#I'll have to just post and be like 'hey a little birdie told me there's this aki hayakawa account you can roleplay with'

[meownotgood]

and if I make an aki hayakawa roleplay blog what then? WHAT THEN HUH?????

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.” 

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[https-cyber-slxt]

Holy shit! Your blog is an oasis in a desert istg. Finally some proper unadulterated femdom content on this hellsite. Thank you so much!

If your requests are still open, can I please get some sub!Dante content? General headcanons or just a little pegging for my bbg :) Up to you. And thanks again <3

P. S.: A word of advice: try to avoid more explicit tags, like sub!character or dom!reader, and use something more general like character x reader. I've noticed that Tumblr algorithm doesn't take into account actual contents of the post and shadow bans based on tags. I've seen some really outrageous stuff fly under the radar, because it only had fandom tags and nothing specific. Hope this'll help at least a little bit. You don't deserve to deal with this bs. Wish you the best!

hiiiii anon, I really appreciate these kind words, here just for you.

Oh and I'll absolutely give you your “daily” dose of pegging Dante :P

Devils Do Cry!

Sub!Dante x FemDom!Reader

A/N: I am so unmotivated (also it's 10 pm and I'm tired as shit, so if this is bad, I'm sorry)

“So... Who's Elizabeth?” you question out of nowhere as you pull your sword out of the Hell Caina's chest, causing it to wither away. Dante becomes stunned at the question, raising a brow at you. “Just another Devil Hunter, why?”

He swallows thickly at your serious expression. You prop your glasses up and wipe the blood off of your weapon. “A little birdie told me that you went on a *date* with her last night” Dante whimpers and furrows his brows before propping himself up properly. “Oh yeah? Well maybe that little birdie was trying to make you jealous” your face becomes even more serious. “Why would Nero wish to make me jealous?”

Dante stops in his tracks and nearly bursts into a sprint, damn you little nephew! “I uh- uhm-” his sentence cuts off as you grab his collar and shove him against a wall. “Don't lie to me Dante! What were you doing last night!?” He sobs as he licks his dry lips. “I'm sorry (Name), but I promise I didn't do anything, I just- walked her back home, that's all, and Nero must've thought something else“

You drop Dante and turn away, walking back to his office space with him not far behind you.

☆~ 5:30 PM ~☆

You lie on your stomach as you flip through the pages of the magazine, munching on the cheese pizza while doing so. Your fingers rest at the bottom of the page while your eyes fixate on the pictures, making you unaware of your surroundings. Your reading becomes interrupted as the doors slam shut, making you look up at Dante. “Jeez those two are a pain in the ass” he sighs while stretching.

“If they're so annoying, why are you friends with them?” you ask while flipping to the next page, placing your hand under your chin. “Well you know, it's nice to have some company in this shithole” He answers while walking up the stairs. You scoff and lift yourself off the couch. “Hey! Which drawer do the magazines go into?” you shout while fiddling with the book in your hands. “My desk drawer!” oh wow real helpful.

You roll your eyes and walk behind the desk, opening up the top drawer, nope, the middle one, nu-uh, the bottom one perhaps? Your hand grabs the handle and just as you're done opening it halfway, you slam it closed and grip the magazine in your hands even tighter.

A few moments later Dante rushes down the stairs, oblivious to your shocked expression. “Hey babe so, Morrison will be here in a few and- are you okay-” his sentence cut off as he stares at your grip on the bottom drawer handle.

You both stand there in complete silence, until you stand up and purse your lips, dropping the magazine on to his desk. “So how long have you had those?” you ask while side eyeing him. Dante stands there in complete shock. He lifts his hands up and defence, trying to think of an excuse. “How. Long. Have. You. Had. Those?” Now your entire body was facing him. “A-awhile it's that, I've been hesitant on asking you..”

NSFW Below The Cut X3

A bright blush covers his face as he answers your question. “Bend over the desk” you command while opening the drawer with your heels. “But Morrison-!” his sentence interrupted as he's pushed against the desk. “I don't care about Morrison, if walks in here that'll be his own problem. Now, bend over the desk, and take off your pants while you're at it”

A sob leaves Dante as he follows your command, taking off his pants and boxers while bending himself over his work desk, spreading his legs open and resting his chin on his forearms.

Meanwhile with you, you pull the strap-on out of the drawer, and you're not gonna lie when you say it's packing a decent size, 8-9 inches at least and relatively girthy as well. You notice the ring gag in the drawer and pull it out, it'll be of good use. You set the strap aside and lift the gag right in front of Dante's face. He gasps and looks back at you, you smile and giggle. “You know what to do” were the only words you said before he sighed. Shoving the gag into his mouth, you grab the straps and adjust it to your liking.

You reach back down and grab the lube out of the drawer. You grab Dante's hand and squeeze the lube on to his fingers. He looks back at you with confusion and you just smile at him. “I can't just shove this entire thing into you without any preparation, go on, open yourself for me” you continue smiling as he lets out a soft whimper.

Using his free hand, Dante spreads his ass open, allowing his fingers to slip in easier. He slowly inserts his middle finger in, soft gasps escaping him as he inserts another finger. He goes knuckles deep, making him arch his back, his free hand quivering and struggling to hold himself open.

His upper body basically falls limp as he starts to finger himself, getting lost in pleasure and completely forgetting about your presence. You grin and grab his wrist, giving him a fright in the process. You pull his fingers out and grab the strap-on from his side.

You tie the harness around your hips and grab the lube, carelessly squeezing some on to the strap, causing a little bit to fall on the floor beneath you. You stroke up and down, smearing the lube all over.

You slowly insert your strap into him, heavy moans escaping him as he grips the front of the desk. “Ah! nghhhh~!” drool slips down his chin as his eyes begin rolling back. You insert the entirety of the strap in him, the harness touching the skin of his ass.

You readjust yourself and lie on top of Dante's back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You short thrusts cause sobs to escape Dante as tears begin to fall from his eyes, leaking onto the desk below him. Your nimble fingers remove themselves from his neck and creep down towards his dick. Your free hand wraps around his leaking cock, pumping up and down gently.

Your other arm wraps around Dante into a chokehold, making his hands move from the desk to the arm around his neck. Letting go of his dick, you untie the gag move your hand back to its original position, pumping faster than before. “Shit! You're killing me! Just fuck me already! I need it, please!” Dante's tears roll down on to your arm along with his drool.

You unwrap your arm around his throat, causing him to drop on to the desk. You grab his arms and lock them behind his back, speeding up your pace in the progress. Dante cries and moans, not caring of someone or something hears him. “God fuuuck~! Yesyes! Oh you make me feel so- so good! Ah! Ah~! Nggggh!”

Your hand lets go of his arms, but like the loyal slut he his, he keeps them there as you grab his hair, lifting his head up and biting his neck. “Yes!! Oh fuck yes! Faster, faster! Fuckmefuckme!” Dante moves his hands to his dick as both your hands grip his hair and jacket collar. “I'm g-gonna cum! Pleaseplease! Let me cum! AH!” his begs and pleas turn into a nonsense of sobs as you rake your fingers through his messy and sweaty hair. “Cum for me” you whisper in his ear.

Dante sobs and cries as he releases all over the floor, some even getting on his desk. Quite sobs escape him as his left over tears form a small puddle beneath him.

Just as you lift yourself up, Morrison busts through the door, an unpleasant look on his face. “Considering that you two have stopped fucking like two rabbits in heat, just take this before my day is even more ruined” Morrison hands you a letter, not saying another word and slamming the building doors closed, his car revving up and leaving the area just as quickly.

You set the letter aside and stare at the fucked out Dante beneath you. “What to do with you...”

[stupidlovergirl]

https://www.tumblr.com/stupidlovergirl/718382323745341440/tldr-hes-hot-getting-caught-about-how-attractive

Hey! How’s your day been?

I saw that your requests were open on your pinned post and I was wondering if you write for/would you do a version of one of these for Mephistopheles? I feel like that purple haired nerd would become so smug and smarmy after hearing you say something about him y’know? Anyways thank you so much and I hope great things come your way!

Nonnie... Your brain is so huge... This one is for you bestie. Insufferable idiot, I want to punch him in the gut and then kiss him when he doubles over in pain <3.

Bros Vers

Datables Vers

Not edited

If anyone had asked the demon what he thought of you, he'd say a lot of things, a lot of backhanded compliments definitely. Now, though, he isn't so sure.

"He's dedicated, and he tries so hard. Its admirable. I really like when he doesn't feel the constant need to uphold his reputation and actually starts being his self. It makes me really like him. Also, you not tell him, I think, he's like, super attractive too. His hair is sooo pretty. His eyes make me understand why people wax poetry about their lovers eyes for so many lines it makes you want to die. To be completely honest, I think I'm into him, like, romantically. Ugh, kill me, I'm in love with an egotistical idiot."

No one just says things like that and doesn't mean it. His eyes are wide, a he thinks his jaw is open. He quickly compses himself, and just...walks away. He has to come to terms with this.

The next time he sees you, your bringing him a document from Diavolo, smile big as you hand it over. He smirks, and kept help but mention the converstation he overheard

"A little birdie told me you find me attractive" he simply says. Its funny, how the color seemingly drains and comes onto your face.

"I don't know what your talking about Mehpisto" you simply say, voice strained.

"I think you do. Something about how my eyes make you understand why people spend so much time describing their lovers eyes, or am I mistaken?" He's smug, and he can see the fear and anger all over your face.

"Why would I say something like that?" You've regained some composure, and roll your eyes. Your trying to shake him off, but he's not letting you do that. Oh no, he's going for the throat.

"Because you like me. Romantically." He simply states, and he watches as you crash and burn.

"Who told you?! Was it Mammon, I swear I'll kill him!" Your furious, and lunge for him. That, he wasn't expecting. He panics, and you grasp his arms. "If you do not tell me I'm beating you. Then I'm going bird hunting." You sound so crazed, he might have been scared if you didn't look so...cute.

"It was you. Your so loud, talking about jow much you like me. It was like you wanted everyone to know. Except for me, evidently." He says, voice smug as he rolls his eyes.

Your hand move to hold your head, hands covering your face. He feels a little bad, but only just a little. Yet, he knows he's had his fun, and decides to end this little dance. His hand reach to hold your wrists, and yank your hands away from your face, and uses them to pull you closer.

"Don't worry, I think you're attractive too. My affections for you are also romantic"

The anger and love in your eyes is so worth it is all he can think as you start to yell about his teasing.

[nerdalmighty]

hey, sorry for randomly sliding into your inbox but! i just wanted to tell you that i'm about to start act 3 of bg3, would've started it sooner but i didn't get to play for a couple weeks as i was waiting to be able to upgrade my hard drive. and over the course of playing i've ended up changing several details of my tav's backstory as well as really fleshing out their character and getting into the roleplay, and i'm so attached to them by now that i almost don't want to finish my playthrough lol. i'm thinking of starting a gale origin playthrough once i do finish just so i can see more of tara. and i noticed that you're close to finishing the game as well! can i ask how birdie's adventure is going?

AHHHHHH DON'T APOLOGIZE!!!!!! I love talking BG3 :)

I am INCREDIBLY close to finishing the game. Like, about to go to the Nether Brain for the final battle close.

I've been putting it off FOR WEEKS because I'm so incredibly attached to Birdie and the companions and their relationships to each other and I don't want it to end!!

Since last we spoke, Birdie and the gang had just done the Iron Throne mission (breaking people out of jail). She decided NOT to go confront the other Wave Servants; that chapter in her life has closed. I won't spoil more of Act 3 since you're just getting into it, but I did I think maybe three other Big Plot Things and now it's time to actually do the damn thing and beat the game.

I'm a little nervous about some of the endings I may have gotten for myself (I'm concerned I may have accidentally condemned Gale to godhood) and I know there are some things I missed, purely because it was my first playthrough and I didn't know any better (I didn't get to know Rolan, didn't save Minthara, didn't get the Githyanki egg, etc), but I'm honestly excited for the epilogue sequence. Is it mostly because of happy/soft Astarion? YES! I LOVE THAT GUY! SUE ME!

My roommate and I have been playing the game at pretty much the same pace this whole time, so I'm about to watch HER beat the game this Friday. She's playing as a Gloom Stalker Ranger named "Sevyn" (yes, like the number 😂) who's romancing Gale, but we've made relatively similar choices throughout the whole thing.

I'm not too worried about spoilers since I know a lot of the outcomes, I just don't know how it happens or what the final battle looks like. But like I explained in my previous Birdie post, I like to look things up beforehand/during certain events because I like having help. Similarly, I love watching my roommate play and learning from/with her so I don't feel as in the dark when it's my turn. Granted, I played a lot without her during Acts 1, 2 and 3, but since we're getting to the end, I've slowed WAY down and have let her go first with most big things. It's not for everyone, but it's how I like to play!

I'm so attached to Birdie and this save file that I'm thinking of creating an entirely new account on my PS5 just to start a new game so that I don't have to save over previous Birdie saves.

Like, what if in a new patch, they add a new scene to Astarion's plot line? A new action (hug/kiss)? New camp idle animations? I want to be able to go in with Birdie and do those things, should they ever come up. Yes I COULD romance Astarion again (and probably will because I'm a weak woman) but as you said about your Tav and I've been saying about mine, I'm really attached to Birdie and I'm invested in who she is and how she fits into the world of BG3.

ALSO! Apparently they're adding mods at some point to the PS5 version? It's been taking everything in me not to buy it on my computer just for some of the mods even though I LOATHE sitting at my desk for hours on end. If mods come into play, I'll definitely want to see what kind of fun things I can make happen for Birdie and the gang. Additionally, one of my friends told me that people modded Skyrim to the point where they were adding new plot points and quest lines? If that happens, and they add like some sort of masquerade ball or event where I can dress up like a princess? You bet you're ass I'm going back to Birdie to let her do that 😂 I'd want to play new paths with Birdie in general, but I'm a sucker for a royal ball sequence 🥸

So basically, Birdie's story in Baldur's Gate may be coming to an end fairly soon. I don't know exactly when yet, but I've been having a blast and can't wait to play the game again and again and again. Right now that's hard to imagine, but I know I'll pick it up with a new Tav eventually because it's such a good game and you can't help falling in love with the world and the writing and the characters. I shall grieve the loss of this particular story, but I plan on keeping Birdie around for as long as I can.

[sugaaaaaaaar]

Hey

@dreamiiiiie

Yeah, you

A little birdie told me it was someone's birthday

(pretend I just knew because I'm smart and forget that I had to ask you to double check)

Anyway...

Happy Birthday to the boy!!

Also the one on the right is a redraw from this

I'll probably re-do it if I remember but you know

Anyway 2x, here's where it gets sappy and cheesy:

Banoffee was the first CRK OC I drew fanart of (my first post was on April 23 and I posted this on the 30th so yea first) and was one of my first interactions. The way I was absolutely ecstatic when I got the notification that you liked it and reblogged it (the way I was ecstatic when you followed me lol). Drawing Banoffee made me realized how much I like making fanart for others OCs and seeing the interactions between everyone. It gave me the confidence to make and write OCs of my own and interact with others who make their own OCs. And it has been really fun in here (somehow I haven't had any negative experiences/interactions) and Banoffee will always have a place in my heart for being my "first step" into this world of chaos. So, thank you, not only for Banoffee, but also for every piece you make. The way you use colours, draw eyes, draw hands, shade and highlight, write stories, the way you just do you. Your fanart, cookie run or not, is always a treat to look at. I think this 'letter' is getting long so I think that's all I'll say for now. Thank you

Sincerely,

Me :3

[aringofsalt]

uhhhh 12 for the song fic challenge and steddieeeeee (what a cool idea!!!!)

thank youuuu 💕 i had two options in mind for this, but this one was the less angsty one lmao. hope you like it!!

12 | FALL OUT BOY - HEAVEN, IOWA

Kiss my cheek, baby, please Would you read my eulogy?

“The truth is,” Steve began, then paused, trying to clear the lump from his throat. “The truth is, I didn’t know Eddie very well until recently. He annoyed the shit out of me at first, to be honest. He’s so loud, and he just never stops. But I got to know him better, really quickly, and what I learned was that he really just never stops caring. He had everything against him, the whole town wanted his blood, and he stayed with us to the end. He saved my brother. He helped save me, helped save this entire godforsaken town and—and died for it, and you’re still talking shit about him.”

He stopped then, levelling the pair of cowering housewives with his best, bitchiest King Steve stare. Most people in Hawkins by now knew better than to speak ill of Eddie—or any of the Hellfire crew, for that matter, even the ones he didn’t know personally—to or around Steve; he’d gotten in several near-physical fights in the months since spring break. But even now, some people hadn’t gotten the memo, and here he was, once again jumping to defend his dead friend to a couple of absolute strangers in the middle of a grocery store.

Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile.

“Anyway. Have a nice day, ladies.” Turning his back, he forced himself to walk at a leisurely pace towards the checkouts at the front of the store. Distantly, he heard Dustin’s footsteps behind him; he’d almost forgotten the kid had been with him. They paid in silence, waiting until they got back to the car before Dustin was pulling him into a crushing hug.

“I’m really glad you’ve got our backs, Steve,” Dustin told him, uncharacteristically softly.

“Always,” Steve assured him. “Now get in the car, I need to get you home.”

—

“Honey, I’m home,” he called as he crossed the threshold.

“In here!”

Steve followed the voice through the house and into the kitchen, pressing his face into its home in the mess of dark brown curls. “Missed you,” he breathed.

“Missed you too, baby,” Eddie replied, turning to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist. “A little birdie told me you were getting into trouble in the Big Buy.”

“Of course he did,” Steve groaned. He returned the hug, sighing happily. “He was probably on the walkie the second I drove away.”

“Of course he was,” Eddie confirmed. “But hey, it’s not every day my knight in shining armour delivers my eulogy to the townsfolk, defending my honour from those who would besmirch it—”

“Sure feels like every day,” Steve grumbled back, his grip tightening around Eddie’s body. “I wish we could tell the whole damn town. Show them all the truth. I’m tired of you having to hide, I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“Soon,” Eddie promised. “We’ll be able to tell the truth soon. And in the meantime, I have you to keep me company, and the others, and that’s pretty great.”

Steve hummed in agreement, nuzzling his head into Eddie’s and dropping a kiss on his cheek.

Pretty great, indeed.

---

send me a number 1-100 and a character/ship and i'll write you a mini fic 💕 original post

[micheya]

https://youtu.be/92z7UVKOb8c

I'm not posting these one-shots in any particular order of when I wrote them. I just kinda take the one shot comments I make and post them on here.

I'm going to make more of the "dancing with your favourite character" prompt like with Diluc, and have a Chongyun one in drafts as well as a "Kaeya and you harrassing Diluc" planned in my mind

Trip Log | Childe's winter trip

How the hell did we get here?

It was the snowy season and Childe thought it would be wonderful to sweep you away from Mondstadt - without notice to Diluc - to climb a hill in Liyue.

"Look, here's a sledge. We can go down these hills together!"

"those are mountains, Childe" you had deadpanned at his excitement to travel down at such a dangerous height, the slope nothing but steep, but looking into his excited eyes, and genuinely eager expression your conviction wavered.

"Childe. It's really late, we've been climbing all day" the two of you climbed, with him aiding you the majority of the way, his hand grasped yours tightly in an effort to be sure you were safe near him.

"Really, this spot is the best one for sledging. This will be our final stop." His matte coloured eyes stared at you, though you didn't notice as you focused on your next step.

"I'm cold. I don't mean to complain, but I can spend time with you doing something else."

"Yes, and we'll do whatever you want later. I'll even let you..." He pondered for a second, "Well, I'll buy you that wing glider you mentioned you were saving up for!"

Eyes wide and stars sparkling your pace picked up, but your stiff legs and arms couldn't keep up with your excitement. Though in the end, seeing you motivated was enough for the Sneznhayan brat.

"Here we are. Welcome to our new hideout." Instead of going down some snow, he had brought you to a small abode, seemingly newly built, on the flat peak.

"The perfect spot for gliding, and a secluded area from the noise of the world." He welcomed you and dragged you straight to a bathroom, "There's pyjamas there, and I think the water should still be at least warm. Please let me know when you're done. I'm kind of cold too." He chuckled.

"Bruh, this is lit!" As you tried to leave, you felt yourself pulled back, "hey. You kinda need to let go of my hand."

"Oh?" He questioned, "Oh!" He realised.

______

"You don't have to get me the glider. I'm super excited just having this to share with you." The both of you sat comfortably in pyjamas, the ginger surprisingly docile sitting between your legs, as you sat on the sofa his back leaned on, while you dried his hair from his own bath.

"Yeah, just pay me back with your time."

"I'm not annoying? Don't you quite like the chaos of the world I'm dragging you out of?"

"On the contrary, I'm glad you haven't left me, despite how annoying I seem to be with you." His hands held onto yours resting on his head, "Not to dampen the mood, but don't leave me." Though his tone was playful, it was painfully obvious that he was desperately wanting you to not leave.

"Oh". Leaning over to him, your arms wrapped in a tender back hug.

"Of course not." There was a comfortable silence.

"Oh yeah, I had already bought that glider."

"What-"

"Tomorrow we'll glide down the mountain together." He smiled his head up looking for your reaction, " and a little birdie told me you came second in the gliding competition of Mondstat."

"Well," you smiled proudly.

________

"AHHHHHHH"

The wing glider broke as you had taken of a few metres away from the cliff.

"Y/n?!" Childe leapt immediately after you.

"oh my goodness, Barbatos, send me your wind. I'm sorry for calling you BARBARA TOES!" The ending increasing in volume as the ground slowly got closer to your body

Childe, an arm's length above you, didn't know whether he could laugh in this situation, but as he grabbed you and opened his glider, a glow of a small rock appeared in front of you, to which you instinctively grabbed, followed by a force of wind forcing the descent of your fall to decrease massively, especially since gliders weren't designed to carry such a weight.

"Oof!" The two of you landed harshly onto some snow, but without injuries, and you froze in post-shock the light blue stone firmly gripped in your hands, and you tightly held in Childe's grip.

"I'm going to kill that salesman" wide-eyed, he still managed to make a threat.

"Please just hold me, I don't need someone else almost dying." Also wide-eyed you didn't want to think about anything, completely ignoring the cold of the snow below you, and how you became the unlucky few to get a vision through a life-threatening experience.

"You don't need to tell me twice"

Though even after that trip, Childe didn't hesitate to completely get rid of the seller's business with news travelling fast of how it mysteriously burnt to the ground.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[shadow--writer]

And I'm Gonna go There Free, Like the Fool I am and I'll Always be

How chaotic can one Shade with the ability to word get? just learned to do a fancy thing too look at me go

The answer is very. Will I make a series after this? Who knows it’s very tempting. God I should make a post about this au as well lol. I pounded this out in one sitting btw. (song btw). 

--Maeve x Lucas (WITH some Amani x Zora in there too bitches look at me)--Modern au but not fight club lol my own kinda modern au-ish--4.2k words holy shit--

TW: none!

Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, tHEY ARE SO CUTE OMFG, Amani is a shithead, good lord I hope I got Zora’s character right, dancing, how much domestic fluff can I fit into one fic, FRIENDSHIP, dorks in love

In which dance lessons take a...different turn. Also Amani breaks into Maeve’s apartment and steals a barstool.

@mineshaft-birdie @dela-png

The day was a slow one. It was midafternoon and they had just finished up spring cleaning. 

She swayed her hips, humming along to the music playing. Lucas watched her from his spot on the couch, his off tune hum making her smile. She arched her back, leaning back with another sway. Her fingertips brushed the floor before she brought herself back up to her feet. 

He clapped making her giggle. “Amazing,” he said, a smile clear in just the tone of his voice. 

“I can teach you, you know,” she said, looking back at him. He held out a hand for her to grab, leading her to sit down on his lap. She straddled his hips, tucking her feet under his thighs. “How to dance, I mean,” she said, kissing his cheek. 

“You’ve seen me dance.”

“Exactly. You’ve seen me cook and yet you still try to help me. I want to do something for you in return.”

“Like teach me to dance?”

She leaned back, smiling. “Yeah! It’s fun. It’s great to let off steam, and it’s quite a workout. Besides I just...want to see you dance.”

“...I look like a dead fish a little kid is playing with.”

“Whoa that was specific.”

“...mmmmhm.”

She snorted, kissing the tip of his nose. She was not going to ask.

She pushed up off his lap, shrugging her jacket off. He let out a low whistle, making her laugh as she tossed the jacket aside. 

“Didn’t know it would be this kind of dancing.”

“Oh hush.” She shot him a look over her shoulder, throwing her hair up into a messy ponytail. “Can you help me move our furniture? Unless you want to move to my studio?” Her aerial silks studio. Only reason she bought this apartment. 

That and the nice view (along with walking distance to work but shush). 

“...I might wreck your TV.”

“Studio it is then. If you want to get changed that’d be good too. Jeans aren’t uhh...the best to learn a dance in.”

He let out a low sigh before getting to his feet. “Studio?”

“Yeah I just need to clean it up a little.”

“...you’re not gonna back down from this, are you?”

“Nope! Now go change.” He ruffled her hair against her protests, steps heavy as he walked to their bedroom. “The shirt is optional!” she called after him. 

He snorted, yelling back. “So is yours!”

She bit her lower lip to keep from grinning, fixing her ponytail. She grabbed her phone, going over into the studio to pin up her silks. On her way she picked up a little green box from the table in the hall. That same table Lucas kept bumping his legs against. 

She giggled at the thought, feeling nerves and butterflies flutter in her stomach as she looked at the box. She told Amani about what she was planning to do and today felt...right. 

Shoving it in her pocket she went to pin her silks up. 

He walked into the studio by the time she was finishing pinning the last one. She knew he had walked in due to the laughter. 

So yeah maybe she was on her tiptoes on a ladder. 

Har de har har.

“You know if you needed help you could’ve just asked,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. She turned to look at him with a little huff, the ladder shaking under the abrupt movement. 

“Well I’m sorry I was cursed with being short.”

“You sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m doing just fine thank you,” she sniffed, turning back around. She finished pinning the last silk, climbing down and putting the ladder back where it was. Smoothing down the front of her crop top she turned to look at him. 

“Okay now. That’s done, we can get into it!”

“...hurray.”

“Oh come on a little more pep please.”

“...hurray?”

“....that’ll have to do for now. Now where do you want to start?”

“Something easy?”

“...hmm wanna try mambo?”

“Is it easy?”

“Well not easy easy but it’s not that complicated. We can start with some of the simple movements, like the forward back step. If you’re feeling up for it I can also teach you how to dip.”

“Dip?”

She pursed her lips, walking back over to him. He had shed his jacket and opted for sweatpants. She was a little disappointed he still had his shirt on but she could wave it off. They both were in socks, making mambo a little harder but she was up for the challenge. 

“Here I can show you…” she said, grabbing his hands. He just watched her as she shifted one of his hands up on her shoulder, the other on her upper arm. She did her best to keep her hands on his upper back, leading him into a small side shuffle to lead into the dip. 

Keeping her body straight she shifted her weight into dipping him. His hands gripped her arm and shoulder, eyes widening. 

Good gravy was he heavy. 

“The hell are they feeding you?” she breathed. 

He blinked before laughing. “Ouch firefly, that stings.”

She rolled her eyes, lifting him back up. She let out a little huff of air as he kissed her softly. After pulling away he stood upright. “So that’s a dip. Think you’d be up for learning it?”

“It doesn’t seem super hard.”

She brightened. “It really isn’t! When you do dip me though, don’t lean close, it hurts my back.”

“Ah! Gotcha.”

“For now it’s forward backward mambo steps!” She grinned a little, adjusting the ribbon in her hair. He stared at it for a moment, the deep blue bringing out the darkness of her hair. She smiled, grabbing his hands again. 

“Where’d you get that?” he asked. 

“Aislin bought it for me a while back. Haven’t had the chance to wear it.”

“It’s beautiful on you.”

“O-Oh,” she stuttered, her cheeks warming. She ducked her head a little, embarrassed. She still wasn’t used to his out of the blue compliments even after being with him for so long. 

He coughed, squeezing her hands. “Dancing?”

“Yes! Right! Dancing!” she chirped, head snapping back up. Her brows were set with determination. 

She was going to get him to dance well. She would or she’d die trying. 

“So...where do we start?” he asked, just standing there awkwardly. 

“Well first with foot movements. Then hand placements. Put it together. Forward and back are the easiest steps, but it gets harder with more complex hand movements and spins.”

He looked horrified, she quickly cut back in. “For now though, forward and back. After you learn to dip me maybe we can learn side to side.” 

He nodded, a stubborn gleam sneaking into his eye.

“So first is how you move your feet.” She let go of his hands, moving to a spot in front of him. “We start on the second beat, and when we dance together we start on our right foot.”

She stepped forward on her right foot, brought it back to the middle with her left, back behind her, and finished by bringing it back to her left in the middle. 

“Oh that...doesn’t seem all that bad.”

“When you move faster it gets a little tricky, but yeah! Not super complicated. When you add the hips in…” she repeated what she did, but swaying her hips side to side along with her arms. “Now you try it with me!”

His movements were a little jerky, and he kept overstepping the middle but…

“You’re doing great!” she said with a large grin, backing up to set up music on her phone. Soft riffs of a guitar played as she shuffled her playlist.

“Can we...try it together?” he asked, eyes lighting up at her praise. He held a hand out for her to take. She walked closer to him, his hand warm and all encompassing around hers. 

“Sure. Arms.” He squeezed her hand once before letting it go and held his arms out. She lifted his left arm up, lacing their fingers together. She moved his other hand to the small of her back, resting her arm on top of his, not quite reaching his shoulders. One issue with a height difference was that dancing would be a pain. 

“Like this?” he asked, fingers tapping on her back. She squirmed a little at the touch, making him smile.

“Yeah! But not as tense,” she said, starting them off. He fell into it pretty quickly, what she dubbed his ‘focused face’ coming back into play. She felt a dopey smile climb across her face as she looked at him. 

When he got closer she shifted him back with a small glare. “Dance space, my love.” She let go of his arms to gesture. “This is mine.” She made a circle with her arms, he did the same. “That is yours.”

She grabbed his hands again. “No looking down,” she said with a giggle. “My eyes are up here. You can do this.”

They quickly fell into a rhythm, he was catching on quickly.

Then his arms got too loose. And he got very grabby, his hands traveling down south to her butt. 

“Noodle arms!” she gasped, moving her arm from his shoulder to swat his hand. “No wandering hands!” He pretended to pout, falling back into the dance again. 

He went in for a kiss, she moved her head so he got her chin and neck. His lips traveled down her neck as she squirmed, pushing at his chest with a laugh. “You are invading my dance space!”

She let go of him, pointing to her space again. “This is my dance space.” She pointed back to him. “That is yours. Let’s try it again.”

They went back to it for another moment, her eyes darting to her feet, before he tugged her closer, tilting her head up. “Don’t look down,” he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Look right at me.”

She snorted, stretching up on her toes to kiss his neck. “Hey now! Dance space!” he said with a laugh, pushing her back into position. His hair was escaping the little ponytail he had tied at the nape of his neck. She fought the urge to run her hands through it as it curled around his face in an adorable way. 

After their laughter quelled they settled into the movements. His tongue peaked out from between his lips as he concentrated, brows furrowed. He was slowly getting the loose but structured part of the arms, them moving in sync. 

Then ‘Toxic’ started blasting. She started humming along, lip syncing to it. He snorted, losing the rhythm a little as he watched her lose the mambo, moving her shoulders to the beat.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“Very much, but you’re still ridiculous.”

She arched her back away from his hands, spinning out of his grip, lip syncing but with passion. He laughed, moving back closer to her. She held and shook her head at ‘spinning round and round’ as he hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her pants. 

“Do you feel me now?” she sang softly, smiling. He rolled his eyes once before kissing her. She giggled, swaying back and forth in his arms. 

“What’s up bitches!” someone yelled from behind them. They jumped apart, Lucas yanking his hands out of her belt loops, her tripping over her own feet, face burning crimson. Toxic still merrily played behind them. 

“Amani, you spooked them.”

“Good.”

Maeve spun to look at the intruders. Ah. Of course. Amani. Oh but Zora was with her. That was great. The only voice of reason in this fucking group had just broke into her house. Ah yes that bode well. 

Maeve rubbed her temples before cracking an eye open. “How the fuck did you get into my- ...is that a barstool from my kitchen?” 

“Yeah,” Amani replied with a shrug. 

“...you just broke into my apartment, grabbed a stool from my kitchen, and brought it into the studio with you?”

“Well there’s no other fuckin places to sit in this studio besides the floor and I’m not an animal!”

“...yeah. Sure.”

“Maeve!” Amani gasped, offended. 

“Well sweetheart, we did break into her apartment.”

“Not my fault she keeps the spare keys by her bed!”

“So that’s where they went!”

“...Zora I can’t believe you fed into this,” Lucas said once he got himself together from the embarrassment of being walked in on. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“Oh no I’m the one who acts smart but is the worst out of all of you.”

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?!”

Amani had set the stool down and was sitting on it the way a man on the subway would sit. 

Aka Legs spread and looking like she was going to melt right off of it. Maeve could feel a headache coming on. 

“Was bored,” Amani offered. 

“...so you decided to commit a crime?”

“Yeah.” 

“Amani I’m gonna need a better answer than that for I am three seconds away from throwing you out a window.”

“Ouch Maevey that hurts.”

“One...two.”

“Got bored and decided to say hi. ‘Sides I brought the keys back.”

Maeve turned to look at Zora. Not the answer she wanted but it would do. “And you. What is your excuse?”

“Amani dragged me along. I was also bored.”

She turned to look at Lucas. “So these are the people we surround ourselves with?”

“Apparently.”

“Look without us you two would’ve been gettin it on in the studio. Woulda made a mess,” Amani cut it. Maeve felt her ears go red.

“We were not,” she sputtered. “I was teaching him to dance!”

“...uh huh.”

“That’s it!”

“It’s true! She’s teaching me mambo.”

“...can he actually dance it though?”

“Amani I’m hurt by that statement.”

“Well can he?”

“We’re learning forward backward steps Amani. He can’t mess those up.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Amani I thought we were friends!”

“Exactly.”

“Amani!”

Maeve snorted, looking over at Zora who was trying not to laugh. “Bored you say?”

“Well that and Amani just wanted to see you two.”

“...see us?” Lucas asked. “Why?”

“Uhh to congratulate the happy couple on their engagement, duh.”

“Amani!” Zora hissed, gesturing to both of their very empty ring fingers. Amani didn’t see her girlfriend’s increasingly panicked hand movements. 

Maeve felt her heart stop and sink straight into her feet. All the colour drained from her and Lucas’s faces. 

“...engagement?” Lucas peeped. 

Amani watched their reactions, face growing more confused. “What? You did ask her, didn’t you?”

“...no.”

Amani’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh SHIT.”

Zora smacked her forehead. “Oy vey,” she muttered. “Amani, baby, I love you but-”

Maeve didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, she only turned to look at Lucas. He still looked broken, she swore she could hear dial up streaming from his ears. 

“Darling?” she asked softly. He turned to look at her, cheeks reddening. 

“I have something to tell you,” they both sputtered at the same time.

She blinked. “You first.” Again said at the same time. 

“No you,” she said.

“No no, yours sounds important.”

The box in her pocket grew heavier with every heartbeat. God damnit Amani. 

“Well I...um,” she looked away, fidgeting. She never really felt nervous like this but...it was a big moment. 

She turned to shoot a low glare at Amani who only offered up a small nervous smile. God fucking damnit. 

“Well I was planning on doing this while we were alone,” she huffed, looking back at Lucas. She shoved her hand in her pocket, trying to fight the stutter out of her voice. “But apparently we had two guests coming over.”

“Just get it over with- OW!” 

She looked just in time to see Zora elbow Amani in the side. Amani muttered bitterly about how that ‘fuckin hurt’. Zora only shot Maeve a smile and a thumbs up. 

While she appreciated the sentiment…

She looked back at her boyfriend, letting out a low sigh. “I love you.”

“...uh oh.”

“Oh hush you.” He chuckled. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. “Fuck, I love you,” she whispered. He blinked, almost shell shocked. “I want to marry you,” she blurted out. 

“Yeah I love you- w-what?!”

She pursed her lips, letting out a little sigh. “Goddess I’m no good with words. Sometimes I wonder how I even got to date you. I’m blunt and mean and rude and vulgar but…” she dragged the box out of her pocket. “I managed to fall in love with a dumbass and a dork so it isn’t all that bad, right?”

“Maeve?”

“Holy fuck Lucas she’s asking you to spend the rest of your lives together!” Amani yelled from where she was sitting. 

No yelp, in fact Zora was nodding. The look Maeve shot her said all she needed to know. “What? Ami isn’t wrong.”

“You two are the worst,” Maeve groused. 

“You want to...marry me?” Lucas finally let out. 

She opened the box she was holding, rolling her eyes with a little smile. “Well yeah. After I kill Amani.”

“HEY!”

The ring itself was simple. It was only an engagement ring after all. Her grandfather made it a while back when she brought up the whole ‘getting married’ thing (he talked her ear off too. Her phone bill spiked). It was a silver band with a deep green stripe running through the middle. The green shimmered into something lighter when she moved it. 

“That’s funny,” he said, hand disappearing into the void that was his sweatpants’ pocket. He could shove both her and his hand in that thing. Of course she was jealous of it. 

He pulled out a ring. Not just any ring but her mother’s wedding ring. 

She felt tears well in her eyes. She had told him about it a while back when they first started dating. She didn’t know he remembered. The ring was a simple small silver band. It was braided into a celtic knot with a little turquoise at the top where the knots met. 

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.” He shot her a lopsided grin, her heart skipped a beat. “I uhh...I’m also no good with words but I love you, firefly. Of course I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I fucking love you giant.”

“There she is. I was getting worried with all your sappy talk.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughed. 

“But I didn’t get an answer.”

“Neither did I.”

“Well mine is ‘of fucking course’.”

“Hey you stole my answer!”

He chuckled as she slid the ring onto his hand. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. My answer is yes.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“You stole what I was gonna say.”

He laughed again, kissing her knuckles as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “You love me.”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t.”

“FUCKIN FINALLY!”

“Amani you’re the one that almost ruined it.” “I DON’T CARE!”

A little sigh. “Sometimes I wonder why I love you so much.”

“For my stellar personality obviously.”

Zora giggled, Maeve turned in time to see her plant a kiss on Amani’s cheek. “That and just because I love you.”

“I cannot believe Amani almost ruined this,” Lucas muttered. She turned back to him, laughing as she got closer. She grabbed his left hand with hers, liking how their rings glittered when they moved. He ran his thumb along her knuckles, pausing at the jewelry. 

She lifted her head up, him leaning down to kiss her. 

Then Amani started screeching like an alarm. “THIS IS THE PURITY UNTIL YOUR WEDDING NIGHT ALARM. No handholding of any kind.”

Maeve giggled, joining in on the tomfoolery. Lucas sighed. “No need to worry, I am pure. We haven’t even shared a kiss.” 

Oh yeah they all knew that was a fucking lie.

“Oh? Not one kiss?” Lucas asked, grinning. 

“Nope. My lips are innocent. Saving them for my wedding.”

He bent down close, surprising her with an open mouth kiss. She let out a little squeak as his tongue tapped her teeth once before he pulled away. “That good enough for a first kiss?”

“Well it was supposed to be on my wedding night but…” she smiled, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “It’ll do.”

Amani let out a dramatic gag. “You two are disgusting.”

“Imagine what they’d be doing if we weren’t here,” Zora said, love clear in her tone. 

Amani gasped. “You’re right! Defiling the name of marriage I say!”

“Oh like the two of you are any better,” Maeve shot back. “Do I have to recount the amount of times I’ve caught you two in the storage closet at the pub?”

Zora chuckled. “Well you and Lucas in the pantry aren’t any better.”

“Let’sjustcutitandsayifanyofuswerecaughtbyourbossatworkwe’dbefired,” Lucas sputtered out, face going red. 

“Aww, but baby I thought you liked the thrill,” Maeve cooed. 

He shot her a low glare. Amani cackled. “Degenerates!” she yelled. 

“Amani, my love, my sweetness. Pot. Calling. Kettle. Black,” Zora said.

Amani gasped, melting completely off the stool. “My own girlfriend! Betraying me! Oh woe is me! The agony!”

They all giggled at Amani’s actions, she and Lucas scooting closer together. He wrapped his arms around her waist, swaying back and forth. The music and dancing lessons were long forgotten. 

“How about we go out for dinner tonight,” Maeve offered. 

“What? Like a double date?” Amani asked from her spot on the floor. Zora was laughing too hard to help her up. 

“Hmm...no. More like a party!”

Amani’s eyes lit up. “HELL YEAH A PARTY! We gonna get smashed and cause chaos?”

“...well sure.”

“Fuck YEAH!”

“...you are making my life so much harder,” Zora sighed, smiling. She looked back at Maeve again. “Who knew a pip squeak like you could hold your liquor so well.”

“I am not that short!”

“I will beat you at one of those games Maevey!”

“Maeve, you are the shortest out of all of us. You look like a kid.”

Maeve pouted. “Yeah I can still drink you all under the table. Yes even you Amani Ms. ‘can’t-play-guitar-sober-but-somehow-can-drunk’.”

“OH SHUDDUP!”

Lucas laughed, squeezing Maeve’s hip before going over to squat by Amani. 

Zora walked over to the now abandoned Maeve. “Well...how are you feeling?”

“Like I’m gonna wake up any second?”

“That’s fair.”

“You think you and Amani will do this?”

“What?”

“Get married.”

Zora’s eyes remained on Lucas now crying about how gravity was increasing on him. Amani let out a squeal as he fell on top of her. 

“Well...maybe. I haven’t thought that far. I love Ami but who knows where our future lies.”

“A wedding with you two would be pretty chaotic.”

“Oh yes definitely. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“LUCAS GET OFF ‘O ME YA SEMI TRUCK!”

“Amani that hurts my feelings!”

“GET OFF!”

“For that comment? No!”

Maeve and Zora giggled. “I am happy for you and Lucas. Sorry Amani almost ruined it, don’t think she realized.”

“Oh no I’m more mad about the fact you two broke into my apartment again. You should just take the key.”

“...you sure about giving us the key?”

Maeve sighed. “You’re gonna take it anyways. I can just get another spare made.”

“Amani is gonna take that as an invitation to come over as often as she can.”

“Good to know. My room locks will be changed.”

Zora snorted. “Once again, congrats. Sorry you had to do that infront of us.”

“Remind me to strangle Amani later.”

“...mmm fine but don’t wreck her pretty face.”

“Noted.”

“When are we gonna go! I wanna party!” Amani whined from where she weaseled out from underneath Lucas.

“You do realize this is a celebration of mine and Maeve’s engagement right?”

“Yeah it’s also an excuse to tell embarrassing stories.”

“...oh no.”

Maeve perked up. “Oho? Stuff I don’t know? Let’s go.”

“First we’re gonna give you a makeover,” Amani said, walking over to drag Maeve out of the studio. 

Zora untied her blue ribbon, handing it over to Lucas. “Milady’s token of her affection,” she said with a curtsy. Maeve’s protests went unheard. 

He bowed, making Zora smile. “I thank you for the token of her affection. I will treasure it always.”

“You better be planning to give that back later,” Maeve groaned as Amani dragged her away. 

“Depends. It is a token of my love’s favour.”

“Ugh I hate you.”

“But you’re still marrying me~”

She sighed. “Of course. How could I forget.” She looked back at Amani. “And the fuck are you doing?”

“Gods you need your ears checked. I am giving you a makeover for your engagement party.”

“What? Why?! I look fine!”

“Well the high waisted pants with your crop top is cute and all, I want to make you so fucking hot Lucas kneels over.”

“She does that every time I see her,” Lucas called from the doorframe. 

Maeve glared at him. “Don’t encourage her.”

He only smiled, waving at them as they made their way to her room. Zora was making sure Maeve wouldn’t escape. To her short ass it was like two very tall amazon ladies were her escorts. 

Or in this case prison guards. 

“I’d like to see them try to make you even more gorgeous,” he said with a wink. “It’d be a fun challenge.”

“We have Zora on our side!” Amani grinned. “You get dolled up too and then we go cause a ruckus!”

Maeve sighed. 

It was going to be a long, chaotic night. 

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Smut: Homemade

Length: 8.2k

AO3 Link

Prompt: Omega mommy Tony and alpha son Peter who finally starts his rut. Tony ends up pregnant, and Tony loves feeling the life inside him, that feeling amplified by knowing that the pup(s) have part of Peter in them. When Tony starts lactating, Peter likes to nurse while he fucks his mama, caught between the safe, warm, feeling he gets from drinking from his momma and the desperate, near-frenzied mindset he gets fucking him.

Ive been MIA. Lack of motivation + IRL stuff = one very sad mads. So I finally finished this mommy kink fic yayy. Also using this as a fill for Starker bingo, X-ing out my Incest square 😱 anyone curious about my card can see it in the AO3 post.

Notes: ABO Dynamics, Incest (normalized sex setting), Omega Tony, Alpha Peter, intersex, marathon sex, knotting, breeding, impregnation, pregnant sex, lactation, ruts, lingerie, and so much mommy kink

Note 2: Not explicitly stated but throwing in the underaged warning here.

Also before anyone jumps me for breast feeding info/correction, I was too lazy to do a thorough research into this so I'm tweaking it in this omegaverse lol

💗💗💗

Tony's actually in a meeting when he gets the text.

It's from Happy, his loyal but too serious bodyguard slash chauffeur.

Boss, i just dropped the kid off at the house. He literally begged me not to tell you, but he isn't feeling too well. - HH

Tony frowns at the message and thinks for a half second before he shoots a text to his son.

Hey, kiddo. How's class going? - TS

There’s silence for a few seconds before his inbox is flooded in Peter's usual lightning fast but short sentence texts.

…

...Happy told you, didnt he

im sorry, i wasnt feeling good

They said I should just go home

And I told Happy not to tell you

he promised but I guess he lied

I'm fine, really just need to nap.

Sorry, mama.

It's the last line that gets him because lately, Peter has been trying to stop calling him mommy or mama. he wants to be more formal, more grown up and just call Tony mom, but it slips when he's feeling particularly vulnerable.

Meaning his baby needs him right this instant.

Tony excuses himself from the meeting and texts Happy to bring him home. Smart man, the beta is already waiting for him when Tony strolls out of the building.

He makes it to their home in Queens in record time but doesn't text to let his son know. Peter, despite being a clingy child, has some guilt about pulling Tony away from his job. The omega doesn't know where it comes from since he has always reassured his boy that he would move mountains for him.

Tony loosens his tie, slipping off his shoes when he enters their home.

There's a scent neutralizer in the air so the omega can't tell from scent alone if his son is in distress. Scent neutralizers in the ventilation but the walls aren't soundproof. The only ones that are soundproof are Tony's bedroom for… reasons... Not that he needs it. The omega hasn't had a partner for heats or otherwise since Peter was a baby.

He approaches Peter's bedroom and pauses when he hears sounds from inside.

A soft moan. His hand stills on the doorknob before he decides to knock.

He gets a soft yelp and the sound of something crashing on the floor. Tony raises a brow but schools his expression when Peter cracks the door open.

"Mama?" Peter whispers incredulously. He licks his dry lips and blinks too rapidly. "Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting…?"

Normally, Tony would have a sassy reply instantly but something… It's… It's hard to pinpoint really, but the scent is familiar and it makes Tony's insides clench and his legs feel weak. He hasn't responded like that in so long and the last time–

Tony's eyes widen when the realization hits. It's all processed in less than a second and his instincts surge to life inside him.

"A little birdie told me you aren't feeling well," Tony says coyly, leaning closer.

He gets more of that scent, spice and musk… Knows by the way Peter's lips quiver that he's catching his omega mother's scent at the same time. Peter's eyes dilate, the pupils expanding and eating up the brown of his irises. Brown eyes that he shares with his omega parent.

Does Peter even know what Tony's scent means?

If he's presenting today, the deeper notes in Tony's scents might still be a mystery. In that case, his body would be responding but Peter wouldn't know, consciously, why he's so aroused. Why Tony's scent is turning him on so much when just yesterday, his nose only registered comfort and security.

"I told Happy–" Peter groans, "Mom, I'm okay, I just need a minute."

Tony smirks but when he tries to nudge the door open, Peter holds it steady, a soft whine of, "Mama, p-please–"

He abruptly stops talking when Tony caresses his cheek, subtly posing his wrist right next to the boy's nose. He's feeding his presenting boy the scent of a viable omega. It's a dirty trick but he just wants to help and possibly ease his son's suffering.

"Baby, I can smell it," Ton says gently, "You're becoming a man… An alpha."

"Mama…" Peter groans, breathing the scent in with greedy lungfuls of breath.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Tony encourages his son to speak honestly.

Peter swallows, so unsure, but he whimpers when Tony continues stroking his cheek, soothing and arousing at the same time.

"It does," he admits, "but… but… I…"

Tony's poor baby is struggling.

"Do you want Mama to help, darling?" Tony coos to his son. "I can make the hurt go away."

"You can?" Peter looks at him with wide eyes, full of trust and innocence.

It makes Tony's heart beat so harshly against his chest. His body responds too, but he's already been dripping slick since he smelled his son's arousal. The scent of an alpha in entering a rut. It's even more potent for a first time presented. It's even more arousing that it's his baby boy, his sweet Peter.

"Open the door, baby," Tony encourages, "I'll help you feel better."

Peter's breathing escalates, his body practically vibrating with unspent energy. Tony can read all the signs and more slick drips out of him when he does.

His sweet Peter is going to be such an amazing, good alpha.

His son opens the door and Tony almost sinks to his knees right then and there. If he thought Peter's emerging scent affected him before, it sends his head spinning. It's intoxicating.

Alpha… alpha…

Tony breathes it in and takes a few seconds to acclimate himself. Then, belying the struggle he's feeling, Tony saunters into the room and promptly sits on his boy's bed, crossing his legs. It helps to hide the trembling and the urge he has to just lay back and offer himself as a rut toy for his son.

Peter, sensing the change in his omega mom, hesitates when he turns.

It's obvious why. His erection is tenting the soft pajama pants he has on and he's trying to hide it behind his hands. There's a light flush on Peter's cheeks, such a pretty pink that Tony wants to snuggle the boy close.

"Well," Tony smiles and it's a sultry thing, an expression that Peter's never had directed at him. It makes his son push out even more pheromones, trying to lure in the omega teasing him. "We're not gonna solve your problem with you all the way over there. Come closer, baby."

Peter does step closer then takes another until he's standing right in front of Tony. The omega gently eases his son's hands away.

"Need to see what I'm working with here, kid," Tony tells him.

Slowly, he tugs his boy's pajamas down, letting the fabric drag over the erect length. His son's flesh is uncovered, slowly, like a grand reveal and Tony's mouth fills with saliva with every inch he exposes. He guessed the size a bit, just from the outline, but that doesn't compare to what he sees.

Tony knows right away that Peter has a pretty cock. The flesh itself is flushed a gorgeous pink, just like the blush on his cheeks. The girth isn't something to scoff at. It looks like his presentation hit Peter like a truck, giving him all the tools needed to be an alpha stud despite still being Tony's baby boy.

The omega eyes the loose skin around the base. For a kid who hasn't popped his first knot, Tony can already tell Peter's knot will be massive. When the band of his pajamas finally slips over the tip, Tony's breath catches when the entire thing is freed. It's so hard that it springs up but the weight of it is too much to curve up against Peter's belly. His son's cock bobs in the air, all flushed and needy, drooling for his omega mama's touch.

Tony takes a moment to admire it. A soft sound catches his attention and he looks up to see Peter's embarrassed face. The blush has only deepened and the color has crept down Peter's neck and chest, disappearing beneath his shirt.

"You've grown to be such a big boy," Tony murmurs, rubbing circles on the hard jut of his hip.

"Mama…" Peter whispers, a tiny bit embarrassed. But there's a hint of pride there like he can't help being happy that Tony compliments him so.

"It's a good cock," Tony assures him, "You'll make plenty of omegas cry on this thing…"

Another soft embarrassed sound then his sweet son admits, "I don't… don't really want any other 'mega, mom…"

His son is such a sweet boy. Tony feels his heart twist because Peter's always been such a good boy, always thinking about his omega mama, always so sweet and kind. Some young omega will steal Tony's sweet boy away and that's… that's life.

Tony doesn't say such things though. They'll come in time. For now… He'll take what he can get and teach his son what he wants to know.

"What do you think…?" Tony says casually while he wraps his hand around Peter's cock. "Think you can hold out for me, kid? Or are you feeling sensitive…?"

He gets his answer as soon as he gives the firm cock a single stroke. It twitches wildly in his hand, drops of precome beading up quickly at the slit. It drips down the flushed head and just as quickly, another drop forms. It keeps going, fat cloudy drops that gather and overflow so that it drips steadily.

"I…" Peter whines, hiding his face behind his hands again. He peeks through his fingers, "I don't know…"

Tony tries to be gentle but his baby isn't too far from his first orgasm by another's hand.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Tony tells him as the boy shuffles closer. His hand works over Peter's erect cock, jerking him off with firm but quick strokes. "Let it out, little alpha… Let it out for mama…"

It doesn't take more than a few strokes before Peter's body grows taut. His cock twitches and pulses in Tony's grip, balls drawing up quick. Tony doesn't stop and soon, his son is bucking up his hips, soft gasps and a cut off "Mmph…!" before Peter spills all over Tony's hand.

The load his son releases is so much… 

"Fuck, baby," Tony says, astonished at the sheer amount of come, "you were really backed up, hmm? You should ask for mommy's help if you need it... Don't want my baby getting so frustrated…"

Tony milks it all out of Peter, massaging and encouraging the soft little baby knot at the base of his cock. He ignores the fact that his son's come makes a mess, some of it getting on his designer suit and dripping all over.

Peter slumps against him, sinking onto the bed. His head falls on Tony's shoulder and he buries his face against his Mama's arm.

"Isn't this wrong, mama…?" Peter asks softly.

In that quiet, whispered sentence, Tony hears all his boy's doubts and fears. Tony can't bear to have his kid upset, so he tips Peter's face towards his and gently, lovingly, kisses the boy on the lips.

Peter's brown eyes, so like his own, widen but he doesn't scramble back. If anything, he melts into it, hands twitching at his sides, wanting to touch but unsure of where to place them.

"I love you, baby," Tony tells him. Then he smiles a bit wryly, "You love me too, don't you…?"

For a second, Peter looks a bit offended at the question before he eagerly nods, replying, "Of course, I do, mom."

He nuzzles Tony's cheek then brushes his nose against his jaw and then his neck…

"You're perfect… my perfect mama…" Peter tells him, "I love you so much… There's no one I'd love more than you…"

Tony melts and tugs Peter down onto the bed with him. The young alpha curls up against his side while Tony kicks off his ruined pants. Since those are already gone, he strips off his suit jacket and the vest beneath. As he's unbuttoning his shirt, he feels curious fingers trace along his underwear.

He looks over his shoulder, raising a brow at his touchy feely son.

Peter gives his mama a shy smile, "It looks nice on you…"

Tony looks down, grinning at the hot red lace underwear he's wearing. He hasn't had an alpha in years but he still likes to feel sexy beneath his clothes. He's also glad he wore something nice since Peter seems to love it.

"Thank you, baby," Tony says leaning down and kissing the top of his head.

He leaves his shirt on but it's entirely unbuttoned. Tony is, perhaps, a bit eager but Peter certainly appreciates it. He tilts his face up, lips puckering a bit in expectation. Amused but not willing to turn down the request, Tony takes Peter's lips in another sweet kiss.

He's practically leaning over his son when he feels Peter's cock swelling against his thigh. The joys of having such an eager and young alpha…

Peter had just started getting into the kiss when Tony pulls away.

"Mama–" Peter protests but Tony shushes him with a finger to the lips. When his boy pouts, Tony takes his finger away and pecks him on the lips.

"There's no rush, sweetheart," he tells Peter, "But hmm… How about we make you a real alpha, hmm? Would you like that…?"

Peter's wide but eager eyes are answer enough and yet, he seems conflicted.

Tony reads him easily and kisses him softly.

"Still think it's wrong?" He raises a brow.

Peter's eyes are wide and even though he shakes his head rather enthusiastically, there's still that tiny bit of doubt that shadows his face.

He wraps an arm around the boy's shoulders and gently eases Peter down on top of him. His legs spread to accommodate his son, knees cradling the boy's hips.

Peter's cock presses between his legs, firm flesh poking and dragging along his clothed pussy. It makes Tony shiver in anticipation.

He reaches between their bodies, leading his son's cock where he wants it… The tip nestles against the fabric, precome wetting the lacy material.

"Pete… You're my baby," Tony says. Their eyes lock, alpha and omega, mother and son, as Tony teases him. He rubs against his son's cock, dragging the wet tip up and down along his slit. Even with his panties in the way, it's such an intimate feeling.

He nuzzles against the boy's cheek, purring, "Part of you should always be inside me… So, do it, baby, it's okay… Put your cock inside mommy."

He wants to do badly, Tony could see it. His eyes are hooded and his lip caught between his teeth. Tony only knows he's breathing because they're pressed close.

Peter's so close to getting his first taste of omega pussy.

"...What if I'm bad at it…?" Peter mumbles then, the last thing holding him back.

He can't take his eyes away from Tony though and the desire is there… Oh God, Tony hasn't felt this kind of mutual attraction in years. His baby alpha is just so eager but so worried about disappointing Tony… It's just so sweet, so typical of Peter.

"You're a Stark, aren't you?" Tony gently teases, "Being great is in your blood."

Then Tony smirks, a confident grin that trembles when he feels Peter's hips shift forward, seeking the warmth of his body.

"Besides…" Tony murmurs as he pulls Peter closer. "I'll teach you, baby… Don't worry…"

He squeezes the alpha's cock, stroking along heated flesh. It's dripping again, so much precome and fluid, his son's cock naturally providing lubrication so it could penetrate any tight hole.

Tony's pussy clenches, slick and wetness just dripping right out of him. This entire time, he's been so focused on Peter that he's been holding back his own wants. But this… He knows it's going to be amazing.

He's so wet and his own little omega cock is stiff and aching. It's nothing compared to how his insides clench in anticipation, eager to be split apart and seeded thoroughly.

Screw the fact that he hasn't bothered with birth control in years, there's always the after morning pill. Unless…

"You wanna be safe and use a condom, baby alpha…?" Tony asks. He hates it though, loves knowing his partner is bare inside him, but if his son wants it…

Peter looks torn and says forlornly, "Do I have to…? I haven't…"

"You really should but since it's your first time…" Tony gives in easily and then, pulling his panties aside, exposes the tight little hole of his pussy for penetration. He notches the wet tip right there and murmurs, "Push in a bit, Pete…"

His boy complies and oh… Tony groans at that initial stretch, his son's fat cock nudging its way inside…

"Mama…" Peter gasps, a strangled sound as he gets his first taste of Tony's omega pussy.

His hands fly down to Tony's hips, fingers clamping down. Once the tip is swallowed down, Peter's control frays and splinters, coming undone as his hips buck up. It's harsh and uncontrolled as the alpha tries to shove into Tony's tight body.

"Mama… mama .." Peter almost pleads but Tony's a bit distracted himself.

The omega is caught in the sensation of his pussy being split apart. In his younger days, sex was easy and he was used to it. It's been… years and Tony's definitely not used to it. His tight little pussy struggles to even take Peter's cockhead and Tony breathes through the stretch.

It's not unpleasant, it's just a lot… Especially with Peter trying to greedily fuck the rest of his length inside without giving Tony time to adjust.

"Mama… I can't… gotta…" Peter's words are incoherent babbling but actions speak louder than words. With a sob, Peter forces the rest of his cock inside his omega mother's pussy.

To Tony, it feels like the breath is punched out of him. He grips his son's broad shoulders and his entire body shudders, clenching down tight on Peter's cock.

It feels so good after the initial push that Tony's body goes limp. His son covers him, dark ravenous eyes staring down at him from above.

"It feels… so good…" Peter groans, eyes rolling back, and yet… he's staying so perfectly still like he can't move. Or refuses to.

Tony gazes up at his son with hooded eyes. His pussy clenches on the thick length, tiny little hole tight from lack of use. As he lays there panting, split open on his boy's cock, Tony has a feeling that he won't be left empty now that Peter's had a taste… He knows how alphas get and the look in Peter's eyes tell him the same thing.

There's this dazed look in Peter's eyes. His mouth trembles in pleasure and his entire body strains with the need to move.

"It's okay, baby," Tony encourages, wrapping his legs around the boy's waist. "C'mon, Pete… Move… I can take it… was made to take it…"

"Mama…"

It's breathed out like a prayer before Peter shudders. He squeezes his eyes shut but starts to move, hands clamped down bruisingly tight on Tony's hips as he chases after his own pleasure.

He fucks his mama with clumsy but eager thrusts. Tony welcomes every single one, moaning into his baby's ear and encouraging him with filthy words.

"Your cock feels so good, baby…" Tony says breathlessly. "Tilt your hips like– oh, fuck, yes… Like that, baby. Oh– yes, just like… that…"

Peter tries his very best to please Tony, but being so inexperienced, he can't help but come fast. He tries to warn his omega mommy but the words get caught in his throat.

"Mama…!" Peter shudders as he empties himself inside. 

He unloads with a groan, pushing deep inside and spilling so carelessly into his mother's unprotected womb. The body under his grows so tight that it steals his breath.

"You're knotting, Pete, oh… oh, fuck–" Tony groans when he feels his son's knot start to swell.

It happens quickly, the knot filling and rubbing against Tony's insides until it's too large to pull out. His son is lost in the pleasure, completely overwhelmed as he dumps a nice thick load inside.

The realization that he's knotting comes as a surprise even though Peter knows that it logically happens. His mama feels so impossibly tight around him and it's hard for him to formulate a thought, much less words.

Thoughts about pups and the dangers of unprotected sex don't even register to the rutting alpha. All he knows is the amazing feeling of his come rushing out of him and shooting out… The way it leaves his mama so wet, he could feel it… His come crowding around his sensitive cock as the knot keeps it all plugged inside.

Tony shivers when he feels his son's cock pulse inside him. His eyes slip closed for just a moment and he images it… Peter's alpha cock inside him, white spilling everywhere as his son breeds him.

He's not on birth control and the omega shudders at the terrible thought. His son knocking him up. His hand trembles as he pets Peter's back, fingertips grazing up and down as the young alpha continues to pant against his neck.

"Mama… I'm sorry…" Peter groans when he finally realizes what he's done, "I came inside…"

That dirty wrong feeling grows and his pussy clenches down, milking every drop from his son's cock.

"It's okay, baby," Tony tells him. He turns Peter's face towards his and kisses him to show he's not mad or upset. "I've always wanted to give you a little brother or sister…"

It's said mostly as a joke, as something to show Peter that he isn't mad about it. But then Tony feels Peter's cock twitch violently inside him and he wonders…

"You like that idea, baby…?" Tony says out loud, eyes searching his boy's face. "Like the idea of knocking up your omega mommy?"

The sound Peter makes would be embarrassing any other time but Tony finds the high pitched whine cute. It tells him how badly his baby wants it… Wants to knock his omega parent up.

Tony sighs, feeling deliriously happy that their desires are in sync. He's been holding back, worried that Peter would just want some practice… But now…

"Move your hips, Pete…" Tony instructs. "You got your omega caught on your knot… Gotta keep rutting… Even if it's sensitive… Keep– Oh…"

His son obeys and moves flawlessly, burying his face in Tony's neck. The knot holds true and Tony groans when he feels it tugging against his hole but it's… It's so good…

Peter's youthful enthusiasm comes through. Even though they're still tied, he fucks Tony relentlessly. The knot only allows him an inch or two to move but that's all he needs. His thrusts are harsh and deep as he ruts into Tony's pussy, churning up all that good potent come that he's deposited inside.

Then without instruction, Peter pulls up to his knees, his strong hands dragging Tony's lower body with him so that the knot doesn't get tugged too harshly. Tony's back arches to get that perfect angle and he's seeing stars when Peter starts to hammer inside him..

His son's loud pants and cries of "Mama…!" continue as fucks Tony stupid in his childhood bed. Tony doesn't even need a hand on his own stiff little cock before he's spilling all over his stomach, clear useless drops of omega come spurting out. Peter continues to fuck him, rutting wildly in a way only newly presented alphas can.

Distantly, Tony realizes that the knot has softened… But then Peter whimpers, unhappy when his sensitive little knot slips out and is followed by a flood of his come.

"Baby–" Tony groans but Peter turns him onto his stomach before he shoves back in.

"Again," Peter growls. His cock spears right in, fucking into the sloppy wet insides of Tony's pussy. Then he murmurs, as though apologetic for his tone, "Please, mama… I need it… need mommy's pussy…"

Tony groans, pushing up onto his knees.

"Go on, P-Pete," he allows it, his entire body shaking from the force. "Go ahead, baby… Take what you n-need…"

"Thank you," Peter groans, "Thank you… It's so good, mama… So good… Wanna come inside again… Gonna do it… Gonna come inside mommy's pussy… Get every drop..."

"Do it, baby," Tony urges. "you can, you can… Come inside…"

It becomes clear that Peter isn't thinking of making it good for Tony, not when his thrusts are so rough and uncontrolled. He's just chasing after his own pleasure, hips rabbiting against Tony's ass as he roughly fucks in and out. 

He's utilizing his strength, his speed… His youth that allows him to keep him. His cock is just a blur of motion with how fast he's fucking in and out. It feels too good to stop...

Tony can only imagine just how pink his ass and thighs are from how harshly Peter's fucking him. The sloppy wet sounds make it all the worse… There's come dripping down his thighs, come being fucked back into him, come ruining the sheets beneath them…

Alphas come so much and Tony's son wasn't an exception.

Tony can feel his son's knot again. The initial knotting happened so quickly and Peter had settled deep in his body when it happened.

Being fucked like this… Even while the knot's too small, he can feel it. It pops in and out, pushing and pulling against his hole and it's a sensation unlike any other. 

Tony feels every tug as it grows and grows. He relishes the sensation, knows when his son is ready by the way the thrusts shorten… It's Peter using his freshly fucked hole… Using Tony's body to stimulate the knot so he can come again.

Unrefined and unused to sex, Peter doesn't realize that he's let the knot grows too big until he tries to push in and it's– It's too big.

Tony wouldn't let any other alpha do this, but it's his son and he wants Peter to just enjoy it. H wee can handle a bit of pain, he tells himself.

"D-do it," Tony groans and has a second to brace himself when Peter complies. He pulls back so that the very tip is settled against his opening then he shoves in with a snap of his hips.

Peter grunts while Tony whines, the knot being forcefully shoved in. Another load is deposited and he feels the way Peter spurts inside him, that thick alpha cock pumping away load after load… Trying it's best to fill him up so he gets knocked up.

Tony lays there flat on his stomach, his son pressing him down as Peter purrs, content and satisfied after coming inside twice.

The rut is in no way over but there's some downtime.

Tony grunts as he tries to nudge Peter onto his side. His boy is affectionate and acts touch starved like he can't get enough. He runs his hands over the omega's sweat damp body.

"Can we do it again…?" Peter asks, kissing the back of Tony's neck. His knot is probably ten minutes away from softening and he already wants to fuck his omega mommy.

"As many times as you want, kiddo," Tony says despite wondering if he'll survive his son's rut. "Do you wanna try my ass…? You might like it better."

Peter goes quiet for a moment but Tony doesn't notice. He's too caught up in the afterglow, relaxing in his son's arms as he considers taking the next few days off.

He shivers when Peter's fingers slip between his legs. It's a curious touch, exploring Tony's body in a way he's never had a chance to.

Tony remembers being that young and curious so he lays there, humming whenever a particular touch feels good. Peter's hands on him are almost reverent and it's so feather light when he skims over his omega cock.

Those same fingers skip south, so hesitant, as though Tony would scold him at any moment. They grow a bit more confident when he doesn't, but to Tony's surprise, Peter just rubs around the swollen flesh where his knot is locked.

"Wanna keep doing it here…" Peter murmurs, "If I can… If mama lets me… Wanna keep doing it here…"

Maybe it's not all talk, Tony thinks when Peter mouths against his neck. Tony tilts his head, sighing in pleasure when the alpha runs his tongue over the sensitive skin there.

His natural inclination is to tease the boy with his new obsession but instead, Tony trembles in excitement. He presses his hand over his alpha son's curious fingers.

"Okay, baby," Tony permits, "Mama will let you do it."

----

He should've remembered that his son was very much like him. If he had, Tony may have thought twice about giving Peter free reign over his body.

Paired with a newly presented alpha's determination to breed, Tony finds himself in quite a predicament.

He's not as young as he used to be and he realizes this when Peter shows himself to be quite insatiable. Peter doesn't even bat an eye after going three rounds. 

It helps that those rounds are short. The kid has a crazy amount of stamina in the sense that he can keep going and going and going… But he doesn't last very long during those times. At least, not yet. Peter has plenty of time to build up his experience and by the fifth time, the sensitivity had dulled so he lasts a bit longer.

The rut is harsh and demanding. Tony feels every thrust, every desperate attempt to knock him up. The amount of seed that Peter spills inside him in obscene and so much of it spills from Tony's leaking hole when the knot softens and his son pulls out.

No matter how much is wasted against the sheets, Tony knows there's more than enough left inside him. He wonders if it'll kickstart his own cycle but the thought is a fleeting one. Peter consumes all his time and attention.

It's a fuck fest. A marathon. A full blown alpha rut. And rutting alphas only have one thing on their mind. Fucking and breeding an omega.

Lucky Tony, he's the one who volunteered and gave permission. He loves his son, how could he not?

Tony doesn't regret it, not even when he feels like he's full to bursting. He marvels at the noticeable bulge Peter's come has given him, but this… Letting Peter run wild, it isn't sustainable. Tony would become an incoherent mess, fucked out and his son would probably still rut him, still keep fucking him until the urges were sated.

The omega switches tactics.

In the shower, he redirects the alpha cock to his ass instead of his sore pussy. Peter whines at the change, wanting another chance at his pussy but Tony is firm.

The thought is forgotten either way when he feels Tony's insides grip his relentless cock. It's a different kind of heat, but it's still Tony, still his mama gripping him tightly. He hammers in with stuttering breaths and gasps that echo in the shower stall.

Peter takes control. He pushes his omega mama against the slick shower tiles and fucks his ass with rough jerks of his hips. To his rut crazed mind, a hole is a hole and he's already dumped several loads in his omega's pussy. He could enjoy this for now...

The newly presented alpha finds he's as enamored with Tony's ass as he is with his pussy. The water washes away what they've done but It doesn't lessen Peter's urge to breed his own omega parent.

Unsurprisingly, the next attempt is shortly after.

One moment, Tony's reaching for something in the bathroom cabinet, the next, he's bent over the counter. His son grips his hips and a nice thick cock slides inside him. By now it's familiar and even though it aches, Tony grips the counter. His back arches into an enticing curve and it shakes with every harsh thrust.

All efforts at cleanliness are ruined when Peter comes inside him again. His fist is wrapped around his knot, preventing it from slipping in and at the last second, he pulls out. Warmth spurts of semen spill over Tony's ass and his lower back and even the omega feels his face grow warm at the claim.

The next two days pass in a blur.

Tony's meetings are canceled and Peter's first rut absence is accepted by his teacher.

His instincts run wild and Tony indulges him, taking the role of a mate and letting the alpha sate his urges in any of his holes.

And when the rut ends…

They're both exhausted and utilize the hot tub to soothe their sore muscles.

What occurred between them doesn't end when Peter's rut finally ebbs away. That's made clear when Tony slips into his son's lap, groaning in part pain and mostly pleasure when Peter's cock stretches him full once more.

They haven't used a condom once during the entirety of Peter's rut. It's not surprising to Tony when weeks later, a pregnancy test proves that he's carrying.

He wasn't even in heat when Peter knocked him up.

Tony takes his son out to dinner and surprises him with the news.

"Pregnant?" Peter's eyes grow wide with disbelief, "but you weren't even in heat, mama…"

Tony pecks him on the cheek.

"That's right, kid," Tony says with a proud smile, "Who knew that my Peter was such a stud? Knocking up his mama out of cycle."

He winks at the abashed alpha but there's a glow that sparks inside his son. Pride. Happiness. A mix of the two.

He touches Tony's flat tummy through the suit.

"I'm going to have a little brother or sister," Peter says in awe.

"A son or daughter," Tony adds. "It is your pup."

"It's my pup…" Peter echos, a bit dazed. "Mama…"

"Maybe you should start calling me Tony," the omega encourages but Peter's lips pucker a bit at the thought.

"You'll always be my mama though," he protests.

It makes Tony smile and he pats his son's hand.

"Aren't I your mate now too?" Tony teased, "Or are you going to leave your poor mom to do all the baby stuff?"

Of course, that brings so many protests and stuttering denials that Tony has to admit he was joking. He soothes his son and tells him, "You'll be a great daddy, Pete."

The alpha is in a daze for the rest of the dinner. There's a goofy but endearing smile on his face and he treats Tony with so much care and gentleness.

Tony makes sure to put an end to that. He's newly pregnant and his libido shoots up. There's no room for gentle, not now, and he convinces Peter of this in the car ride home.

The alpha doesn't need much convincing. Knocking up his omega mommy does things to his head, strokes his alpha ego to new heights and he wants Tony now more than ever. Wants to fuck him again, to remember just exactly how he impregnated his mommy.

Happy is the unfortunate victim as the limo driver but the partition, at least, gives them some privacy.

Tony rides Peter in the car, legs straining as he bounces up and down on that thick, wonderful alpha cock that got him pregnant. His son's cock. Peter holds him steady and one hand rests possessively over the non-existent bump.

Even if there's no physical evidence there yet, they both know there'll be a new Stark in under a year.

Peter begs Tony to let him do it again. He wants to breed his mommy after they have their first child. He doesn't want to stop putting his babies in Tony's tummy and Tony has half a mind to indulge him.

Instead, he kisses Peter oh so sweetly and teases him with a, "We'll see, baby. Maybe if you keep your grades up, hmm?"

Peter maintains a 4.0 GPA in his studies which isn't surprising given the fact that he's a Stark. The incentive was the main driving force though. He has an omega mate and his mama, all in one and while Tony still isn't allowed to touch a pan in the kitchen, he takes care of the alpha's other needs.

The omega's body starts to fill out, becoming softer and readying itself for motherhood. Tony laments at the loss of his trim and fit figure once the suits no longer fit, but every time he looks in the mirror, he's reminded.

He's carrying his son's baby. Inside his belly, there was a tiny bit of Peter and himself.

They talk about it and wonder. Would the baby be a girl or boy? Alpha? Omega? Beta? They didn't care what designation the baby came out with or what was between their legs. The baby was Peter's and Tony's and that's all that mattered.

Instead, they debate about what the baby would have from each parent. Peter's soft brown hair? Or Tony's darker thick hair? Peter's paler skin tone or Tony's Tanner complexion?

Regardless, they both already loved their little peanut.

The weeks pass and people take notice.  It's obvious to anyone with a nose, but the betas have put two and two together. They see Tony's tummy start to swell even more and  there's something soft and beautiful about Tony like this.

Peter is in love with the changes..

He worships his mama's body with kisses and words of adoration which Tony decides, makes up for the changes.

Every night and morning, he runs his hands all over every inch of his mama's body. He presses his ear to the now noticable baby bump and speaks quietly to their little Peanut.

"I did this…" Peter smiles when he caresses the  baby bump.

"Scoundrel," Tony quips, "This isn't how I raised you!" He drops the act and sighs when Peter nuzzles his chest.

His chest has changed, growing softer along with the rest of his body. It's natural and he knew it was coming. It had happened when he was pregnant with Peter.

"How big did you get when you had me?" Peter wonders as he nuzzles against Tony's soft chest.

He tweaks a nipple gently, knowing his mama's been complaining about soreness. 

"Not too big," Tony admits, "Maybe a handful? There's a couple of photoshoots I did at the time."

Peter has already seen them. His mama looked breathtaking in them. The photographers had played up the more feminine aspect of omegas, dressing Tony in ballroom gowns and long flowy pieces that showed off his modest chest. 

Simply… breathtaking.

He still likes to hear it from Tony. How big they grow is really genetics. Tony himself never grew that large when he was pregnant with Peter.

Tony massages his aching chest, pressing fingertips down lightly around the tissue. He notices Peter's watchful eyes and smiles.

"This isn't my first time," Tony reminds him, "And I've gone into milk before, even before I got pregnant."

That's something Peter hadn't been aware of.

Omegas can produce milk even outside of pregnancy, Peter knows. He just didn't know that Tony has tried it at some point.

"You did?"

"Mhmm," Tony says a bit proudly. "Takes some training but omegas can do it as long as there's someone that wants it."

The comment sticks in Peter's head… His mama making milk for… a boyfriend? An alpha friend? He takes over massaging Tony's chest and the omega lets him, melting against the bed and pillows he's propped upon.

"Would it be okay…" Peter murmurs, "if I…?"

A slow, teasing smile curls the corner of Tony's lips.

"You want a taste, little alpha?" Tony says outright.

Peter blushes but nods. "As long as it doesn't take away from peanut."

Tony waves a hand then features Peter to come closer. "Peanut will be fine. Our bodies adapt if there's a demand for more and…"

There's a twinkle in Tony's eye.

"Maybe you can help me out?" Tony purrs.

The mood shifts and Peter, after becoming intimately aware of his mama's increased libido, grows excited from the tone.

He curls up against Tony's side, one hand still massaging his chest. It goes from clinical to sensual, Peter's fingertips sweeping over sensitive skin.

"Anything, mama," Peter murmurs.

Tony turn Peter's face so he's nuzzling against the soft swell of his chest. "The more stimulation these get, the faster I'll come into milk. Help an O out, will you?"

Peter happily does so. He licks and sucks with his mouth while his hand massages the omega's chest. Tony hisses at the sensation, fingers curling into his son's soft hair.

There isn't any milk that day, but he's sure that it'll come soon.

Sex grows more difficult when Tony's belly grows but they're both determined. More often, they fuck with Tony on his side and Peter against back. It's the perfect position to let Peter touch his belly as he's fucking in and out of Tony's pussy. He still knots, still releases his come inside even though it serves no purpose for now.

Peter takes to his new task with great enthusiasm. He's always been an affection boy but now, he touches Tony freely like it's his right. Like he's Tony's alpha and mate.

His new favorite position is side to side while facing each other. He likes to suck on Tony's nipples, loves feeling Tony's swollen belly press against his body. It's the best feeling in the world and Tony can't deny that he enjoys it greatly, as well.

It's during one specific session that Peter finally gets a taste of his mama.

It's slow and gentle, Peter being more cautious the larger Tony's belly grows. He pushes in and out in a leisurely rhythm, his thick alpha cock already slick with his previous load. His stamina has grown and he's learned so, so much that he's even a bit cocky about it. He knows how to make Tony moan, how to tease the omega. Knows how to make him shiver with just a few words.

Beyond that, he knows what his mama looks like spent and fucked out. He's memorized the curve of his lips when he's gasping, learned every sensitive spot that has Tony clenching the sheets between his fingers.

He sucks in Tony's sensitive nipple, nursing like he once did when he was a small pup. There's a burst of sweetness that spills across his tongue. It surprises him so much that he pulls back, milky drops slipping from his lips.

There's a lingering sweetness in his mouth and it evokes a feeling in him. He was too young to remember nursing from his mama but it's still there, this feeling of safety and love.

Peter licks up the drops and purrs, pressing even closer to take the omega's nipple back into his mouth.

Tony groans when he feels the milk let out, eyes turned into slits while he's watching Peter lick it up. He feels the suction and it brings such sweet pleasure to him, it makes his back arch a bit. His grip tightens in Peter's hair and they continue that way.

Peter's mouth on his nipple, the milk continues to flow steadily with every suck. At the same time, Tony's pussy squeezes around his son's cock, massaging, and begging for another knot.

"Mama…" Peter groans when there's no more left. "It's so sweet… Mama's milk… I want more…"

He then switches to the other nipple, leaning up a bit to get to it.

His mouth latches onto Tony's nipple, eyes slipped closed as he focused on how sweet his Mama's milk his. He almost feels jealous that his little pup would get this for however long.

Tony drifts in a haze of pleasure but his hips hitch needily. Maybe with some training, he could come from just Peter nursing on him, but for now, he wants to get fucked.

"Baby," Tony groans, "C'mon, do it… how I like."

Peter looks up and pull off, leaving the nipple wet from his mouth and peaked in the cool air. The alpha notes the way Tony's eyes are hooded and his mouth is gasping, wanting.

"Love you, mama…" Peter tells him before he starts to hasten his thrusts.

"Love you–Oh!" Tony moans, tossing his head back. "Ah, that's perfect… Perfect…"

A glance down and Peter's eyes rest on Tony's chest, his nipples firm and puffy from the alpha's mouth. A single drop of cloudy milk drips from one nipple and Peter chases it as it slips down Tony's chest. He licks it up with his tongue, running the flat of it up so that he can take it back into his mouth.

Judging by the way the omega moans, Tony approves of it. His fingers curl in Peter's hair again as the alpha fucks him.

Tony floats on a haze of pleasure as Peter fucks him. He can feel the knot– His son has gotten good at holding it back but with his first sample of omega milk, it's like Peter has lost his inhibitions. His hips fuck forward as he sucks and sucks, greedily drinking from Tony.

The knot grows and grows, slipping inside at the very last second. Peter licks up the very last drops while his cock spurts inside his mama.

And like a good boy, he shares the sweetness with Tony, kissing him deeply.

"How was it, baby?" Tony murmurs when they're knotted.

"Mama tastes so sweet," Peter replies, nosing against his neck. "Was it good…?"

Tony kisses the top of his head.

"It was perfect, Pete," Tony tells him. "My perfect little alpha."

----

Tony has to buy new clothes.

His belly grows even larger and his chest is bigger than when he was pregnant with Peter.

"F-Fuck–!" Tony grunts while Peter fucks into him from behind.

He had been making something simple for breakfast. His instincts demanded to, feed and do all this domestic shit that Tony never cared for, so he tried pancakes. It should've been easy but Peter had come down and seeing his mama trying to cook for him had really turned him on.

Or maybe it's just an excuse to walk up behind Tony, pull his pants down, and slip right into his wet pussy.

The stove is off now and the pancake mix barely has barely cooked, but it's all ignored anyway. Peter just fucks and fucks, eager and hungry for something other than food.

He, at least has the decency to avoid knotting but then Tony's left with a steady deluge of come dripping down his thighs.

"You're gonna be late for class," Tony pokes Peter when the alpha pulls his pants up. "Late and hungry."

Peter gently turns him and nuzzles against his chest, squeezing them gently.

There's a suggestion in his eyes and Tony sighs, giving in. He leans back against the counter and Peter swoops in, tugging his Mama's shirt off before taking a nipple into his mouth.

"How did I raise such a smart ass," Tony wonders but there's a fondness in his tone.

Such encounters only become even more frequent. Peter ambushes him in the shower, in the tub… He has no shame in showing off his pregnant mama and no shame in asking Tony for milk right after school.

And it's become such a routine that Peter has Tony on his cock shortly after.

"These are you fault," Tony says when he models a new maternity bra.

They've grown a size larger and while it's still no where close to what beta women would have, they've become fairly large for an omega male.

Peter only hums, stepping up and testing the new bra to see how easy feeding would be. It's easy access and they have another round right there in the dressing room. Outsides turn a blind eye to it.

It's the Starks, after all.

Tony finally gives birth the next month. They hadn't asked for the gender, wanting it to be a surprise.

Peanut turns out to be a sweet faced little alpha girl and already, she takes after her mama. She has dark hair and an inquisitive gaze. She has Peter's mischievous nature, however.

Morgan had been hiding her alpha brother who surprised them all when he was delivered with an indignant wail. Soft brown curls and wide eyes, this one was the spitting image of Peter.

Peter had been wide eyed, staring at the two new Starks. His two pups. Their pups, his and his mama's.

"Overachiever," Tony teased him, "Not one, but two pups. What am I gonna do with you, Pete."

"Ah…" Peter chuckled, "My calc teacher told me I aced the final?"

"Of course, you did," Tony laughs, then gently hands over their youngest to Peter's arms.

He kisses Peter's cheek and whispers, "Congrats, alpha. On the exam and becoming a daddy."