’s breath hitched. Steve liked how he tasted?

“Been a while since anybody’s been down there. Might have to clear the cobwebs and bats out before you start.” A crappy joke. Eddie began rambling. Why was he fucking nervous? Oh yeah, because he was living his fantasy. He should have drunk that second glass of wine. “Thought I might have to be your teacher during this quest, but you—mh!” Steve’s lips were kissing his hole, his tongue circling Eddie’s sensitive rim. Eddie whined, legs closing briefly around Steve’s head before he got ahold of himself and opened them again. “You seem to be doing okay down there without my tutelage.”

Tutelage? Did he just say tutelage in the middle of sex?

Steve would’ve laughed if his mouth wasn’t busy. Eddie was so fucking cute. He was hungry. While he hadn’t eaten ass before, he didn’t hesitate. His need for Eddie was the driving factor behind his confidence. The fact that it had been a while since Eddie had an Alpha between his legs pleased Steve, too.

Eddie’s slick was delicious. Steve took his time licking and kissing. All he could think about was making Eddie feel as good as he could, considering it’d been a while and that he didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing. He just wanted Eddie to feel treasured and give him some good foreplay.

Steve’s face was getting messy. He loved it. When Eddie’s thighs put him in a headlock, he figured what he was doing was good. He could fuck him easily with his tongue. The texture was new, but the gush of slick onto his tongue made him hum happily. This was the sweetest slick he’d ever experienced. It was so addicting.

Eddie groaned. “M’already fucking this up, aren’t I?” Eddie closed his eyes, sinking his fingers into Steve’s hair, which was still semi-stiff and crunchy from all the Dippity Do. He tried to relax and stop thinking so hard. “Swear I’m usually better than this.”

Not too many of his past partners had done this to him before. Eddie wasn’t particularly interesting down there. His cock he was incredibly proud of, but he knew as far as omegas went, his ass was kind of a snore. Being up close and personal with it like Steve was probably wasn't as exciting as Steve was used to. Eddie knew he didn't compare to any of the curvy female omegas Steve had been with.

Eddie was fine with his lack of assets now, of course, but when he’d first started hooking up with Alphas, the lack of compliments had felt admittedly shitty, especially when he knew other omegas got a lot of them during sex. He’d had to work extra hard to get praise and attention there or pretend he didn’t care. Felt like he didn’t deserve any.

Now that he was famous, guys would tell him anything he wanted to hear and more, but it was rarely genuine.

Steve was confused. What was Eddie talking about? He was having a good time. He was working his way up to getting laid. They both were, but Eddie was worrying about being a good omega. Steve didn’t want to, but he had to stop and keep Eddie from spiralling. He licked up from Eddie’s hole, along his taint and balls and finally lifted his head to look up at him.

“You know, whenever I’m getting head, I never think about if I’m doing a good job.” He had to tease. He just wanted Eddie to enjoy this.

Steve was sitting up, which made Eddie panic a little, thinking things were ending, but it was probably for the best since he was starting to tense up so much that his slick had nearly stopped. He laughed weakly and resisted throwing an arm over his eyes. “Perk of being an omega: constantly needing validation.”

All omegas were whores for praise. Eddie didn’t want to be needy, but his biology just dictated some things for him. It was annoying, more times than not, but it was who he was.

“You’re perfect, Eddie. Look at my face.” Steve smiled, soft and big and genuine. “I’m so happy.”

Steve rumbled as he moved up Eddie’s body, kissing everything, his dick, stomach and chest. When he got to Eddie’s neck, he scraped his canine teeth along it.

Eddie made a noise, torn between embarrassment and that natural euphoria pleasing the Alpha elicited. Perfect? Was Steve telling the truth or just pitying him? It felt genuine, was the thing. Steve wasn’t a liar.

The command to look was easy to follow. Steve did look happy, actually. His cute little brown eyes were sparkling, the lower half of his face messy with slick, hair messy, debauched. Eddie smiled back, a gentle purr vibrating through his chest. 

“Being with you like this is making me so fucking nervous, Stevie,” Eddie confessed with a chuckle as Steve laid kisses on him that felt like little electric buzzes against his skin. As if it wasn’t obvious already, and the way his heart was pounding like Gareth’s drums under Steve’s lips. “I’m a wreck. I’ve thought about this—you—a lot.” Don’t want you to regret me.

There was a low ache in Steve’s belly when he got his mouth on Eddie’s neck. His knot started throbbing. Eddie’s words were music to Steve’s ears. He was so close to biting; his mouth was watering. Eddie’s scent gland was right there.

Eddie pulled Steve’s hips into the vee of his legs, his hands travelling down Steve’s heated back and caressing it. When he felt the sharpness of teeth near his gland, his nails dug in, making Steve gasp, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck,” he breathed. His pulse sped up even more, finding a new rhythm like it was learning a song. “Careful, sweetheart, you might…”

Mate me.

“Don’t be nervous, Eddie bear. I swear I want to. I want you,” Steve said with a possessive growl. He kissed the spot tenderly instead of heeding the warning.

His mating mark would look so good there. Everyone would know Eddie was his, and no one else could claim him. Why wasn’t he claimed yet?

Steve didn’t really know why either of them hadn’t found their mate. Maybe they were waiting for each other. Steve felt a relief tonight for the first time since he’d met Eddie. Eddie had always been closed off to him in a couple of ways. Through their friendship, the band and scent blockers. Their heat and rut schedules were always planned and purposely spent apart.

Steve also didn’t know why he hadn’t taken off his boxers. It was the last thing separating them from full-body contact. Steve moved to get them off. He was still burning up, knowing there wouldn’t be any true relief until he was knot deep inside of Eddie. He sighed a little when he was free and rolled them onto their sides so they could kiss again.

He’d missed Eddie’s mouth. While they kissed, Steve found Eddie’s hand and moved it to wrap around his cock. It needed attention immediately. He wanted Eddie to feel how hard he had gotten because of him.

Somehow, hearing Steve’s sweet nickname for him in the Alpha voice made Eddie’s blush deepen. He tried not to pant like a bitch in heat at the declaration, but it was hopeless. He was gone, gone, gone. Mating bells were ringing in his head. Steve sounded greedy for him. Holy shit. Steve wanted him for keeps. Eddie would do a little jig if he weren’t, y’know, horizontal and busy being utterly seduced.

They were making out again, and Steve’s thigh was between his, pressing up against his wet and sticky cock. Eddie groaned into Steve’s mouth at the friction. It was funny. Eddie had never enjoyed kissing all that much until today. Don’t get him wrong; it was fun sometimes, but more often than not, nothing to write home about. Like, he could do without it easily.

It was nothing like this. Steve tasted like cake and wine and Eddie’s slick, and he knew how to kiss an omega. They fell into sync naturally, both of them going back in for more and more like they would die if they stopped.

Eddie’s lips felt swollen when Steve grabbed his hand—Eddie was a little contrite to note he had just been clutching onto Steve’s side like a lifeline—and guided it to his big, gorgeous cock. It was so heated in his hand. Hard as steel.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve rumbled sweetly in between kisses. “You feel me? You did that because you’re so fucking hot. You have the sweetest slick.”

Eddie squeezed, though he was the one who gasped and shivered as Steve continued to stroke his ego. That was what he’d done. Made Steve hard for him. “I-I feel you,” Eddie responded.

Steve nudged his nose against Eddie’s. “You’re making my knot hurt.” He whined a little as he met Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie ran his thumb along Steve’s throbbing knot reverently and felt an echoing deep throb in his hole, slick running down the back of his thigh.

“You’re gonna let me pop it, huh? I’m gonna fill you up so good. You’ll feel full,” Steve promised. He planned to absolutely ruin Eddie for any other Alpha’s knot. Only his was going to fit. He pulled Eddie’s thigh towards him so he could have access to his ass.

Steve’s rut smell was heady and thick in his nose. Eddie was so thirsty for him that his vision was glazed and blurring, and he was nodding like a bobblehead. “Yes, yeah, yeah, please. Want all of you. Want your knot. Please. Need it, Alpha. Please.”

That was three times he’d said please. His nerves had run away. He really just wanted to be fucked into next Tuesday by his (yes, his!) Alpha.

Steve’s fingertips met so much slick. He rubbed his thumb against Eddie’s hole before pressing his index and middle finger inside. His eyebrows rose, feeling the resistance around his fingers. He slowly twisted his wrist, drilling his fingers to get them in while watching Eddie’s face.

By the time Steve had two fingers inside him, Eddie was so turned on his eyes were trying to roll up in his head, and his leg was trembling around Steve’s hip. Fuck, it felt good. No, it felt fucking incredible. Steve had thick, long fingers. Eddie had watched them closely and touched them when he’d taught Steve how to play the guitar a few years back. (He’d also jerked off furiously after each teaching session because… well because.)

“I know there’s this spot...” Steve worked Eddie open. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on feeling it.

Steve’s concentrated expression was hilarious and endearing as hell, but Eddie was in no state to tease him because Steve had found his golden ticket.

“Oh god, oh my god, oh my god,“ Eddie moaned. Too loud, too loud, shit. It had only been a short, experimental press of Steve’s finger pads, but it left Eddie shaking like an overstimulated chihuahua and gushing slick.

“Fuck yeah, there it is.” Steve grinned and added a third finger, readying Eddie to take his knot.

Eddie’s hand had gone limp around Steve’s dick since his brain had leaked out of his ears, but he got with the program again and renewed his grip, stroking Steve from knot to tip to the same rhythm Steve was fingering him.

The head of Eddie’s cock knocked against Steve’s from the fast motions. Eddie whimpered and tightened around Steve’s fingers as pre-come jetted out, hitting Steve’s chest and getting caught in his hair. “Steve, now? Now, please? I’m gonna co—not gonna—make it.”

Fingering was hot and a lot of fun. Steve loved using his hand first. He knew, without the declaration, that Eddie was going to come. “Oh, Eddie,” he said. “Baby, you can come now. I promise it won’t be the only time you’ll get to.”

Steve kept his fingers firmly inside of Eddie. He wasn’t going to stop, especially with the way Eddie was quivering. He was going to make it happen. It’d be cruel to stop and start again with him this close. Steve loved to get omegas off, especially without it directly triggering his own need to come.

It helped that Eddie was touching him. His hand was big and fit around Steve’s cock and knot perfectly, stroking everything. He moaned softly in Eddie’s ear. “You’re making me feel so good. It's so hot that you’re gonna come for me already. Just from my fingers? That’s amazing. You’re such a good omega. You’re easily pleased by your Alpha, aren’t you?”

Another shock to Eddie’s system was Steve’s… kindness towards him. Generosity. Those words didn't go together with sex. He wanted to make Eddie come more than once? Even though he was in rut that had to be demanding he just flip Eddie over and mount him already. It didn't make sense why he was putting Eddie’s needs before his own. It didn’t make any sense at all.

All the Alphas Eddie had ever been with treated him the opposite. It was never good omega. It was always bad omega. Needy slut. Desperate whore. You’re just pathetic for it, aren’t you?

And sure, Eddie looked like the type who would be into that sort of thing, he’d admit. His whole persona kinda screamed I’m a brat, put me in my place. He didn’t look like an omega who wanted to be treated nicely, and he’d never corrected anybody who’d assumed so.

But he was that kind of omega. It actually stung sometimes—okay, every time—he was called names like that. Made him feel as worthless as a broken guitar string. The worst part was that his partners had never had any problem crossing the finish line, even if Eddie had gone limp.

So this, being called good? Being hot? Making Steve feel good? Being his baby…Shit, it was like nothing Eddie had ever experienced, and it was hitting him so hard he probably could have come from the affirmations alone. Eddie was making animal noises instead of actual words. There was a direct line from his ear to his heart to his dick. The prostate stimulation was now just a bonus. The cherry on top.

Steve dug his fingers into the spot he found and jackhammered them as Eddie whined and came between them. Steve kissed him once more before gently pulling his fingers out and pulling back. “I can’t wait to give you my knot.”

Eddie had never come so hard in his life, and as the pleasure center in his brain lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, it became Eddie’s sworn duty—his eternal vow—to make sure he was Steve’s good omega forever.

Eddie could barely kiss back, uncoordinated and panting. “No more waiting,” he swore.

Steve made a little show out of sucking Eddie’s slick from all three of his fingers. He rumbled at the taste. Afterward, he used his hand to push Eddie onto his back. There was a good amount of come on Eddie’s stomach, fresh and glistening. “Goddamn, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s last brain cell took a swan dive to its death. Steve was acting like he was a delectable treat. Steve liked Eddie’s taste. Eddie was good.

Eddie flopped back bonelessly against the mattress as Steve maneuvered him, hair that was now mostly dry splaying out on the pillow beneath it. He watched Steve with hearts in his eyes, his post-orgasm scent overpowering the room and almost consuming Steve’s. He felt like he was floating, but also—

“Holy fuck, Stevie, you’re gonna kill me,” Eddie said, completely breathless. Steve had leaned down and was eating his come. The look on his face was predatory and ravenous. He let out a rumbly growl like he was still starving. Eddie’s abs clenched, and his cock gave a valiant twitch, aftershocks wracking his body before settling again as Steve finished his meal. He grinned. “And what a sweet death it’ll be.”

No way he’d rather go.

Steve hadn’t tasted come before. Eddie’s was good; salty and sweet but not as syrupy as his slick. “Definitely not going to kill you, Bambi.” That nickname slipped out easily with Eddie’s long, skinny legs in the crooks of his arms.

Eddie laughed. Now that the edge was off, he felt relaxed and happy, though no less needy. He could make sure his Alpha was taken care of. He wanted to make Steve feel more than good. He wanted to make him feel great and amazing. Eddie spread his legs a little more and lifted his hips, presenting his dripping hole as much as the position would allow. He clenched his muscles purposefully so Steve could see it gape open and closed, smirking playfully at the reaction. “Shove that pretty cock in me. Go as hard as you want. I can really take it.”

Steve didn’t have to hold back any longer. He could let his Alpha out and let it take him over, take what it wanted. Eddie was still soft—his refractory period was a lot slower out of his heat cycle, but he had no doubt he’d get hard again before Steve popped his knot. Honestly, probably as soon as Steve slid home.

The vision in front of Steve felt like a dream. The view of Eddie’s wet and prepped hole was perfect. It felt tight around his fingers. He watched Eddie control himself, and Steve’s jaw dropped in awe. “Okay, so that… that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie grinned, a proud purr erupting from his chest simultaneously. He loved Steve’s reaction so much; how his face went slack and almost amazed. Eddie had done that to him.

Steve had to laugh in disbelief. He’d never been so turned on. He’d never had Eddie, so it made sense. Eddie was telling him he could… could go as hard as he wanted.

Steve was so hard. He didn’t want to hurt Eddie. He guided Eddie’s legs to wrap around him so he could take his cock. He made a noise as he touched himself to Eddie’s hole for the first time, eyes trained on the target. He had to thread himself inside an incredibly tight hole. His eyes widened in surprise as he pushed, and Eddie pulled him in.

“Christ.” He breathed through it. Hot, almost searing, pulsing pleasure surrounded him. All Eddie’s tight resistance would allow was a painfully slow descent. He was so tight it felt like he hadn’t even been prepped.

Eddie crossed his ankles, heels resting along the small of Steve’s back as Steve pressed against his waiting entrance. He was more than ready to be fucked, to be taken, for his ass to be claimed (for all of him to be claimed). It was a pleasurable surprise when there was no shoving. Steve went slow instead. Slow, slow, deliciously slow, filling Eddie up one thick inch at a time. With each push, Eddie let out a soft ah, head tossed back.

Eddie was fully hard again by the time Steve’s knot teased at his rim, rocking against him, and if he didn’t have self-control, tears might’ve sprung to his eyes at just how whole he suddenly felt. Like a fucking missing piece of him had finally slid into place, and Steve was that piece. Jesus Christ. How were his thoughts turning this fucking corny when he wasn't even in heat?

Steve fell forward and caged him in with his arms. Fucking face-to-face was new. Eddie didn’t do missionary. Usually, he’d just be bent over the nearest surface, standing, or on all fours somewhere. He was pretty well acquainted with rug burns and bruised knees. This was intimate.

Steve nudged Eddie’s nose sweetly with his own, then tilted his head back and let out a guttural moan. “Feels like you got me in a goddamn vice, Eddie.”

A small, overwhelmed smile touched Eddie’s lips.  The moan was deep, satisfied, and raised all the hair on Eddie’s arms.

This must have been Steve’s first time. It made sense. Female omegas didn’t have a sweet spot in their ass like guys did. Of course, that didn’t stop greedy Alphas from using that hole anyway, but Eddie was quickly learning Steve was considerate in bed. He probably hadn’t fucked any of his girlfriend’s asses. He was too sweet. The thought was oddly comforting. (Eddie’s head was fucked up, man, okay. He knew it.)

Eddie watched Steve’s face, enrapt, and pet his hands down Steve’s shoulders and chest, wanting to touch. Steve was a beautiful Alpha. Pleasure looked so damn good on him, and he deserved so much. Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. What had he done to deserve him?

There was absolutely no give for Steve’s knot yet. He was used to some. Certainly, Eddie had taken a knot, maybe not as big as his, though. The realization inflated Steve’s ego.

Moving got easier as Eddie adapted and stretched more for Steve as he started moving his hips. “Good omega, you’re so tight for me. You’ve probably never had a cock this big and thick.” Slick started pooling as if on cue, and it made Steve smile. “You’re getting ready for my knot.”

Steve could feel it when he really started fucking Eddie. Eddie was so wet it felt like he had gone into heat for Steve. Steve picked up the pace, rumble growling as he slammed in harder with every thrust, rocking his knot. Steve was feeling frantic, his heart racing and knot throbbing.

“I’ve had guys tell me their dicks were as big as yours,” Eddie replied with a hitched moan. He cracked a grin, toes still curled from the second good omega of the night. Eddie had never smiled or laughed this much during sex before. It was fun. The most fun he’d ever had with anyone. “Always a disappointment. But you’re… fuck, fuck! ” A deep thrust had Eddie spasming around Steve and adding shakily, “Really living up to your nickname, big boy.”

That was the last thing Eddie could say for a while. The mood shifted. His hands were pressed to the pillow on either side of his head, and his fingers interlaced with Steve’s as they went harder and faster until Steve was drilling into him.

Again, it was incredibly intimate. The most vulnerable Eddie had ever felt, and it had nothing to do with the pounding his ass was taking. He was more than naked. His soul was bare. Steve was staring into his eyes like Eddie was the center of his universe—like nothing else mattered. He didn’t think it was just his omega hormones that were being dramatic and romantic. Was it?

Steve didn’t advertise that he had a big dick outside of sex. Sure, he’d mention it, like he just had in context. Eddie calling him big boy always made him blush. He hadn’t fully realized until now it was because of his dick. Steve’s face was already hot; he was sure it was crimson now.

Eddie felt so good he was questioning his sexuality altogether. Of course, he’d admired other men, but fucking one—fucking Eddie—he didn’t know it could feel this good.

Steve didn’t have any complaints about his past, but he didn’t want to fuck anyone else after this. It couldn’t be his rut making him want to claim Eddie. Steve knew he loved and cared about Eddie. He thought Eddie was gorgeous and talented. He was fun and funny, and Steve always felt nauseous when Eddie spent the night out when they were on the road.

The following day, he’d always show up disheveled, alabaster skin bruised and looking worse for wear—almost like he had escaped something dangerous. Steve never liked it, and his Alpha would get snappy. He’d end up blaming his bitchiness on his need for his morning coffee.

Claiming the omega could put a stop to Eddie’s reckless behavior. Steve had had about enough of it after the stage dive tonight.

Eddie’s back bowed, and he squeezed Steve’s hands like they were the only things tethering him to the bed. Whimpering moans punched out of him. It felt so fucking good, his cock was slapping against his stomach, and tears did spring to Eddie’s eyes then just from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Knot me, please?” he begged, feeling that molten hot buzz building up inside him too fast to control. He was about to come again. “Sweetheart. Alpha. Steve. I—I’m ready.”

And he was ready, so ready that I fucking love you had almost slipped free. It was true. It was way too soon to say that. He didn’t want to scare Steve away. But he couldn’t stop his next instinct. Chin lifting, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His neck baring itself, begging to be bitten.

Eddie was begging for his knot. Steve could feel with his thrusts that Eddie was almost there. So was Steve. He’d been in pain, his knot and heart aching in sync.

Eddie bared his neck, and Steve dropped their gaze for the first time since they’d started fucking. He licked his lips. He knew he had to and that he was going to do it. Enough was enough, and Eddie was finally going to be his.

“It’s yours. I’m yours. You’re all fucking mine.” Steve squeezed Eddie’s hands because he was going to do it. Eddie was ready for it—ready for his bite and knot.

Eddie shuddered hard, moaning. He couldn’t believe his ears. His lucky, lucky ears. Steve was giving himself to Eddie, verbally claiming Eddie.

Steve leaned down and kissed the prettiest place for his mark to be forever. It was his favorite spot on Eddie’s neck; his hair could hide it, but part of it would always be on display.

Steve bared down, popped his knot and let out the most pleased, possessive, growly moan he didn’t know he had in him as he locked in and came harder than ever before.

Steve’s knot grew in Eddie. It filled him up, so full he could barely contain it, but he did, closing around it greedily. The noise Steve released as he came made Eddie feel like a prize Steve had won. He sounded victorious. He hadn’t even had to hunt. Eddie had submitted completely to him without being chased. He’d always been by Steve’s side waiting, after all.

Steve’s face buried in his neck, accepting Eddie’s offering. The skin broke under his canines, and Eddie cried out as Steve’s teeth sank deeply into him. It was painful, burning, white-hot stinging—but he loved it. He loved it so fucking much. He loved Steve so fucking much.

Steve tasted Eddie’s blood, signaling a successful claim. A rush of it hit his tongue, and he moaned. He sucked the wound gently and lapped his tongue over it for good measure, making it clean. He pulled back and admired it. It looked so fucking good on him. Steve had an omega now.

It felt like his heart was fluttering out of his chest. It was beating so fast from the amazing sex. Eddie did pop his cherry, literally. He was panting and sweating, his body lightly shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm and being tied to Eddie.

Eddie was going to remember this until the day he died. He was going to replay this memory whenever he could, was going to play Steve’s Alpha voice in his mind forever and ever and ever and ever and—

“Yours! Steve, I love you! ” he gasped. He came hard. Even harder than the first time.

Then he promptly passed out.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮❤️️✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Steve hadn’t gotten to touch Eddie’s cock, but clearly, he had come again. Steve was happy he hadn’t broken his promise. He was feeling a little bashful when Eddie told him he was his and that he loved him.

“I love you, too…” he managed to say, but Eddie hadn’t heard him.

Eddie was unconscious. Steve could’ve sworn his heart stopped. “Eddie!” he yelled, and immediately grabbed Eddie’s wrist to check his pulse because had his dick killed him?

Eddie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his eyes opened to Steve’s panicked face above him. "Whoa. Shit, did I just…”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Steve said, still wide-eyed, though part of him felt like dying laughing for thinking his dick was capable of committing murder.

Eddie cupped Steve's cheeks with both hands when he was lucid enough to. He laughed in disbelief, stroking the apples of them with his thumbs. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m okay. …Guess I’m not immune to that Steve Harrington fainting charm after all.”

Eddie tilted his chin up to kiss the Alpha (he couldn’t believe he was allowed to do that now) gently and languidly, tasting the sweet iron tang of his blood on Steve’s tongue.

Steve accepted the kiss because, yes, it would make everything better after the fright he had just experienced. It was kind of funny—or would be later when they told people the story of how they had become mates.

Eddie used the last dregs of his energy to roll them over so he was on top, straddling Steve’s knot—which still felt enormous and wonderful, and Eddie was already so addicted to it he was going to be knot-stupid for days. It would be a while before it went down and they unlocked, and he wanted Steve to be comfortable. He’d been holding himself on top of Eddie for a long time.

Steve gasped a little as the switch tugged his knot deliciously. He was happy to rest on his back and get to cup Eddie’s sweet ass. He petted it gently and smiled up at him. They were a hot mess, sticky and wet.

Eddie reached up to touch the marks on his neck with his fingertips. The marks that said Property of Steve. They were sore and throbbing in the best way. “Fuck,” he muttered.

He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them. He immediately zeroed in on Steve’s neck. Unmarred, pretty skin, waiting for a bite in return. Eddie’s gaze flicked up, and he found himself trapped under Steve’s. His face suddenly flamed as he remembered what he’d said before the world had gone black. I love you.

He felt shame, especially because he was riding such a high right now—his whole body was vibrating with his purr, giving away his feelings that had already been so thoroughly outed.

He wanted to apologize for his behavior, for offering his neck like that when Steve was in rut and not of full sound mind. He’d just wanted it so badly. It had been selfish.

The apology stuck in his throat. Eddie just couldn’t bring himself to say sorry. It wouldn't be genuine. He didn't feel sorry.

“I hope it’s okay… that I did that,” Steve said. “You don’t have to do it back right now. You’ll let me take you out when we get home, right?”

Steve was going to court the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie was fucking floored that one, Steve thought he might not be okay with having been bitten, and two, Steve thought he was worthy enough, respectable enough of an omega that he needed to be formally courted. Eddie never thought he’d be one of those omegas who would get to experience that. As a celebrity, sure, but as himself, as regular Eddie? No way.

He didn’t need any grand gestures—Steve staking his claim was more than enough—but Eddie would admit that it did make his dumb little heart flutter to think about it —just a tad.

“Of course I’ll go out with you, pretty, but you don’t have to go through the trouble of romancing me.” Eddie flashed Steve a smitten smile that showed off his set of canines, much shorter than the Alpha’s but no less sharp. “I’m kind of a sure thing.”

More than kind of. Why play coy now? His heart was in Steve’s hands.

He’d have to bite Steve for their bond to take. Otherwise, his marks would heal and start to fade in a few months. A one-sided claim. The last thing Eddie wanted was for Steve to think Eddie was rejecting him. There was no way, in any world, in any fucking universe where that would happen. It was actually hilarious how unlikely it was.

“I just want to wait a little while. When your rut is over, and you’ve had more time to think about it,” Eddie added in a softer tone.

While part of Eddie—an extremely large fucking portion—wanted to latch onto Steve’s neck like it was a chew toy and never let go, the sober part of him wanted Steve to have some time, with a clear head, to make sure he really did want this.

Steve was slowly coming out of the fog of his rut, but he already knew that being sober from his hormones wasn’t going to change how he felt about Eddie. Eddie could make it official right fucking now, and Steve would probably sing Hallelujah. He was frustrated Eddie had told him he didn’t have to go through any trouble. “I do, and I will go through as much trouble as I think you deserve. Which is a lot.”

Steve wanted to take him on dates, buy him things, and, most importantly, love, protect and respect him. It wasn’t lost on Steve when Eddie told him before they’d started that he didn’t want this to be casual.

“You don’t have to spend your heats alone either. You have an Alpha now, and I’m going to take care of you.” Steve would’ve been dramatic about pulling out the stops if they had put off the fucking part during his rut, but he did think courting was important. Like most things, he’d overcommitted and claimed Eddie as soon as his knot had popped. It was what they’d both wanted deep down. Steve wanted to give Eddie experiences he’d never had, and there would be no more throwing himself into crowds or running off with lousy Alphas.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured. He chewed on his bottom lip, filled with emotions. Emotions even bigger than the knot inside him. He didn’t believe he was deserving of it, of any of it, but Steve’s solid conviction was making him doubt that a teensy bit.

Nobody had ever wanted to take care of Eddie before. Fuck him, yeah, of course. But care for? That would be a significant change from his heat routine. “I’m going to take care of you, too,” Eddie promised.

He would. Even better than how he was taking care of Steve now. He had already been fiercely protective of the Alpha as his best friend, but with their friend barrier broken down (or levelled up), Eddie’s natural instinct would be to protect Steve and please him even more. Whenever Steve wanted or needed him.

Also, Eddie guessed he would be retiring the Turbo Knotter 3000—hopefully forever. Eddie should probably thank it for its years of faithful service. About a month ago, he had been looking at the new Turbo Knotter 4000 in a sex shop and had been planning on buying it soon. He was glad he hadn’t.

“It’s a good thing you never brought any of the Alphas you’ve been with around. I probably would’ve kicked their asses for not treating you like they should.” Steve knew they hadn’t, and it made him bitchy, witnessing his best friend getting mistreated. “Their loss,” he huffed.

Eddie couldn't repress his chuckle. Steve wanting to defend him was cute as hell but unnecessary. Smartly, Eddie didn't say what he was thinking—that they'd treated him fine, that it was normal for a guy like him to be slapped around during sex, never anything out of the ordinary.

In the past, he'd noticed a pattern of Steve’s bad moods swinging on the mornings after Eddie had been with someone. He’d be tense during soundcheck or snippy with everybody while they had breakfast. Eddie still didn't understand why it was a big deal, but he regretted upsetting the Alpha each time.

(He had a feeling Steve wouldn’t be very pleased if he ever found out tonight wasn’t the only time he’d passed out during sex. The other time, it had been after some erotic asphyxiation gone wrong. It had been unplanned, mostly unasked for, and after that night, Eddie had never tried it again. Or at least, he’d requested it not be done to him.)

Eddie had to kiss Steve again. More than just a need. It was vital. Eddie was amused and flattered to note Steve’s hands were still on his ass as he carefully leaned down.

“You’re just unreal, you know that?” Eddie murmured. His hair fell off his shoulders, curtaining each side of Steve’s face. He copied Steve’s move from earlier, giving him a gentle nuzzling, nose to nose, before kissing him thoroughly.

Steve’s hands navigated up from Eddie’s ass to his back as he kissed back with a deep, satisfied rumble. He rubbed it gently. Eddie smelled like him now. There would be no mistaking that he wasn’t Steve’s. It was incredible. It almost didn’t feel real. Could this be the best dream he’d ever had? If so, he didn’t want to wake up.

“Goddamn angel.” Eddie smiled at him. Steve was still wearing his stage makeup, looking particularly angelic, if not innocent, as he blinked up at Eddie in gold. “Do you wanna come home with me tomorrow? To Hawkins?”

Besides the fact that Eddie would probably (definitely) be climbing the walls and biting his nails down to the bone if they were states apart in the next few days, he knew Wayne would love to see Steve. Especially if they were going to be mated in the near future. Wayne already considered Steve to be like his son, so Eddie was sure it’d go over well and his uncle would be happy for them.

Maybe it would be better if Eddie gave Steve the space alone to think, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to curl up in the jet with his Alpha, then take him to their old puphood haunts and kiss him silly all over their small-minded little town. He had also long since bought Wayne a house to replace his trailer so they wouldn’t even have to sleep in Eddie’s old twin bed.

Steve laughed a little and blushed. What he had done to Eddie wasn’t angelic, but hearing Eddie say something so sweet about him made him smile. “Yes. I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” Steve said honestly. He didn’t want Eddie going anywhere without him either. “You’re my omega.”

Fuck, that was music to Eddie’s ears. Steve’s omega. “I am,” Eddie confirmed.

Steve gently tucked Eddie’s hair behind his ears so he could see his face. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

The compliments weren’t going to stop now that they’d fucked. Now, he could just say what he was thinking.

Eddie’s purr ratcheted up even more, though he complained with a quiet, “ Steeeve,” because he didn’t know what to do with himself. How to act. He’d never purred so much in his life. He was going to get a sore throat.

“It’ll be fun to go home. I want to take you on a date to the place we met.” Going back to The Hideout would be romantic, but it was probably still a dive.

Going on a date would be fun. They’d made a lot of memories at The Hideout. Eddie would never forget the first time he saw Steve’s face in the crowd, how preppy and out of place he’d looked surrounded by drunks in ripped jeans and leather, watching the band play—watching Eddie. But he’d fallen into place with them so quickly. The perfect fit.

Eddie smirked. “I fully expect you to get up on the stage and serenade me,” he joked. “Better get busy writing me a love song.”

Steve’s heart fluttered. “I think serenading you is all I’ve ever been doing.” He laughed at the realization. He loved to sing, but seeing Eddie’s reaction to him doing it almost brought the same amount of pleasure. “It’s funny that you think I’ll have to write one and don’t already have one up my sleeve.”

Steve had written about Eddie before, but now he had a hell of a lot more material.

Somehow, Steve had managed to turn his joke into the most romantic thing Eddie had ever heard. He didn't even have a response. Damn Steve and his smoothness.

“Its been so long since I’ve been home,” Steve added. “I think the pups will be happy to see us, though I guess none of them are really pups anymore.” Steve laughed and rubbed his hands over his face. He was always going to feel like the pupsitter.

Eddie’s smirk softened into a smile. Steve’s pups. Not his biological ones, but basically adopted. Eddie had herded them into the fold, but Steve was the one who’d taken care of them like the protective Alpha mother he was.

“I wanna fuck you at skull rock, too.”

“Oh, the famous skull rock.” Eddie turned his head and kissed Steve’s palm, then nipped it playfully. He batted his eyelashes. “Take me to prom, too? I’ll wear your corsage.”

He was sure his prom experience, had he had one, would’ve been much more fun with Steve on his arm.

“Yes, that skull rock. The one that I made famous.” Steve leaned up to nuzzle Eddie and nibbled on him for the palm bites he received. God, he was so insatiable now that he had gotten a taste. “Of course I’ll take you to prom! Good thing I got that pesky virginity thing out of the way. We’ll probably both be crowned prom kings.”

It was a fun fantasy to think about. He’d taken Nancy to prom, and he was crowned Prom King, but Tammy Thompson had been Prom Queen—which reminded him that Robin was going to fucking die when she found out that he’d claimed Eddie.

“I’m okay with being a queen,” Eddie said. He sat up, making them both groan, and motioned to his ass. “Clearly.”

Steve’s knot was fully deflated now, and Eddie’s legs were starting to go tingly from being folded so long. Eddie slowly lifted himself off. He didn’t want to be empty, but he had no doubt it wouldn't be for long.

Steve groaned softly when Eddie dismounted. He felt at home inside of him, but his knot had deflated, so they weren’t tied anymore. They had just been chatting away in the afterglow anyway.

He watched Eddie gracefully saunter over to the bathroom door even though Steve’s come was trickling down his legs. It was a sight for his sore eyes. He couldn’t wait to fill him up again and again.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, turning on his best British accent. “I’m filthy, your highness. Does the king care to join me for a royal bathing?”

Steve grinned at the invitation and leapt up to join him in the bathroom. He gathered Eddie’s hair to the side so they could see Steve’s mark on him in the mirror. Steve rumbled. He was so proud of it and Eddie.

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle protectively as Eddie checked it out. Steve squeezed him tightly and kissed all over his bite. “Mine.” 

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

3.2 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, Bucky's past, people judging Bucky based on said past.

Word Count: 1.2k

Previously On...: Lily and Bucky went out to brunch, and she made her feelings about you known.

A/N: Eh, another part. Why not?

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You dragged yourself into the WarZone’s flagship storefront in Midtown a few hours later than normal for a Saturday, but you’d wanted to get a couple of extra hours of sleep after Bucky had left this morning. You honestly couldn’t believe you had been up all night having mind blowing sex with a man you had just met. 

Your first thought upon waking up that morning was that he had left in the early pre-dawn hours, but those fears were cast aside as soon as you registered the weight of his arm around your midsection, tucking you against him. Then, you were hit with the concern that he was going to think you were just an easy lay and decide he never wanted to see you again, but to your immense surprise, he’d asked you to have dinner with him that same night. You’d have to be a fucking idiot to have said no.

“Uh oh, someone’s tardy,” said your office assistant, Zadie, as you finally made your way into work. “You’re lucky the boss isn’t here to see you show up late, Major.” She grinned at you, and you stuck your tongue out at her. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Zade,” you said, picking up the pile of mail that had been placed on your desk and beginning to sort through it. “Good thing the boss and I are tight; I think she’ll let it slide.”

“Oh, look who decided to finally show up,” came the voice of the location’s manager, Rand, as he came out of one of the rage rooms. He turned to Zadie. “Either you or I had the audacity to come in three hours late, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend and longtime employee. “Yeah, well, come back at me when it’s your name signing the paychecks, okay, Rand?”

“Relax,” he said, “we’re just giving you shit for the fun of it. So what’s the deal? You have a hot date last night or something?”

“I thought you said you were going out to get drinks with Natasha?” Zadie asked.

You slid down into your desk chair, wiggling your mouse to wake up your computer. “I did,” you told her. “Wait,” said Rand, coming over to sit on the edge of your desk. “Like, Natasha Romanoff, our hottest customer? That Natasha?”

“That would be her,” you said, not really paying him much attention as you navigated to your work emails and took a sip of the coffee you’d brought with you to keep yourself awake.

“Oh. My. God,” Rand said, beaming at you. “Major, did you hook up with an Avenger last night?!”

You choked on the sip you’d just taken. “How in the hell did you figure that out, Rand?!” you asked, astonished.

“You had sex with the Black Widow?!” Zadie exclaimed. “Major, that is amazing! How was she? Oh my god, I bet she was fantastic!” Your friend sighed. “She looks like she knows what to do with her tongue.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you tried to get a word in edgewise. “I did not have sex with Natasha,” you clarified when the two finally let you talk. They looked at you expectantly. “I had sex with Bucky Barnes,” you confessed, hiding your face in your hands to hide your grin and your blush.

Zadie and Rand stared at you silently, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. “What?” you asked them, 

after the silence had stretched on a little too long.

“You fucked the Winter Soldier?” Rand asked eventually in a monotone. “Do you have a death wish, or are you fucking insane?”

“Major, did you not follow his trial?” Zadie asked you. “It was all over the news, like, four and a half years ago.”

You swallowed and shook your head. You most certainly had not followed his trial; you’d been a little preoccupied getting divorced and hadn’t been in a frame of mind to be paying much attention to the media.

“He was convicted for, like, a bunch of murders and crimes against humanity and shit,” Zadie said. 

You felt your heart plunge into your stomach. Of course, the first guy you really connected with since your divorce, who had blown your mind with his bedroom skills, was a convicted murderer. Of fucking course.

But then a thought hit you– “If he was convicted for all that,” you said, thinking it over, “how is he not in prison? I mean, he’s a friend of Nat’s; fuck, he’s best buddies with Captain Freaking America; and Steve Rogers doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to just casually chill with serial killers.”

“He got a Presidential pardon,” Rand explained. “There were supposedly extenuating circumstances. But, I mean, it was just sex. It’s not like you’re gonna start dating the man or anything, right?”

You stayed silent, avoiding looking Rand in the eye.

“Right, Major?” he asked you pointedly. “Just say ‘Of course I would not date the convicted felon, Rand. I value the preservation of my life’.”

“You said there were extenuating circumstances,” you responded. “What were they?”

“What, is his dick, like, magic or something?” Zadie asked, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“Among other things,” you answered sheepishly.

Rand threw his hands up in the air. “For fuck’s sake,” he shouted. “It’s like she wants to be a Dateline episode!”

“I just don’t want to pass judgment without knowing all the facts,” you told him. “Or giving him a chance to explain himself.” They both looked at you skeptically. “Guys, he just… He just doesn’t seem like that kind of person! He’s an Avenger, for crying out loud! Tasked with saving the world! Do you really think they’d let him join them if he was a dangerous criminal? Seriously?”

Zadie and Rand exchanged a glance, as if silently communicating that you’d lost your mind.

“You know what?” you asked, exasperated. “It’s my life. If I want to go out with him, I’m gonna go out with him, and you guys just have to accept that.”

“We’re just tryna look out for you, boss,” Zadie said softly. “It worries us.”

You felt your annoyance with them dampen somewhat. “I appreciate that, guys. But I’m a grown ass adult with combat training. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but he’s–” Rand began, but you interrupted him. “I’m done talking about it, Rand,” you said pointedly. “Now, Zadie, I need you to contact the Queens branch and tell them to add the name ‘Peter Parker’ to our VIP list, no charge.”

Zadie nodded and moved to pick up the phone.

“And Rand,” you said, turning back to face him, “if I do decide that I want to start dating Bucky, that’ll mean you might see him around here. You don’t have to go out of your way to be friends with him, or even be around him, but if your paths do cross, I ask that you remain civil, please.”

Rand nodded. “If you can guarantee he won’t murder me,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head dismissively. You were going to have to dig in to Bucky’s history to find out exactly what he’d been convicted for, and what, exactly, these “mitigating circumstances” had been.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[sameschmidtdiffname]

heyyyy can I pls req something where Mike tries to make it up to the reader after he says something wrong in their 1st fight as a couple? like “I don’t want to lose you” as an apology and they get back together or something along those lines? tysm I really enjoy ur work :))

But of course!!!

Wanting, Waiting

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Overworked and underfed, you'll go to sleep once some decent work is complete. However, a late night turns into a day long fight.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, argument, cursing, Reader and Mike both got some shit going on, hints of an eating disorder, overworking, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of: suicide/death, depression, drugging, and kidnapping. Vulnerability is gross.

Notes: 'Slip' walked so this could run full speed into a brick wall. I feel as though I may have redeemed myself.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

This page is mocking me.

The hour is late. I stopped checking the clock around 2:00 A.M., and there's a cup of cold coffee right next to me on this table, several rings on the inside from where the coffee had been left sitting far too long. It's cheap, the flavor sticking to my teeth in a way that settles my lips into a slight grimace as I try to convince my hand to move my pen across the just as cheap notebook paper that has been sitting in front of me since I came home.

Come on. It's words. What the fuck is hard about this?

'It's not hard if you can actually get your head out of your ass and do something,' I think to myself. Not helping.

I have an irritating collection of drafts. Oh yes, I can start them and I can certainly plan out the works before me. But actually writing is somehow impossible, and even though I can feel how thick the block is in my mind, preventing me from communicating my feelings properly, I just can't get break myself out of it.

Come on. Finish one draft. Then everything will click together for the rest.

For the past few weeks it's been just like this. Come home, sit down with projects, and try. But no matter what I do, I just can't focus. It's as though my head simply won't allow it. And this house, quite frankly, isn't helping. It's admittedly unsettling atmosphere, the loud noises born from nothing. It's as though I can feel the weight of the dead that used to sit at the same glass table as I watching me over my shoulder, pressing their non-existent weight against me, making my chest tight with pressure I cannot voice because that's not fair to the ones still here truly haunted by their presence. I'm just a guest who overextends their stay, quite frankly.

Just a page. Just write a page and you can get up for a moment. Ignore how loud the fridge is at something clunks inside of it.

A page. Get a page. Come on, you imbecile, how hard is a fucking pa-

"I thought we talked about this."

It's a testament to my mental state how high I manage to jump in my chair, my tired and over-caffinated heart set off to make me dizzy with over exertion from fear, turning to see who has come to voice their thoughts and damn us both with them.

"Mike," I sigh. I place a hand on my chest, rubbing slightly at the spot where I feel my heart pounding against my sore ribs. "Don't do that."

"Have you slept at all?" Mike asks disapprovingly. His arms are crossed against his chest, heavy bags under his eyes from another night of restless dreams. He can't sleep, I won't sleep. If he'd allow it, we could actually get shit done this time of day.

"A little," I lie. He's just worried. About everything. He always is, which at first was something I loved about him. And usually I still do. It's an admirable trait, to care about someone and love them so much it's only natural to fret over them, to check and make sure they're taken care of properly.

Except it makes me feel guilty.

"Oh yeah? What time?" He asks, narrowing his sleep swollen eyes at me.

Details. Fuck.

"Ah, uh- I don't know, I wasn't looking at the clock," I say sheepishly, trying to flash a disarming smile and make my own bags look like ones of bare minimum rest instead of self neglect. Mike's jaw tightens slightly.

"Oh?" He says in a dull voice that is not raised, yet managed to ring throughout the room nonetheless.

I hum affirmatively, pressing my lips together and fiddling with the cheap pen in my hands, glancing down at it in an attempt at trying not to give myself away.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just like, laid my head on the book and... y'know... drifted off for a couple hours," I try to say casually.

"Ah," he says as though that were enough, leaning now against the doorframe of the hallway, looking at the other wall as though the paint were interesting. "How long after I went to bed, do you think?"

Keep your breathing even. He can smell fear. "Like, a couple," I answer with a shrug.

"Or, like, not at all," he says, turning his head back to stare down at me with a glare.

"I slept," I insist.

"Bullshit. You give me unnecessary detail about your shits post mexican take-out, but you can't tell me what time you fell asleep?" He says accusingly.

"I was asleep! I'm sorry, do you want me to lie and give some time because you need it for some reason?" I ask evenly, shrugging as though to ask what he'd like me to say, blinking at him and adding a tired tinge of a croak to my voice to match his.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, eyes still in narrow slits yet somehow widening slightly, his leg uncrossing from over the other and planting firmly on the floor as he stands straight.

He's not that tall. Kinda short. But he looks much bigger when mad. Kinda like an iguana. I told him that one time and got bit. Jokingly, of course. It's not like he'd just reach over and sna- You know what? Irrelevant.

"I'm just saying," I say, starting to turn back to my notebook as though the conversation were finished.

"No-no, I'd like to hear that again," he says. I can hear his footsteps pad against the flat, tan carpet, my shoulders stiffening slightly as I train my decreasingly neutral eyes on the wrinkled, lined paper in front of me. "I liked the part where you made me sound like some insecure teenager for calling you out on your shit. Very original."

My lips press into a thin line, my grip on my pen tightening slightly.

"It's not that serious, Mikey-"

"Don't bullshit me, and don't use some cheap nickname as a cop out via sympathy," Mike snaps, standing now on the opposite side of the table, pressing his hands now against the glass surface that dirties so easily. Trust me, we've had to clean some prints off of it.

There's a line, and at some point I'm going to cross it. The problem is it's hidden under mental sand that makes me unclear of exactly where it is.

"Michael-"

"That's formal," he says, leaning forward on the table, his tone the same as an interrogating mother just waiting for the moment where no one will blame her for finally tearing you to shreds for what you've said to her outwardly innocent statements. A trap.

"I'm sorry, I thought you didn't like cheap nicknames?" I say, fighting the irritation in my voice, barely managing to remain even as I click my pen to begin writing.

"What's wrong with just Mike?" He asks. He reaches across the table, placing all five of his fingertips on my paper firmly and dragging it back across the table towards him, withholding it from me.

"Would you like me to use just Mike?" I ask.

"I'd like you to make eye contact while you lie through your fucken teeth," he says calmly, not moving as he continues to stare me down.

"Okay, Mike. And what exactly does my sleep schedule mean to you?" I ask slowly, trailing my eyes from his hand, slowly up his arm with pronounced veins and muscles, to the white cotton shirt that was two sizes too large and usually what he wore to sleep in, until I meet his dark and slightly hateful eyes.

"We had a conversation," he starts.

"A conversation," I repeat.

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He asks, cocking his head slightly in that way it does when we both know I'm not going to dare to answer with anything other than he wants.

"You ha-"

"I had a concern," he interrupts me, now looking down at the notebook and studying it as though it were a piece of fine art. "Which involved how absolutely awful your ability is to take care of yourself properly."

"Mike-"

"Shut. Up." Mike says with disturbing calmness. "I'm talking."

Fine.

"It's fucking rude."

Not saying it's not.

"Like your attitude when I try to just help you because clearly, you can't help yourself," he says, now slapping down the notebook to gesture at me as though it were obvious why he was concerned.

I could speak. I'd like to. And he gives me a long enough silence I could. But instead I decide I will simply give him the floor.

"No opinion on this?" He asks shortly.

"No," I say with a dismissive shrug. "You seem to have them for me."

Mike laughs at this statement, and if the sparkle in his eyes didn't seem to have the same dull shine as the glass table between us I'd feel a bit better about it. But I think there's a six foot hole in the backyard I just signed a lease on that makes his disturbingly convincing smile much more worrisome.

"You're funny," he says affectationately. "Get up."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Are you deaf now? Up," he says in irritation, beginning to cross back around the table. "This isn't a negotiation."

Before I can speak his hands dig in under my armpits, roughly pulling me to stand and bringing me close to his chest. I should have energy to fight back, I've only been sitting after all. But a physical confrontation would be too loud, first of all. Abby is asleep in her room, and I don't want to make a scene to wake the poor child. Number two, my bones are sore, my head is aching and I generally just do not feel well enough to protest. Physically.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!"

Verbally, I'm fine.

"You're going to bed, that's final!"

"I have twelve drafts due that I have to get done or else this project-"

"You have four hours of sleep you can get before you have to take your candy ass to work in the fucken morning, or else I'm gonna beat it into you," he hisses directly in my ear, his breath cold and loud so close to me. Jesus, fuck. What did his parents feed him as a child? It shouldn't be this easy for him.

"Oh, I don't do what you want and now you threaten physical violence. Very mature," I mock, reaching out to grip the doorframe of Mike's bedroom, purely to piss him off.

"Save me the dramatics," he snaps in a whisper, wrapping one arm tighter around my waist and using the other to bat my hands away from the frame. I can tell he's genuinely trying not to hurt me, his grip on one wrist firm but careful.

"Just let me write one page," I try.

"That's what you said last night," he says, still trying to pull my hand away. My nails have dug into the frame, making it slightly harder. I can sense his irritation growing. "You got two hours of sleep."

"That's not going to kill me," I argue.

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in a week," he says.

One nail breaks against the frame, making me lose my grip and sending pain down my arm from the awkward angle at which the pressure had snapped it off. I wince slightly, which gives Mike slight pause as he checks my hand, but decides I'm alright before he begins dragging me towards the bed in earnest.

"Why is it so hard for you to just take care of yourself?" Mike asks in frustration.

"I take care of myself!" I say defensively. Mike drops me onto the bed, standing in front of me to prevent any new attempts at escape.

"No, you don't," he says, quiet but firm. "You sit and stare at your notebook and you don't do anything else if you can help it. You sleep for two hours, you go to work, you hardly eat, you don't have energy anymore." Mike's hands are planted firmly on his hips, his nostrils flailing as he tries to take collected, calm breaths. "I care about you. Why can't you?"

"Michael-"

"Stop!" Mike snaps, groaning and turning away from me with a sharp spin on his heel. He buries his hands in his hair in frustration, now pacing between the bed and the door, quietly shutting it so we can argue in peace.

"Why are you so upset?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I don't want to see you live like this. I am concerned and every time I bring it up you dismiss me, you joke, you don't care and I hate that," Mike says, temporarily stopped in his tracks to point at me as he seethes. "I'm watching you waste away and you know what? I'm starting to think part of you likes it."

"Excuse me?" I say, astounded. I cross my arms in front of my chest, cocking my head at him in a way to say 'I dare you to repeat that.'

"You heard me," Mike says, taking a step towards me. "It's like you cannot for one iota of a second conceive of some world where taking care of yourself is a good use of your time. You work, and work until you've burned yourself out so horribly you rot in bed for a month. And unless you're staying here, I hear nothing from you. Not a call, not a fuck you or whatever. It's like you're punishing yourself."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I say.

"See? I can't even point this out without you getting defensive, which just shows you know you're in the wrong!" Mike turns away from me once more, resuming his path of restless walking.

"Why do you even care?" I ask genuinely. This makes him pause again, his glare once more returning to me as he mentally questions my intelligence.

"You know what, I don't know!" Mike snaps, his voice gaining volume. "You are insistent in this fucking- slow method suicide and I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me!"

"I never asked you to care," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I never asked to care!" Mike nearly shouts, leaning in close to my face and sneering at me.

This breaks the tension.

His face falls as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly like my own eyes. This comment shouldn't really sting. I shouldn't let it. But it does. And for a moment, I do. And he sees that clearly.

"... oh," I say softly, my arms relaxing and shoulders sagging ever so slightly as I drop his gaze, trying to shut off my emotions before they're obvious.

"I'm sorry," Mike says quickly, stumbling to his knees in front of me. "I didn't mean that-"

"It's fine," I say, trying to remain as blank as my pages on the kitchen table.

"I just said it to be hurtful," Mike says quickly, his hand reaching up to cup my face. I take it away, turning my head to the side slightly. There's a new chill in the air, one I can feel seizing my chest.

"You weren't," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

"Please, I don't want-"

"I'm going to sleep," I say forcefully, shoving him away and turning to begin undressing from my work clothes that I still wore. Mike is silent behind me, probably thinking, and I'm close to not being able to hold myself together anymore.

"Get out!" I snap, flinging my shirt at him in a rage and beginning to stand from the bed to chase him out. He doesn't need anymore prompt, quickly scurrying out from the room to wherever it is he'll sleep now. Probably on the couch even though there's another room down the hall. A self induced punishment. Knowing him he probably won't even allow himself a blanket or pillow, feeling the cold air fitting for his selfishness.

Good.

-

When I wake that morning, I can smell breakfast in the air. My stomach hurts from skipping meals, but I don't want to eat. First of all, I haven't worked for a meal. There's still plenty to be done with my drafts. And food is a good encouragement to keep working. Second, I didn't ask him to care. And he didn't ask for it either. There probably isn't enough for me, and if there is, he and Abby can debate between the two who will have it. I need to shower.

I take forever washing myself. If that's what you want to call it. It was moreso standing under hot water, letting it run cold until I couldn't stand it anymore and hoping my deodorant is able to do some heavy lifting today. I barely have enough time to get to work, passing silently by Mike and not turning when he calls my name, walking out the door as fast as I can without running.

He follows me outside, something shaking in a bag behind me. When I finally open my car door I'm forced to have my gaze in his direction, his body between the door frame and my car door, presenting me with a bag of lunch.

"Please eat," he begs, placing the bag in my lap unceremoniously and then quickly stepping away and shutting the door himself.

There's a small moment where he and I just share at each other through the glass, time slipping away without notice. He hasn't slept, he'll be late for work if he doesn't get dressed soon, and the bag on top of my thighs is warm. Fresh. A petty part of me wants to roll down my window and throw away the meal, back out of the drive way and let that fester in his mind out of hate. He thinks words can hurt? Actions are so much worse.

But there's something in his eyes. Defeated, resigned. Childlike is almost the word I could use. In front of my car is the 12 year old boy who tried to chase down his brother, the 18 year old who decided to sacrifice his life raising his little sister while saying goodbye to his parents, and the 27 year old man who's just trying to keep everything together.

I don't know what to say to this child. Or to the man.

So, with the turn of my key in the ignition, I don't.

-

It's late when I come home. When the manager had asked me to stay late I almost called Mike to break the silence and tell him this. But there was still a part of me that didn't care whether or not he knew. Really, I didn't have to return home tonight. I could go back to my apartment and just let him rot in bed the way he claims I do. How could he say such a thing, anyways? I rot in bed? What about the days I've walked into the house and he hasn't slept all week, where he's claiming he's trying to kick his medication and he'll get the hang of it soon. Where his sister is eating every meal almost burnt because he can't think straight enough to remember time. Where I've had to coax, beg, demand of him that he just takes a pill because he's laying on the side of the bed, small and curled in on himself, dead eyed and obviously tired but still not sleeping. One time I slipped it into his food. And I felt awful. Do not think for a moment I wanted to do that. There was a betrayel in his eyes when sleep began to overtake him. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he must've. Some tell in the drugs effect that made him aware his rest was not voluntary. But I didn't care. I stroked his hair through the night, and I'll do it again. He could hate me however long he needed to, he just needed sleep first.

The irony still hasn't struck me when I walk through the door of his house, well past dinner, Abby in the bath. The door was left unlocked, which is unusual for this time of night. Mike jumps from the couch the minute I open the door, standing with his hands by his side anxiously pulling at the edge of his oversized sweater.

Everything's oversized with him. The thought occurs to me that his father was slightly bigger.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, his voice small and pathetic like him. But I don't say that with hate.

"I just got home," I say. "Be a bit odd to leave again."

I try a smile, but it's artificial and we both know it's only for his comfort. It doesn't touch him, his eyes glassy and lips slightly parted the same way a child's is when they're trying to breathe as their sinuses spring to life in wake of forming tears.

"I didn't mean it," he says, still standing in the same place. If I was a better person I'd probably run to him. But I'm not.

If I were a better person, I'd say I believe him. But I don't. And suddenly my throat is swollen with hurt, my own bottom lip is sticking out and now we're both trying not to cry because this is so overly taxing. We're adults but emotions are hard. Vulnerability is hard. It is a damnation that we both detest, both avoid. In better states we would joke about this, would laugh and tease the other for not having the emotional capability to voice our thoughts. But we're not. So we don't. And now we're crying openly in the off-putting, attempted to look cozy living room that we can never fully relax in.

"I don't wanna lose you," he says between small hiccups, hands now balled into fists that he buries under opposite armpits, shifting his weight so that he doesn't look so small. His glances bounce between me and the hallway table, never fixing on either of us as he tries to state his mind like an adult. "I've barely had you."

In my heart there has been a constant ache, hurt flowing and pumping through my veins like the blood that ran cold last night at his hurtful words. His apologetic words make the ache somehow worse.

"I don't mean to be a burden to you," I say softly, feeling a small, stray tear break the fluid barrier of my waterline to race down my cheek, allowing a pathway to the fatter drops that threaten to quickly follow.

Mike's face shifts, stepping towards me and holding out his arms.

"No, never," he says just as soft, trying to comfort me. I freeze as he approaches, my body stiffening as I try to swallow the lump and convince myself that I can survive his touch. His touch that I normally crave the moment I'm around him, that I seek in the dark of night even when the bed is overheating, that I'd go insane without.

"I've never asked you to care," I say, voice breaking and tears rolling freely now.

"I know," he says into my neck, which is wetting as he shakes around me, his grasp firm and careless of whether or not it's too much.

"I don't mean to cause problems. I just...." I don't know what I mean, how I wish to finish the statement. If I was clever, I could. If I was clever, I wouldn't even be in this problem to begin with.

"I'm just scared," he chokes out, his breathing horrible as he struggles to keep his crying from being obvious. "You look sick all the time and I don't want that."

He's told me the story. His mother wasting away, thinning and slipping, starving and dying. How he'd returned home to a baby wailing in her crib as their mothers body lay in a pool of blood he never really got out of the carpet. He lied to me initially when I saw it the first time, said it was wine. It wasn't until we had a few glasses ourselves that his eyes glazed over and he told me. It was disturbing how neutral he kept himself to the subject. A habit he'd developed much too long ago to break.

"Mike-"

"I try, and I try and if something doesn't give soon I'm gonna fucking lose it," he sobs into my skin, arms tightening around me.

"If what doesn't give?" I ask softly, trying to pull him away to look into his eyes. But he doesn't budge, sobbing a little bit harder and gripping a little bit tighter. He doesn't respond, simply shaking as he breathes heavily against me through his mouth.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to wrap my arms around him, failing and giving up as I realize his grip is too tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mouth closes a little, quieting his breathing slightly as he sniffles.

"I'm an idiot, but I'm not suicidal," I say softly, trying again for a joke. He doesn't laugh, but he does pull away slightly to look at my face, lips swollen and quivering as he blinks at me.

"You scare me," he says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. He's watching my lips, but I think that's because that's the closest he can get to making eye contact.

"I scare you?" I ask, furrowing my brows. I lick my dry, cracked lips for comfort. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he says shakily, sighing as though it were exhausting to admit while still holding that nervous flicker in his eyes. "Because when I think about not being with you the house seems colder. And I can't go back to hating this house."

I open my mouth to respond, but there's more.

"Because I love your stupid smile when you're excited, or how you do that cricket leg thing when you're falling asleep. Or how if you want my attention you'll bury your head in my chest and pretend you're doing it in your sleep even though I won't judge you for doing it while you're awake."

"I don't-"

"I love how defensive you get over things like that," he says, bringing one hand to cup my cheek, resting his thumb that smells like the creamy lavender handsoap next to the bathroom sink on my lips. "I love how you look waking up next to me, how you play with Abby. And for a really long time I didn't see myself ever having kids, but when I see you curling her hair at the kitchen table I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just took up another job and saved money so that we could-"

"Mike-"

"Stop cutting me off," he says gently, his eyes finally meeting mine with just the smallest smile. "It's rude."

At that I do stop, my body finally relaxing into his grasp as I lean into him and his touch.

"I want things I haven't wanted since before Garret went missing," he says, stroking my lip. "And I want them with you."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch, even if it was late. And the bed is soft like our voices as we make plans for years down the line. And after a week long break, the pages are finally filled once again.

Just like us.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Literally had a come to Jesus moment while writing this that not only do I fear being vulnerable irl, but in writing too. Nearly threw up while writing this. Book aable feet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[asdfghjklmals]

Hii :)

I absolutely lovee your writings I've read each of them like 98688 times :)))

You asked for ideas so I thought maybe a fic that reader and satoru and the whole gang are still in school but they're not dating yet and reader and shoko are really close friends and satoru gets kinda jealous cause shoko hugs reader all the time and idk kiss her on chick or smth and satoru wishes he had the courage to do that????

Idk if you fell like it and were comfortable:))))

Thankss <3

THE COURAGE TO TRY✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 1.6k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. lovesick!gojo, a lil' jealous!gojo. bestie!suguru does what he does best and instigates for these two. one sided pining, but iykyk.

SYNOPSIS: satoru wishes he could be more than just friends with oc gojo girlfriend. AUTHOR'S NOTE: the first request to my milestone event (click here for more info). 💚 pre-dating oc gojo girlfriend and satoru, which i have a soft spot for hehehe. this is right after 'sleeping with the enemy', so click here to read it before you read this fic! REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“are you going to blink any time soon?” suguru asked his bestfriend, waving in front of his face, "—earth to satoru?"

“huh.” satoru grumbled in annoyance. “what are you talking about?”

in case you overheard, suguru whispered in satoru’s ear to save him from his own embarrassment, “i’m talking about how you haven’t taken your eyes off of (y/n) all day. you’re starting to look like a creep.”

satoru pushed him away as his face turned bright red, “oh, shut up, suguru!”

the two sorcerers watched from the other end of the classroom as you and shoko were practicing your reversed cursed techniques together. he saw shoko jumping up and down with joy, hugging you tightly, probably excited that you were starting to hone in on your skills. a twinge of jealously jabbed at the white haired sorcerer.

suguru started to pry, “are you and (y/n) going to have another sleepover tonight?”

“suguru, get to the point. what the hell do you want?” satoru snapped in annoyance.

“oh come on, you know for a fact that everyone including our muscle-brained sensei, knows that you have been sneaking into (y/n)’s dorm room at night—not to mention past curfew.” suguru sighed at how oblivious satoru thought he was. suguru was smarter than that. "everyone just wants to know if you two are dating yet!"

satoru’s flush of red in his cheeks did not fade away, instead he just got redder and redder the more his bestfriend talked about the two of you possibly becoming a couple.

suguru curiously asked, “how long as this been going on for?”

satoru gritted his teeth and sighed, “ever since we got back from our mission together.”

“are you guys—”

satoru quickly interrupted his bestfriend before he said anything else to embarrass him further, “i only go to her room to sleep—for some reason, i sleep better when i’m with her. i think it’s her custom futon.”

it wasn’t your custom futon at all. it was the comfort of your presence.

suguru knew that satoru had a difficult time sleeping ever since he started attending jujutsu high. satoru was the type of person to doze off for a couple hours here and there, but never got any actual decent rem cycle sleep. satoru was the total opposite of you. you needed well over 8 hours of sleep to function as a normal (and kind) human being. the first thing that sashisu learned about you was not to wake you up in the mornings. the two guys left shoko with that job when needed.

“sure, whatever you say, satoru.” suguru smiled, his eyes disappearing behind his sly grin, “so, you and (y/n) are…?”

satoru scoffed at his bestfriend’s bold assumption, “—we are just friends.”

there was no way in hell he was going to admit that he liked you without knowing if you liked him back.

suguru folded his arms, annoyed that he wasn’t going to get an answer out of his bestfriend, “uh huh, right—friends do not cuddle each other to sleep.”

satoru started to list actions that friends can totally do together, “well, shoko and (y/n) always have sleepovers, they hug and loop their arms together when they walk—and they’re just friends.”

suguru stated very clearly, “shoko doesn’t give (y/n) an arm pillow every night. and she doesn’t cuddle her just to be able to get some sleep either.”

“well, shoko hugs (y/n) and holds her hand. i don’t get to do that.” satoru barked back.

“you know, satoru… it’s starting to sound like you’re jealous of shoko.” suguru laughed, realizing that satoru definitely wanted to be more than just friends with you.

satoru shot a death glare at suguru, “—am not!”

later that night

“what did you and shoko do during class today?” satoru asked as he watched you brush your hair in your bathroom.

you hummed, “hmmm, shoko gave me some pointers on how to control my cursed energy so i could focus it into reversed cursed energy.”

“oh…” satoru mumbled, “i could’ve helped you with that.” he would never admit that he was jealous of his other bestfriend, shoko ieiri. he wondered what favors he'd have to do for yaga-sensei in order to get paired up with you for a mission again.

you giggled, “satoru, you can’t even heal yourself yet. how could you have helped me?”

“i would’ve found a way.” satoru said, dissatisfaction in his tone. he would have to get stronger and figure out this reversed cursed technique bullshit if he wanted you to stay by his side. he folded his arms across his chest as he sat in your bed, waiting for you to turn off the lights so he could sleep.

you took one last look in your bathroom mirror before turning off your bathroom light. you hopped onto your bed and crawled towards satoru. as you sat down next to him, you noticed that his face was turning pink, ears heating up to a crimson red—he was avoiding all eye contact with you.

“arm pillow, please.” you called out to him with a smile, ignoring his blushing face. you wondered what had gotten into him today.

he laid back and rested his head on your pillow, laying out his right arm for you. you nuzzled in between his chest and bicep. you turned to face him, his arm curling down your back.

“are you sure your arm doesn’t hurt at night?” you asked, patting his chest softly. he always teased you about waking up with a dead arm in the mornings.

“i’m sure.” satoru said softly, “i’m used to it.”

you lifted your head from his arm and glared at him, “used to it? do you give other girls arm pillows too or something?”

satoru rolled his eyes at you, removing his hand from your back to ruffle your neatly brushed hair.

“no, (y/n). you’re the only one.” he reluctantly admitted, “your big head is the only one to lay on my arm.”

you rolled your eyes before you gave him a self-satisfied smirk, attaching your head to his right arm again. that satoru gojo and his interesting way of flirting he always used to try to charm you. you wrapped your arm around his torso, holding him close to you.

the past week that satoru had spent sleeping next to you, he picked up on your interesting sleeping habits: you were usually the first to fall asleep between the two of you. you were a light sleeper. you preferred to sleep on your side (or on your stomach when you’re not curled up next to him). you grind your teeth in your sleep when you’re stressed (he found that out during your mission together). you snore when you’re exhausted (but you argue that you don’t). and lastly, whenever he would move away from you, you would always pull him back towards you.

within 5 minutes of shutting your eyes, you were out cold. satoru could tell by the way your breathing steadied and the way your cursed energy looked to his six eyes. a calm blue hue is what cursed energy looked like at a peaceful resting state.

tonight, satoru’s heart would not stop racing no matter how hard he tried to regulate his breathing. he thought he got used to sleeping next to you every night for the past week, but he was wrong. his thoughts about his feelings towards you was tormenting him inside.

satoru wished that he had the courage to try to be more upfront with you about his feelings. he wished that he could confidently hold your hand so that everyone knew you were his. he wished that he could hug you just because he wanted to. he wished that he could kiss you in hopes that you would kiss him back. this fear of not knowing how you felt about him crippled him.

how could the strongest sorcerer feel so weak in your presence?

he tilted his head towards yours. the scent of your orange hibiscus shampoo lingered in your hair, your head resting just below his chin. he slumped further down on your bed, trying his best not to move your ‘arm pillow’. like clockwork, he felt you unconsciously pull him back towards your body. satoru hoped that he wouldn't wake you up by all the moving around he was doing.

he sighed before he turned to face you. your lashes fluttering against the top of your cheek as he watched you inhale and exhale in your slumber.

how could one person look so beautiful while sleeping? this was so damn unfair.

satoru’s heart skipped a beat. was he really going to attempt to kiss you? hell, he was going to take a risk. he took a deep breath before leaning in to press a feather-light kiss on your forehead and then on the top of your head. the foreign feeling made you furrow your eyebrows in your sleep. he hoped that his pathetic attempt at a kiss wouldn’t wake you up. he wouldn’t know how to explain this to you if you woke up right this instance. he stroked your cheek with his palm before you immediately fell back into your sweet dream for the night.

and it was in that moment that satoru gojo hoped that one day, you could be his and all he dreamed of too.

EXTRA:

“was my hair all over the place or something last night?” you asked satoru as you watched him change out of his pajamas to throw on his school uniform.

satoru thought back to last night when he kissed your forehead and immediately blushed. he feigned ignorance, “not that i remember. why...?”

you connected your thumb and index finger to your chin. “hmmm, i swear i felt something tickling my forehead.”

satoru couldn’t hide his mischievous grin, “tickling your forehead, huh? i wonder what it could’ve been.”

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[thedevilspearl]

where they like to cum — all brothers

a/n: here are my thoughts on where i think the brothers like to cum (outside of the pussy bc cumming inside is overrated — kidding, but cumming on the body, not in, is way hotter!)

tags: all brothers x female reader, satan has a little bit of dacryphillia and levi n belphie have hints of somnophillia. minors do not interact!

CUM–STAINED LIPS

➛ 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 knows you want it in your mouth, you want it down your throat. and that’s precisely why he holds back on sullying the inside of your mouth with his cum. it’s definitely provocative, the thought of his cum running down your throat into your stomach. but not giving you what you so desperately want is a massive turn on so he orders you not to swallow. even if a drop of his cum slips past your lip, you spit it back out, letting it run down your lips. he’ll hold his sensitive tip against your sweet, soft lips while stroking his cock. he uses his tip to paint them with his pre–cum, and he’ll release his load with a guttural groan, panting at the sight of your lips covered in his cum. who needs lip gloss when his hot, sticky, glossy cum makes your lips look prettier than any cosmetics ever could? smile for him, pout for him, lick your lips for him and he will be ready for another round of drowning your lips in his cum.

CUM–STAINED TUMMY

➛ 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 loves your tummy, so your tummy covered in his cum is not a want, it’s a necessity. most people think he has weak pullout game but i personally think his pullout game is strong. the reason being that he loves seeing his cum on you rather than in you. when he pulls out and finishes by jacking off, his cum naturally lands on your tummy and that’s why he loves it. it’s so simple and natural, yet, it excites him so much that his cock refuses to calm down and before you know it, he’s thrusting into your pussy again and when he’s about to cum, he’ll pull out and spill an even heavier load of cum on your tummy. it’s a vicious cycle that he gets lost in. even if you beg him to cum inside, he will still cum on your tummy until he’s fucked you long enough and your pussy becomes impossibly sensitive and tight; it becomes unthinkable for him to leave it and he will empty his final load inside, feeling the stickiness of all the cum he left on your tummy rub against his own as he holds you close and fucks you both through the last orgasm of the night.

CUM–STAINED THIGHS

➛ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 thinks there’s something special about your thighs. before you ever had sex, he was fucking your thighs on a regular basis, and he still does now. after smearing his pre–cum and your arousal on your inner thighs, he holds them together and slips his cock in the warm, tight space between them. thrusting his cock between your thighs is heaven on earth; it has him cumming immediately. his white, sticky cum drips down the plush flesh. it’s so fucking hot that when he’s done rutting into your thighs, he’ll jerk himself off and squirt a whole other load on your already cum–soaked skin. and what makes thigh–fucking even more fun is doing it while you sleep. he often wakes up with raging boners so he spoons you and pulls down both of your pants to fuck your pretty thighs. sometimes he’s rough enough to disturb your peaceful slumber but other times he’s slow, careful not to wake you — but you’ll have a sticky surprise between your thighs when you do.

CUM–STAINED FACE

➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍 has an animalistic desire to ruin your face and mark you at the same time. but he’s a gentleman about it. soft whispers of “don’t cry, angel, you love this” and “you look so pretty with my cum all over you” have you tearing up. if it’s not the embarrassment of been turned on by something so lewd and dirty, it’s his gentle praises and affection that invoke the tears. and that’s his sign to start stroking his cock again and aim at the few patches of your face left untouched by his cum. and when he’s done, he’ll caress your pretty face, smearing his cum across your cheeks with his thumb, and slipping it past the corners if your lips so you can taste him on your tongue. and when you suck his thumb so eagerly, looking up at him with cum–sodden eyelashes, he could just kiss you all over. but you’ve been so good for him; he’ll lay you down and wipe away every last drop until you feel clean and fresh, and then he’ll drown your face in kisses.

CUM–STAINED TITS

➛ 𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 thinks you’re the prettiest girl to ever exist. there is no doubt about it. your beauty is far too perfect to be bested by anything else. but there is one thing worthy of competition and that is your pretty tits covered in his pretty cum. he loves titjobs, he loves fucking your plump cleavage, he loves dressing you up in sometimes cute, sometimes erotic lingerie and spoiling your lace covered tits with his cum. he loves rubbing the tip of his cock on your pebbled nipples and he loves, loves, loves when you beg him for more, to drench your tits with his cum. he straddles your tummy and watches you play with your tits, pulling and squeezing the mounds, twisting and teasing your nipples, slapping them until they’re burning red. all the while, asmodeus slowly strokes his cock and praises you, or degrades you. and he won’t stop after cumming once. he’ll keep ordering you to play with your tits how he pleases and he’ll shoot load after load on them.

CUM–STAINED PUSSY

➛ 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁 is a demon who can appreciate the sight of his cum dripping out of the hole he just destroyed. but there are plenty of times when he loves seeing his cum run all over your pussy, not just inside. he’ll destroy your hole all the same but he’ll pull out in time to rub his tip on your clit and stroke himself until his cum leaks onto your pussy. using the sensitive tip of his cock, he’ll smear the cum up and down between your folds before fucking your pussy again, only to pull out and cum outside a second time. round after round, he creates an artistic masterpiece with your pussy being the canvas for his white ropes of cum. layers upon layers build up and he spreads it with his fingers, massaging his cum into your pussy. you best believe he won’t stop until your poor pussy is absolutely drowning in his cum. and then finally, to finish his piece of work, he’ll give you what you want and shove his last load of cum inside until both the inside and outside of your pussy is completely drenched in his cum.

CUM–STAINED ASS

➛ 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 is the brother who most likes to cum inside the comfort of your pussy. but it’s not always possible so the next best place is to cum all over your ass. turns out, it replaces his old favourite. when you’re in a deep sleep, he doesn’t want to make a song and dance in the middle of the night so he pulls down the covers to reveal your pretty ass in those cute little panties. he finds himself panting harder and struggling to keep his moans inside as he strokes his cock against your ass cheek. he grinds his hips, rubbing his cock against your bare ass and his whole body shudders against you when he cums. his moans are silent but breathy as he cums all over your ass, finely decorating your cheeks with cum. and it is certainly a sight to see. and that’s why he loves hitting it from behind; your body is unbelievably pretty from this view, especially when he’s spent his entire load on painting your ass cheeks with his hot cum.

[strvberrydoll]

CRIMSON TRAILS

Summary: In 1899, with the age of outlaws drawing near the end, and the law ready to tear down the last remaining gangs, a mysterious runaway girl, alone and struggling to survive in the ever changing industrialized world, is rescued by the notorious Van Der Linde gang.

Under their protection she must navigate the dangerous life of the outlaw in the dying west, figuring out where her place and her loyalties lie. As the gang begins to crumble under the weight of their crimes, struggling to find their sense of freedom in this new civilized era, she finds herself, by some twist of fate, relying on a certain outlaw to survive as the two are faced with two choices: continue down to a path of revenge and destruction or break the cycle and fight for their redemption.

OR

A story in which John teaches you how to shoot and you aim straight for his heart.

cw: slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tension, canon-typical violence, mentions of past abuse, no use of y/n, suggestive themes, smut, medium honor john marston, canon compliant, pre-canon, canon, fix-it, slight reader x charles (‘cause i love him so) more tags to be added

a/n: here we goo, a story about our beloved Rip Van Winkle !! this is a project I had in mind for quite some months but always shied away from it. This story will be quite long so brace yourselves it’s gonna be a long ride. The first chapter will be out in a week or so. I’ll try not to let too much time pass between each update but keep in mind i’m a uni student so it might take some time for certain heavy chapters. Let me know what you think !! and if I should make a taglist. This story will also be published on my ao3

Chapter 1: Running Gun | AO3 link

During a supply run in a nearby town you find yourself ambushed by a group of ruthless bounty hunters. Wounded and desperate you flee, finding refuge in an abandoned cabin, only to find yourself face to face with two outlaws. As your injury worsens you're left with a life or death decision: can you trust these wary men to help you, or will they be your downfall?

[monzamash]

strawberries and cream — daniel ricciardo

summary – a pre-wimbledon rendezvous never hurt nobody. pairing – daniel ricciardo x you (female reader) rating – 18+ (smut, course language, light dom) word count – 1.6k a/n – this has been in my drafts for tooo long and actually came from two prompts sent in a few weeks ago by @percervall and anon, which were thigh riding 🔥 and “I really don’t care, you look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now” so rip to us all. masterlist

“Right this way, Mr Ricciardo.”

Wimbledon was the perfect amount of pomp and you expected nothing less from your British counterparts. There were celebrities everywhere you looked, right and left – all mingling and gossiping in the section exclusively reserved for the who’s who of London’s elite. It was your first time attending Wimbledon and the first public outing with Daniel outside of the formula one bubble.

You were nervous and understandably so, but the reassuring hand resting on your back, reaching for you every time he lost contact eased your nerves. He was the one who convinced you to tag along after all, insisting that you’d love it because you loved him. Cheesy, but it worked. And selfishly, he didn’t want to go alone.

“Thanks mate.” Daniel thanked the usher before scooting down the row, his bright smile greeting everyone you snuck past and apologising profusely until you made it to your seats.

Daniel pointed down at one of the two empty seats, offering for you to sit down first, “Oh absolutely not – after you, Mr Ricciardo,” You teased before taking the seat graciously, cheekily grinning up at your man.

Ha-ha, he sarcastically bit back and slid in next to you, hand instantly reaching for your thigh, “Sounds a lot better when you say it,” he whispered into your ear, capturing your undivided attention.

“Play your cards right and you might hear it again,” You taunted back in a hushed voice, giving him a taste of his own medicine and earning a soft whine in return.

You and Daniel had arrived late to the event, and for good reason. Barely a second had ticked by before Daniel had his hands on your waist, tugging you out of your shared bathroom and into his chokehold, “This dress is something else.”

His compliments never just washed over and your blushing cheeks always gave you away. There was something about the way he said them that was different to all of your exes, a sincerity that almost always took you by surprise even though he always made sure you knew how incredible you were. He was earnest and it was one of the reasons why you’d fallen in love with him. That list was endless.

“You look so good too, baby.” You teased, letting him pull you into his lap without much of a fight. The second you got a whiff of his cologne, you were under his spell, tingling between your thighs. There was something about it, something about him that made you weak, even when you knew you had to resist the temptation.

“But we don’t have time for this – you need to put on some pants because we’re already running late…”

You tried to reason but Daniel simply hummed into your neck and ghosted his lips over your skin, “I really don’t care, babe because you look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now so…” He groaned, skimming his hands up under the hem of your dress and readjusting you on his thigh, “Get rid of these and ride me.”

“You’re not even hard, Dan,” You practically giggled as he tugged at your underwear. You could feel his soft cock under the thin cotton boxer briefs that were brushing against your leg, wondering what the hell he was on about.

“I’m not talkin’ about my dick, sweetheart. I want you to get yourself off on my thigh.”

Your voice got caught in your throat as you tried to protest, not really knowing how to respond but you knew you couldn’t do what he was asking, could you? You wanted to, of course, but time was ticking and the tennis waits for no-one, especially not two horny so and so’s who couldn’t keep it in their pants.

A raspy chuckle and a barely there stroke of your sensitive clit brought you out of the tormented thoughts you were having, which only exacerbated your desires.

“Hold ‘em just like that for me – that’s it,” Daniel encouraged as you reached down and held your panties to the side, letting your already slick pussy brush against his tanned, tattooed thigh.

Daniel brought his fingers up to his mouth, covered them in his spit and quickly resumed his pressure on your clit that was screaming for his attention. He’d riled you up, looked at you like you were his prey in the wilderness, ready to pounce and make you feel like you were on fire. And he’d barely even touched you yet, which made the sensation of his wet, yet rough fingertips feel even better. You couldn’t help but dive into the crook of his neck, a soft whiny moan slipping from your lips as he slowly stoked you into a state of pure bliss.

“Just rock back like that – remember that time in Portugal when we snuck off to the bathroom and did this? You liked that, right?”

Daniel needed to know that you were as excited about this as he was. He was being selfish in a way because watching you experience unsurmountable amounts of pleasure gave him a lot more satisfaction than his own high ever could and you deserved it after agreeing to spend your day off going to this match with him. It was going to be insufferable in the heat so he owed you this.

“I loved it.”

You didn’t even bother to look up from his neck when you moaned a reply to his question, now sliding against his unbelievably thick fingers that were warming you up for the main event, “I could come like this.”

“Don’t,” Daniel firmly shot back before removing his hand and gripping your rutting hips, “Find where it feels the best, baby. Make a mess, I don’t care – do what you need to do to feel good, yeah?” His voice was melodic, calming, erotic and you did as you were told.

The angle wasn’t perfect to begin with as you lowered yourself and completely surrendered to the mercy of his tensed thigh. It felt great even while you tested the waters, but as you began to rock back and forth, you could feel the muscles in his leg contracting and you needed to chase them to chase your high. It was almost like a game the way the landscape of your playground kept changing, a ridge under hi taut skin suddenly appearing out of nowhere, hitting your clit perfectly and lunging you forward into Daniel’s shoulder, moaning uncontrollably.

“You have no idea how good this feels,” You groaned into his ear, kissing him profusely, trying to distract yourself from how embarrassingly close you were after only a couple of minutes riding on his thigh.

“Sounds like it,” Daniel replied, eyes focused on where your wetness was dripping down his leg, tattoos glistening under the dim bedroom lighting. If he wasn’t hard before, he was now but he hadn't even noticed. Fucking you senseless wasn’t always a means to his end and he was more than happy having you unravelling above him, sharp teeth biting the skin on his clavicle as you bucked through your high, “You gonna come for me? Show me how good it feels.”

Mmm-hmm, you hummed, high-pitched and barely audible to the human ear. You threw your head back, panting, arched spine as the knots twisting in your stomach came undone. Daniel’s name and a couple of expletives tumbled from your throat, one after the other, repeating until you felt his hand slapping down on your bare arse, the sound and sensation alone nearly triggering your orgasm again until you caught your breath and composed yourself.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Daniel whispered and tucked the hair that had fallen from your hair tie out of the way of your angelic face.

“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now.”

“Bad?” You grimaced, feeling droplets of sweat sliding down your spine underneath your thin white dress, knowing you probably looked like a hot mess. But Daniel shook his head and chuckled, shocked by your question.

“What? No! You look unreal like this, all fucked out and blushing – you drive me fucking crazy… And look at you all over me,” He groaned, languidly swiping his fingertips over his gleaming thigh and licking them, savouring your elixir. The colours were more vibrant, clearer now without the lustful haze hindering your vision.

“So. Bloody. Sexy,” He punctuated each word with a firm peck to your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth on the last one and taking your breath away again.

“You are.” You mumbled into his feverish mouth before pressing your shaky hands to his shoulders and breaking the heated kiss, “But we really have to go, honey. I think the uber’s called me three times.”

“You know what? Nick is such a fucking brat anyways, why are we supporting him again?” Daniel asked as he dragged himself up from the bed in search for the pants he’d ironed only an hour ago.

“That’s a great question…” You quietly hummed, not really knowing the answer yourself, “Kinship, maybe? Pity? I have no idea but you said you’d be there so we have to be there.”

And here you were, silently sitting and watching his fellow Aussie chucking a tantrum at the end of every game, hands clasped together in Daniel’ lap. You glanced up to your left and rested your chin on his padded shoulder, looking like a dream in his suit and tie, sunglasses shielding his kind eyes.

“Thank you for earlier, by the way. Don’t think I voiced my appreciation properly,” You whispered causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end as a smirk tugged on the corners of his mouth. Daniel tilted his head to the side and leaned in close to the cusp of your ear, cheek-to-cheek and whispered –

“My pleasure… but you can thank me properly later, sweetheart.”

thoughts? feelings? i wanna know all of them! or click here for more of my writing if you liked this one x

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes. 

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly. 

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have.  She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.  

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully. 

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them. 

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer. 

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site. 

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe. 

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story. 

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street. 

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you. 

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places. 

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters. 

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening. 

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks. 

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him. 

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you. 

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face. 

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.” 

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning. 

“What do you think you’re doin’?” 

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch. 

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans.  “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all. 

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue. 

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him. 

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins. 

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy. 

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries. 

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate. 

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake. 

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a  t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me. 

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him. 

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside. 

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands. 

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age. 

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open. 

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do? 

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza. 

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce. 

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address. 

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color. 

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him. 

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?” 

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar. 

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you. 

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs. 

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway. 

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover. 

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head. 

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!

[atimeofyourlife]

A coffee delivery

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: coffee shop/ tattoo au | rated: t | wc: 906 | tags: coffee shop au, tattoo au, tattoo artist eddie munson, barista steve harrington, pre steddie

Steve had something of a love/hate relationship with the morning shift at the coffee shop. On one hand, it meant he didn't have to take part in the evening cleaning, and he had most of the afternoon free. But on the other hand, it meant he had to be up early and had to deal with opening and set up.  Rude customers occurred at any time of the day. In the morning it was the customers angry that they weren't willing to open thirty minutes before their scheduled time. In the evening, they were angry that they didn't stay open over an hour past their scheduled closing time. There were two main things that made up for the rude customers. Being an independent coffee shop over a chain meant they didn't have a corporate office to answer to, so the boss allowed them to talk back and deny service to any customer that was too rude. And the nice customers generally outweighed the bad ones, the ones who would tip generously, who were always polite and kind, who would stick up for them against the bad ones.

But Steve's favorite part of the job was the guy who worked in the tattoo store a few buildings down on the other side of the street. A guy named Eddie, who would come in five days a week without fail. Always ordering a large caramel latte with two extra shots. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the tattoo shop was due to open. His name was Eddie, and he always made the time to flirt with Steve when he picked up his coffee.

One morning, Steve was just waiting for Eddie to come in for his coffee. It had passed the normal time he would come in, and Steve felt a little worried. Eddie had, as usual, said the day before that he would be back the next day. Steve was staring out the window, on a lookout for Eddie. Unable to keep himself from getting anxious as the time ticked by. But then, about thirty minutes after Eddie would have usually walked in, Steve saw him run down the street, obviously late to open the tattoo store. He let out a sigh of relief, but couldn't help feeling disappointed that he wouldn't get to see Eddie.

"Look, if you're that upset that you don't get to see and flirt with him today, just make the coffee and take it over to him." Robin said from beside Steve. "We're not busy, and the lunchtime rush won't start for at least thirty minutes. Just don't leave me alone too long."

"Robin, you're the best." He hugged her quickly, before turning to start making the drink.

"Just write your number on it, or at least try to get a date. It's getting painful watching you both flirt everyday."

Steve ignored her, writing Eddie's name on the to go cup, and finishing the drink. He was about to walk out from behind the counter, but stopped and one of the cookies that Eddie sometimes ordered. He was nervous as he left the store and crossed the street. Unsure if this was crossing a line, or if Eddie would think Steve was stalking him.

Steve pushed open the door to the tattoo shop, and could see Eddie cleaning furiously.

"Hi, sorry. I'm running a touch late, so if-" Eddie started, trailing off as he turned around and saw Steve.

"Er, hi. You didn't come in this morning, and I saw you run past and it was obvious you were late. So I thought I would bring you coffee and a cookie?" Steve replied, holding them out to Eddie.

"Oh. Thanks, Stevie. You are a life saver. My van crapped out this morning so I had to take the bus, but it was running late, and part of the road was closed. And I had an appointment booked for opening, and I was already late. But the client hasn't shown up yet." Eddie rambled, taking the coffee and the cookie from Steve, instantly taking a drink of the coffee.

"Sounds like a real rough morning. I hope I managed to help make it a little better for you."

"You made it so much better. You are an angel among men right now."

Steve found himself getting lost in Eddie's eyes, and jumped as he heard the bell over the door signaling someone coming in.

"I've got an appointment this morning? I know I'm a bit late for it, I did try to call-" The customer said.

"Of course. I just need a few more minutes to finish setting up." Eddie replied. He placed the coffee down on a desk and grabbed a business card, scribbling something down on it, before handing it to Steve. "I'm really going to have to get on, but I'll see you around, Steve."

"Uh, yeah. I'm going to have to get back before Robin tries to kill me for taking too long." Steve waved, before leaving and heading back to the coffee shop.

"What's that?" Robin asked as soon as Steve rejoined her, her eyes focused on the card in Steve's hand.

"Eddie gave it to me." Steve replied, turning it over and looking at what Eddie had written on it for the first time. It was a phone number tagged with the words 'call me' and a smiley face. Yeah, the trip across the street had been successful.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt. 54)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You don’t want your first time taking namjoon’s cock to be during his rut, luckily- the pack is there to make the transition easier. 

Tags: Dom! namjoon, Dom! jin, Sub! m/c, switch! Jungkook, threesome, groupsex, Monster cock Namjoon, squirting, Knotting, size kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, humiliation kink, obedience-kink, daddy kink, mommy kink, voyeurism, fingering, sex-toys, double penetration mention, cock cages, manhandling, mentions of orgasam torture, orgasam denial, cuming pre-maturely but in a sexy way, safeword mention but no usage, a tad bit of dehumanization if you squint, pre-rut no rut yet next chapter, possessiveness, feral! Namjoon, mentions of the m/c’s past ed, body worship, Namjoon really loves her chub and gets horny about it,

W/c: 17.9k

A/N:  Ah, here is is, i know it’s been a long time, this chapter and the following one have been taking alot out of me! it would help me so much if you left some love in my inbox about this chapter <3 A caveate on the topic of unrealistic penetration- this is a fantasy, more specifically /my fantasy/ so i’m gonna do with it what i want. would namjoon technically be litterally fucking her womb if omega anatomy was the same as human anatomy? yes. do i think cervixes are different in the omegaverse? also Yes.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Namjoon sleeps for the next 10 hours.

He’s been awake for almost twice that long by the time his body finally relaxes against the nest. Sour clothes changed and his pack watching nervously trying to guess at how far along he is into pre-rut.

The blankets in the nest are fluffy but not at all right and it makes namjoon want to cry. There's something about it that sets an itch down his neck. The discomfort eased by kisses pressed to his sleepy form, his shoulders aching from being in one position for nearly 20 hours. Sweet nuzzles against his throat relax his body, substantially soothed.

The wrongness is something for future Namjoon to handle. This one just needs to rest. The pinch to the back of his neck takes the edge off, that and Jin’s command of sleep. sleep alpha- we’ll be here when you wake has Namjoon melting into the covers.

While he rests his body grows sorer. Nose itching more sensitive by the moment. His blood and heart pumping quicker, adrenaline readying itself for the hunt. 

His nose twitches in his sleep and his scent spikes gradually; first it's warm coffee like normal, then like a heady wave that fills the nest room and then the house. Pushing out all other scents until it's all you can smell.

You wonder if by the time his rut hits, you’ll feel like you’re drowning in it.

For the first few hours of Namjoon's slumber you try and stay close but stay quiet. Nuzzling into his shoulders when he grumbles and cuddling him with a leg thrown over his hips. A mixture of dozing and sleeping off the sub-drop and clicking through your phone.

The others told you you didn't need to, but Namjoon shouldn’t be left alone in pre-rut, right? Even if there are so many things to do to prepare? Jin had looked a little thankful when you’d offered to alpha-sit.

You'd never admit it but you do actually type ‘how to help an alpha through their rut’ into Google. But in your defense, it's been a while. You try not to think about the fact that the last alpha that you helped through rut was your ex-husband or fester on your unhappy memories and start to compare. The tangled days of pain and discomfort and hunger are nothing like what Namjoon’s rut is going to be like. 

But when you do find yourself lingering over it- struggling to tear your mind away from it like picking at a scab- you're surprised by the soft growls coming from Namjoon's throat. His nose twitching faintly at the faintest hint of his packs distress. lips lifting in a soundless snarl.

Even in his sleep, your alpha guards you. Like a stuffed animal guards the dark underside of a bed from nightmares and keeps the dust bunnies safe.

Google is once again your savior:  Be prepared for your alpha to have heightened protective instincts around their rut cycles. They'll be especially sensitive to negative scents- now might be the time to stop binge-watching your angsty drama. Alphas in rut can be especially sensitive to things that cause their omega distress, especially in packs with multiple omegas.

Studies have shown that alphas have twice as many olfactory receptors in packs that have more than one omega, and pack alpha's olfactory receptors triple that. There is a suspicion that this is due to a mutation in the MPH-578 gene-

You linger in the nest with him even though the others tell you that Namjoon’s pre-rut is almost always drawn out. Two to three days tops; one of which’s that’s been eaten up already. The pack makes the most of the time they’ve got left.

Hobi leaves for his last shift. Tae tries to use some of her rut leave but gets denied because it’s such short notice. Jimin rearranges his schedule but he always has the easiest time out of everyone getting rut leave (granted this is true so long as it’s not his second job that he’s avoiding). There are about a dozen other trusted bodyguards that the idol group keeps on retainer for just this reason.

Jimin even gets a text from the idol he usually smokes with; ‘Have fun hyung <3′

 "Fucking famous people" he grumbles. Neck-deep in the grocery store on a last-minute trip for protein bars, litter, and cat food. 

Jungkook leaves to teach his morning class and to talk to Wonho. You glimpsed the text lighting up his phone unattended in the nest. ‘If you’re going to leave my home with an omega in distress, can’t you at least let me know if she’s okay?’ 

‘Don’t worry hyung, I know you make worrying a professional sport.’

You hope he won’t judge you too much for your meltdown. You kind of liked the box class (even though you cried through half of it). You know if you asked Jungkook again he’d drag you along with him without a second thought. The idea is almost equally tempting as it is nerve-wracking. 

But all of that will have to wait until after Namjoon's rut.

The house is a flurry of movement while Namjoon rests. Jin handles the nest, and Yoongi preps the food.

He doesn't make anything too fussy. Nothing that might spill in the nest like soup or spicy tofu. Yoongi just needs to make sure that the meals are somewhat balanced and that Jungkook has enough protein bars, and there’s enough for all of you too if you get truly desperate. 

There aren't enough. Which is why Jimin gets sent out in the first place. in the meantime Yoongi makes sure that there's a good smattering of chocolates and other yummy things that won’t immediately go bad if they’re not refrigerated. Plates and plates of prepped fruit.

He leaves the apples and tangerines whole at first. But then thinks better of it. 

Knives are a little suspect. Not that Yoongi thinks Namjoon would ever get it into his head that an unsuspecting mailman or solicitor was out to harm the pack (he does trust him to be lucid enough not to go on a murderous rampage.) What he does not trust is if Namjoon’s rut-fried brain will think a knife in a packmates hand is a threat or not. 

He tackled Yoongi over a cheesegrater once.  

Yoongi sighs and starts to cut up the apples.

They have Namjoon’s ruts down to a science or at least they used to. No one has any idea what to expect with this rut. Yoongi suspects that having you here might change everything. It's not only your slick that's the issue but ruts surrounding new packmates are always a little more drawn out and feral. 

But Yoongi ignores his anxiety using his hands as the outlet for it. meticulously preparing the food for his packmates. Concentrating on it exorcises his concern for you, a tiny fluffy fanged demon nibbling at his heels and distracting him constantly. (Is it bad that the mental personification of his anxiety looks an awful lot like Noodle?)

He washes vegetables for Jungkook. Grapes like Jin likes, and pre-slices some melon to avoid any unintended stabby moments in the future. The occasional microwavable meal gets set aside but Namjoon has been known to refuse those from time to time. 

Mostly he works on the pasta; he knows that once the rut starts it will be a struggle to get the pack alpha to eat anything before everyone else has had their fill. Yoongi fully plans on carb-loading him once he wakes up.

Each of them likes different things in rut but Namjoon has always been a little bit more traditional in his tastes. Handfuls of nuts, dried figs, and pieces of meat that he can tenderly press to his lover’s lips. The others like to tease that they're only things that Namjoon might have caught and foraged himself. So atypical for the usually so sophisticated alpha. 

Namjoon needs food that the omegas can eat out of his hands. Things that he can feed to them like little treats for being good, for being obedient. He feels most sated if he can feel their contentment in the little licks against his fingers. And keeping him sated is the key to getting Namjoon full and happy- not passing out because of calorie deprivation after every knot. 

One time when they’d been scrapped for necessities, namjoon’s rut brought on by stress the stress of his final residency exam; Yoongi had been force-fed a handful of lucky charms by a frustrated alpha. He’d been so pissed he’d almost walked out. but he’d still taken Namjoon’s knot later.

Sometimes Yoongi still sets out a small bowl of lucky charms on the big wooden cutting board that’s reserved for rut foods, just to tease him a little. 

This time Yoongi makes sure to prepare a little extra stuff that you like too. Worry gnaws at him as he listens for any sign of Namjoon stirring in the other room but there's just the sound of you puttering. 

The creek of fluffy socked feet on the smooth floor. The faint rumble of Jin doing laundry in the basement because all of the nesting supplies need to be cleaned even if they’ll just get messy and dirty later. The only thing worse than a clean nest getting messed up from a rut is a dirty nest messed up from a rut.

(Jin got his rut leave approved almost immediately- although not from his boss- his boss noticeably dodged his email. A secretary who he seldom interacts with answers after an hour or two. It's unusual. Things at the bureau must be busy if Jin's boss can't even be bothered to answer his most asset). 

After the third vat of stress-baked pasta and meat sauce, Yoongi realizes he might be going a little overboard. With any luck the carbs will at least help everyone not look so gaunt by the end of the rut. 

Distracting himself works until you appear at the door, bored and hungry and more than willing to demolish his carefully portioned bowls of already washed grapes and blueberries. (Yoongi doesn't dare say even a single word about it, happy to see you eating without anyone prompting you to. He texts Jimin to pick up extra).

Namjoon’s honestly fucked up sleep schedule helps everyone be a little more mobile. But even then you where been unwilling to leave the side of your sleeping alpha until you were sure he wasn’t going to wake anytime soon. But after the first few hours- You’re just a little bit too nervous to stay still. 

It helps to have Yoongi, a focal point in the kitchen to bounce around and sample the stuff he's making. He drags you back from your puttering sometimes literally by your hips. Small kisses stolen and savored. His hands combing down your sides like he's checking you're still all there.

When you ask for something to do he plucks your recipe book from behind the mixer and flips through it, “What’s the sugariness most filling dessert you can make?”

He helps you make your honey cakes. A first batch and then a second. They’re adequate cycle foods for the butter content alone. You skip the usual honey drizzle because it will be too messy and sticky in the nest. Yoongi cuts them into neat little bite-sized squares after they cool and together you package them into little wax paper layers, sealing them up to keep them fresh. 

There is something almost suspicious about the way that Yoongi touches you through it. Cradling your hip a little firmer. His kisses last a breath longer. He holds you like he’s savoring you. Like he thinks he won’t get the chance to in the next few days. 

But his scent fizzles out; sometimes Yoongi smells like Ghirardelli, like ganache and chocolate drizzle. Other times he's more M&M's and chocolate chips. It's like he's struggling to control his scent and meditate it into something not so sad.

You last a few minutes but between letting the second batch cool and starting on the third you finally can't take it anymore.

You press your ear to his back. You can feel the way he trembles when you loop your arms around his waist. The thud of his heart faintly uneven, like every few seconds he's got to catch himself from breathing wrong. Yoongi stops cracking the eggs. Broken eggshells in his palm. 

"What are you so worried about Yoon?" The petname is sweet, and the light in the kitchen streams in all yellow mid-morning. There's a round bit of egg yolk in the flour bowl sitting unbroken and unmixed with the gooey butter. Yoongi stares at it. There's a bit of egg white on his fingers. Sticky and unpleasant. 

"I think Namjoon's going to scare you." 

The confession comes out easily without the rest of the pack there to listen (you won't misinterpret the words and take them personally like they might). Namjoon would never willingly hurt you- Yoongi knows that he'd sooner cut off his own hands than lay a finger on you that you didn't explicitly ask for- but still. 

Intended and unintended hurts weigh the same on Yoongi's imaginary scale; You'll hurt all the same. Your mate looks down at you, turning around so he can see you properly a bit of batter on his sleeve and flour speckling his black shirt.

Selfishness is a different kind of hurt. Wanting to be selfish means you can't trust anyone around you to look after your wants and tend to them. Yoongi will not feel guilty for wanting to be selfish. For wanting control. 

For a second, he considers asking you to not spend Namjoon's rut with him at all. He imagines it; you locking yourself in the upstairs bedroom or going to a hotel far away from Namjoon’s teeth and cock. Namjoon would go crazy hunting the house for your scent. He’d probably break down several doors and ransack your nest for a hint for you if he couldn’t get to you upstairs. Namjoon’s rut might last longer and you might get lonely. 

So no, the upstairs room is too much of a birdcage for Yoongi to risk clipping your wings. Putting you up in a hotel would feel like putting you in a pretty little jewelry box, out of sight but never out of mind. Yoongi won't hide you away to sate his own worry. He'll simply have to make this safe in his own way. 

"I don't want to make you nervous." Really, he doesn't. "But Namjoon gets a little- animal- during his rut. There's a reason why Jin's collar for him is a chain. We don't always have the easiest time controlling him." He has no business keeping you from making your own choices. Love and all.

"You worry about me too much." Yoongi rests his head across the top of your head. Setting the broken eggshells on the counter in favor of setting his forearms around your shoulders, keeping his sticky hands away from your back. 

He pouts as you curl close and nuzzle into his chest, Nosing at the space over his heart. And he rubs a soft kiss onto your brow. 

"I worry about you just the right amount."

~-~

The pre-rut pheromones are thick in the air by the time Namjoon wakes well into the afternoon. 

Luckily, Jungkook and Jimin have returned home and the faint frantic bitterness in his scent mellows out as you descend on him. Whatever rut preparations that haven’t been finished yet can wait, cuddling the pack alpha for a few minutes after he wakes is far more important.

Jin lets the pack alpha push him down and drag his teeth across his pulse point- even Jimin and Yoongi allow him to get his teeth on them like he’s verifying they’re alright with tooth and claw.

Both you and Jungkook get more than nibbled, sleepy marks sucked into the hollows of your throats. Matching ones because Jungkook finds yours so pretty. But your giggles as you press and explore each other's marks are innocent, a balm to Namjoon's fried nerves.  

Namjoon’s brain doesn’t want to relax or wake up all the way. Even though the light outside has faded from bright morning yellow popsicles to golden honey drips and afternoon. Hobi and Tae aren't home yet and that’s enough to set Namjoon on edge on a good day. Namjoon would, of course, prefer all of his pups be in the same place, but until they get back Namjoon's more than adequate to defend the pack against any incoming threats and defend the nest.

Namjoon is mostly rational in pre-rut. Mostly. But his feral-ness is a near thing, like a looming storm or a shadow on the edge of your vision. A ghost in a horror movie that you can only see when you're not looking directly at it.

You’re still in charge of keeping him company, Namjoon had been too sleepy to protest against the others leaving. Brain lost somewhere back in that delightful dream he'd had while he slept; something about his knot, Jin’s mouth, and a jar of whipped cream. not a regular container- but a jar.

Dreams are weird, and Namjoon's rut dreams have always been a little too pornographic to risk sharing. He's happy the blankets hide his morning wood, heavy and aching and going nowhere.

“I want to make the nest perfect” you hum after the others leave to ready dinner and keep going with the preparations. Namjoon is pitifully mute to tell you No when you scoot towards the edge of the nest, fighting the urge to pull you back into it.

Namjoon eventually untangles his mouth from his thoughts, “I don’t mind, have at it pup.” 

Namjoon decides he certainly does mind watching you putter around the nest. Fixing the barriers. Every inch between you two chafing.  

How cute, a little thing like you trying to protect your soft breeding spot from invaders, trying to protect your alpha and show him you can be good enough for pups. There is no need- Namjoon's wicked instincts find you perfect already, a buzzing fly ready to sting.

There’s a wild sort of ache to him as he watches you waddle around and fluff Jin’s nest, never more than a few feet from him. A growl builds in his throat the second you get even a foot in the door. Eyes fixated on the sight of you in his home, in his den. 

Big hands tightening over the pillow pressed to his chest, hugging it to give his hands something to do. The blankets here don't smell enough like you to make the distance feel safe.

Namjoon can never exactly pinpoint what it is that sets him on edge during pre-rut. What is it about the slant of the light through the windows that makes him want to shut the blinds? What about you fussing with the nest is supremely unsatisfying? Why can’t he relax the tightness in his spine, his body?

He feels like Jimin must feel when the sheets aren't right when the other alpha mixes up their laundry and puts on one of Namjoon's scratchy knit shirts that aren't linen. This must be how Jimin feels when he tries to put on fuzzy socks when he tastes one of your sugary lattes.

Namjoon’s alpha sits on his haunches, ready and waiting to pounce.

He tracks you across the room like a large lazy housecat presented with a rare mouse. Following you as you adjust the position of Jungkook’s favorite pillow. Namjoon’s alpha howls that you're readying it for your pups. Pups that Namjoon must give you- it’s his duty. Someone else might try and claim you first if Namjoon doesn’t.

Namjoon’s mouth is perpetually wet, and he has to swallow every few seconds, worried about drooling.

You’re just trying to get the bottom sheet of the nest straight when you realize that Namjoon’s growls haven’t faded from the last time you dared to step in the direction of the hall. When you look up, Namjoon is staring you down.

You’re a good omega, so you obediently get back in the nest. Moving to sit across Namjoon’s thighs (the pack alpha holds your hips, keeping you just a little bit away so that you can't feel his still semi-erect cock. That's kinda how pre-rut goes- ever lingering arousal with nowhere to go, no edge to take it off) pressed to his chest, nuzzling into his throat to hopefully make him smell less...angry.

“Sorry,” speaking through the growl is always hard, especially when he's trying to detangle his thoughts before they linger over your hips under his hands (wide and perfect for bearing pups) and concentrating more on you. (God damn it Namjoon get it together, you can't be this horny for her before your ruts even started.)

You heave a heavy sigh into the skin of his throat. His Addams apple bobs “You’re starting to smell sour.”

“Sorry” minutes trickle by before Namjoon settles, the rumbling in his chest incrementally sadder than it was before. You can tell he's caught up in his thoughts. Big hands playing with your smaller ones. his hand goes firm on your hips and then relaxes. Like Namjoon’s thinking better of doing something (guiding your hips into a grind against his cock- god damn it.) 

With you in his lap he’s substantially more lucid- but he still has that air about him- like a fox gnawing at its leg caught in a trap. Maybe that’s the root of his distress; Namjoon’s alpha is going to get out sooner rather than later.

“I don’t want-" his sigh is heavy, his effervescent dimples like sunshine that’s hidden behind storm clouds. He looks away from you, like just the sight of you is enough to foster more guilt.

"I want to remember our first time, I don’t want to be rough with you- I-” Namjoon tucks his face into your shoulder, taking big deep lungful of your scent, cooling his fiery throat. He’s already starting to burn warmer, hot, and very real under your touch. You have maybe 24 hours until he’s fully down. “I hate being in rut. I hate this. I wanted it to be perfect.”

You’ve thought about what your first time might look like often enough that you feel your heart crinkle. You suck in a heavy breath, running your fingers through his hair, pulling at his head a little so you can see him, eyebrows pinching together- looking too angry with himself for your conscience allows. 

"You're not in rut yet Joonie, if you're this worried-"  

Namjoon stills. You can’t possibly know what you’re offering. He pulls back when it becomes clear that you're not going to finish your sentence. “Pup-“ he starts, the pet name doesn’t make you re-think your possibly bad idea. You pull yourself up on your knees, flushing terribly hot but speaking anyways.

“I took Tae the other day! and Jungkook’s been training me. I can do it and I trust you- you won’t hurt me Joonie-” Namjoon’s growl is barely leashed, his alpha recoiling at the very idea of it. “You won’t. I know you won’t.”

You’re a little devil, maybe you’ve been learning too much from Jungkook, because You take Namjoon's hands and press one to your stomach, “Let me help alpha.” Namjoon’s growl is a visceral thing, you can hear it as well as feel it in your bones. Vibrating all the way from your sternum to the cradle of your hips and right through you. 

you guide namjoon’s hand to cradle lower, and he hisses a breath through his teeth. “Don’t you want to breed me?”

You don't want your first time with Namjoon to be during his rut either, and yet if you wait much longer- that's how it's going to be.

Namjoon pets a long line down your spine, big thumbs pressing against the knobs of your spine and you can see his self-control faltering, dark eyes going darker, his control slipping away as you put a hand on his chest too and shuffle closer along the thick line of his cock, rubbing through your clothes. The length of it feels just as intimidating and impossible as the first time you saw and felt it. 

But what other choice do you have? Namjoon still hasn’t removed his hand from your stomach, and thats how you know you’ve won. 

He licks at his teeth, “If you speak like that you’re going to make my rut come early.”

Somehow it sounds like a threat.

~-~

The rest of the pack is in the kitchen. Yoongi's very carefully peeling a whole slew of tangerines, garbage can between his thighs, Jimin's unpacking some of the groceries into the hallway pantry and leaving others out, knowing they’ll be needed soon.

“Jinnie?” The lead omega washes the dishes with his back to the room. Jungkook folds the blankets that have just come out of the wash, leaving the ones that he’ll use to make the nest in a big heap and carefully putting the others into the basket. You can only do so much before the last stages of pre-rut. The finishing touches to the rut nest will have to be finalized tonight before bed.

“It’s good that you’re up, thank you for watching Joonie sweetheart. We need to get both of you eating as much as possible as soon as possible and you know how I feel about crumbs in my nest.” Behind you Namjoon twitches.

He continues to scrape at the dirty pan with gusto, pink gloves squeaking against the Pyrex glass. Jin hates it when he wakes up after being fucked half dumb and the kitchen has dirty dishes in it. Maybe it’s just an extent of the nesting instincts. Jimin tried to bully him out of the way to do them earlier but Jin had nipped at his nose. Jin’s instincts are also a little elevated, a little chaffed raw by the impending rut.

“Jin-“ Namjoon tries, stepping forward. Nearly herding you in the direction of the pack omega.

“Hmmm?” soapy water sloshes and Jin keeps scrubbing. “One second Joonie,” the pack alpha swallows, but it’s you who steps up.

“Daddy?”

Jin stops. Yoongi pauses peeling his tangerine and Jimin- currently bent over the pack's full reusable shopping bags- straightens up so abruptly that he bangs his head on the underside of the island countertop.

He waves away Namjoon’s surprised noise tenderly rubbing the back of his head. “Give a guy some warning-” Namjoon moves from you to him easily, cradling his skull and nosing at it.

Jimin swats him away, “I’m not sure you can smell a brain injury hyung.”

“Shut up. You and brain injury are not two things I want to think about right now.” Jungkook snorts from the couch. But what you don’t see is him pausing, looking at you over the edge of his fluffiest duvet cover. Bunny eyes flicking from you to Jin and back again.

You hold your hands behind your back cutely, Looking ernest and eager. Namjoon gives you an encouraging nod. His hand itching around to the back of Jimin’s neck almost like he’s not realizing he’s doing it.

“Can I- uhm- can you help me- “

Oh

Jin had assumed this issue would pop up sooner rather than later. But never in his cutest dirtiest daydreams had he thought you’d come ask. what a good pup he has, so ready to hand over the reins to someone responsible.

Jin takes off his gloves very very carefully. He washes his hands in the sink thoroughly and slowly, cleaning them of imaginary grime just to give you a few more moments to squirm and blush. Gulping as you watch him wash his hands. 

“Good pups ask nicely for what they want.” You feel your embarrassment heighten. The telltale ache of you beginning to slick up between your thighs.

“Daddy, can you help me take Joo- alpha’s knot? Please?”  

“Fuck yes- fucking finally” Jungkook vaults over the back of the sofa in one fluid movement before Jin’s had the chance to answer. “Wait- we all have to be prepped anyway- can we-” Jungkook’s eager and entirely unaware of the effects of his words, literally bouncing up and down. A quick survey of the room says that Yoongi and Jimin are equally as flustered. Jin only has eyes for you, standing obediently your eyes upturned. Absolutely trusting.

You make Jin’s teeth ache.

~-~

In the quiet confines of your own head you sing praises for your mate; if not for his overprotective instincts, then for the upstairs bathroom:

He really thought of everything when it came to the space. visuals, and all. Your three bodies tangled behind steam-frosted glass. the high curved ceilings that neatly amplify your echoic moans. He even made it a foot wider than the builder advised, the three of you don't struggle to fit under the very very large rain showerhead. 

He thought to include the nooks cut in the most decadent marble, wide enough to hold a veritable collection of conditioners, shampoos, lubes and body oils. And also support a hand or two thrown out to hold yourself up against the onslaught of Jin's long fingers.

No expense was spared including the faint ridges on the floor that make it easier to stay standing- although that’s hopeless as Jin and Jungkook prep you for Namjoon’s rut. Turning your legs to jelly under their determined ministrations.

The water falls, hot and thick sweet. The bland bar soap slicking your bodies barely disrupts your scents, Namjoon would riot if you chose something perfumed. It makes the glide of their hands ever more slippery as they wander and tease.

You worry a little that you might be prepping too early, Namjoon's rut might not hit for another day. But Jin reassures you that there really isn’t such a thing as too early or too much prep when it comes to Namjoon’s rut. It’s much better to prep twice and not be surprised than push it off because the pack thinks they’ll have time later. It’s an unfortunate precaution they’ve learned through trial and error.

It's a pain in the ass, literally.

You can hear Namjoon pace back and forth in front of the door at the bottom of the steps, heavy footsteps listless. They pause sometimes like he’s leaning in to hear or perhaps smell what you’re getting up to. Listening for any hint- a splash of water- a high moan- anything.

Jin on his knees before you is a rare sight. He sits prostrate and at eye level with your cunt. His hair wet and pinned around his face, thick lips wet with water and slick. Trails of bubbles cresting his hip, his shoulders, the back of his spine where you grip his hair.

Jungkook obediently keeps you from slipping as Jin works on you. Elbow hooked under your knee leaving your other leg to dangle, barely holding any of your weight. His other hand cradling the space where your hip turns stomach as Jin fits not two- but three fingers into your soapy entrance.

His knuckles brush your clit and you jerk, but Jungkook's strong- might as well just lift you off your feet and hold you up to keep you from squirming. He bites his lip, looking down at you, the steam his halo.

This isn’t about bringing you to orgasm although it’s hard to hold off. Jin's fingers are slow and thoroughly rough. The fire in your stomach urged to tall peaks with gentle breaths that you struggle not to choke on.  

Jin almost strokes from that careful button down to your hole but thinks better of it. “We should probably be careful with your clit.” It pulses between your thighs in answer and you whine. Jungkook soothes your small noises, dragging his lips up your throat to mouth at Namjoon's existing mark, sucking your scent sweet skin. 

You tip your head back against Jungkook’s shoulder. The other omega huffs, muscles bulging.

Hot water bleeds down your back and front. The heat does a good job of relaxing your muscles. Making opening up easier. Jin's a little surprised that you don't even need the lube Jungkook selected. It's cute how drippy and needy you get from just a bit of manhandling. 

You’re slippery and soapy. Messy messy pup Jin coo’s. Reaching for the detachable shower head. you’re too far gone to warn him as he puts the heady wet pressure of it to your cunt with the intent of cleaning you off. It makes you jerk, almost slipping if it wasn’t for Jungkook holding you up. “Fuck don’t-” 

He directs the spray away from your clit. “Sorry pup.”

He files the information that the showerhead makes you jerk for a later date. No matter how sexual prepping might be, Jin knows having you cum now would only mean hell for you later. The fire in you is destined to burn with no end. The longer the omegas hold off the better the eventual overstimulation tends to go. Namjoon can be possessive of his pack's pleasure at the best of times

And torturous about it at worst. 

Jin tells you as much with your legs shaking and Jungkook adjusting his hold on you. The faint hardness of his cock pressing against your lower back, soft and warm, his pectorals slippery with soap on either side of your head. “It’s gonna be harder in the end, if you cum too much,” he warns. 

You nod, letting out a little sobbing breath that Jungkook devours with a kiss.

he lets your breathing calm, fingers rubbing gentle but deep, pushing in as far as they can go but still not as far as Namjoon will before the night is through. It sends a fresh pulse of need through your body, sending you perilously close. he yanks his fingers from you to keep you from coming at the last moment. Your scent sweetens and the three of you still when you hear the rumbly growl from the bottom of the stairs-

And then hear it abruptly cut off.

Your pack must be doing a good job of trying to distract Namjoon. You sob as your orgasam vanishes and Jungkook soothes you with kisses and nibbles to the nape of your neck, the smallest scruff in existence.

Fingers straying from your hip to the apex of your thighs. Nearing were you need them but veerying lower at the last second. “You think Namjoon’s gonna suck on it?”

Jungkook teases, parting your pussy lips and letting the water run over it, soothing the ache, completely ignoring your wet moans and pleas.  

“Like candy” Jin’s laugh is rough, betraying his interest. As if his cock wasn’t standing hard between his legs and as if his hole wasn’t slick. The drip of it disguised with the water. It’s probably just Namjoon’s rut pheromones that have you all riled up (Maybe it's just you.) 

“Might want to tape it up- make it so you can’t cum from it,” Jin brushes his knuckles against it meanly, this time intentionally and watches as it twitches. Feeling you clench around his fingers in response.  

He knows that before the week is done Joonie’s going to abuse your little clit so thoroughly you won’t want anything like this for a good long while. You can call him selfish all you want but, he’s intent on savoring you in the meantime.

“Do they even make clit cages?”

Jungkook asks, flushed, trying to be casual about it like getting a cock cage put on before a packmate's rut isn’t one of his favorite things. To spend so many hours needy and untended, until he’s so sensitive that he can’t help but cum from the slightest bit of attention. Air blown on his little omega cock or better- a small slap. 

He loves everything about it- the frustration of trying to cum from just his prostate, the relief when he’s finally allowed out and how it quickly sours. The edge of too much and not enough playing until they blur. And Jungkook can do little more than take it. He’s never been brave enough to try a cock cage during a heat but maybe next time.

He licks his lips. He can't wait until you're pushed to that point. Ruts are so much fun. He loves the way the alphas let go, the way they fuck him like they mean it, the way they get so mean during it. Jungkook knows they all love him but sometimes they can’t fuck him like he’s not fragile. They can’t fuck him how he craves. passed around like a ragdoll, made to take more than he can.

(If he had two holes like you, he’d probably have tried to fit two knots in it by now, one of these days, Jungkook’s going to live vicariously through you.)

“I don’t know,” Jin hums like he’s not fucking 4 fingers into your hole. It’s a tough fit, but your body is learning, relaxing into the stretch. You mewl and Jin has no doubt you’d be on the floor if it wasn’t for Jungkook.

He sets his slick fingers flat over your clit, parting them a little so that they pinch the sensitive nube between two knuckles, “We could try yours on her, it just might fit.”

You whimper at the thought of that, so worked up that your cunt is puffy and dripping when Jin takes his fingers from you. Giving you a second to calm down before he reaches for the line of fake knots.

They’ve been sitting to the side, attached to the floor by their sucker, warming themselves on the heated floor and under the spray. The one he selects is red and black marbled. He knows from experience that it's the perfect opener for Namjoon’s cock; one step below it in terms of length and thickness. He tests it at your entrance. Rubbing it lengthwise to coat it with your slick before he tries to press it in.

At least It’s not one of the scary monster dildos with an inflatable knot, three of those sit to the side getting wet in the spray. Ready and waiting. Jungkook was a little overzealous in his selection, but he does know best what you can take and what you can’t at this point. The sight of them sends a trickle of fear-arousal down your spine and you clench up 

But Jin tsks and you relax again. It fits after a second of pushing. He makes you take it inch by inch as your body stretches, just barely prickling in discomfort. You can take it. It makes you shake so hard that Jungkook actually does have to hold you up completely for Jin after a minute or two but you can take it to the point of pleasure, baralling once again in the direction of cumming but-

but jin does little more than verifying that you’re open enough for it before you’re empty again. You clench weakly around nothing and dribble onto the floor. Sobbing and grabbing weakly, 

Tears and slick blending with the shower. Jin helps you stay steady as Jungkook gently sets you back down. Living up to his puppy’s name when he wraps his body around you and jumps up and down. “See! I told you you were ready!” 

Jungkook offers you a high five. Honestly, you think he might actually be planning a surprise congratulation party, what would the banner say “Congrats on taking a monster cock.” You bury your face in Jin’s wet chest. Declining his high five because some lines have to be drawn.

Jin laughs. But offers you a kiss to ease the sting.

He smacks the dildo down on the floor of the shower with a loud thwack. The cock bobs but the suction cup sticks. Your legs are jelly, your instincts urging you to be obedient as Jin sets a hand on your shoulder.

He jumps, but behind him Jungkook's just smirking. His hands wandering petting small circles over the other omega's hole. Prepping each other for ruts is always so much fun. Like a fresh breath of air in their routine.

Jungkook hooks his face over Jin's shoulder. Jin’s hand slides down your throat. You watch them- heart hammering against his fingertips.

Jin's slick lips part, wet with water and pink from kisses, you couldn't tear your eyes away from them if you wanted. He cups your cheek urging you down toward the floor with a gentle push.

“You’re going to sit on this knot and keep it warm for me and Jungkook while we prep each other. Can you be good for me pup?”

You’ve never nodded quicker.

~-~

The distraction that the pack has occupied Namjoon with just so happens to be a bout of wrestling.

It's something out of an omega's wet dream (that you're all still notably damp from). Namjoon's arms flex, muscles sweaty and rippling as he tries unsuccessfully wrangle Jimin into the nest, having dragged him from the hallway kicking and giggling. Your mate is already subdued, crossed arms and huffing back against the headboard. Staring at the two rolling alphas like he's waiting for them to be done. His scent gland looks pink and bitten like Namjoon had gotten mouthy with him until Jimin became a willing opponent.

Now they roll, you’d be worried about the strength they display if Jimin didn’t laugh as Namjoon tries unsuccessfully to pin him face down. Namjoon has the edge for his size and strength alone but Jimin’s clearly more skilled at evading his grasp. He Pushes at Joon's shoulder in just the right way, using the alpha’s own lumberish momentum against him. But You can tell that it’s only a matter of time before Namjoon wins out on determination alone.  

But that's half of the fun and most of the turn-on- the fact that Jimin will submit- sooner rather than later. Namjoon just has to make it worth his while. The pack alpha's generous hardness presses against Jimin’s thigh, already half hard just from a bit of tug-o-war where Yoongi was the unwilling rope.

Jimin knows what he's doing- wearing Namjoon's instinct down to a palatable dull edge. Namjoon's too focused to register the laugh as Jimin twists, foot shoving at Namjoon's calf, using the other alpha as leverage to roll out of his grasp.  

He grins at you. Shoving Namjoon away by his face. The pack alpha's answering growl would have you belly down in moments. "Have fun?" he taunts. Jimin's lopsided smile and ruffled hair makes your stomach twist. 

Namjoon stills, scenting your arousal in the air, nostrils flaring at the new target in the form of his jelly-legged omegas in the door. 

The simple sight of your thighs has Namjoon suppressing a harsh growl. Honestly fuck Jin for putting you in his clothes. The large dark shirt of his makes you look and smell claimed. The hem hikes up flashing your wet inner thighs as you start to get into the nest. Namjoon moves- practically shoving Jimin back to give you room. Dizzy with your scent, teeth starting to itch and ache.

Distracting Namjoon is going to be Jimin’s primary job over the next week or so, knowing when to tug at Namjoon’s instincts and direct him elsewhere. Earlier all Jimin had to do was grab his jacket and act like he was thinking about taking a nice long walk, Namjoon had predictably pounced on him.

It’s startlingly like the first time you tried to take Namjoon's cock and failed; only this time Jungkook and Jimin are also there. Jimin stretches out blanketing one side of the nest, a balm against Namjoon’s instincts that say to guard the door and keep anyone who’s not /pack/ from coming in.

You thought that taking Namjoon’s cock would be a solo affair but it’s the opposite of that, there are hands on you everywhere. Yoongi tugs the large black shirt of Namjoon’s that pools around your hips when you sit so that it doesn't bunch up around your stomach and Jin guides you to lie down in the sweet-smelling nest. Jungkook close behind, The long line of Jimin’s thigh pressed to your knee, Namjoon at your front.

Namjoon’s body is shaky and sweaty already, rut pheromones rolling off of him in greedy waves. Smelling like comfort, beckoning you to stay. Making you slick up already beneath the large t-shirt as you settle close, pulling your knees under you as Jimin shifts to the side with a smirk.

“Been good alpha,” you say as you shuffle close.

He cups your jaw, glancing down at your parted legs and then back up to you. “I know pup, you’ve been more than good.”

For all of Namjoon’s love, he doesn’t really kiss you all that often. At least not as often as your mate, or Minnie, or Tae. Mostly it's good morning pecks and good night kisses. Soft and brief moments of loving. He’s once again briefly lucid when he kisses you. mentally- Namjoon grips his alpha by the throat and demands, I will have this- I will have this without you fucking it up. 

The kiss is anything but innocent. Hungry teeth nibble at your lips. His hand circles the back of your head, holding you in place so he can taste his fill. The growl chases it, vibrating against your lips as your hands go around his shoulders. Dipping your fingers into his muscles, his growl goes pleased and appreciative. 

Namjoon's always made you feel so small, and your size difference feels especially pronounced now, Big hands running up and down your back, your hips, hovering on that spot over your stomach. The place where it rounds to a supple curve. 

“Want you alpha,” you say when he pulls back, resting your hand over his, “please?”

He gulps when he looks down at you, his voice roughed raw from his growls, horse from it. “I want you to know, no- I need you to know- that I’d love you anyway if you weren’t doing this. So that when I say I love you right now it doesn’t feel selfish.”

You swallow back the lump in your throat, so horny and so in love that it practically makes you want to scream. You don’t want to be sick with heartache when you’re about to take the largest cock in existence but trust Namjoon to make sex feel sentimental. To make it feel like some love story out of Tae’s hidden pages. Can you get Deja-vu for something prematurely? This feels like something you should remember when it happens again.

You nuzzle into his throat, "It's not selfish, not to me. I'm convinced you could never love any of us selfishly Joonie. it's not in your nature."

His hands hold you closer, looping around your waist. "Don't tempt me, I might want to keep you forever if you do."

"I might want you to keep me forever too."

 It’s incongruent; the amount of love and the fire licking against his spine. Chanting /good pup, best pup, my pup, mine. / the amount of love and want that fills him up and overflows.

You know how to beg (the very first alpha you ever took care of in rut made sure of that) but you don’t need to; the rest of your pack help take care of the rest. They’re nearly ravenous as they guide Namjoon to disrobe, Jin's hands-on Namjoon’s shirt, detangling him until he's bare-chested. Jimin’s hands are on his pants almost yanking them down his thighs. 

Jungkook hikes up your knee and keeps you open for him biting lips that you licked at minutes ago, and Yoongi does the same with the other leg. Fingers cradling your knee. Bending down to kiss the inside. Giving you a short quiet look that you know as permission, permission to fall apart, permission to enjoy this fully.

 Namjoon’s still cognizant enough that he doesn’t make you turn around for him and present. Jin’s nest is comfortable and fluffy against your back and no one makes you take off Namjoon’s shirt. It’s somewhat holy. Maybe if Jimin had to rate it, he’d put you stretched out in the nest ready to take the pack alphas knot somewhere ranked between the Sistine Chapel and the gates of God in terms of holy sites.

Namjoon’s on his knees when he shuffles forward, setting his body against yours like a shroud. The first press of Namjoon’s cock at your entrance makes you shiver. But it’s just brushing, not trying to go inside yet as he continues to kiss you, his warm body hovering over yours. 

The fear in your scent is natural but Namjoon’s alpha doesn’t like it one bit, he leaves small kisses against your scent gland, sending tingling shivers all down your body. Nosing there, teeth aching and begging to bite and claim. 

He pulls back and you chase his lips like a pup chasing their bowl of food. Looping your arms around his neck. He laughs and the sound rushes over your skin like a cool wave soothing your anxiety. Namjoon’s laugh sounds like quiet nights spent safe, like mornings spent in his lap feeding from his fingers, like his hand on the small of your back. 

This is not too much for you to give, even if you’re afraid, not in the slightest. exchanging a bit of pain and discomfort for love never felt so sweet. 

More than one packmate is yielding to their desire around you, riled up by the sight of you smelling so sweet and looking so lovely together. Jin hooks his arm around Jimin’s hips, spooning to watch, hands teasing up and down the bulge in his pants. The quiet order from the pack omega to keep his hands on your knee and not touch himself. On the other side, Jungkook’s head in Yoongi’s lap- alternating between nuzzling, and nosing against the hardness there. 

You wonder, would Tae and Hobi be curled together similarly if they were here? Or would someone have to leave and keep Hobi company? 

You're distracted, brought back to reality when Namjoon pulls back a little, snuffles forward on his knees, knees pushing up your thighs, and directs his cock to your entrance with his hand, holding your hip to keep you from squirming. Even Namjoon’s hand looks small compared to his monster's length.

You stiffen at the discomfort, struggling to disobey your body and stay in one place. Even prepped it doesn’t go in at first. But you don’t let it make you clench up. Your eyes fixed on his face, lips parting, panting. The fact that the head comes away wet, Namjoon presses his hips in but- 

Jin opens his mouth, starting to say something and you don’t let him, hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, his scent gland. Pulling yourself up by his shoulders. 

“Wait a second-” In a moment of dexterity, before anyone can say anything you, push his hips with your knees and flip him over,  (a quick study, Jimin hums pleased. You pick up things quick.) The ease of your actions is betrayed by just how much you’re trembling.

You watch his muscles strain, his self-control just barely holding on as he lets you move him. Is this how it’s going to be? Namjoon’s instincts just barely below the surface for the whole of his rut- or is he going to snap sooner rather than later? You can’t tell if the clench in your stomach is a trickle of fear or you slicking up at the prospect of it. He lies back against the bed, hand holding your hip like he thinks you're going to try and squirm away.

“Let me try like this again.” You have to stretch your legs apart to almost an uncomfortable angle to get your knees on either side of his hips. Gripping his shoulders to give you leverage. You ignore that this is almost identical to the last time you failed, that you can clearly see how far he'll be into your tummy if you manage to take him fully. Your fucked open hole brushes against the base of his cock as you get into the right position. 

Your hand on his cock makes him hiss as you guide it between your legs. Looking back and down and not at him. your pack holds their breath. You have to arch up a little to give him enough room. Standing at full mast hot and thick and all yours for this moment. You look into Namjoon’s eyes and his hands hold your hips, lips parting in a soundless snarl.

There is a moment when you truly think it won’t fit again. That you’ll have to spend his rut alone or at the very least as a distant thought.

There are so many hands on you; Jin cradles your cheeks, Yoongi holds your waist, Jungkook’s hand on your spine, and Jimin’s teeth near your thigh. you bear down on his cock with your full weight, every inch of you bare and burning for him, frustrated tears already starting to prick-

And then the head pops inside.

The birds on the bushes outside scatter at the rippling growl that bursts from Namjoon’s chest, half moan and half howl. You squeak, and Yoongi lets out a distant “Holy fuck-“

Your body stretches, aching inches pushed apart to accommodate his length. You let out a wheezing breath, unattractive as Namjoon moans again deep and full-bodied, a sound of satisfaction. Big hands on your backside support you as you lower your weight onto him. Dopey smile cut by hiccups as you sink a few more inches down, grasping at the back of his neck. 

Namjoon twitches with the effort of holding himself back from fucking up into your warm heat, Breathing through his teeth. To call you tight is an understatement. 

“Fuck,” he says, pupils all blown, rut scent blooming, “fuck- fuck-“ growls tangle with words and Namjoon stops making sense. You let out another frankly undignified hiccup, pressure burning through you.

Namjoon’s thickness is nothing like what you thought it would be. stretched to the very limit as it carves out a new space inside of you. It’s hotter and fuller than the fake cocks, nothing in comparison. Jungkook was lying when he said the others were proper, that they were enough because they definitely didn't feel so big or so mind-numbing. A faint tingling between your legs like pins and needles, there is nowhere to go but down. Nothing more to do but take.

It’s one thing to see or hold something so large, and another to feel the burn of it inside of you. You can hardly move, can hardly breathe. The stretch is too much until it's not, painful until Namjoon shifts and it nudges-

You’re maybe halfway down when you gush wet. Slick squirts weakly around his cock dripping down his stomach and to his balls, twitching to fill you up. Yoongi and Jungkook share a startled glance, Jimin licks his lips and Jin starts to laugh. 

“Did you just cum?” he asks. Cupping your cheeks and pulling you away from hiding in Namjoon's neck. Blinking away frustrated tears. Your still snarling Alpha potentially safer Than the embarrassment of cumming with him barely inside of you.

“Don’t tease me- please don’t tease- please Jinnie- can't take it- can't-” 

You're cock drunk and babbling already. Too much- it’s too much for you to do yourself as Jin rests his forehead against yours, stomach settling between you and namjoon, all thoughts of holding off be damned as he touches where you meet, "You're already taking it pup, doing so well for us, for alpha- so wet around his cock huh? How does she feel Joonie? Tight enough? warm and fertile enough for you? or do we need to make her cum again before you knock her up?" 

Namjoon’s answering snarl would have monsters quaking in their shoes. 

Seconds trickle by, you’ve stopped moving. Stopped but not because you want to. “Keep going pup, take him properly, it’s polite.”

“I can’t-” 

“You can pup.” Jungkook answers, the pet name strange on his tongue, his hands on your hips push you down slightly and you drip a little bit more.  Namjoon is everywhere- in your throat, your stomach, pressing against every inch of you like it’s him living in your skin and not you. “I’ve see you take things deeper, i’ve felt you take things deeper. you can take him.” 

"I can't!" you sob, legs shaking, and Jin's face goes a little darker, on your chin, demanding you look at him. 

You’re fucked out and dumb, sniffling, crying because its so good, so good and too much, and jin tells himself he’d do anything- even chain namjoon to the bed and be the sole provider during his rut if that would make you happy. 

"Safeword. Safeword and it ends." 

You sob but don't. Wrapping your body closer to Namjoon in case they try to take him away, something cathartic tears its way up your chest. 

"Can't" you pout, smaller and softer and cuter. It's what Jin expects from you, the heaviness of the moment dissipating in a breath. sometimes you just need to cry it out. Stubborn pup. Like a dog that wants to fetch but can't let go of the stick. "Don't wanna."

Your pack dares to laugh around you. Even your mate's comforting scent blooms, you hadn't noticed their scents going sour. The sensitivity rocks up as Your clit twitches against Namjoon's stomach, the sensitivity eased by the growl that builds in his chest.

Jimin’s own knot is nearly chubby in his shorts, he’s always been a fan of watching. the space between his body and the pleasure gives him more room to feel. “Can’t stop and can’t keep going, what are we to do? Wanna sit and hog Namjoon’s cock all rut?”

You perk up, like the idea actually appeals to you, this fullness all inside of you, just yours.  

Namjoon's hands cup the back of your neck, but Jin pries them away, kissing there. “Oh pup” he says, the word dripping with sweetness and lust. You swear you feel Namjoon twitch inside of you at just the sound of Jin's tone. “So big in your little hole that you couldn’t help it huh? Needy little puppy couldn't help cumming on alphas cock. Can't fuck herself on it either, want us to do all the work for you like usual?” 

Jin's tone drips with humiliation, making you wetter and wetter (probably his intention, the slicker you are the more comfortable you'll be, and he knows teasing you is the easiest way to get you messiest)

Your cheeks press hot hot hot into Namjoon's skin, hiding your flush, “S’too big,” you say, even as you sink down another inch. Your legs are shaking so bad that it’s hard to control your descent not to let them give out and just take all of it. “Gonna break me.”

Someone kisses your shoulder, another person laps at the tears on your cheeks, a hand somewhere on your ass, fingers teasing at the stretched cleft making you squeal, gently exploring the place where you and the pack alpha meet. The Others keep you from falling forward and truly hurting yourself on Namjoon's cock. You’re little more than a hole for namjoon to fuck like this, a pillow princess through and through. 

"It won't- we won't let it break you." Jimin's hands are unyielding as they grasp your ass, taking your weight and the control of the situation out of your hands. 

"We won't be mean," Jungkook's smirk says otherwise, helping hold you up. starting to rock you to take Namjoon’s cock deeper. 

"Let us help you take it sweetheart" Yoongi's fingertips are cool against your cheeks, your chest, everywhere. 

You wonder if you feel tight and warm and wet. If you’re really hugging Namjoon’s cock the way it feels like you are. Every inch of you is stretched to the maximum but you continue your slow descent. Your packs hands on you keeping it slow and comfortable. Trying to get every inch of him inside of you that you possibly can. You reach failure when you have maybe two inches left to take, legs shaking so hard that they give out-

But your pack catches you before you fall into Namjoon’s chest. taking all of your weight truly keeping you at his mercy.  

They start to move you, manhandling you up and down on Namjoon's cock and you sob. Alternating between that and keeping you still as the pack alpha takes his turn, the picture of powerful ease, fingers biting into your ass as they hold you where he fucks you. Namjoon rocks his hips unable to resist the urge to go deeper and deeper with every thrust. Rut mute and cock dumb. Something deep inside of you made soft and squishy by Namjoon's rut pheromones. Your biology reacting to him and letting him in. 

Yoongi’s mouth is hot on your spine, the nape of your neck, Jin’s coes as he holds your hair back when you sob, watching you cry and smiling as you can't seem to stop cumming. 

You start to falter, getting dizzy, leaning back at a new angle. Namjoon hits deeper, the deepest he's gone yet. You know you're leaving a whole mess on his hips. The faint chafe of the hair on his thighs burning yours. The sticky thwap of his slick soaked skin hitting yours and-

“Holy fuck-“ Jungkook lets out, lifting up the hem of your shirt to check and see if it's what he thinks it is- but it’s definitely there. 

A faint bulge, moving under your stomach. His cock so deep inside you that your chub moves with it. The bulge of Namjoon’s cock fucking you is unmistakable. Dimpling then disappearing as the pack alpha fucks up and into you. 

You think Namjoon might actually stop breathing. Your mates’ hands are the first to tease- to explore. Sliding down to cradle the bulge in your stomach. Prodding up against your belly button. He presses down and you sob. Namjoon jolts forward, grabbing Yoongi by the wrist.

But Yoongi keeps his hands there, even as the pack continues to move you up and down. Feeling the hardness against his palm, Namjoon fucking you. 

His cock twitches, in danger of coming without any stimulation at all from just the feel of touching him through you. Yoongi doesn’t know what kink this is or what’s just been discovered but Fuck- the imprint of Namjoon’s cock-  

“I’ve got you” he whispers into your ear, he repeats it- continuing it as you cry and twitch through another orgasm. Honestly- it's hard to tell if the other one ever ended at all. 

Namjoon’s not long behind. Knot prodding insistently at your entrance, if you thought his cock was big, his knot is nearly impossible. And yet the second that your pack tries and pull you off you clamp down. Circling your arms around Namjoon the second he wraps his around you and presses your hips flush against his. 

He bites your shoulder hard enough to bruise. And all of a sudden, his knot is inflating inside of you stretching your entrance far- too far- far enough it starts to hurt- but you can barely feel it. Namjoon moves and tugs you with him. You're squirting and cumming again- wetting his stomach, his hips, his thighs. A new trickle of it pushed out at the first gush of hot cum.

Full. For the first time, you feel properly full. Both of you locked as possible, Namjoon’s heartbeat tangling with yours as he cum, he cums so much- hot ropes of it filling you up, so much that you surely can’t take it all but he makes you- Rocking up into you cuming deep so that none of it goes to waste. You’re so full, you’re so-

You pass out for a moment. None of them are all that surprised when you sag against Namjoon's front. 

There’s a moment of sheer terror on the pack’s part that you’re thankfully completely out for. You come back to the feeling weekly squirting again around Namjoon’s cock, it’s like with every twitch of his cock his knot pulls more out of you. If you were more awake you’d be embarrassed at how you’re soaking the nest a little. It’s primal and messy, but really- did you ever expect Namjoon’s rut to go even a little bit differently? 

Namjoon’s purring, the rumble against your body soothing, easing the ache and pain of overstimulation. 

“Alpha” you mumble uselessly, grasping weakly at Namjoon’s shoulders- anything to get him closer. “Alpha please.”

He answers your request instinctively- The scruff sends you off into an easy sleep. The pack roil around the two of you, the sound of kisses and needy moans joining your easy breathes. You couldn't expect your show not to turn them on but whatever delight they find in each other you remain unaware of. 

You set your head on Namjoon's shoulder and rest.

~-~

When you wake, Namjoon’s still asleep. Warm chest burning a fever along your spine, a heavy arm thrown around your waist. There’s no longer a knot splitting you open and someone must have dressed you and cleaned you up. (Probably your mate- seeing as you're in your coziest most well-loved set of pajamas). The feeling of cold clean fabric pressed up against your skin is heavenly- and you wonder if Namjoon would let you stay semi-clothed through the whole of his rut if you asked.

It's not that you're uncomfortable being nude around him (that’s a lie- the way he’d cradles your stomach makes your anxiety dizzy. A sudden dust devil of no and not enough, not there) 

…But you also really hate the tacky feeling of sweat. Like the faint dampness pressed up against the rucked back of your shirt, Namjoon’s physically hot bare chest pressed against the small of your back. hands cradling your stomach. 

He sighs, grumbling in his sleep. "pups` m'pups" You struggle to contain your sleepy laugh. 

When you sit up your stomach feels heavy, and when you move your legs they ache so bad you can hardly feel them. If you had to describe the soreness in two words they’d be Well and fucked.

The walls of the nest around you are higher than they looked when you fell asleep like Jin and Jungkook had fluffed the nest and put everything back in order while you made a mess of it. A look at the clock says It’s nearing 7pm, but you feel like you could sleep for another few hours. Judging by how sweet and heady Namjoon smells (like you've just snorted a line of espresso grounds) you might not have that long before his rut is in full swing.

A clattering nearby says the pack isn’t far. You comb your fingers through his sweaty hair, listening to his little grumble-huffs of sleep. Namjoon needs to sleep as much as possible- but- there’s a burning in your throat. You’re so thirsty, probably from getting so…dehydrated earlier.

(What’s a polite way of saying you squirted half of your daily fluid volume if Namjoon were at all cognizant he’d be hooking you up to a goddamn banana bag.)

Tae must have heard your stirring or your laugh because no sooner have you started to turn and try to untangle Namjoon’s arms from around your waist is she’s appearing at the door. Flushed-faced and damp-haired. She must have already taken off her makeup, there are faint smudges around her eyes from her mascara. Halfway through her night-time routine. one you usually share.

You pout and stretch out your arms for her. She looks down at you, murmuring something soft and lovely, but you just nuzzle forward, patting down the edge of the nest to press your face into her stomach. The light t-shirt she wears smells like her- and the pajama shorts are cute and ruffly at the hem, just like how she likes them. You know you must look like a fucked out mess- but you fight the urge to drag Tae into the nest.

Don’t you want to see it, mommy? How good I was for alpha- how good you taught me how to take a knot? See- was good- was so good and got treats.

Tae runs her hands over the crest of your head. “How do you feel?” she asks, whispering, keeping her voice down so that she doesn't risk waking Namjoon. You blink back the omegaspace haze that she somehow always triggers (Tae is special that way, has you feeling pupish even now). 

“Sleepy.” You yawn, “But good- no pain, just thirsty” 

In fact, it's hard to feel anything at all between your legs. You’re pleasantly numb where it matters most. You squirm, eventually detangling yourself from your lump of pack alpha and the nest. Tae looks concerned looking from you to Namjoon warily. You pause to make sure he's still asleep. But there’s an uncomfortable fullness in your stomach that can’t be avoided as well as your burning thirst. 

“Can I get it for you so that you don’t have to leave the nest?” She whisper-asks, but still she helps you sit on the edge with a hand in yours as you put your feet on the floor.

“No, I need to pee.”

Your knees hit the floor with a loud crack when you try to stand. You're not surprised that taking Namjoon's cock has made you bambi-legged. You laugh, but Tae doesn't find it so funny as she helps you to your feet. knees still knocking together. 

“I’m fine, really just-“ you teeter.

“Hang on, let me help-” 

Your face unintentionally presses into the side of her neck damp from the shower. She smells like her but also like Hobi. He must be home too. You fight a pur building in your throat. 

You feel her words pressed against your cheek. “Sometimes when Kookie gets fucked he complains that Namjoon like- compresses one of the nerves in his legs. The first time it happened Namjoon dragged out his old anatomy book to figure out which one.”

Your knees are still knocking together despite your best efforts. “I don’t know if that’s hot or scary. I bet he liked that.” Her laugh is a soft thing, chased by the nighttime hush that blankets the house. The calm before the storm.  

“Probably a little bit of both. And Koo definitely did.”

You can see the corner of her smile as she lifts you, You try to take more of your own weight but Tae takes all of it. Shushing you. “It’s fine it’s-“ her hands go soft, cradling you to her chest. shuffling out the door, “It’s sort of the other alpha's job to look after you- make sure you’re not too tired, make sure you stay well fed and rested while Namjoon’s rut dumb.”

"Oh, I didn't know that." she pecks your forehead, shoulder-length hair tickling your neck.

"Let us look after you." 

The rest of the pack is putting on the final touches to food-centered rut preparations. An informal dinner runs, pots hot on the stove, plates washed and drying. 

The rumble upstairs says that at least one packmate is taking a shower while you wait. Jin flutters over to your side to feed you spoonfuls of spaghetti and also dispense a tumbler full of lemonade that taste faintly metallic. Electrolytes he says, to help with the dehydration. Your face heats at his knowing smirk.  

Hobi looks mostly fine- you don’t know why you expect him not to be. Hair wet and pajama pants hanging low on his hips. You wait. Expecting him to stiffen when he smells Namjoon on you but he doesn’t, tipping his head back and taking a long long sip of the same electrolyte mixture you do. Jutting his chin forward until you take small pupish sips of your own. Leaning up against the cabinets while Yoongi fusses with more fruit on the table. 

Eventually, while you push your food around your plate, he gets antsy too. He buzzes around; watering the patio plants one last time. Emptying the bird feeders in case the sound of birds spooks Namjoon. Giving Noodle a little bit of love and an extra bit of tuna just to make up for the bit of neglect he'll surely face. 

You try not to turn and watch him while he and Jin talk about the car. Apparently, they’d reached the agreement that after his rut they’d look into getting the front panel repaired. You listen in waiting for the right moment to interject.

You’d talked a little about the punishment scene yesterday- but you want to talk to him about it more. About the rut and what spending it in the vicinity of each other means. You watch him as he waits for the watering can to fill up, the drone of the faucet like carrion birds circling overhead, waiting to pick your heart clean of fresh hopes.

You start to try and say something- asking about his day is a little safer than asking about the rut. You’re not exactly going to open up with the question 'Hey, can we agree that it’s not romantic if you see me take Namjoon’s cock up my pussy? Thanks! unless you want it to be romantic, then it can be totally be romantic, but no pressure.’

Before you can ask him anything of the sort, A loud crash punctuates the quiet. Yoongi stops his washing, and Hobi shuts off the faucet. 

One crash becomes two, a thud like a door hitting the wall flung open. Another crash this one sharper- the sound of something ceramic breaking. Something big hits the wall with force. Footsteps thunder down the stairs and then shout- 

“Namjoon! No! Bad alpha!- Fuck- Jin!” Jimin shouts. There is another meatier clatter, and then a loud barking sound- and the whole pack goes rushing to the hall. Your legs still don't want to cooperate, and you stumble. Hobi grabs your shirt, hauling you up onto your feet without a single word. 

(Maybe you hadn’t been the only one keeping an eye out for him, maybe every time you’d looked away Hobi had looked back, through the light-filled window. maybe he'd been watching when you made a small chirpy hello noise to Noodle as he twined around Hobi’s legs and purred for more tuna. 

When Tae had gone about detangling your hair gently, holding sections in one hand while she gently combed out the ends. letting it dry wet after getting knotted Hadn’t done you any good. Maybe Hobi has watched you too much, measuring- making sure Namjoon's knot didn't strain you so much. Worry tugging at his frayed heartstrings)  

Jimin is dripping onto the floor, hair wet, his sweats barely pulled on while he tries and fails to grapple with Namjoon’s body and stop him from causing any more damage. 

Namjoon’s pulled your nest- mattress and all part of the way through the door. It's too large to pull through; blankets caught on the doorframe and most of the pillows tossed onto the floor along with all your other nesting things making your stomach twist.

A body pillow that was one of your first courting gifts coiled on the floor, a flannel of Yoongi’s all rumpled, some of Jimin’s shirts discarded like they’re nothing. a few of Tae’s dresses are little more than ribbons of pink silk, pastel dirty grey from being dragged. 

The other doorway isn’t much better; Namjoon got substantially less of the packs california king sized nest through that door. Namjoon’s got Jimin wrapped around his middle. The alpha looks wild. Teeth bared while he tries to yank yours through the doorway one-handed, keeping his other palm fisted on the pack’s mattress. Too big, too cumbersome, and at the wrong angle. As he struggles to bring the two nests physically together.

Yoongi winces, he’s pretty sure part of the door is torn off its hinges. Namjoon never knows his strength, in a rut or outside of it. 

“Namjoon!” Jin barks, and his head snaps up. At the sight of the 6 of you and Jin standing with his arms crossed Namjoon goes from wolfish to pupish in 2 seconds flat. Jin’s furrowed brows and Jungkook’s pout are as menacing as they can manage. Your mildly crushed expression viscerally painful. He visibly deflates at the sight of his 3 pissed-off omegas.

“I just fluffed that!” Jungkook sights- about to step close but doesn’t- when Hobi puts a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn’t- I was just- you have to understand-” Namjoon’s chest heaves like he’s just run a marathon, scent spiking and falling wildly like he’s just realized what he’s done. There is nothing more sacred and precious during a rut than an omegas nest. There is no better representation of an omega's love and care for their alphas. No other altar that Namjoon could worship at.  

 And Namjoon’s just destroyed not but two of them.

He clutches Jin's yellow blanket frantically, picking up your blue one too. One under each arm and Jungkook’s current favorite pillow clutched in front. “It wasn’t right- they’re too far away- I can’t guard all of you at once, so I-“ he flushes, casing a scared glance at the mess he’s made. Like he's just now mapping his path of destruction and realizing how bad it is.

"Brought both of them together?"

No one moves and no one breathes while Jin thinks. After a pregnant breath, Jin just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and uncrossing his arms, stepping aside and gesturing to his alphas.

“Well? Are you going to help Namjoon move them to the living room or what? I’m not going to have his rut nest be in the goddamn hallway-”

The alphas don't let any of you omegas lift a finger when it comes to setting up the bare bones of the nest. Jimin and Hobi push the couches back while Yoongi and Tae move the dining room table and chairs to give you a bit more room to accommodate a queen and a king-sized bed right next to each other. 

The physical barrier between the nest and the windows pleases Namjoon’s alpha to a happy grumble. The curtains are already drawn to keep out any prying eyes. The whole den is safe, protected, and private. 

It's something like a fort you might have made as a child, only so much better so much more comfortable. There's something about having the mattresses on the floor that feels more nest-like than usual. Hobi and Jimin move at Namjoon’s barked orders. The pack alpha sends continual shy glances at Jin waiting for the pack omega's purr of approval.

If he's good enough at straightening out the other alphas maybe Jin will think he's good enough. Have to protect Omega, have to make sure Omega has all the nesting things he could want, pretty omega, needs everything if they're going to give me pups. 

Pups?

Jin blinks slowly, purring and wrapping himself around Namjoon. sitting with his legs parted for you and Jungkook, kneeling obediently on either side of his legs. chin's balanced on his knees until the alphas and yoongi are finished setting up.

Pups, Jin agrees

None of the alphas seem to be hurt by Namjoon's barking and pointing. He gets demanding with you and Jungkook too once the base is set. Your trips into the other room to gather up the mess of blankets get cut short. Namjoon heaves you up onto his shoulders more than once. Delighting in your squirming until he's placed you safely back into the proto-nest. 

It's a bit like herding kittens, no sooner has Namjoon gotten you into the nest than he looks up to find Jin or Jungkook’s escaped. It's maddening and more than enough to keep him occupied. 

Yoongi should be on your side when Namjoon wrangles you but he simply calms your squawking with short pecks to your mouth upside down. He tries to stay closer to Namjoon too. Each time your mate pulls himself into the alpha's vicinity you see Namjoon's spine relax incrementally. You're not the only one who holds the genetic advantage here. Beta pheromones are supposed to make things like ruts easier. 

Namjoon repeatedly nuzzles into your mating mark, eyes narrowing when he does like he's simultaneously offended by the mark and pleased with it.  

You watch Namjoon yank Jungkook back by his hips, hurling the larger omega into the fluffy confines of the nest with an undignified yelp when he tries to go back into the nest room. And minutes later- when you get a little bit closer to the edge- you find yourself pulled by your ankles back to the center.

Namjoon goes shy after he does it- But most of the time when you look up you find another packmate's eyes on you and Namjoon. Maybe they didn’t expect the pack alpha to get quite so rough with you. It’s probably just because you’re the only one that Namjoon hasn’t claimed before and his alpha knows that.  

Namjoon's alpha anxiously paces the confines of his mind and scratches at his chest waiting to be let out. Whispering filthy things in Namjoon's ear. Like he should lean down and sniff at the cleft of your legs to check if his spend stuck earlier. Wanting to verify if you're already knocked up or if he needs to truly keep you stuck on his knot for the next few days. The monster whispers that you should be the focus of his rut this time. The one he makes sure is bred best and most thoroughly. A new bond that needs strengthening

Nest-making and man-handling always leave you a little fuzzy around the edges. You and Jungkook fall into it like two heavy sweet-smelling pups. Offering different things to each other, needy hands and purrs, legs warm and heavy. Even Jin gets into it, asking for pillow after pillow, selecting each packmate to scent mark them. making grabby hands at his alphas until they kneel for him and let him kiss them scent sweet. licking into their mouths and pinching their scent glands to make them smell heady. 

Jin goes at Yoongi last, nibbling at his scent gland and prodding at his mating mark on his hip until you tug at his arms. But Jin doesn’t end up letting him go, better to have this pup under his touch. It’s not like yoongi could possibly have more food to prep after spending the better part of the day cooking. 

He arranges the pillows just so. Perfectly so that the nest smells like everyone- not just Namjoon; there's no need he's already stinking up the place. He sits on the couch crouched above the three of you. Dark eyes darting from one omega to another waiting for one of you to set a toe out of line. You’ve made nests together before of course- but never one that was all of yours and never one that felt so special. So purposeful.

 You nuzzle into Jin’s big yellow blanket and he does an extra involved job of setting your blue one up around the head of the nest, where it will have a least likely probability of getting ruined (it will get a little ruined unfortunately- because Namjoon’s going to nibble at the edge of it and leave a few teeth marks to resist biting Jin in a very permanent way like usual, but cest-la-vie).

Your nest is so pretty- Namjoon’s instincts say that he should reward each of you with a pup (his pup and only his pup) in your tummies.

Eventually, the provide part of protect and provide dulls the edge of his instincts. The need to dote and nurture festers as Namjoon watches the three of you muddle with the finishing touches. Jin’s cheeks glow when he smiles, and Namjoon can’t get his mind off of the softness of the omega’s limbs, strong- covered with a layer of fat. It has Namjoon's alpha howling.

But you and Jungkook- you’re going to need a little bit more if you’re going to actually foster life. Namjoon's alpha never likes the apparent lack of fat on Jungkook’s body, even if he's strong and perfectly fine otherwise. Namjoon's alpha has... specific standards.

Chubby tummies and round thighs, thick arms that namjoon can sink his teeth into, chests that swell and ripple over hemps, maybe pudgy with milk. Namjoon’s alpha gets a little confused; he catches himself looking at Tae’s chest a little too long, swelling from her hormones. tae’s not an omega but she is starting to grow the equipment that Namjoon’s alpha lusts over. 

You’re definitely better compared to how you were before. (Namjoon's alpha might have done something absolutely reprehensible like force-feed you butter if you were still as small as you'd once been) Namjoon’s alpha doesn't even like the memory of you at your smaller size. Howling in anger that you were ever allowed to be so unhealthy.

It’s fine, that increasingly small voice of normal Namjoon says, He’s here now. To give you all of the nourishment your little body could possibly ever need, sweets and treats and anything to keep you looking more like this and less like that.  

You’ve gotten so thick, there's something about the curve of you that’s like candy to Namjoon’s alpha, the dimples where your arms meet your shoulder, the way your knees chub when you lean back on your heels, The way your thighs squish together when you kneel prostrate.  

Namjoon wants to rub his knot all over you. 

(Ew- Gross Joonie) 

(....sorry) 

Such a good omega, such a healthy one too- perfect and round and ready to handle Namjoon’s pups. He’d never confess out of embarrassment or fear of making you self-conscious- how absolutely delectable he finds your weight gain. But Namjoon can’t help but look at the curve of your hips and salivate now. Thighs and stomach Plush beneath his hands when he tugs you down just to nose at your waist- so ready to be knocked up he can physically feel it.

Namjoon tries hard not to imagine it, your stomach round with him, evidence to all who you belonged to, who’d kept you well bred. He imagines how cute you’d get during your pregnancy, sensitive and doting. He might want to keep such a sweet sight in the nest. Reserve you just for his and the pack’s eyes only. Namjoon should be the first one to knock you up. Should do it before the others can sink their teeth into you. It’s his duty. 

He snarls when Hobi steps into the nest, worrying at the foreign scents that still cling to him instincts confused for only a second, but then he gets a pinch to his scent gland in retaliation. He grins bashfully and pulls Hobi down for a scent mark to ease the sting, unable to make his mouth cooperate and explain. He’s not going to be lucid for much longer, but making Hobi feel unwelcome is not something Namjoon ever means to do. Jin's practically Namjoon's translator while he's in rut headspace, “Sorry pup, you smell a little too much like work for him, come here and let me fix it"

Of course, Namjoon’s other set of pretty pups is just as precious. His alphas, he can feel their power under his touch, likes to drag his teeth along them, their arms, Hobi's calf, Jimin's bicep, Tae's pretty hands. /All his. All his and perfect- his alpha purrs. Perfect for the hunt- need to reward- need to keep. Need to show how to be good to omegas, and show them how to breed properly.

Namjoon tries very hard not to imagine your mouth against his knot, how cute it would look if you kissed it the same way you kiss Tae and Jimin goodnight- which presents a whole new set of dirty delights. Jimin's done more than kiss his knot. Wouldn’t that be cute? You bouncing on his knot and Jiminie licking at it? It would be cuter if Jin showed you how to take a knot at the same time? 

Namjoon doesn't know what he'd do if both of you got knocked up at the same time, he imagines it; Both of your stomachs chubby with pups, chests sweet and swollen with incoming milk. Hungry cunt’s still begging for more of him. 

It’s a pity Namjoon doesn’t have two knots- because then he could keep both of you sated at once. But at least the other alphas are on hand. Namjoon’s alpha howls at the idea of all three of you properly knocked up by the end of the week.

He could also try knocking up the others, Namjoon’s horny brain says that just might be possible. If any knot could breed and bitch another alpha- it would be Namjoon’s. 

You look up at the sound of his growl, just setting out one of Yoongi’s sweatshirts at the edge of the nest and fluffing down a blanket (thank God the pack has a collection of waterproof ones, set out in layers on the base of the nest to hopefully save you all a lot of discomfort).

You flush when you look at him, Namjoon’s half-hard knot in his grey sweats doesn't escape your notice, just as thick and hard looking as it felt earlier. He’s already aching and sort of embarrassed about it. Embarrassed that just the thought of knocking you up could get him going so easily. That he still needs more after you gave him so much earlier. You look helplessly at the hardness between his thighs, and Jin-

Jin reaches up and pinches the inside of his thigh.

Namjoon’s growl is a threatening powerful thing, although his pack omega looks at him with a hint of chagrin. A push and pull that can only end with Jin's ass up and presenting for him. You’ve got a handful of hours if you’re lucky.  

“What?” the pack omega taunts, parting his legs in a way that quite honestly makes Namjoon’s cock twitch and weep, “if you don't want me to interrupt your fantasies be less obvious about them.”

The back of Namjoon's neck goes hot, "-wasn't fantasizing about anything." he grumbles. 

Jin snorts, "You were growling and looking at her stomach!" 

And oh- Namjoon’s must have been glaring at you. No wonder you’d looked a little startled, pack alpha growling, staring you down like that. 

It’s going to be a long long rut.

~-~

Namjoon falls asleep shortly after you finish the nest and get everyone inside of it. His body tired and readying for the final crest of pre-rut. Instincts eased Purring and chuffing as you and Jungkook carefully arrange Yoongi at the mantle of it; the prized possession.

Milky thighs that Namjoon teeths at. Pink knees that Namjoon runs his palms over just to rub them ruddier. Yoongi's sleepy grumbles are companions to Jimin's and Tae's and even Hobi's as the omegas carefully arrange the rest in the nest too. Big and fluffy and the kind of thing you sink several inches into when you move in it.  

Even Hobi has to admit that this is something out of every alpha's daydreams: Nest from wall to wall, every inch of it carefully scented and meticulously arranged. Vague patterns in textures and colors.

Extra rough thighs go over on Jimin’s side and along the bottom, everything pink and silky and Tae right next to him. baby soft linen beneath Namjoon, and the kind of well worn cotton that makes Hobi want to go belly up. The kind of thing that makes the back of his head buzz pleasantly, begging him to relax, to lie his head down and roll around a bit to get more of it on him. 

Hobi does no such thing, he's a good alpha, and would never dream of moving a single pillow in this nest. It's too precious, too perfect.

It's quiet and still for the first time in hours. Namjoon's calmed by the finished nest, the smell of his pack close soothing the chaffing of his instincts. But he only truly soothes himself when he gets into the proper position; belly down on top of Jin. Full weight laying across the omega, his face tucked into his throat where he laps at the milky whipped cream scent there that Namjoon's breeding-occupied brain can only assume is for pups. 

You and Jungkook bookend both sides of them, an arm thrown around either of your waists to keep you from straying too far. if you try- Namjoon will surely feel it and wake hunt you down. 

Yoongi's soft little snores buffer everyone softly off to dreamland. On the other side of the nest, Jimin and Tae are curled close together; the phone screen lights both their faces from below. Hobi watches as Tae's eyelashes flutter and her hand goes slack. Jimin takes her phone before it can get lost in the nest and plugs it in. (Someone had the genius idea of running a power strip along the edge of the nest so the pack had a place to put their phones). 

You look painfully small against the mountain of pillows and the nest, your body swallowed by the blankets and Namjoon's arm. Hobi can only really see the top of your head. You put down a lot of layers so the pack can periodically rip them up and add them to the fringes, revealing fresh cotton for each wave of rut.

It’s always reminded Hobi of wolves marking their territory- to wrap the spent rut blankets around the edges like markers that say Come closer or Go away. 

Hobi wonders if any of those go-away messages are going to be meant for him. 

Tae dragged him upstairs earlier- while you were sleeping off taking Namjoon’s knot for the first time to prep a little. They’re not really sure that Namjoon’s going to need the alphas this rut, but sometimes Namjoon’s alpha wants them regardless and can’t let the rut go until each of them has taken his knot. 

He hadn't had a lot of time to think about that and what the next week or so will entail. He'd been decidedly uninterested in any sexual attention in the shower even though logically he knew he’d needed it. It was almost domestic- the way that Tae had helped him, nothing about her touches entitled. Willing to take it just as far as Hobi wanted it to go. 

Tae’s arousal hasn’t felt like a threat in years, just because she got hard didn't mean Hobi had to do anything about it. She'd reminded him of that fact several times in the shower. He’d held her while she’d opened herself up. heavy cock rubbing against his hip. 

That knowledge, that Tae honestly doesn’t expect Hobi to want it or want her all the time, did more to ease his anxiety than he’d said or shown.

Hobi loves Tae an awful lot. That he'd said. Soft, words almost lost in the stream of the shower. Hobi wonders why you'd put Tae on the other side of the nest and not on your side, but Jungkook had been stern when he'd arranged Hobi on your side of Namjoon and you hadn’t challenged him. 

There were still a few knotting dildos left on the floor of the shower, sweet smelling and steamy from hours earlier. But Tae hadn't judged Hobi's semi or when he’d said he wasn’t in the mood to cum. Unsure if it was instincts or proximity.

Hobi was so distracted by it he forgot to wash properly, so caught up in the scent of you that Namjoon growled at him.

He guesses that Jungkook’s prepping you was successful because the whole house smells like you and Namjoon- like coffee cake fluffing up just baked. Hobi finds himself choking on it whenever he breathes in deeply.

It’s not that it smells bad, in fact, it smells so good- too good. Hobi feels like he’s not allowed to enjoy it that much. It feels voyeuristic and not in a good and sexy way.

He should get more comfortable with the idea of it- because he’s going to see you like this personally and up close before Namjoon's rut is over. It's one of the reasons why Hobi can't tear his eyes away from you in the half-darkness of the nest. And why he can't sleep.

All of the lights are off except for the one in the hallway. Narrow bands of yellow from the streetlight outside cast small irregular tangles of orange light through the room like a suncatcher would in daytime.  

Hobi is barely a foot from you. He guards this side of the nest while Yoongi guards the top. Tae is a careful pretty pink barrier too, ready to guard against anything that's not aesthetically pleasing (like gym socks and Namjoon's gingham work shirts). and Hobi watches as Jimin sleepily pulls himself along the bottom and finally falls asleep.

That’s how the alphas always sleep when one of them is in a rut; the rest of them on the outside, ready to watch and be summoned to participate, Yoongi too.

Still, Hobi finds himself watching not Namjoon but you, the same way he’d watched you for the rest of the night, measuring every faint hiss, your hands cupping your stomach at times like you were nursing some invisible ache and hurt.

But Yoongi and Jin had kept an eye on you. So close at hand that any help Hobi could offer surely wouldn't be needed. There is no shortage of people making sure that Namjoon didn’t go too far with you earlier.

He wonders if you needed anything, if they got anything wrong. 

You’d even gotten a hole check from Jin. Hobi had almost walked in on it after helping tae do her shot in the bathroom. Cresting the corner to see the hem of your shirt pulled up. Underwear around your ankles is visible on the floor. but your greater anatomy hidden by the angle. Pulled back by Tae at just the last moment.

"Just wait a second," she'd whispered in the hall, her hand was hot on his wrist. Thank God for her. Smelling of roses and cinnamon and arousal. The hormones she's been taking have been making her scent change a little- more aromatic than she'd once been. Hobi thinks it suits her. "Don't spoil it."  

Don't spoil it. that's the words running through his head as he watches you sleep. He still doesn't know what exactly Tae had meant by that.

He won’t be able to be so shy by the end of this week. Whatever surprise will certainly be spoiled. There is no doubt that you’ll both see each other in your entirety. Nude, in the throes of pleasure and probably pain, all of it. Somehow, he’s not as scared about it as he thought he'd be, but he still can't sleep. Mind running over the moments again and again without rest.

Sometimes the pack has bouts of insomnia before a packmate's ruts. Hobi's not the only one that stirs eventually. Yoongi pauses when he sees that Hobi’s awake, bending to dot a kiss on his forehead before he carefully leaves the nest without waking any of the others. 

he moves silently through the house to tend to some imaginary duty, Double-checking the food, counting portions and multiplying it by probable days and pups. Will Namjoon's rut be three days or four? Five? Never.

Maybe he’s off to peal more tangerines.

It offers Hobi the opportunity to pull himself closer to you in the nest. Not too close, but the movement makes you turn. You're awake. Roused by your mate stirring or Hobi’s, it's hard to tell.

You try and move closer to Hobi but Namjoon doesn’t like that you move away from him. Nearly chasing you across the nest with how quick his sleeping body rolls with you. Sliding part of the way off Jin and tugging you closer to him by the arm around your waist. You huff and Hobi can’t stop himself from stifling a quiet laugh.

after a moment, you whine, needy eyes that don’t want to ask but he gets the picture, closing the distance between the two of you slightly. 18 inches becomes 12. Your feet are on the same blanket. Sticking out from under separate duvets.

“You’re still thinking about something,” he guesses, rather than asking, cheek balanced on a pillow that smells like you. He doesn't switch it out for a nearby one that Yoongi was using before he got up.

You think about it for a moment. Chewing on your words before you say them. “You safe worded for me,” you say, voice rough. Something lodged in your throat. "Sorry, I'm still stuck on it."

Hobi will let you be stuck on it for as long as you need and will rehash it with you for as long as it takes it not to bother you. Out of all of them, Hobi understands the need to talk about things twice.

“I did.” He admits.

You jolt up onto your palms, tenting the blanket, falling thick across your back. Namjoon's shirt (this one grey, with a tiny crab on the lapel) slides off your shoulder. “But why?! If you liked it and wanted it- why did you stop for me?”

Hobi moves his body a few inches closer, close enough that his knees brush your knees. Both of you are wearing shorts and the skin-to-skin contact feels decidedly dangerous. Your scent hikes up. Namjoon presses a growl against your throat, more like a sleepy snore.

He leans on his elbow, jaw sharp when he tilts his head back. A triangle of light falling across his cheek.  “If you want me to admit that I like it best when you feel safe and comfortable- this is a roundabout way of forcing it out of me.”

Your mouth goes dry, “You do?” (Maybe this is it; maybe that’s the extent of love. wanting and wishing that someone else will feel safe- will always feel safe when they are standing next to you.)

I like it best when you feel safe and comfortable.

Your heart thuds painfully. Rabbit fast. Just as fast as it did when you took Namjoon's knot earlier if not faster. 

Hobi has never been anyone’s safe corner before. He leans over, bumping your shoulder with his forehead the way Noodle does.

“You’re in my pack” he grumbles because he can’t think of anything else to say. Any other justification for it insufficient. It's the truth.

"But you’re- you’re comfortable with it? With being punished together?” you gulp, "With sharing Namjoon's rut together?"

Namjoon’s hand goes possessive on your stomach, splaying in sleep like a cat would retract its claws, almost kneading. Hobi gets that far-away look in his eyes, the one that you hate that means he's thinking about them.

He tilts his face, and the bit of light on his face gets lost in the nest. “My last pack never helped me with my ruts Like at all” you lean up on your elbows.

“Not even like making you a nest?” you ask. You knew that- or at least you think you did; you can’t remember when someone told you. But you quiet your questions for now. Conscious of spooking him. Hobi snorts like the simple idea of that is ridiculous.

You want to know why; does he get possessive like Namjoon? Stinky like him now? You can’t imagine any of the pack's rut scents smelling particularly terrible, certainly not terrible enough to warrant abandonment like that. That seems inhumane and cruel at best.  

Namjoon’s scent is not the kind of scent that would rub your nose raw like that. maybe the kind that has you perpetually wanting to roll around in it, and bear your neck every which way so that he might want to sniff it.

see alpha- see what good of a nest I can make for you- a comfortable cozy nest for pups, see alpha- don’t you want to breed me.

The kind of scent that cuts your brain off at the stem, and makes you think stupid thoughts like that. You fear which ones you might think during Hobi’s rut. Or during your heat. You can't imagine Hobi having a scent that doesn’t just provoke nesting.

His hand tightens on his blanket. “Not a single one, they couldn’t be bothered. Most of the time when I was in rut they’d ignore me or like lock me in a room to rot- and you-“

Hobi shifts over another 6 inches so that he can reach and cards his hand gently through Namjoon’s hair, his fingers skim over the side of your face as he does it, with the pack alpha’s nose still tucked into the back of your hairline.

“-You let him do whatever he wanted. You let him destroy it. Jin told me you stayed with him while he slept.” Your eyelashes flutter and you shrug-

“I can always make another one and besides this one” You stretch out your toes, and they curl. “This one’s lots better.”

Even with my scent in it? even with Namjoon stinking it up? Hobi wants to ask.

But he can’t ask that. So instead he lifts himself onto his palms, “Do you need water, any food? It could start at any moment. You need to be careful. The others- if they don’t eat for a day because of a rut they’ll be okay but, I’m-“ he gulps, “I’m worried about you.”

You snort “You and every other alpha in my general vicinity- and Yoongi.” Hobi blushes. Packmates are allowed to be worried for each other are they not? Why does it feel like something Hobi’s not allowed to confess? Why are his cheeks so hot? Hopefully, the darkness hides it.  

Hobi feels like he’s been denied something vital when you shake your head. All of your instincts are on high right now. Your jaw pops when you yawn. “I think I just want to sleep.” You tuck your head down, cheek sleepily scenting the blanket beneath you and Hobi. And go still.

Hobi couldn’t tell you why he doesn’t sleep, why he stays up with Yoongi. Listening to the sound of the beta fussing in the kitchen, watching the refrigerator light wax and wane as Yoongi continues to prep food until there honestly isn’t any more room for it.

He couldn't tell you why he takes his blanket and fluffs it over your body, thick and patterned with little stars he can barely see in the darkness.

He watches the door, Watching the soft rising of your chest. Measuring your breaths. Your position as you shift and fuss in your sleep. watching over you.

He couldn’t tell you why he guards you until Namjoon’s pre-rut breaks. But he does.

He does.

 ~-~

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