#[[ this took me way too long honestly but I finally did it. If you find some spelling or grammar errors keep 'em. I got tired

[edwinspaynes]

I've spent most of my writing time working on chapter 3 of Now We're at the Starting Line (I Did My Time) this month. The good news is that the chapter will be out on the 15th as planned! The bad news is that I didn't write anything for Crystal week.

Luckily, this chapter has a Crystal-and-Edwin scene in it that I'm extremely proud of! I'm posting it independently a few days before the chapter for @crystal-week, because I love our little psychic so much and want to post something for her.

Starting Line spoilers under the cut!

CONTEXT: After getting home from an awful meeting with her mother, Crystal finds herself crying on the stairway of the Agency building. Edwin, after a rather emotional moment with Charles, ascends the stairs and sees her there.

-

Crystal should go home. She knew that she should – her bed would be a great distraction right now, and the promise of a night sleeping beside Niko’s ghostly form was a comfort. But she didn’t want to go home to Niko a crying mess, so she sat on the stairs between the parking lot and the Agency above with her knees pulled to her chest.

Her mom really didn’t care about her. She didn’t give two shits what happened to her daughter. It had never been clearer to Crystal than it was today, and it had already been pretty fucking clear.

You have twelve minutes, she had said.

This conversation has been a perfect waste of time.

Crystal, I’ve let you have your little delusion for long enough.

She should be beyond sadness. She shouldn’t be such a baby. She was Crystal Palace Surname Von-Hoverkraft, and she’d always been a force to be reckoned with. Not just psychic, not just magical, but strong. Emotionally sturdy. Reliable.

Even if her memories didn’t feel like her own, she recalled feeling that way. Powerful.

And, apparently, she couldn’t catch a break. Not even to have a good long humiliating cry on her own. Because the last voice she wanted to hear sounded behind her, echoing through the rickety stairwell louder than she’d ever wanted it to. “Crystal?” Edwin sounded weirdly worried. “Are you… crying?”

“No,” she said. “Someone’s fucking chopping onions.”

Edwin sat down beside Crystal gingerly, lowering himself with his hands awkwardly. He cocked his head to the side and hummed. “I can in fact recognize when you are being sarcastic,” he said. “You are not particularly subtle.”

Crystal snorted. “Did you think I was trying to be?”

“I do sometimes,” Edwin said lightly. “Perhaps not now, though, as you seem rather… tense.” He paused. When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly stiff. “Would you like to… discuss your particular malady?”

Crystal touched the buns in her hair, one after the next. She was already crying, and Edwin knew it. She might as well talk to him. What was the worst he could do?

And, as much as she hated admitting it, somewhere deep inside her she knew that she and Edwin were birds of a feather. Crystal might as well talk to him, right? Besides, she didn’t really care what he thought about her. He’d see her, and he’d be honest. Maybe that was all she needed right now. So she took a breath and said, with absolutely no prelude, “it was my mother.”

Edwin’s response was short, and his voice was light. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Crystal said, grateful for his brevity. It made her feel like she could go on. “When Charles and I met up with her today, she was… I don’t know. A real asshole, honestly. But I hate saying that. She’s my mom, even if she was super clear that she didn’t want to see me.” She paused. “Did you know that she only gave me a fifteen-minute appointment? I’m her daughter, and she gave me a fifteen-minute scheduling block.”

“That is… less than positive,” Edwin agreed in an oddly sympathetic voice.

“That’s very British of you,” Crystal told him, and he smirked. She did, too, but felt her face fall again after a few seconds. “Just… and, like, I don’t want to bitch and moan about it, even if I’m speaking to the world record holder for bitching and moaning.”

“Now you are just needlessly instigating,” Edwin said, but there was an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. “A well-known facet of your personality, to be sure, but unnecessary right now.”

Crystal rolled her eyes. “Well, like I was saying, I don’t want to gripe too much, but like… she didn’t care that I was missing. She didn’t even fucking��notice, and neither did my dad. What kind of parent doesn’t even notice when their child is missing? What kind of parent doesn’t even give it a second thought when they learned that their kid was a literal missing person?”

She was angry. She was indignant. But Edwin was looking off into the distance, his expression calm and contemplative. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding back for some reason.

Which sucked, because one of the reasons that she liked Edwin – though, ugh, why would she think that – was that he never bit his tongue. But his face was careful now, even if his eyes shone with some unidentifiable emotion.

“What is it?”

Edwin turned his head toward her, his shoulders rolling. He assessed her with an almost practiced nonchalance before speaking. His voice was kind, but there was an undercurrent of anger in it that Crystal didn’t understand.

Not yet, anyway.

“I do actually know something of that,” Edwin said. “Believe it or not.”

Crystal blinked. “What does that mean?”

Edwin paused. He opened his mouth once, shut it, and shook his head quickly. “When I went to Hell - ”

“God, Edwin,” Crystal said. “I know that what’s happened to me isn’t as bad as literal Hell. You don’t always have to compare.”

“I’m not,” Edwin said. His fists clenched and pressed together on his lap. “I am very sorry that I have given you reason to believe that I am.”

All the fight went out of Crystal then. “It’s fine,” she said.

“Might I go on now?”

“Fine.”

“When I went to Hell,” Edwin continued, “my disappearance was labeled an Act of God. I believe I have told you that, but… well, I have had decades to contemplate the implications of that, and to research precisely what the declaration entailed.” He paused. “One facet of such a statement is that I was not looked for. Not by anyone. Society at large, to be sure, but I do not care much for the opinions of that lot. I do, however, care that my family abandoned my search.”

“Jesus,” Crystal said.

“Yes, I do believe that is a likely reason that no one searched for me.” Edwin’s voice was saucy, but Crystal sensed an undertone of real hurt. “They did not even start, in fact. I was an Act of God from the day I went missing. To this day, my death is what Charles calls a ‘cold case.’ I remain unburied, and my mother and father could not even be bothered to purchase an empty casket for me despite their abundance of money.”

“That sucks,” Crystal said sympathetically.

“Yes,” Edwin agreed. “It is not an ideal outcome. And I know that you think me unemotional, or cold. But remembering that no one around me cared to search for me – it is the only time that I remember that I was once a person.” He cocked his head. “But this is not about me. It is about the truth that you are far from alone in your sentiments, and-” Edwin made a vibrating sound with his lips, his eyes wide. “Well. That is rather enough emotion for one sitting. I daresay that I had far too many feelings after… well. I shall have to find a way to cleanse myself of it.”

Crystal snorted, and in that moment, she felt a bit herself again.

Then, to bring the mood back to something adjacent to normal, she turned toward Edwin. “Did you know that when I was born my mom signed my forehead?”

Edwin gave her an odd look. “With one of those… magical markers? Whyever would she do that?”

Crystal laughed slightly. “No, it was a temporary tattoo of her signature. It was like I was an art piece they were curating. They wanted to make some weird statement online.”

“Your internet is indeed an odd place. A wealth of knowledge, but also a wealth of independent publications waiting to be ridiculed.”

Edwin sidled off the stair next to her wordlessly and walked away, up the stairs and toward the comfort of his books and notes. Crystal watched him go, and he never turned back.

And she knew what she had to do.

She couldn’t give up, not for herself. Not just for her own sake, though that would have been a pretty damn good reason in itself. She had to understand her powers for Charles, for Edwin… and for Niko, who had been lighting her up inside in a weirdass way lately that she didn’t even understand. She had to know who she was, even beyond her memories, and if Maddy Surname wasn’t going to help her…

Well, fuck her.

Aicha, she thought, are you there?

Her eyes went white as Aicha responded.

Always, my sweet child.

[onmyyan]

hi again i'm the Anon who asked if you take commisions only or requests as well. I love your writing style<3

Soo could you write about Batmom reader, where reader took care of bruce's children as her own. But then bruce gets a mistress, reader still stays becuz of the kids but when everyone started to become cold to her and insult her ' X (mistress) is better mom then you ever were' she leaves gonthem. Then everyone realises she (mistress) was just after their money. They go to batmom's room to apologize only to find it empty. They try to find her everywhere but couldn't. And finally when they do, reader rejects them since she was having the time of her life without responsibilty but gets kiddnapped by the batfam?

Honestly i wanted to commision but i'm flat broke and i'm too busy studying to work and on top of that i don't have my own phone (i use my dad's old laptop) soo yeah... I hope you consider this.

A/N: Loooove this request thank you for sending it in <3 fem reader yandere themes lmk if you want a part two

The (L/n)'s were a wealthy and prominent family in Gotham, right up there with the Wayne's when it came to power over the city, the two families were in business together which is why when Bruce Wayne personal attorney came to you with a marriage proposal, you weren't surprised.

A marriage of convenience. You thought you knew what this would entitle, you knew this wasn't out of love, that this was required of you, it had nothing to do with what you actually wanted, but you were dutiful and signed, inking your name on the paper felt like a deal with the devil.

Bruce hadn't bothered to officially meet you until the day of the wedding, it was beautiful and well done but lacking any form of love of affection, CEOs and other rich folk you didn't recognize filled the pews, the ring felt cold when he slipped it on, his vows perfectly rehearsed, and not an ounce of warmth in his eyes, you knew that night you should have annulled the marriage, but something made you hold on, something your mother had said to you as the makeup artist turned you into the visage of a bride.

"You'll learn to love each other, your father and I did after all." And she wasn't lying, your parents married for convenience as well but had grown to love one another, so maybe you could do the same?

A year after the nuptials Dick Grayson is thrust into your life. Haley's circus was famous in Gotham for its incredible death defying shows, but on this night death would walk the stage, taking with them Dick Grayson's parents in a horrible display, You and Bruce had consoled the boy for only a moment before Bruce was talking to the officers, he'd decided Dick was coming home with you, of course without asking your opinion, but it didn't matter, you felt such pity and grief for the boy, it made perfect sense to you, he was shut down for the first few months, he called you by your name and you had no problem with it, making it clear you never wanted to try and replace his mother, the ice between you two melted one day, one kind word at a time, he couldn't help but confide in you about school or his friends, because you were more emotionally there than Bruce was.

Like the night you caught him sneaking out, a packed bag in hand and the keys to one of Bruce's many cars in his hand. Instead of yelling for Bruce or Alfred you simply smiled at him, "you should take the audi, it's the safest car here."

"..You're not going to try and stop me?"

You shake your head no, still offering that kind smile.

"You know yourself best Dick, if you're unhappy here I won't stop you from finding your peace." He took a moment before tossing you the keys and reluctantly making his way back inside.

You find out about Batman because of Dick. He'd come home with some nasty bruises and it wouldn't take long to put two and two together. Them both being missing at the same time, Dick started to pull away from you, one night, after hours of trying to get to sleep in a bed much to big for one body, your legs decided a walk was necessary, the halls were dark and quiet, giving the manor an eerie air, quietly you walked the long hallways intending on stopping by the library, as you turned the corner you seen Dick in a hidden elevator, the doors just slamming shut as your eyes tried to register what was there. Seconds after the doors close a wall appears, as if nothing was ever there. It's not long after that you see a brief news clip of the caped crusader and his new sidekick, because the longer you stared at the screen, the more familiar they began to look, that dead tight lipped scowl on Batman's face, it was one you'd had the pleasure of looking at for the past few years.

That night you confronted Bruce, he seemed surprised you'd figured it out, but he didn't deny it. Simply saying, "It's late (Y/n), get some sleep."

You nearly divorced him then and there for endangering a child the way he was, but after a moment of thought, you realized Dick would need a real parent around so you stayed, making Bruce swear to be careful.

Jason comes next and he takes to you a lot faster than Dick. He craved the warmth you offered, you two had inside jokes and a closer relationship than him and Bruce, but that all changes the day he dies. You're broken, a ghost haunting the manor with your presence, and Bruce is no comfort throwing himself into the Batman role, you begin to hate him a little with this particular betrayal.

Tim was another hard egg to crack but you were desperate after Jason's death, so you took his verbal lashings with a smile, were always there to offer a helping hand with any of his projects despite the help never being accepted. Tims wound from losing his father is too raw, he takes a lot of his anger out on you. And you weathered the storm with a soft, warm smile.

Damian hated you, from the moment he arrives, which is bitter enough as is because it meant Bruce was unfaithful, he's spitting out insults and comparing you to his 'perfect' mother.

Things weren't great in your life, but one day they started getting noticably worse. Dick no longer responded to your check in texts, Jason (now reanimated which was a heart attack in and of itself) saw you as the enemy, you didn't leave Bruce after what happened to him, so in his eyes you betrayed him, Tim ignored your existence as best as he could, and Damian? He'd started staring at you with this smug look on his face, like he knew something you didn't.

Bruce had all but ran from you, he didn't sleep in your shared room anymore, he barely spoke to you at breakfast, if it wasn't for the cameras he wouldn't touch you.

And it's all because of a woman named Rachel.

Apparently Bruce had introduced this woman to the family, bringing her around when you weren't, slowly replacing you, it was no wonder they started to pull back.

Alfred is the only reason you find out, having enough of the blatant disrespect, he calls you to come home early one day saying it's a dire matter. Of course you comply, and walk in on a discomforting sight. The whole family was gathered at the dining room table, plus a woman you'd never seen before, she sat close to Bruce, toying with his hand intimately. Her green eyes lock with yours and the smile she gives you forms a pit in your stomach.

There's silence before Bruce stands up, he walks over calmly, "Can we take this in the other room." But it wasn't phrased as a question.

"No" you licked your lips, a nervous habit from your youth. Bruce seemed taken back by your sudden backbone. He nods silently.

"I want her gone Bruce. I am your wife. You will show me that semblance of respect."

"I- of course." You don't wait for the words to settle instead, you calmly walk to your room, face unreadable.

Locking the door behind you, your body slides against the frame, a silent sob wracks your frame, your hands covering your mouth, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing your cries.

The next morning you wake up to breakfast in bed, a generic yet elegant spread of food lay on a tray in the empty spot Bruce used to stay. The man himself sitting in the chair beside the bed, staring at you with that practiced smile he used to appease people.

"Good morning."

"What's this?" You sat up straight, sleep evaporating from your form as you took in the threat before you.

"An apology. I never meant for yesterday to happen."

"What a comfort that is." Your piercing (e/c) eyes stare at him blankly, unreadable. "How long."

"A year." You scoff pushing the breakfast away from you like it was poisonous. "But its not what you think, Rachel is a childhood friend, a year ago our relationship, evolved into what it is now, but I was never intending to go behind your back."

"Ah of course, your intentions were pure." The words dripped venom, grabbing your robe you quickly dress before standing and walking to the door, "Thank you for the wonderful talk Bruce, really your people skills are top notch." Your hands gesture to the door. He leaves without a word.

The rest of the day is as usual, Bruce avoids you like the plague, the rest of the family acted as if you weren't there. Which made leaving all too easy.

Your lawyers had the divorce papers ready and hour after you called them, signing them felt like the first act of self love you'd done in years. Slipping them into Bruce's study you took the time to analyze the room you never entered.

It matched Bruce that's for sure, pictures of every single person in the family. All except for you.

Walking out the door, wrapped in your ankle length black faux fur coat, the garment whipped in the wind, the designer sunglasses on your face hid your eyes from the world, hair in a slicked back bun, your heels echoed against the pavement, a sleek black car was waiting for you, you look back at the house that had caused you so much misery then got in the back of the car, never looking back.

Life goes on for about a week, your absence goes unnoticed, that is before Rachel is trying and failing to blackmail Bruce out of a billion dollars, she'd collected evidence he was cheating on you with her and presented it to Bruce with a grin, it was only as he went through the pictures of himself and Rachel, did he notice the yellow envelope with his name written on the front.

Hey puts the heartbreaking matter of Rachel's betrayal on the back burner, Bruce opened the envelope and felt his heart completely stop at the word divorce written in bold lettering across the top, your signature was already there, waiting for his to join it.

Ignoring Rachel completely now he turns in his chair, turning the paper over and over as if it would magically change. But it remained the same. Alfred knocking on the door of his study broke him from his trance. "Master Wayne, miss Rachel." He says the latter's name with no warmth. "Escort Rachel to her car Alfred."

"Bruce have you heard a word I've said? I'm serious I'll go to Gotham daily right now if you don't -"

"Now Alfred."

That was all it took for the screaming woman to be firmly escorted off the premises. Bruce all but ran to your room, he didn't bother knocking, and despite knowing in his heart you were already gone, he couldn't help but check anyway.

Your room was empty and cold, he couldn't believe the date he'd read on the divorce papers, it was dated a week ago, meaning you'd been gone for a week and he hadn't noticed. No one had.

That is until Bruce remembers there's someone in the house nothing gets by.

"How long have you known she was gone Alfred?" He asks leaning on his knuckles the divorce papers stared back at him taunting him. "Since the moment she left." The older man replied simply his hands behind his back. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?" Bruce felt himself tense, "Because you've hurt that woman enough Bruce. She deserves at least this." He gestures to the daunting divorce paperwork before turning to leave Bruce with his thoughts.

The news of Rachel's betrayal shook the manor each member feeling violated by their trust being broken. But it was nothing compared to their reaction once they finally realized you were gone.

"That was rough." Jason says after watching Rachel being dragged out of the manor, he blew air out of his cheeks arms crossed over his chest, he looked towards the hallway that lead to your room, you had to have heard that he thought to himself.

Dick sighs through his nose, "Someone should check on (y/n), Rachel was screaming so loud she definitely heard that." No one volunteers so Dick rolls his eyes and heads towards your room.

He lifts his hands to knock but noticed the door was open, pushing it further he's met with a baren room, his brow furrowed in confusion before he makes his way to Bruce's study. "Hey B, have you seen (y/n)? Her room is like weirdly empty."

Dick found his Father where Alfred left him, leaning over the divorce papers silently a storm in his eyes.

As he steps closer and reads the paperwork Bruce was staring so intently at, his heart stopped.

"Holy shit- are those real?"

"Yes." Bruce finally spoke his voice horse. There was a moment of silence before Dick left the room practically running down the stairs to alert the others.

"(Y/n) left Bruce." He said still processing the information, "No fuckin' way." Jason says pushing himself off the counter he leaned on. "Her room is empty and he has the papers, she's gone."

Each member of the family had different reactions to this information.

Dick tries calling you only to be met with a disconnected number, his heart hammering in his chest, he wasn't as close to you as when he was younger sure, but you were a constant in his life, always had been, a pillar of support, and suddenly you weren't. It felt like the floor had gotten pulled out from under him.

Jason curses under his breath, his mind working a mile a minute, he had barely spoken to you since his Resurrection, something he deeply regretted as the information of your leaving sinks in like a brick thrown into a river.

Tim, ever calculating is trying to figure out where you went, you were a figurehead in his life, someone that was literally never not there, sure he wasn't close to you in the slightest but that doesn't mean he wants anything to happen to you, someone as quiet and soft as you on your own in Gotham? It didn't sit well with him. Not one bit.

Damian didn't know what he was feeling at the news, he supposed he should feel nothing, after all you were nothing to him, but there was this nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place. And he hated it. How dare you leave and upset his fragile ecosystem?

Meanwhile in the Bahamas, far from Gotham and the neglectful family you'd left behind, you sat lounging on a private beach, a knitted hammock cradles your body, a designer baby pink bikini covers you, a matching sunhat protects your face from the hot sun, you can't wipe the smile from your face, humming a tune from your childhood you barely flinch when someone takes the seat besides your hammock.

"Do I want to know how you found me?" You ask, eyes still closed as you bask in the warmth. You knew only one person had the sources to find you on your own island, and despite how much you resent the man, even his presence can't ruin your shine in this moment.

"You're my wife (Y/n), I'll always know where you are." Bruce speaks softly as if trying not to startle you. "Former wife." You correct cracking an eye open, a small smirk curling on your lips.

"Not until I sign those papers- which I never will."

"huh, I thought you'd be thrilled." You muse to yourself before folding your tanning mirror and setting it aside, you take off your Louis Vuitton sunglasses, blinking your pretty (e/c) eyes up at him, "Figured you and your little Twinkie would have tied the knot by now." You laugh softly, the sound, unfamiliar to Bruce, sent warm shivers down his spine, it causes his lips to quirk up in a small grin.

"She's gone."

"Well, I don't care."

There's a beat of silence before he's offering you his hand. "Will you walk with me? I know I don't deserve it."

You sigh before getting up, ignoring his hand, you nod your head reluctantly, "Well? Hurry up I've got dinner at six."

His smile remains as he begins leading you along the shoreline. It's relatively quiet between you two as you walk side by side, a peace between you both you hadn't ever felt. "The manor isn't the same without you." He breaks the silence, "I sincerely doubt that." You laugh at the very notion. "It's true- it's colder, quieter, I want you to come home."

"That was never my home, you made that abundantly clear."

He winces as if your words cut him, "I know I haven't been a good man to you, I know I've failed you time and time again but I..I looked at those divorce papers and my heart stopped." He admits running a hand through his hair.

"You can't leave me."

"I can't?." You scoff, your movement halting, "I'm a grown woman- I'm taking responsibility for my own happiness, you can't stop me."

"I wasn't asking." He says softly, his hands in his pockets, he had this fond look on his face, like he was staring at you for the first time, in a whole new light. "You can't make me." You say, brows furrowed, "You belong back home, you're supposed to be with me, till death do us part, remember?" He steps forward making you step back, your eyes wide, hands shaking, you back into a wide chest, spinning to face Dick, who's grinning at you, he's in his Nightwing costume, he gives you a small wave of his hand, you scrunch your face in confusion, "What the hell-" your thought is cut off by a small pinch in your neck, the needle in Bruce's hand is empty in seconds, he's cradling your stumbling form, holding you tightly, "Don't worry - I'll fix this."

Your sleeping body is gently carried to the batplane, Bruce holding you close to his chest as Dick pilots the plane, he whispers promises into your hair, rocking you against him as he swears on his life to make things right, weather you liked it or not.

[kathaynesart]

Took a bit of time to myself to finally sketch out my vision for Frida based off Andy Suriano’s Farewell. More design thoughts under the cut.

I know some were wary of her appearing too feminine, but honestly I enjoyed the challenge of finding a way to feminize the base turtle model and stay true to Andy’s wonderful design. I don’t want her to just look like her brothers in a show that embraces their differences.

The biggest thing I added to her design was an exposed heart. My own little twist inspired by a real life issue some turtles deal with as well as a fitting ode to the artist she is named after, Frida Kahlo, who often drew herself with her heart floating outside of her body. (And yes I made the creative decision to keep her heart at her center as with many turtles.)

This deformity occurred during her mutation where the sudden growth spurt tore open a hole at the seam of her plastron. She has survived as long as she has because of Big Mama who uses mystic wards to keep her heart physically safe and emotionally numb. If you look closely to her plastron in the show it’s not actually a natural body part but rather seems to be an attachment of her trench coat. Likely a false cover to hide her obvious weak spot (or at least that is my head canon!)

I love the idea of her and Donnie having something they can relate to and I’m sure he’ll be happy to design chest armor for her down the line once she’s free of Big Mama. Maybe someday I’ll figure out her full Mad Dogs outfit, but for now this is just her base and bandana.

As each of the boys embodies a shape, I found it all too fitting to have Frida’s be a heart. It’s honestly a cool shape that uses both rounded forms and sharp points, which I think would encapsulate her character well. Prickly on the surface but a softy deep down. I tried to find less typical ways of feminizing her. Sharpening her beak and digits while retaining the style of feminine eyes present in most of the female cast but matching it more closely to the unsettling shape of the eyes on her assistant’s mask.

Her markings are a color flip of Mikey’s, where as his are yellow spots with orange outlines hers are orange with yellow outlines. Coupled with her yellow eyes to match Donnie and Raph, it gives her this fiery vibe that I think still sets her far apart from Mikey.

The mask was honestly the hardest part. I love that it further accentuates her heart motif and made her more expressive, but just giving her the obvious bow and calling it a day did not sit well with me. I decided to try more of a high ponytail look, but I think it still needs some work. I’m pretty sure I like her with yellow though, both as a nod to Jennika and the idea of April giving her something of her own to help form the bond between the two.

Would love to flesh her out further but back to my usual stuff first.

[lesservillain]

alpha!steddie x omega!reader Part Two. summary: after some disappointing news, you start to question your role in this whole situation. also lots of sex cw: SMUT. omegaverse and everything that comes with it. lots of cum, "public sex", mmf, dvp, breeding kink, free use, eddie wears a muzzle, feral eddie an: sorry this took so long! enjoy a lot of must to make up for it.

“Well, she’s not pregnant.”

Steve folds in his chair, face landing in the palms of his hands as he audibly sighs. Eddie shifts next to you in his seat, his knee landing on top of your thigh as he crosses his legs. You chance a look up him. His expression seems fairly neutral, not that he should really be surprised by the news anyway.

After a long two week waiting period, you’d spent the last 4 days waking up and taking a test. You’d wait the allotted time and then, with shaking hands, you’d flip the testing strip over, only to find it negative once again. Every time you’d tell yourself that it was just too early and that you’d try again tomorrow. 

Any minuscule change you’d notice in your body had you wanting to rush back into the bathroom again just to check. A little nausea, slight pain in your breasts. Was that an implantation cramp? You didn’t even know what an implantation cramp was until you’d read over the book on pregnancy Steve picked up for you on his way home the week after your cycle. The two of you took turns reading it, discussing whatever contents the book went over during dinner while Eddie did his best to understand what you were talking about.

So when you finally broke it to them earlier this morning that you’d been testing negative, Steve called the doctor right away to get you in as soon as possible. Even if he was trying to hide it, you could still see the sadness in his eyes. His disappointment continued to hang in the air of the small four walled room of the fertility clinic.

“I’m sorry to deliver bad news, but I wouldn’t fret too much.” The doctor who was assisting the three of you in this arrangement was a small, older omega woman. She’d been assisting couples since before you were born and you were able to tell by your first appointment with her that she really knew her stuff.

“Even normal alpha and omega couples can take more that one try to conceive. And the three of you have several factors against you.” She looks at each of you. 

“None of you are bonded for starters.” She flips through some paperwork on her clipboard, eyes scanning the page as she talks. “I know that you all are choosing a more…traditional method rather than doing any kind of insemination.”

Steve lift his head from his hands, “There’s no way our insurance would have covered any of it if we--”

“I know, Mr.Harrington. Let me finish.” The doctor says with a slow nod.

“Sorry,” Steve says, shrinking back a bit.

“I’m not here to judge, and, honestly, you’re better off doing what you’re doing. But, I just have some questions I want to ask, to make sure that you’re not doing anything that may make this take longer than necessary. Is that alright?”

Steve nods, and when the doctor looks to you and Eddie over her glasses, you both nod as well.

“Good. Now, are both of you taking part in this process or just one of you?” 

“Both.” Steve and Eddie say simultaneously. The doctor nods, “Okay, and are both of you knotting at the completion of intercourse?”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the question. You know it’s part of the process, but talking about your sex practices with another person makes you want to disappear into the wall behind you.

“Yeah, I have been,” Eddie responds, almost gloating thought you’re not sure if he’s aware of it in his tone. “Almost every time.”

“Really?” The doctor raises an eyebrow at him before shifting her gaze over to Steve. “And you?”

Steve shifts, visibly uncomfortable. “I did once.” 

The doctor looks at him for a moment before writing something down on her clipboard.

“Well,” she starts, “I understand knotting can be a different experience for each alpha. Usually it’s harder for an alpha to prevent one rather than having troubles achieving one…”

Steve leans forward, waving his hands dismissively. “That’s not--Jesus, I’m not having a problem with knotting. I’m just not…I’m not letting it latch. I’m…I’m pulling out.”

The doctor gives Steve a “what the fuck” look, and you can hear Eddie trying to contain a giggle under his breath. 

“Mr.Harrington, I don’t really understand how you think that’s going to help your situation.: The doctor sighs, “But, it only takes one sperm to impregnate an egg, and it seems Mr.Munson is more than willing to make up for your reluctance.”

Steve rolls his eyes, sitting back in the chair with a huff. You place a hand on his leg as a reassuring gesture. He looks down at you, still clearly upset. But after a moment, a small smile tugs on his lips, and his hand comes down to rest on top of yours. 

You barely register the way Eddie’s body moves closer to yours when the doctor addresses you directly. You sit up straight, giving her your undivided attention as she asks you a series of questions about your heat cycles and if you’re taking your vitamins. She writes several notes on her clipboard, giving small nods and hums of acknowledgment as you talk.

“Good, good. Everything sounds like they are going as they should. I suspect that your body most likely just needed some time to adjust to being off of your heat suppressants. Sometimes it can take a month or two for an omega to be fully fertile again. But once they body is back in it’s natural state, omegas tend to get pregnant almost immediately.”

Steve’s hand squeezed yours lightly. 

“One to two months?” Eddie asked, eyes narrowed as he looked at the older woman. 

“Yes? Is that a problem?”

“It’s not necessarily a problem,” he starts, leaning forward a bit in his seat, his hand resting on your knee. “But, what if we go another cycle and end up in this same situation next month?”

Steve looks at Eddie for the first time since you all arrived. You’re pretty sure they’d been talking about you not being pregnant while you were getting ready for the appointment. They seemed oddly distant since you came down and found them not talking to each other in the kitchen.

“Well, there are some things we can do to try an increase your odds for her next cycle. Tell me, when are the two of you due to go into rut?”

“I should have one in about 3 weeks, but Eddie’s not due for a month and a half.”

“I see. And you’re due for another heat here in the next week, correct?”

You nod, “Tuesday or Wednesday is what I’m predicting.” 

The doctor hums, then pushes herself on her stool to the little counter top on the other side of the room. She grabs a pad and pen from a drawer and starts writing, tearing the top one off and writing again on the next. Once she tears the second slip, she wheels back over to the three of you, handing Steve and Eddie each a prescription slip with their names on it.

“These are prescriptions for inducers. Go get them filled today, but don’t take them until Monday. They take about 24 hours to kick in, so by Tuesday evening both of you should be in full rut. If you need notes for work let me know and I can write them for you.”

“They have drugs that do that?” Eddie asks, looking at Steve.

Steve shakes his head. “Wait a minute. I get why you’re giving us these, but…doesn’t it seem unsafe for us both to be rutting around her. Especially if she’s going to be in heat?”

The doctor eyes Steve. “Depends on what you’re worried about happening? She’s not your mate so you’re not competing over her. Sure, you’ll be more ‘feral’ for lack of a better word, but the two of you will still know who the other is. Unless you’ve already had issues…”

Steve looks at Eddie with a knowing look, making him curl in on himself a bit bashfully. “I guess you could say we’ve run into some unexpected road bumps.” The doctor looks at all three of you with a suspicious look before shaking her head.

“Okay,” she says with exasperation, taking her glasses off and tucking them in her pocket. “So what exactly are you worried about? Fighting? Trying to mark her? Self control issues?” Steve and Eddie nod in unison and the doctor sighs once more, muttering something about alphas under her breath. 

“If you’re worried about fighting,” she says, counting with her fingers,” I would suggest staying in separate parts of the house. Designate times between the two of you to be with her and try to keep interactions with all three of you to a minimum.” A second finger. “If you’re worried about marking her…well there’s always mouth guards like athletes wear. Or you could always get a muzzle. I think ones from the pet store would be the most reliable.”

The mental image of Eddie and Steve in a muzzle made you feel a type of way that you didn’t want to explore in this doctors office right now, so you tuck that into your mind for later.

“And if you’re worried about self control…well, that’s something the three of you will have to figure out on your own. Maybe buy a leash at the pet store as well.” The doctor rises from her chair, barely standing much taller as she shakes all of your hands. 

“Hopefully when I see all three of you again we will be having a different discussion. Until then, if you have any questions, try and contact one of my nurses instead.”

“I’m not wearing a damn muzzle, Eddie.”

Steve stands with his arms crossed at the end of the aisle as you and Eddie look at the different size dog muzzles. Eddie crouches down, holding his hair back as you place the different sizes and shapes over his face to find one that he finds comfortable.

“How about this one?” You ask, placing one of the small rubber pieces over his mouth. Eddie looks at you for a moment, then pretends to lunge at you like a rabid dog, making you jump back in surprise. “Jesus Christ, Eddie!” You shout at him, followed by a fit of giggles. He puts and arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him as he laughs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “Try it again, please.”

Without warning you push the muzzle against his face and snap it shut behind his head. He looks at you with surprise, leaving you to step back to get a better look. 

“What do you think, Steve?” You glance over your shoulder to find a very amused Steve eyeing his husband with a raised brow.

“I think it looks great,” he says with a sarcastic lit. “Maybe you should wear it all the time.”

“Awe, don’t be like that, Stevie,” Eddie says with a look of innocence. “How am I gonna suck you off if I have this thing on all the time?” Steve falters for a moment, but regains his composure quickly. 

“I think I can manage.” Steve’s gaze lands on you for a barely there moment. One that you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already looking at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of these? Ya know you can get a little grumpy during your ruts?”

Steve tenses. “That’s because…” A hand runs through Steve’s hair. “Nevermind. You guys finish up here. I’m gonna run next door and check on our meds.” Without another word Steve is out the door. Eddie shakes his head before reaching behind it to unbuckle the muzzle. 

“Eddie?” You look up at him with sad eyes. He’s at your side in an instant, hands on your shoulders as he looks at you with concern. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Is Steve…are…are you guys mad at me?”

Eddie reels back as if you’ve asked the most offensive question he’s ever heard. 

“What? W—of course not! Why do you think that?”

“I mean, I’m not pregnant, so that would be one reason…”

Eddie steps to the side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for a side hug. His embrace melts away at your anxiousness. He’s warm against you, soothing, even through your layers of clothes. 

“We’re not mad at you about that, okay?” He shakes your arm lightly, urging you to look up at him. “Obviously we knew that it might not work on the first try. Did we want it to? Sure. But that doesn’t mean we’d be upset or blame you for it.”

“But Steve…” you bite your lower lip, “he just seems so…off today.” Eddie sighs, letting arm fall from your shoulder and back to his side.

“Steve’s just…he’s a little overwhelmed with work right now. So much happened at his job the last week we took off to, well, you know. I guess someone made an error in some documentation or something and he’s been playing catch up ever since.”

You frown. You had no idea that Steve was going through so much burden at work. He must be a master at not bringing his work issues home with him, always coming through the door with a smile on his face. Him and Eddie seemed to be fine, too. And, despite your worry of it begin awkward after finally sleeping together, you all got along like everything was fine. “Wow, I-I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, he didn’t want to have you fussing over him about it. He’s probably more worried about having to take another week off than you not being pregnant.”

You nod. Something about Steve not telling you about him being so stressed makes your heart ache. A little voice in your mind is telling you to go find him and comfort him. A little voice that you’ve been noticing ever since you moved in with Steve and Eddie. 

It’s almost like you can sense their distress, but it seems to be stronger with Eddie than with Steve. Though, Eddie does wear his heart on his sleeve and likes it when you dote on him, especially when he comes home with a new cut or bruise and you insist on treating it. If you try and bring anything up with Steve, he just brushes it off and changes the subject.

“Hey, we gotta pay for this!”

Eddie’s voice pulls you from your mind. At some point you had grabbed Eddie’s hand and started to leave the pet store, him stopping you just at the threshold.

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“You guys are still in here?”

You snap around to find Steve right in front of you, a plastic bag in on hand as he holds the door open with the other.

“We’re about to check out,” Eddie says, pulling you towards the line. But you can’t keep your eyes off of Steve. Every stress line on his face becomes painfully obvious to you and all you want to do is smooth them out for him. You guess this is why he didn’t want to tell you. But when had you become someone who gets so upset by things like this?

“Shit.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as the three of you pull up to the house.

“What’s wrong?” You ask from the back seat, leading around to try and see what Steve was worried about.

“Did you tell me Robin was coming over and I forgot?” Eddie asks Steve, nodding towards an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Stave nods, running a hand down his face.

“I told her we would go out with her and Vicki for drinks when they were back in town. I guess I’ve been so preoccupied that I forgot that was today.”

“Okay…well that shouldn’t be a problem…” Eddie says slowly, pulling up next to the car and putting it in park. “But with the way you’re talking, you’re making it sound like it’s a problem.”

Steve huffs out a frustrated sigh, his head rolling to the side to look at Eddie.

“I haven’t…They don’t know about…” Steve’s gestures back to you. Eddie’s eyes go wide, mouth dropping open in shock.

“You didn’t tell them about…Wait, do they even know we were doing any of this?” Eddie’s hands move wildly as he talks.

“I told them we had been talking more about kids, but I didn’t tell them exactly how we were intending on having them.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie huffs, rolling his eyes. “So we have to walk in there and say ‘oh, hey guys, nice to see you. By the way, this is the girl we’re fucking so we can have a baby.’”

You tried really hard to keep it in, but a snort escapes you and catched both men’s attention. They both look back at you as you cover your mouth with your hand, waving the other defensively.

“I’m sorry,” you say through giggles. “It’s not funny, but I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell your friends. We’re you just going to hide me in my room for 9 months or something?”

“No, no!” Both of them start talking over each other and it only makes you laugh more.

After you reassure them that you didn’t actually think they were going to hide you away, the three of you came up with a quick game plan on how to explain things to Robin and Vicki.  It was funny to see the two of them nervous to enter their own home. You could feel the nerves rolling off of both of them as they stepped inside. 

You caught a glimpse of Robin, who you’d seen in pictures around the house, sitting at the island. Her eyes were on the TV, mindlessly scooping chips into your home made salsa before she noticed you all come in. 

“There you guys are!” Robin scoots off of her seat and comes bounding towards Steve and Eddie, wrapping her arms around the both of them. You couldn’t smell her, but you could tell she was an alpha by the way she carried herself. Tall, with piercing eyes and a sureness about her that told you she could go toe to toe with someone if they messed with her. She was beautiful enough that she could be a model if she wanted to; someone who belonged on a magazine cover.

A smaller, mousier girl rounded the corner. Her curious eyes met yours instantly, and you quickly clocked her as a fellow omega. “Hey guys, who’s you’re friend?”

Robin takes a step back and peers around Steve until her eyes meet yours as well. “Woah, I didn’t even see you there.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You introduce yourself, and look over to Eddie and Steve to take care of the rest.

“Um, Bobbie, Vicki, we, uh…” Steve starts out confident but falters as he starts to overthink everything.

“This is our surrogate!” Eddie accidentally shouts, startling you and Vicki. Robin’s jaw practically hits the floor, eyes darting back and fourth between the two men before landing on you.

“Wait, so you’re pregnant? Who’s is it? Did you guys do like a russian roulette thing or did they like mix your swimmers together and shoot them up her--”

“Robin!” Steve steps forward with his hands up, clearly distressed as Eddie practically keels over with how hard he’s laughing.

“Hi, I’m Vicki.” Her voice pulls you from the commotion in front of you. You take her soft hand in yours and give her a small smile.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you guys since I’ve been here.”

“Oh? Do-do you live here?” Her head tilts with confusion. You nod, your confirmation somehow catching Robin’s attention.

“Wait, she lives here?”

“Yes, she lives here,” Steve says, backing up to address the room. He gestures to you, “And she’s not pregnant. We just got back from the doctor to confirm it.”

“Awe,” Robin pouts, “I’m sorry. I just heard surrogate and assumed she was already pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully that’ll change here soon.”

“That’s so exciting though!” Vicki claps her hands together excitedly. “A little baby Steve or Eddie running around here.”

“Oh, god,” Robin laughs, “Which reminds me that you didn’t answer my question. How are you doing the dad thing?”

“Maybe we should go sit in the living room, then we can give you all the juicy details,” Eddie says, opening his arms to herd everyone into the other room.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Robin--” 

“No, sorry, that was a rhetorical what.”

Robin and Vicki sit across from the couch you’re sharing with Steve and Eddie, who just explained to them the basics of your arrangement. Vicki, though confused at times, seemed to be doing her best to understand the dynamic of your situation. Robin, however, listened the whole time with an open mouth smile as if she’s not heard a better story in her life.

“I’m just…I don’t know. Like obviously I’m happy for you guys. Do,” She looks at you with wiggly brows as she says “do”, “whatever works for you.” She pauses for a moment to look up at the ceiling before looking back down. “Can I ask you a question though?”

“Robin,” Steve growls, and you feel both boys subtly move closer to you. 

“Guys, it’s okay. Seriously.” You scoot util you’re sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning away from them. “Ask away.”

“Thank you,” Robin says, shooting Steve and Eddie a look. “I’m just curious about what you’re getting out of this. Sure, they’re taking care of you now, and they’ll take care of you until the baby is born. Then they get the baby and live happily ever after…But what about you? Like, you’re just going to go through something super traumatic and beautiful…and then you’re going to leave?”

You’re taken aback a bit by the question. It was all lined out in the contract that you’d give birth and then your role would be complete. What else was there to do? You’d hope that they’d maybe let you recover a bit before finding your own place, but they weren’t obligated to. 

But the more you think about it, the more you actually hate the idea of not being around them.

“She’s going to stay here with us until she feels comfortable enough on her own.” Eddie speaks up after a tense silence took over the room.

“I get that, but, like, are you guys going to stay in contact? Is she going to stick around and play nanny to her own kid?”

“Robin.” Steve stands up abruptly, throwing everyone off guard. “I need to talk to you in private. Please.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to look out for all of you--”

“Please.” You feel yourself shutter as the air in the room shifts. You feel Eddie flinch, and Robin’s jaw snaps shut. She stands up without another word and the two of them head out the back door, leaving you to feel awkward with Eddie and Vicki.

“So,” Vicki finally says after a moment, “How’s the shop going Eddie?”

The two of them talk like old friends, doing their best to add you into the conversation so you feel included. At some point, Eddie put his arm around your shoulders on the back of the couch, his knee resting on top of your leg like it had earlier at the doctor’s office. 

“Nothing alcoholic for you I’m guessing?” Robin leans into you so you can hear her over the loud music of the bar. 

“I mean, I’m not pregnant, so it’s okay, right?”

She shrugs at you, “I guess you better ask the dingus’s if it’s okay.”

Steve and Eddie stood a few feet away talking to each other about something you couldn’t hear. Hopping down from your seat, you walk over to them, their conversation coming to an end as soon as you get close enough.

“Everything okay?” You shout.

“Yeah, fine,” Eddie says in a clipped tone, turning his body completely away from Steve to face you. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Robin wants to know if it’s okay if I have a drink. I know I’m not pregnant but I figured I’d ask.” Steve looks at Eddie, then at you, frustration written all over his face.

“As long as it’s not going to affect your heat,” Steve shrugs before walking away. Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” you say to him. 

“It’s nothing. Why don’t we get you a drink, huh?” Eddie takes your hand and walks with you back to the bar side. “Oh, and be careful around Vicki. She might not look it, but that girl will drink anyone under the table.”

“Noted,” you chuckle.

The four of you do a round of shots after Robin insisted, your face pinching at the after taste of the tequila. Eddie laughs and takes your hand, bringing the lime in it to your mouth to suck on. You take it and are relieved to have the palette cleanser on your tongue. 

“Wow, you took that like a champ!” Vicki shouts. She’s clearly a social drunk, opening up more now that she has a little something in her system. Robin, however, shifts from her seat suddenly, a concerned look on her face.

“I’m gonna go find Steve,” she says with a slight slur. When she takes a sideways step, Vicki follows after her, making sure she stays standing on her quest to find Steve.

“I don’t know why they’re looking for him,” Eddie shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer. “I was just out there to check on him.”

Eddie had been periodically going out to bring Steve drinks for the last hour and a half. Apparently he ran into a old friend from high school and they’d been shooting the shit the whole time. Eddie told this to Robin, too, but the more she drank the more concerned she became.

“She’s a good friend.” You say, looking up at him with a sideways smile.

“Yeah, she is. Funny as hell, can’t handle her alcohol at all.”

“I guess so,” you giggle. You play with the straw in your glass while Eddie finishes off his beer, setting it down on the bar before wiping his mouth with his hand.

“You know, I used to play shows here,” he says, looking down at you with lidded eyes.

“Oh, really?” You knew Eddie played guitar. He has a whole room dedicated to music and his guitars on the opposite end of the house. You haven’t gotten to see him play, but you sometimes here the low strumming coming from the room on his days off.

“Yep, me and my old band. We’d play for, like, 20 drunk guys on Tuesdays. It was fun.” There’s a nostalgic gleam in his eyes as he recalls fond memories from his younger years.

“I’m guessing you’ve gotten a lot of action here, too,” you say, nudging his arm with your elbow. He barks back a laugh, shaking his head.

“God, I wished I had. Believe it or not, I was a total loser back in the day.”

“What? Really? No one was throwing themselves at the guitar player?”

“No, unfortunately I wasn’t any of the 20 drunk guys type,” he said with a sarcastic lit.

“Damn, I would have been,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “That was totally my type back then. Still is I guess.” The alcohol in your system starts to take over, lowering your inhibitions and bringing out the chatty side of you. 

“My ex was a bassist for this suuuuper shitty band. Don’t know how they managed it, but they toured with a couple other bands, opening for them and whatever. Anyway, I went on the road with him because I didn’t trust him. Shouldn’t have even bothered quitting my job and leaving my hometown just to make sure he stayed faithful, because he ended up fucking soul bonding with our fucking waitress at a Denny’s in Michigan.”

“Soul bonding?” 

You look up at Eddie, his brows pinched in confusion. “Yeah, you’ve never heard of it?” He shakes his head. “It’s like, when you see someone for the first time and you instantly become bonded to them. Like permanent marking without the bite.”

“Woah,” Eddie’s eyes go wide, “I didn’t know that was even possible.”

“I don’t think it happens super often, but apparently it had to happen to my ex right in front of my face.”

“How do you even know? Like that you’re bonded to someone?”

“All I know for alphas is that they can’t get it up for other omegas, only the one that they’re bonded to. For omegas you can get super sick if you try to have sex with another alpha. I think you can drop, too. You also, like, really feel attached to that person, even if you don’t know anything about them and already have a girlfriend.”

“Wow, that’s crazy,” Eddie says, visibly astonished. 

“I guess,” you mumble. Eddie finally catches on to your disgruntlement after the shock wears off. He puts his arm around your waist and pulls your side flush with his. 

“Well, that’s his loss. Stupid bond or fate or whatever it is. And I know it still feels shitty, but I feel like…it was a good thing. Because if you had stayed with that chump then we wouldn’t be here now, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” You didn’t really think much into the meaning of Eddie’s words. Especially not when he asked if you wanted to go with him to get some fresh air while he smoked.

The cool air hitting your face felt so refreshing compared to the heat from the packed bar. There weren’t many people out on this back patio, most of the noise coming from the front smoking area.

“Want one?” Eddie asks, offering you a cigarette from his pack.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.”

You don’t know what it is, but the way Eddie uses his teeth to pull a cigarette out of its box makes you feel a type of way. You’re sure it’s from the alcohol, but you also couldn’t deny that he was attractive anyway. He was rough, tatted, smelled amazing. But he was also gentle, caring and attentive. In another reality, maybe the two of you could have been meant for each other.

“Take a picture, sweetheart,” Eddie teases. You had been staring at him and he caught you. But, at the moment, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Not as good as the real thing,” you say matter of factly.

“Hmmm, got me there.” The smoke bellows from his lips as he talks, being swept away with the wind. The chill cuts through for you, making you visibly shake.

“Come’er,” Eddie says, opening his arms for you to embrace him again. You rush into him, your face colliding with the material of his chore jacket. It smells faintly of the grease from his work, but mostly of his natural scent that you gladly let invade your sinuses. He wraps his arms around you, letting his lips land on the crown of your head. The heat of his body instantly warms you up and you feel…at home.

“Eddie.” You move your face from his chest, looking up at him as his face is mere inches from yours. He barely gives you a second to think before his lips are crashing into yours. The feeling of fireworks erupting in your mind has you gasping It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt in a kiss before. You stand in shock, not fully processing what’s happening until you feel him pulling away.

“Are you okay?” His eyes shift between yours, looking for an answer to his question before you can speak it.

“Eddie…you kissed me…”

“Yeah…and?” He says it so passively, as if he doesn’t have a whole husband standing on the other side of the building. 

“But--But, Steve-- I--I don’t--”

“Didn’t you say free game in the contract?” 

You’re suddenly very aware of how very hard Eddie is as he’s pressed up against you and it sends an ache straight to your core. You did say that you’d be willing and available any time that Steve or Eddie wanted you…

You look up at Eddie through your lashes and nod. The devilish grin on Eddie’s face gives you the chills. And when he kisses you again, it melts those chills away, stoking the flame building up inside you. 

Shuffling feet and slamming doors, Eddie pins you against the door of the men’s restroom door. Your lips move feverishly against each others, fighting for dominance in your drunken stupor that you would have given into easily otherwise.

Eddie fumbled with his belt until it finally came undone, wasting no time to get his pants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock and heavy balls. You mimick his actions, undoing your jeans and pushing them down with your panties in one quick motion, letting them pool at your ankles.

He pulls away from you, a line of spit that connects your lips to his red, kiss bitten ones. His eyes are glassy as he looks you up and down, giving you that predatory glare that you’d became accustomed to from your previous times together. 

Suddenly, he’s spinning you around until your facing the bathroom door, leaving stickers and old posters to fill your vision. One of Eddie’s rough hands lands on your hip, pulling on you until your bent at just the right angle while the other grabs his hard cock to rub between your legs. He collects your wetness on his cock, and you gasp when you feel the head catch on your clit.

“Mmm, fuck.” The alcohol on his breath hits your nose as Eddie leans forward, his hand is braced against the door next to your head and pressing you into the cold metal. You feel his hard, broad chest against your back, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist tightly.

Not a moment later you feel him breech your entrance. The stretch takes your breath away, feeling so different when you’re not under the haze of your heat. He stutters as he works you open for him, doing his best to restrain himself from just pushing all the way into you. A high pitch whine escapes your lips when his head hits that sweet spot.

“Right there, baby girl?” Eddie huffs in your ear, repeating the same movement with a sharp thrust. 

“Yes!” You cry out at the sensation, nodding your head vigorously. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he says, nosing his way into the crook of your neck leaving sloppy kisses into your skin as he starts to thrust into you over and over. 

His cold hand sends shivers through you as it snakes it’s way under your shirt, pushing under your bra to grab and fondle your tits. He pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers, the feeling sending shocks straight to your core. It all feels like too much already, but when his other hand travels down between your legs, you feel like your legs might buckle under you.

Your vision goes white as you come undone, pussy clenching around Eddie’s cock as he fucks you through it. He groans as you squeeze his cock, panting against your ear as his pace starts to pick up. His arm around your waist is putting in work to hold you up as you come back to reality, your legs feeling like jelly from how hard you came. 

“Fuck, I wanted to do this all night,” Eddie babbles breathlessly. “Wanted to bend you over the kitchen counter when you came downstairs. Who are you all dolled up for, huh?” 

You had gone the extra mile getting ready to go out tonight. It was totally because you wanted to look nice, and nothing at all to do with Steve and Eddie. You totally weren’t trying to get their attention with your low cut top and vanilla perfume. 

At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. 

“N-no one,” you squeak out between thrusts. Eddie huffs out a laugh, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a brief moment before pulling away from you. His hands hold you up by the hips, keeping you in place as he plows into you.

“No one, huh? You’re just dressed up for anyone and everyone to look at you? Hoping you might catch someone’s attention out here?”

“Maybe,” you say. It was meant to be teasing. You weren’t really sure why he was so concerned about people looking at you to begin with. 

But Eddie didn’t like that answer. 

“Sounds like I need to remind you who you belong to,” Eddie says with a low growl. And when you thought his pace couldn’t get any more relentless, he started to fuck into you with purpose, barely pulling out before pushing back in. He angles himself to hit that spot inside of you again, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm at lightening speed. 

“Fuck, Eddie!”

“That’s right, say my name, sweetheart.”

You chant his name like a prayer until he answers. Your orgasm hit’s you like truck, leaving you speechless as you cum harder than you ever have outside of your heat. Eddie follows right after you, pushing himself flush as he cums deep inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.

“Goooooooood damn,” he groans, keeling over you with full body shutters. More grunts and moans pour from him as he stills, giving you the chance to start to come down as the overstimulation stops. 

Just as you feel your post orgasm clarity kick in, you notice a familiar swelling feeling starting to grow inside of you.

“Woah, woah, hold on!” You straighten yourself, pulling away from Eddie as quickly as you can before his knot fully locks inside of you. Turning around, you watch as the base of his cock swells into a ring of muscle around his shaft.

“Ahhhhh, shit,” Eddie says, grabbing his knot and shaft with his hands, taking his bottom lip between his teeth with a pained expression. 

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you say with genuine concern. You’ve heard about how sensitive a knotted alpha’s cock can be when an omega’s body can’t keep it covered. Apparently any little bit of friction is torture, like sandpaper to an exposed nerve.

“Fuck, why did you pull away?”

A sudden thunderous knock has the both of you jumping. The both of you adjust your clothing back to place, Eddie tucking his still hard cock into the waistband of his jeans, before opening the door. 

Fully prepared to do a walk of shame past a stranger out of this bar’s men’s bathroom, your blood go cold when you find yourself face to face with Steve. He looks straight at you, an anger in his eyes that you’d never seen before.

“Oh, hey, babe,” Eddie stutters out, clearly more worried about his own problem rather than being caught by his husband fucking another person in a bathroom. Steve doesn’t even look up at Eddie, his beautiful Hazel eyes locked on you. 

“Both of you, go get in the car,” Steve finally says after what feels like an eternity. “We’re leaving.” 

“Okay,” Eddie nods. He walks up behind you, grabbing onto your shoulders to walk you forward, when Steve grabs his hands and pushed them off of you. Eddie’s caught of guard by Steve’s actions, pure shock all over his face.

“What’s you’re problem?” He questions his husband. Steve wordlessly grabs you, pulling you out of Eddie’s way until you’re fully by his side.

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Steve grits through his teeth. Eddie looks at Steve, the tension between them thick enough that you could cut it with a butter knife. 

“Fine,” Eddie finally says, storming off and leaving you with Steve.

“Are you okay?” Steve’s voice was softer now. You dared to look up at him, his brows pinched with worry as he seemed to be looking you over.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine Steve.” 

“Did he cum inside you?”

The question has you reeling back. You didn’t know what to say. Obviously he knew the two of you fucked, but the queston didn’t seem to come from a place of anger. Rather, he seemed to be genuinely concerned if Eddie had finished inside of you.

“Y-yes?” You shift in place, as if acknowledging it suddenly made you hyper aware of the sticky feeling between your legs.

Steve sighed, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

“I’m sorry. He gets handsy when he’s drunk. I don’t know why he didn’t just come to me.” Steve moves closer to you, his arms positioned as if he was going to wrap them around you. But, he suddenly backs away with an almost anguished look.

“Steve, I’m so-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “Don’t apologize, this isn’t your fault.”

You’re honestly not really sure what Steve is upset about at this point. Maybe there was something that him and Eddie discussed outside of your arrangement that you didn’t know about? It was probably too much to bring up tonight, but you would definitely need to sit down and talk with them about boundaries first thing tomorrow.

The drive home was anything but quiet. You were almost afraid to get in the car since Steve had been drinking, too, but he assured you he wouldn’t put you or Eddie in danger if he felt he couldn’t drive. Steve drove home white knuckling the steering wheel as Eddie lets out little whimpers and moans from his seat.

You thought his knot would have gone down by now, but his inebriated state and the pressure of the seatbelt across his lap was making him miserable. You felt awful for having to leave him in that state, watching him subtly buck against the strap to feel any sort of friction. But the idea of being locked to him when Steve found the two of you was like a scenario from your nightmares after how upset he was earlier.

When Steve pulled into the driveway, Eddie sighed in relief, unbuckling his seatbelt with lightening speed and hopping out of the car as soon as it stopped moving. Just as Eddie was about to open the front door, Steve stepped out of the car and called for him to wait. Eddie looked back with distress, waiting and watching as Steve rounded the car to let you out.

“I want the both of you upstairs as soon as we get inside, waiting for me on the bed, without touching each other until I get there. Do you both understand?”

Steve’s scent penetrates your nose, putting you in a submissive haze that has you nodding without question. You walk to the door, Eddie’s eyes on you as you push past him into the house and up the stairs. 

You sat quietly on the edge of Eddie and Steve’s bed. After a few minutes Eddie pushes through the bedroom door, a prominent wet spot visible on his tee shirt where his precum had been dribbling out from the constant stimulation. He didn’t say anything to you, instead he sat next to you on the bed, just far enough away that you wouldn’t be touching each other. A whimper escapes his lips when his jeans drag down his still hard cock, the outline of it visible as it presses against his shirt.

“Did I get you in trouble?” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. You keep your eyes on the carpet between your feet, not having the courage to look at Eddie in the face.

Eddie huffs out a choked laugh, his curls bouncing in your peripherals.

“I got myself in trouble,” Eddie’s voice has a sultry lit to it, “But…the punishments are always worth it.”

Before you could really process what his words might mean, Steve pushes open the bedroom door, causing you to jump where you sat. The look on his face was unreadable, which made you feel more uneasy than if he was wearing his anger in his features. 

You take the opportunity to look up at Eddie. His eyes were locked on Steve, a shit eating grin on his face as he looks his upset husband up and down. When you follow his line of sight, you see Steve’s cock is straining in his jeans.

“Undress. Now.” Steve commands, looking at you as if to see how you’d react. Eddie begins to pull his shirt over his head, putting his tattooed skin on display for you and Steve to admire.

When you realize that you’re not about to get a lecture, you waste no time in joining Eddie. You strip your clothes piece by piece, trying to keep up with how quickly Eddie is discarding his own. Once you’re down to your panties, Steve stops you before you can yank them down.

“Slowly,” he demands. His features hard as his eyes watch the way you slide your lacy panties down your thighs at a leisurely pace. You advert your gaze from his, focusing on removing your last article of clothing in a way that pleases Steve. 

As you pull the material down, you watch as a string of Eddie cum stretches, stuck on the crotch of your panties from where it had leaked out of you. It finally breaks as the panties reach your knees, the sticky spend clinging to the side of your leg.

Eddie curses under his breath, his vocalization snapping Steve out of whatever trance he was in. 

“Clean it up.”

Eddie looks up at Steve confused. Steve repeats himself, a thick finger pointing to your leg where the cum was sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You look back and forth between them, unsure of what you should be doing. 

When Eddie doesn’t move, Steve sighs, and grabs his hand, leading him over to you. He instructs Eddie to get on his knees, which he does without question, his big, brown eyes on Steve as he waits for further instruction.

“Ugh, do I have to walk you through it?” Steve asks with annoyance. But he doesn’t give Eddie the chance to answer before he’s grabbing the back of his head and guiding it between your legs.

“You made this mess Eddie. Clean. It. Up.”

Eddie’s tongue making contact with your skin startled you, making you instinctively jerk back. The bed behind you keeps you from moving very far, Eddie’s tongue chasing you as you move. You watch in awe as Eddie laps up his own cum from your skin, his blown out pupils looking up at you as moving higher and higher up your leg.

Just as Eddie’s about to reach the apex between your legs, Steve pulls him back by his hair. Eddie’s eyes roll back as he lets out a low grown from the force. He smiles up at Steve, whose expression is back to being stony and unreadable.

Steve says your name, making you stiffen at the sudden attention.

“I want you on your back, head down here,” he says, pointing to the foot of the bed. You wait for a moment for any further instruction, but Steve only punctuates his demand with a sharp, “Now.”

You do as instructed, your head at the foot of the bed and your feet almost to their pillows. Steve tuts, motioning you to move further down the bed until your head is hanging off the edge slightly. After he hums in approval, he directs his attention back to Eddie, whose cock jumps in excitement when his husband looks down at him.

“Don’t get too excited,” Steve says, tugging at Eddie’s hair again.

“Kinda hard not to when you do that, big boy,” Eddie breathes out, his toothy smile on display. Steve sucks in a sharp breath before letting go of his grip on Eddie’s hair. He points towards the head of the bed where your feet lay.

“I want you to get yourself nice and comfortable between her legs,” Steve nods towards you, “because I want you to use your tongue to get every last drop of your cum out of her pussy.” Eddie’s eyes light up, but Steve continues on. “Ah, ah, let me finish. This isn’t a reward. I don’t want you to touch her with anything other than your mouth. No. Hands. And you’re not going to touch yourself either. Do you understand?”

If Steve’s stipulations were meant to upset Eddie, he surely didn’t succeed as Eddie still nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. When Steve gave him the go ahead, Eddie sprang up from where he was on the floor and up onto the bed. The mattress dipped and shook as he crawled over your body, using his hands to part your legs so he could make himself comfortable there. You let out a giggle at his animated movements, his hands rubbing together before settling his face an inch away from your pussy.

“I do want to apologize in advance,” he says, looking as if he’s talking to your pussy instead of you. “I’m a big fan. Never been so close to one of you in person before, though. But I’ll do my best.” 

You gasp as Eddie presses his face into your heat, his tongue darting out to lap between your folds. He’s sloppy with his movements as his tongue explores every inch of your pussy. When he gets to you clit, your body jumps from the sensation and you see his eyes light up at your reaction. He repeats his movement again and again, giving you pressing kitten licks that send jolts throughout your body with each one.

A hand lands on your cheek, wrapping around your chin until it has your lips puckering in its grip. Steve tilts your head back to look at him, but all you see is his thick cock hovering over your face, blocking Steve from your view.

“Open up, sweet girl,” Steve coos at you, his thumb tapping against your cheek. You open your mouth without protest. “Mmm, such a good girl,” he says, grabbing his cock and tapping the head on your tongue. His precum lands on your tongue and you moan at the taste. 

Eddie’s tongue suddenly breaches your hole, the muscle digging deep inside of you as he laps away at the cum he left inside of you at the bar. Steve takes advantage of your gasp, pushing himself inside of your wet mouth, just enough to not trigger any gag reflex you might have. 

Between Eddie’s tongue and Steve’s cock, you feel borderline dizzy at the push and pull sensation of being between them. Steve’s large, alpha cock stretches your mouth to its limits while Eddie’s inexperienced tongue works over you, testing to see what makes you tick until he’s got you bucking against his face.

When Eddie gets his tongue as deep as he can possibly reach it, his nose presses into your clit roughly, moving in a way that has you suddenly seeing stars. Your thighs clamp around him, locking his head in place as you soak him with your slick. Steve lets out a groan as you moan around his cock, his hand suddenly on your throat as he stills himself. 

You brace yourself the best you can to take his cum, but he pulls out of you completely instead. 

“Fuck, move!” He shouts, motioning for Eddie to leave his spot between your legs. Eddie pries himself from your thighs and scrambles to get out of Steve’s way.

“C-can I--” Eddie stutters in a pussy drunk state, grabbing his cock in his hands and pumping the almost purple tip slowly.

“Do whatever you want,” Steve says between gritted teeth, positioning himself on his knees before guiding his cock towards your entrance. Eddie rounds the bed, taking over where Steve left, positioning himself over your. You open your mouth for him and he chuckles, pushing his cock past your lips as far as you’ll let him go. He whines again, beginning to fuck your mouth while his knot presses into your nose with every other thrust. You can’t quite take the whole thing, so you wrap a hand around it for extra stimulation.

At the same time, the head of Steve’s cock pushes inside of you, slipping in without much resistance after all of Eddie’s efforts to work you open tonight. He slides himself inside of you until he’s fully inside before he begins to rock into you with sharp thrusts. 

When you gag hard after a particularly hard thrust from Steve, Eddie stops his movements and lets the momentum of your body do all the work. You feel Eddie lean forward over you. From the angle you’re in, all you can see is Eddie’s balls swinging in front of your face, but you can hear the smacking sounds of Steve and Eddie kissing over your body as they fuck you. It hits you hard how you’re being used as nothing more than a toy for their pleasure, the realization sending you full throttle towards another orgasm. 

“Shit,” you hear Steve hiss. And not even a moment later, you feel him push his cock as far inside of you as possible, his hot spend filling up your spasming walls as you continue to cum hard on his cock. 

“Oh my god--” Eddie huffs, trying to pull his cock from your mouth. But you keep a firm grip, letting his seed hit your tongue and roll down your throat, swallowing over and over with every spurt.

After a synchronous moment of ecstasy, clarity begins to seep into each of you. Steve pulls out of you with a gasp, grabbing you by the legs and pulling you down until your head is back onto the bed, effectively pulling Eddie mostly out of your mouth. Eddie stumbles back the rest of the way, crouching down until he’s back on his knees, his head landing next to yours on the bed.

Steve leans over your, cupping your face in his hands and bringing your attention to him.

“Are you okay?” His concern is apparent in his pinched brows and shifting eyes. You smile up at him, leaning into his large palms and kissing a freckle there. He lets out a sigh of relief, pulling away from you to sit back on his haunches. 

Eddie shifts next to you, his tattooed arms folding around your neck as he presses his cheek into yours. 

“Did so good for us, sweetheart,” he coos in your ear, his lips pressing into your temple. You turn to face him, and he kisses you again, his lips pressing into yours softly. You can’t help but smile with how sweet it is.

But the kiss is broken as your suddenly pulled forward. Steve pulls your body into him, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He’s glaring down at Eddie, whose only response is a knowing look and a raised eyebrow.

“Do you not want Eddie to kiss me?” Your voice pulls Steve’s attention. He hates how you’re looking at him, wide glassy eyes full of unwarranted concern.

“It--it’s not that,” Steve says, “it’s just…”

“Steve wants to kiss you too, but he thinks you don’t want to.”

“Eddie--” Steve shouts, scoffing at his husband.

“Steve, you can kiss me.” Steve tenses, his grip on you tightening. “I think it would be silly to say you can’t kiss me after letting you guys put your dicks in my mouth.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. He climbs up on the bed and positions himself behind you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing another kiss to your cheek. 

“Come on, Stevie. How can you say no to this face?”

Steve’s eyes dart between yours and Eddie’s, the gears turning in his head to the point you were waiting to see steam come from his ears. He sucks in a breath and you’re certain that he’s going to say no. 

But, he brings a hand to your face, holding it in place as his lips meet yours. They’re soft, quite the contrast to Eddie’s rough, winter chapped lips. The fireworks feeling goes off in your mind again. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol with Eddie, but you’re too sober now to convince yourself. 

Steve deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours in a way that has your stomach flipping. You couldn’t help but keep comparing it to Eddie’s. Where Eddie’s kiss was one of desire, Steve’s feels greedy. The way he hold your head in place, it feels like he wants to consume you.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around you in an attempt to separate you and Steve. “I’m gonna get hard again watching the two of you make out like that. So either we get ready for bed or I’m dinging the bell for round two.”

A second round didn’t sound too bad in theory, but the way your body felt like a bag of sand as soon as Eddie mentioned getting ready for bed had you voluntarily slinking off of their bed and onto shaky legs. Steve and Eddie stayed close behind, the three of you squeezing into their walk in shower and taking turns grooming each other. 

The days following up to the start of your heat were…mostly normal. Steve was busier with work as he tried to get everything in order before taking another week off. He spent a lot of time in his office, only coming out to get his plate and take it back behind the closed door. Though, he did add you to his pecking order, mindlessly kissing your temple and then Eddie’s as he read over reports or whatever kept him preoccupied. 

But where Steve was absent, Eddie was the opposite. Spending most of his free time with you while his husband was busy, Eddie followed you like a lost puppy. You kept him busy, though, having him help you prep for the three of you to all be cycling together. He helped you prep meals that would be easy to reheat, clean the house, and safety proof their bedroom, along with various other tasks that you could think of.

The day before your heat came, your body let you know by making you insatiably hungry and extremely exhausted. Steve and Eddie took their inducers when they noticed the changes, getting you settled for the day before the two of them would inevitably pass out as the drugs took effect, the tell tale sign of an alpha going into rut being their extended sleep period the hours leading up to the cycle.

As your body slowly started to slip into your heat, you felt yourself wanting to slip into Steve and Eddie’s room more and more. But as long as you still had some sense, you told yourself that you’d be spending the next week with them in their most feral state and to just enjoy the little time to yourself that you had.

But as you lay in your bed trying to sleep, all you could think about was what the outcome of this week was going to be. It would take a miracle for you to not get pregnant by one of them by the end of it all. You’d be lying if it didn’t scare you a little bit. After all of the things you’ve read in the pregnancy books Steve’s gotten for you, there’s no way that you wouldn’t be at least a little on edge.

The end is what was starting to scare you the most. Specifically how you would feel after the baby is born. Robin’s words from the other day playing back over and over in your head.

Even with the naturally nurturing disposition of your second gender, you hadn’t really considered yourself someone who wanted to be a mother. That was partly why you thought you’d be a good match for this gig. But you’d read that even betas go through hormonal changes that omegas go through when they become pregnant and give birth that bonds you with your baby.

You’d thought about bringing these concerns up with Steve and Eddie, but you decided that you didn’t want to stress them out. There was a contract saying you wouldn’t have any parental rights anyway, so it’s not like you had much choice on the matter at this point. 

The sound of slamming and clanking woke you up from your sleep. Your body was hot, your tongue stuck to the roof of your very dry mouth. Your mind was in a haze, the smell of alpha pheromones in the air was so thick that it was becoming  impossible to think of anything beyond your primal instincts.

Rolling out of bed, you follow the sounds down the stairs and into the kitchen. The mixed pheromones were so strong that you were gushing slick before you could even see the two of them.

The kitchen was a mess. Licked clean plates scattered all about the counter tops. You had a thought coming to your mind about hoping you prepped enough food, but it was quickly forgotten when you were suddenly pushed back against the wall behind you. 

The room spun with how fast you were moved. The sudden close proximity with your alphas had your knees buckling under you. Strong arms hold you up as got tongues lap at your skin. There’s a bit of growling between them, but your needy whines keep refocusing them on you.

Opening your eyes after a moment, you look at the two men before you. Goosebumps trail over your skin as you take in their feral forms. Everything about them is enhanced; they’re taller, bigger, having to hunch down for their mouths to connect with your skin. 

With almost empty looks in their eyes besides their almost completely blown out pupils, they remain locked on you as if you’d disappear if they looked away for even a moment. They man handled your clothes off you right in the middle of the kitchen, leaving you fully exposed to them in a matter of seconds.

Without warning your being lifted off the ground and whisked away, back up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Your body lands softly on the bed, with Steve joining you first. His hot skin burned into you as your chests collide, the weight of his body pinning you down. Eddie took the opportunity to fully undress while you and Steve distracted each other. 

With all the heat and movement, you felt your slick starting to leak from between your legs. As soon as the first drop hit the bedsheets between you, Eddie and Steve stilled in their tracks. You felt a pang of fear as the air became thick with mixed alpha scents.

Eddie lunged towards you, but Steve was on the defense, covering you with his body as Eddie got closer. The bed shook as Eddie tried to pry Steve away from you. It got worse when Steve let go of you, and the two started going at it, wrestling each other on the bed next to you. You panicked, cloudy head unsure of what to do in the moment. 

After a beat, your instincts kicked in. Climbing on all fours, you began calling out to them. Your mewling got their attention off of each other long enough for them to see you presenting yourself to them. 

They pushed at each other as the crawled closer to you, a hand from each landing on either side of you as if they were making sure you would stay in place. You didn’t have much time to brace yourself as their tongues began to open you up, the two of them lapping at the slick just as soon as it was leaving your hole. And when it wasn’t enough, their tongues breach your entrance at the same time, fighting each other for who would get to go in deeper.

“Fuck,” you hear Eddie huff, and the bed starts to shift around behind you. Steve’s large hands take over, grabbing at your ass and spreading you apart more for him. His thick tongue is able to fully extend inside of you, darting in and out as he attempts to lick you clean. It feels insane, especially as his scruffy chin presses into your clit. 

Suddenly, your first orgasm hits you like a brick wall, coating Steve’s face as he drank you up. It didn’t last long, however, because Steve’s face was quickly pulled away from you, most likely by Eddie by the sound of Steve’s reaction.

As quick as Steve’s face was pulled away though, the tip of Eddie’s cock was being pressed against you. Wasting no time, he slid in with ease, giving you no time to adjust before bottoming out. You gasped at how full you felt with the way the head of his cock was pressing into your cervix with how big he had gotten. All the ache you felt from your heat was washed away with the feeling of your alpha’s cock inside of you.

Eddie leaned forward, pressing all his weight into you. You thought he was going to get right to pounding into you, but instead he started moved with a hard hitting grinding motion. As if every thrust was purposeful, punctuated.

His arms were wrapped around you as he fucked you, keeping you under him in a primal way. Humping away, his movements eventually became more rapid and sloppy. It was truly animalistic. His grunting and snarling against your skin reminded you of a feral dog growling at someone trying to take his food. 

When you felt something else prodding at your entrance you understood his reaction. You turned your head to get a better look and out of your peripherals you could see Steve from behind Eddie. Eddie started to slow, but it felt forced given the way he was whining in your ear. 

When Eddie pulled all the way out of you, leaving just the tip at your entrance, you felt Steve’s tip position itself just underneath Eddie’s. A gush of slick spilled from you at the anticipation. You were happy with just one of your alpha’s cocks in you, but getting to feel them both again had you calling out for them.

The two of them started pushing into you, stretching you open like nothing you’ve ever felt before as their large cocks made home inside of your generous pussy. The feeling of being so full had your eyes rolling back, and you came instantly as the both of them bottomed out. 

Eddie’s body shuddered against you, and Steve’s low groan let you know that they two of them were enjoying this just as much as you. Eddie began moving again, not liking that he had been made to stop in the first place. Steve followed after, moving in tandem with Eddie so that you were constantly being filled by at least one of their cocks at all times.

With every passing thrust you felt your brain become more and more like goo. You could only think of two words over and over in your head. Two words that fully expressed how you were feeling.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You repeated the sentiment over and over, slightly muffled by the bedsheets your face was being pressed against. And you truly were thankful. You’d never felt so loved and cared for in your entire life that you felt being so connected with your two alphas in this moment. 

Steve started to pick up his pace, and the stimulation had you cumming again. “Holy fuck, that’s tight,” Eddie grits between his teeth, mouth pressed against the back of your neck. 

Everything became way too much very quickly. The constant state of pleasure had you cumming back to back without much of a break in between. At some point, you must have passed out because you woke up to the sound of arguing at the foot of the bed. 

Opening your eyes, you see Steve has Eddie pinned down on the bed, their cocks brushing against each other as Steve straddles Eddie to keep him down. Eddie had his muzzle on, and it makes you wonder what happened while you were passed out. 

“Wh-whats going on?” You manage to get out, shifting to move towards them.

They stop their fighting, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, breath picking up suddenly. 

“Yeah,” you say with a nod, kneeling next to the two of them. The closer you get, the emptier you feel without the two of them inside you. “Miss my alphas.”

“Neither of you came,” you say, noticing the lack of cum inside you.

“You passed out,” Steve says, giving Eddie a pointed look. When you look at Eddie, you see that he’s actively fighting against Steve’s hold on him. He looked almost crazed, eyes locked on you. Dominant alphas are usually able to control themselves better during their ruts, but regressive alphas can be a little harder to handle, especially around an omega in heat.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you reassure. “I always want to help my alphas.” 

You place a hand on Steve’s where he’s holding down Eddie’s arm. 

“I don’t know,” Steve says wearily. “I think we need to reconsider--”

“Steve.” You say his name firmly. Hazel eyes shift has he looks between yours. With a heavy sigh his grip begins to relax against Eddie’s.

And no sooner does Eddie use all of his strength to send Steve flying half way across the room. 

Moving with a lightening speed, Eddie is on top of you in a flash. It’s almost frightening, but you can’t contain your excited giggles as Eddie sloppily attempts to mount you again. You hold his face in your hands, and he stops in place, wide brown eyes looking at you as if waiting for your next command. 

“Let Steve up here, first, okay?” You ask him. He nods, his hungry eyes not moving from yours, even as you peck his lips.

Patting the bed, you motion for Steve to rejoin you. The bed dips, shaking as Steve makes his way to the two of you. 

“Let me get behind you,” he says, placing a hand on your back to push you forward. Eddie moves with you, maintaining eye contact even as Steve maneuvers his way behind you. Only when you position yourself to sit on Steve’s cock does Eddie have a reaction, a low growl coming from his throat. You shush him, stroking his cheek soothingly.

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you coo, his name coming out as a moan as you lower yourself onto Steve’s hard cock. The feeling has your eyes rolling back again, making you lose the eye contact with Eddie.

In an instant, he’s pushing you back until your laying against Steve’s chest.

“Eddie, take it easy,” Steve hisses, trying to shift his position for Eddie to have better access to your pussy as well. His hand snakes around you and grabs onto Eddie’s cock making him gasp. He begins to thrust into Steve’s palm, moaning and huffing at the feeling of friction. 

Steve probably would have been content letting Eddie get off like this, but you were being just as whiny watching them. So Steve pulled out just enough and guided Eddie to your pussy once again. It took a couple tries, but he was able to get him in, and Eddie immediately began fucking into you with wreckless abandon. 

The movement got Steve worked up pretty quickly, following with Eddie’s pace to fuck into you again. Eddie hovered above you, practically drooling in his muzzle as his body moved on its own in and out of you. It turned you on to no end to see him so fucked out over you in this state. 

After a few moments, Eddie’s hand flew up above your head. His body stilled, cock twitching inside of you as you felt him about to cum. Steve was right behind him, both of their cocks deep inside of you as they began to cum. Warmth filled you, and at the same time their knots began to swell, effectively plugging you to take their seed. 

It felt like an eternity before they both stopped cumming, Eddie landing on top of you still trembling in the aftershocks. Steve was breathing heavily beneath you, arms wrapped around you tight as he finally started to calm down, too.

The three of you lay like that for a minute, before Steve makes the decision to shift the three of you on your sides.

“Ow,” Eddie says, sounding more lucid than he has since you woke up.

“Sorry, I couldn’t breath with the both of you on top of me.”

The position was awkward, but more so for the two boys than you. You think their discomfort led to their knots going down at a quicker pace, because as soon as they could they were separated from you. Eddie was out like a light, snoozing as soon as his head his the pillows.

Steve still held you tight, breathing in your scent. His lips touched the base of your neck, leaving a small kiss there. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“Does what hurt?” You ask, unsure of what he’s referring to.

“Your neck, here.” He touches where his lips were.

“No? Should it?”

Steve is quiet for a moment.

“Do…you not feel any different…?”

“Not any different than I do during my heats,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this line of questioning.

Silence again. Steve says your name.

“Eddie…Eddie marked you. Or, he tried to…”

Your blood ran cold. When did he do that? It had to have been when you passed out. You’d definitely remember something like that happening.

“Steve--I--”

“It’s okay,” he shushes you. “I…I don’t think it worked…” Steve lets out a sigh. “I don’t think he could mark you now anyway…”

“What do you mean?” You turn to look at Steve, a look of forlorn all over his face.

“Lets not talk about it right now.” His words become breathy, and you can feel him rubbing his scent on your skin. His hips move against you, and you can feel his hardness against you. 

After a few touches and some maneuvering Steve is back inside you once again. You’re trying not to be so loud that you wake Eddie, but Steve’s cock feels so good inside you. He’s working at an angle that has you gripping the sheets with white knuckles. 

When he brings his big hands around you to rub at your bud you can’t stop yourself from crying out his name.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he huffs, still moving inside you. His grip around your chest gets tighter, pulling your back against his chest even more. “Tell me who’s fucking you right now. Who is it, baby?”

“You, Steve,” you moan. His demanding tone has you clenching around him even harder. It felt so right to be with him like this, but part of you was missing Eddie, too. It was tempting to wake him up to get him going again. But, you wanted to have your special time with Steve while you could.

“Such a good omega for me, aren’t you?” His words are slurred drunk on the feeling of your pussy hugging his cock so tight. “You’re going to be so perfect with my baby inside you.”

His words continue to make you dizzy. That’s all you want, isn’t it? To get pregnant with Steve and Eddie’s babies and live happily ever after with them. You want to be a good omega wife for them, you’d make them so happy wouldn’t you.

Steve’s movements become sloppy until he’s plunging himself as deep inside of you as he can go. His knot swells again as he fills you up for a second time; the second of countless more times you hope. 

You remember that you’ll be spending the next 5-7 days being passed back and fourth between your two alphas and it makes you so happy you can’t help but tear up.

“Hey, whats wrong?” Steve says, snapping out of his trance as soon as he hears your sniffles.

“Nothing’s wrong, Stevie.” You chuckle, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m just…really happy to be here is all.”

Steve melts at your words, burying himself in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, his hot breath fanning your skin as he presses kisses against it. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Steve whispers just loud enough for you to hear. “He is, too,” he says, nodding towards Eddie’s still sleeping form. “He talks about you all the time. But I’m sure he’d say the same thing about me.”

“You guys talk about me that much?”

“Hmmm, probably more than two married men should.”

Your heart skips a beat. The heat of everything was lowering yours and Steve’s inhibitions. Would he ever tell you this if the two of you weren’t intoxicated on your own hormones?

There’s a comforting silence between the two of you. Eventually you drifted off to sleep again in Steve’s arms, his body heat keeping you warm while you slept.

You’re not sure what time it was when you felt your body being moved. You were being carried bridal style, and by scent alone you were able to tell it was Eddie. The soft click of a door closing had you opening your eyes, eyes adjusting to the low light from the sunsetting outside coming from the windows in the hall.

When you looked up at Eddie, he had taken his muzzle off, but still had a feral look in his eyes. Eyes that were darting around as he took you down the hall and into his music room.

You’d never been in it before. Not that you’d been explicitly told not to, but because Eddie told you that he liked to tend to it himself, so you chose not to enter out of respect. So when you found yourself inside, you couldn’t help but let yourself explore the room.

It was definitely very Eddie; walls painted red, band posters covering the wall, as well as a few frames with records in them. There was quite a collection of guitars and speakers that took up the rest of the wall space. 

Besides a desk with a computer, there was a small couch that also furnished the room. Eddie made a bee line for it once he closed the door behind him. He placed you down delicately and lowered himself to his knees. His eyes were locked between your legs, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as if he was a starved animal and you were his next meal.

“Eddie,” you say in a breathy tone. His eyes dart up, looking at you expectantly. “What do you want, Eddie?” 

“You. I want you.” His hands land on your knees, rubbing up and down your thighs sensually. The roughness of his fingers gives you goosebumps down your legs.

“Please,” he begs, eyes flickering back and forth between yours and between your legs. Your breath hitches and you nod, slowly parting your legs for him.

As soon as you’ve made yourself open for him, Eddie dives right in, feverishly devouring your sore, puffy pussy. You’re so sensitive already, but Eddie takes your gasps and moans as a good sign and keeps going.

Eddie’s large, tattooed arms wrap around your legs and pull you closer to the edge of the couch as you begin to shake. His mouth is attached to your pussy, drinking you up as you cum hard. Eddie makes an almost pained noise, his own body shaking against the couch after a few moments.

You look down, and the combination of how he looks with the sudden strong alpha smell in the room tells you that he just came. It only turned you on more when you realized it had to have been untouched, given his arms had been snug around your thighs this whole time.

“Awe, Eddie,” you coo, “Did you cum from eating me out?”

Eddie looks up at you pitifully, nodding with shame.

“I-I’m sorry,” he pouts, as if you’re going to scold him.

“It’s okay, Eddie.” You cup his face in your hands. “You just really like eating pussy, and that’s okay.”

“Your pussy,” he corrects. “Yours. It’s the only one I’ve ever had.”

That fact heats up your body head to toe. You’ve been Eddie’s first everything when it came to him being with an omega. It made you feel so special to be able to give him something he’s never had before.

You shove Eddie down onto the plush carpet of the room, his eyes going wide as you climb on top of him. His leaky, still hard cock jumps in your hand as you pump it a few times. Eddie’s big eyes watch as you line him up with you, only for his head to fly back as you sink down onto his length.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, hands running over his face as you being to move, bouncing and grinding on his cock.

“Wanna be good for you, Alpha.” The words come out broken as you bounce up and down, hands digging into his tattooed chest when you start to pick up the pace. 

Eddie’s hands fly to your hips, and you think he’s going to stop you. Instead, he uses all his alpha strength to hold you up, adjusting his footing so he can drill upwards into you. It just about takes your breath away, your brain turning to mush as he fucks into you wildly.

He starts to say something under his breath that your brain can’t comprehend. It takes a few moments for you to get yourself together enough to register whatever prayer he’s repeating over and over.

“Get pregnant, get pregnant, get pregnant--”

His words send you over the edge, making you cum hard enough on his cock that your vision turns white, your body going limp in his grasp. He takes advantage of your pliant status, letting your upper half rest on his chest as he wraps his arms around you. 

A few more wild thrusts later and Eddie is almost howling as he starts to cum inside you. His knot swells faster than ever to lock you in place on him. His hips move weakly, still chasing the high until he finally stills, letting your weight rest fully on top of him.

The timer goes off in the kitchen downstairs, pulling you from your solo concert of Queen’s greatest hits that you had playing from one of Eddie’s speakers. You set the scrub brush you were using to clean the carpets down before running down the stairs to check on dinner.

The house had been cycle free for a full 24 hours, so Steve and Eddie had gone back to work this morning. With an empty house, you had taken the opportunity to do a deep clean of every square inch of the house. You tried not to think about how you’d spent the last 6 days being fucked on every imaginable surface in this house as you swept, scrubbed, and rinsed everything in sight. 

It also gave you a lot of time to think. To over analyze small thing Eddie or Steve said about you during your cycles that felt like there might be feelings budding between the three of you. 

Part of you wishes that it could be true, that there might be something growing of you within their hearts. 

But it also scares the shit out of you.

There’s no way you were about to be a homewrecker. The last thing you wanted was to think that there was a mutual bond with you and the boys, only to find out that it’s one sided. Or that only one of them feels something for you, leaving the other to feel betrayed and hate you. And it would kill you if either one of them hated you.

You shook your head in an attempt to rid you of your thoughts. The only reason this was happening was because of a contract. If you hadn’t answered that newspaper ad, you wouldn’t even be thinking these delusional thoughts. You’d probably be heading back home with your tail between your legs, begging your parents to let you move back in with them.

There was no way that was going to happen. You just needed to get pregnant and you’d be set for a little while longer.

The sound of the front door opening grabbed your attention. You set the casserole on the stove top and smoothed out our apron, waiting for Eddie to make his entrance.

“Hey there, sweet thang,” he greeted, hanging his keys on their hook and pulling his hair out of it’s ponytail. He still had a dark smudge on his cheek that he didn’t fully clean off before he left work. And when he took off his jacket his arms were put on full display for your eyes to take in.

Damn, were you feeling some residual from your heat?

“Hi, Eds,” you finally muster to say, turning your attention to pulling the plates out of the cabinet.

“Smells good in here,” Eddie says, grabbing the plates before you could, leaning down to kiss your lips. It lasted for a solid few seconds before he pulled away, carrying the plates to the table. 

You stood in shock. That obviously wasn’t your first kiss, but it was the first one that felt so…domestic. The first that wasn’t attached to sex. You knew Eddie had been bold with you, even while Steve was around at times, but he’d never kissed you like that, where you ended up with butterflies in your stomach.

The front door opened again, but you were so engrossed in thought you didn’t really register it. 

“Hi babe,” you hear from beside you. Eddie greets Steve at the doorway to the kitchen, barely giving him the chance to set his keys on the hook before kissing him deeply. Deep enough it almost made you dizzy. 

Eddie and Steve were so in love it was almost disgusting in a cute way. If anyone deserved to have their own family it was them. Even when they two of them are deep in the trenches of their heat they would still make time for each other (which gave you a nice break from dealing with two alphas in rut).

“Jeez, Eddie, you act like I didn’t just see you this morning,” Steve chuckles, taking his coat off.

“I know,” he says with faux bashfulness. “I just missed my two favorite people a lot today.”

Steve looks at Eddie, then to you. For a moment you thought he was going to give you the normal distant routine and you mentally prepared yourself for it. 

But after a blink, he sauntered over to the stove, stopping right in front of you. One hand landed on your hip, the other on your cheek. Your heart began to beat like a drum as he leaned in. And when his lips met yours, it felt like fireworks. Like you’d won some major award.

And then you were being crushed. Eddie’s arms took the two of you into a tight hug, almost lifting you both off of the ground. His laugh echoed the kitchens as Steve ordered him let you both go.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” he says, pecking the both of you on the side of the head.

“Now, I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m starving.”

thanks for reading!

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 4

Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words

A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)

All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.

The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up. 

There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.

This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.

How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.

You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.

Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”

Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”

“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.

“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”

You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”

"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"

“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.

How could you be upset about that?

"I'm not... mad.”

There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"

You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."

“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you? 

"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.

"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”

Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.

Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.

"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.

“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”

"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”

“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”

“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”

Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”

“And?”

You rolled onto your side. “And what?”

“Do you not miss my absence at work?”

“Well…”

“Well?” He prompted.

Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.

Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.

There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”

“…like what?”

“Like you’re out of breath.”

You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.

It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”

“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”

You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”

“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”

You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”

“In every way?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”

“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”

“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”

“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”

“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”

"I don't understand."

At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.

“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”

You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”

"Yes?" he responded innocently.

"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

"I find precise communication to be very important.”

You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”

His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"

"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”

You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.

He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."

You could, but you’d rather not.

"I didn't want to sound desperate."

"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.

“Tell me, what do you want now?”

You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.

“I want… you.”

“Tell me how you want me.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”

“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.

Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.

Your hand began to move.

“I… I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.

“Everywhere?”

You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“On my hips…”

Your hand danced across your hips.

“My stomach…”

Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.

“Between my thighs…”

You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.

“Where else do you want me?”

Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”

“Tell me exactly where.”

“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.  Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I…”

“Are you?”

“No…”

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”

“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”

"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”

There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.

“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.

“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”

You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”

“Describe it to me.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”

And you wished he was the one touching you.

You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.

Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”

You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.

“Better?”

You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”

“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”

His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.

“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"

"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.

“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”

You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.

The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”

"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”

You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.

Yet look at how much effect he had on you.

"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."

"In a good way, I hope?"

“Very good,” you assured him.

You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”

You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.

"How does that feel?"

"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.

“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”

You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.

“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”

“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”

You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.

“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”

You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.

“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”

You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.

“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”

Your breaths came in short gasps.

“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”

Your legs fell further apart.

“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”

How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.

“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”

You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.

“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”

You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”

Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”

You hummed a reply.

“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”

A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.

“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”

You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”

“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.

“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”

“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.

“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”

You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”

And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"

Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”

You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”

“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.

Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”

You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”

You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.

“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”

Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.

"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”

With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”

The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.

Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.

“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”

A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"

You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”

"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"

You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”

You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”

Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.

“What?”

“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Well, yes, but now it's… different."

You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"

"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."

A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”

“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”

“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”

He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”

“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“But if you insist…”

You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Wait—You’re hanging up?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”

He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.

But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.

It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.

“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.

You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.

“How do I turn this into video call again?”

[hazelfoureyes]

Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?” 

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice. 

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder. 

“Follow me little one.”  The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient. 

Fun. 

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try. 

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear. 

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you. 

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head. 

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general? 

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation. 

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had. 

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night. 

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do. 

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before? 

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities. 

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail. 

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement. 

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off.  A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone. 

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out. 

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end. 

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground. 

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you. 

“Oh dear. Trouble already?” 

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away. 

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest. 

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing. 

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened. 

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable. 

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked. 

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold. 

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking. 

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply. 

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation 

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words. 

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap. 

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open. 

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem. 

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip. 

A doe. 

The only doe he knew of in the hotel. 

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

 ....always and forever, 

....in yesterday. 

....rusty cage 

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations 

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him. 

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology. 

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck. 

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar. 

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him. 

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless. 

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern. 

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face. 

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you. 

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip. 

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal. 

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

 Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe.  His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest. 

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.” 

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him. 

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d  retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you. 

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up. 

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus. 

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you. 

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place. 

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body. 

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were …  inside you. 

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass. 

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole. 

 Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience. 

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance. 

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment. 

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you. 

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?” 

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.” 

With a blink, his eyes were black.  His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start. 

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct. 

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body. 

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly. 

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach. 

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you. 

Not a new sensation, but a different one. 

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open. 

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not. 

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability. 

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.” 

 Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been. 

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising. 

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck. 

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties. 

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord. 

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.” 

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him. 

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core. 

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected. 

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not.  You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth. 

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression. 

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet. 

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late. 

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together. 

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about. 

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used. 

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble. 

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[solaireverie]

op81 | best he'll ever write

summary: [ author!oscar piastri x f!driver!reader — social media au ] being the partner and muse of a celebrated author means that fans start connecting the dots sooner rather than later

faceclaim: gracie abrams

author’s note: i'm secretly a ya romcom book girlie and i feel like that shows SO MUCH in this fic 🙈 delusional for life!

[ masterlist / guidelines / lola's masterlist / series masterlist ]

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, liakblock and 534,230 others

geotag: melbourne, australia

yourusername short break down under 🐨

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user great race at the australian gp y/n!

↪ user first points of the season let's goooo

↪ yourusername and hopefully many more to come 🙌

logansargeant STRAYAAA 🦘🇦🇺🦘🇦🇺

↪ yourusername VEGEMITE ON TOAST 🤤

↪ user sometimes i forget that logan and y/n are both gen z 😂

user the puppy is so adorable 🥺

↪ user i wonder whose it is 👀 y/n's said that her schedule doesn't allow for pets

oscarpiastri not my birthday cake...

↪ yourusername sorry not sorry 😉

↪ user who the hell is oscar piastri and why is y/n replying to his comment 😭

↪ user don't you talk about my favourite best-selling author like that 🤺

oscarpiastri has added to their story

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you replied to oscarpiastri's story

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yourusername can't believe that little kid is now a 3-time nyt best-selling author 🥹 so proud of you oscarpiastri 💗 i haven't been able to put eighty-one seconds down 📖 available in bookstores near you!

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user i love how y/n always supports and promotes oscar's books 🥺

↪ user they're so adorable together my heart can't take it

oscarpiastri Thanks for the encouragement. Couldn't have done it without you 👍

↪ yourusername damn right you couldn't have 😤

user okay but who took the photo of y/n 👀

↪ user i'm betting it was oscar 😜

↪ user hello what 😳😳😳

↪ user oh my sweet summer child...

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oscarpiastri Thank you to everyone who's been on this journey with me. Eighty-One Seconds is finally yours and we can't be more happy to share it with you. As many of you have guessed, it is my homage to Y/N and all the time we have spent together. My wife, my love, my heart. I'm grateful that you're in my life. Forgive me for re-using my words, but here's to eighty-one more years together.

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user hold on a damn second 🤚 his WIFE??? when was this a thing 🧐

↪ yourusername 🤭

↪ user give us answers please 🙏 i haven't had peace since oscar posted this

yourusername i love you too, oscar jack piastri 🤍

↪ user oh he literally named his mc after himself 😭

↪ user GOODBYE??? JACK AS IN HIS MIDDLE NAME??? oh my god they really weren't subtle

williamsracing signed copy when 😏

↪ hachetteaus already on its way 🫡

user honestly i'm surprised they managed to hide their relationship for this long 💀

↪ user oh they did NOT we were just blind

↪ logansargeant I didn't find out until I got the wedding invitation in the mail 🤝

↪ landonorris i think that's just cause you're oblivious mate 😂

↪ logansargeant what???

↪ landonorris they literally make out all the time in williams hospitality

↪ yourusername lando... 😒

user if your man isn't writing a book professing his love for you, what's he doing with his life?

↪ user oscar's set the standard 😌

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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[cvnntagious]

Girls | M. Sturniolo

"Fuck your ex-man, I'm the man now / Think I feel bad? He was fanned out." -The Kid Laroi

pairing : Exesbsf!Matt x Fem!Reader

summary : What happens when you finally break it off with your cheating hoe of an ex, only to quickly find out his best friend can easily treat you better?

warnings : use of y/n, drinking, swearing, random ex bf name, slight chris x tara mention (i don't ship them, it's js for the plot), smut, bigdick!matt, gentle sex, body praising, 18+

a/n : this took a long time to finish, so sorry to anyone who was waiting for it. this fic was requested by my friend lily 👅 if anyone has any requests/ideas, feel free to dm me on here or put it in my ask box! (or feel free to just say anything, i get bored a lot so i'll answer fs)

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

You weren't exactly enthusiastic about this party, unlike most parties you ran around at over the past few years, earning you the title of LA's number one party girl. You usually loved the loud buzz of chatter muffled by the music, and the blinding lights filling large houses. This time was different. You couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling.

It'd only been about two weeks since you broke up with your ex boyfriend, and you'd already seen him posted up with multiple girls, seemingly loving the single life. Not like this was anything new though. It was the reason you'd dumped his cheating ass. Didn't mean it hurt any less though.

When you were invited to this big influencer party by a mutual friend, you immediately knew Cole would be there too. The thought of bumping into him alone was enough to make you reluctant to attend. Even so, you were expected to attend, just like you did almost every other party. Lord did you wish you could just get a break.

As you scoped out the party, eyes scanning the crowd while you slowly inched into it, you took small sips of your cooler. It didn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, your ex sitting on the couch with a girl under his arm as he spoke inaudibly to his friends around him. You had to rip your eyes away from him, honestly just glad you knew what part of the house you'd have to avoid for now as you pushed through the crowd to figure out what could be in the opposite direction.

It took a few minutes for you to make it to the kitchen because of all the people you had to excuse yourself past, but when you finally made it, slightly out of breath from the sweaty bodies thickening the air on the way there, you gawked at the display of large bottles set up all around you. "Someone came prepared." You heard a familiar voice say from behind you, causing you to turn your attention to him with a small chuckle.

"These parties never have the drinks I like, Chris," You replied defensively, placing a hand on your hip as you held your can of alcohol up to show him.

Chris couldn't help but chuckle with you. "Yeah?" He hummed, grabbing the can out of your hand to taste before making a sour expression, sticking out his tongue with a pant for dramatics, "Maybe that's 'cause nobody likes Smirnoffs." He handed your drink back to you with a small burp.

You rolled your eyes at the display, wiping the rim of your drink with your finger to rid it of Chris' saliva. "Clearly I do."

"All this alc in front you and you still somehow find a way to be picky," He replied teasingly before grabbing your wrist to guide you with him, "Come on. Me, Nick, and Tara are chillin' outside."

You couldn't help but giggle at the way he dragged you out of the sliding glass door with him, not caring for the people who'd tried to get your attention along the way to the pool. You smiled as Tara let out a loud squeal at the sight of you, instantly wrapping her arms around you as Chris let go of your wrist. "I knew you'd make it!" She exclaimed as she pulled back, holding your arms to take in your outfit, "And who are you trying to impress, girl? I'm loving this slutty look!"

If that comment had came from anyone but Tara, it would've been offensive. But of course, you knew what she'd meant. You smiled, giving her a quick pose at her words as you stuck your tongue out playfully. "Fuckk man, I guess I was just feelin' extra slutty tonight. You really like?" You played along, holding Tara's hand as she nodded.

"I do too," Nick chimed in, smiling as he placed a hand on your shoulder, "It's so cunt."

You turned to look at Nick excitedly, "Bitch, says you!" You looked at Nick's white and black outfit, topped with his iconic Cheetah print hat.

"What about me?" Chris asked, clearly feeling left out as he turned to us with a drink that had seemingly appeared in his hand.

You giggled. "You look great, Chris."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" Nick asked in a disappointed tone, snatching the drink from his brothers hand. "I thought we agreed you'd only have a few drinks tonight — the party just started."

Chris rolled his eyes, "I have only had a few... And then I'll have a few more later on in the night"

"Hey, where's Matt at?" You cut Nick off before he could say anything as soon as you noticed Matt wasn't with the three of them when you'd made your way over, hoping to stop the brother's argument before it started, "Did he not wanna come again?"

Nick, Tara, and Chris gave each other a look as tension instantly built up high in the air. A silence had fallen over the group of friends as they looked anywhere but at you. "He's... with a friend," Chris finally spoke up, clearly nervous.

You gave them a suspicious look before smiling. "Who? I wanna go say hi to Matt," You replied, your tone as bubbly as before to pretend you hadn't noticed the shift in their demeanors.

"It's-" Nick started, hesitant to finish as he forced out a small chuckle, "I'll just call him and tell him to get over here. I'm sure he wants to say hi to you too." Nick pulled out his phone and dialed Matt before you could even respond, plugging the ear his phone wasn't hovering over to drown out the music as he took a small step away.

You were silent for a moment as you looked back at Chris and Tara, who were both already looking at you for tour reaction. Tara cleared her throat after a moment. "Are you planning on getting laid tonight or what? You haven't been single in, like, two years," She finally said happily, stepping into you to hook her arm around yours and pull you away from Chris.

You chuckled, shaking your head at the way she joked around with you. "Planning on it? No," You looked down at her, unable to help admitting, "But I wouldn't be mad if I did.'

"Perfect! The first time we've been single at the same time," Tara spoke a little louder than she'd intended, "Maybe we can both go crazy in the rooms next to each other." She teased, glancing back at Chris, who was sipping his drink obliviously.

You gasped, "You have to be kidding." You tried hard to give her an unamused look, only to smile at her stupid jokes anyways.

She raised her hands as if to claim innocence while she laughed loudly at her own words. "I am, I am. I swear!"

Almost immediately after, you felt an arm wrap around your neck, putting you in a loose headlock as your drink splashed all over your cute, extremely revealing top. "Don't be over here eyedfucking my brother, Tara." Matt hadn't even noticed the spill. You gasped again, this time not because of a playful joke. He finally looked down to see your drink all over you. "Shit, sorry! I didn't mean to," Matt said from behind you, letting you free from his grasp.

You turned towards Matt with a small groan, looking down at your wet shirt. "Always with the stupid shit, Matthew," You complained, looking up into his tired blue eyes.

"Matthew? What are you, my mother?" He noked with a nervous chuckle, though he really did feel bad for soaking your shirt. "I'll help you clean up... let's go."

You rolled your eyes at him as he walked past you, causing you to follow him back into the house. You placed your hand on top of his shoulder to decrease the risk of losing him as he pushed through the crowd of hot bodies for you, nodding his head whenever he made eye contact with someone he knew. As you guys made your way through the living room, you heard the voice you'd been praying wouldn't all night. Cole. "Matt!" He called out, practically screaming over the music, making Matt slow his pace and flick his gaze up to your ex, who was still sitting on the couch only a few feet away.

Matt glanced back at you as you bumped into him, surprised when he'd stopped in front of the couch. "Come hit this," Cole spoke again, holding up a half smoked joint to Matt.

You poked your head out from behind Matt, scowling at the douchbags face. His eyes widened in surprise, his face twisting in confusion before he looked up to meet Matts tight-lipped expression, clearly unwilling to respond to Cole's offer. "What's up, man?" Cole let out a cocky chuckle as he threw he head back for a moment, "You were just hangin' with us and now you're sneaking behind my back with the girl who dumped me like I was some bitch a few weeks back?"

"Sneaking?" Matt questioned, "We're right in front of you."

"What happened to bros before hoes?"

"Hoes? You didn't date her for two years?" Matt replied begrudgingly, unable to contain his smalk smirk, "I spilled a drink on her... Was gonna clean her up, nothing more."

You looked up at Matt, who had defensiveness radiating off of him as he spoke calmly to his close friend. 'So that's why they didn't wanna tell me where he was. He was with Cole,' You thought, your attention switching between the two as they spoke tensely to each other.

Cole sighed, "Yeah, whatever dude. Fuck her if you want, I moved on." He says, laughing as he looks to his right, where a beautiful girl sat prettily under his arm. You grimaced, wondering if he'd do the same to the girl as he did to you.

You didn't have much time to wonder though, Matt gently slinging his arm over your shoulder before you pulling you back on his way. "Clearly, you whore," Matt mumbled as the two of you walked away, thinking you couldn't hear the way he spoke about his supposed best friend.

━━★

And now here you were, standing in a random persons bedroom as Matt stood in front of you. The hunger in his eyes was apparent, but he moved slow. His hands gently grabbed your waist, his thumbs caressing the skin underneath them in circles. "Lift your shirt. We'll hang it to dry." He urged in a soft tone, tugging at the wet fabric.

Your shirt wasn't the only thing wet though. You thought to ask him if you should hang your panties to dry too, but you were too absorbed in his small facial movements. The way he licked his pink lips. Or how his eyes refused to break from yours. You lifted your arms like a toddler, allowing Matt to curl the bottom of the shirt in his hands and lift it over your head.

"You know I knew, right?" He asked as he turned his back to you, hanging your shirt on the top of the door to the walk-in closet in this large room he'd found for you two.

"Knew what?" You asked. You both spoke questly, just above the sound of the muffled music two floors below, as if someone would hear you.

"He was cheating," Matt admitted, "God, I feel awful. I should've told you."

He walked back over to you, genuine sympathy written all over his face as you furrowed your brows at him. "I just... You're both my friends - or were - I didn't know how to tell you without all the drama," He further explained, sort of rambling before he met your eyes again, "And your heart— I wanted him to be the one to break it. Alone. Without me involved"

"Matt, it's oka-"

"So I could be the one to stitch it up," Matt cut you off, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your neck, "I'll show you how he was supposed to make you feel."

Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him to suck little red marks on your lower neck and exposed collar bone. His soft lips on your neck was enough to have you panting, only to let out a surprised hum when they connected with yours. You lifted your arms to wrap around his neck as he slowly lowered you on the bed behind you.

Matt broke the kiss as soon as you were placed comfily on the bed. "I wish our first time wasn't at a party," He said, a little timid as he reached into his back pocket to pull out a condom, "I'd much rather you were laid up in my bed. I'd prefer if there wasn't the nagging feeling of needing to rush, so I could take my time. I just can't help myself... You do want this too, don't you?" Matt rambled on, looking into something that you'd originally thought would be a one time thing. But it seems Matt has other plans.

You couldn't help but giggle at the way his face flushed like a highschool preparing to have sex for the first time, nodding at his question. "Was this planned?" You joked, lazily pointing at the condom he'd taken out.

"This?" Matt started, looking to the condom you'd pointed at before shying away from it, "Oh, no! I'm just— parties, ya know? I'm a safe guy."

"Right." You lifted yourself so you where sitting on the edge of the bed, Matt standing between your legs. "Take it off," You stuck your finger into his belt loop, tugging him forward gently.

He only gave you and eager nod, following you as you scooted back on the big king sized bad, practically ripping his belt out of the loops once he had it unbuckled. His pants slid off of him the further up the bed he got, revealing the almost pulsating bulge in his loose underwear. You laid your head back on the pillow, Matt hoovering over you with an awestruck look on his face as he scanned your half-dressed form.

Matt slipped a hand under your back, unclipping your bra with one hand as he kept his eyes glued to yours. Embarrassingly enough, he let out a quiet gasp when your bra fell loose, lifting it off your chest with two fingers. Your nipples were already hard with arousal, but if they hadn't been, they would've hardened from the cold air hitting them. "You're perfect," Matt let slip, almost whining at the sight.

The uncomfortable feeling in his boxers only grew stronger when he saw you flushed before him, instinctively reaching down to palm himself to relieve some of that tension. You swiftly grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. "Just fuck me, Matt, no foreplay needed. I'm already soaked," You told him hurridly, not wanting to waste time. To be fair, he said it himself, there was a need to rush here.

It didn't take long for Matt to free his length from his boxers, your eyes widening at the sight. He was huge. Bigger than you'd ever seen. Not only long, but girthy, and veiny. If you had to guess, he was a good 8½ inches. Beads of precum had already built up on his angry pinkish-red tip, causing him to spread it with his thumb and a hiss.

He looked up, gaze met with your gawking before he reached to remove your short jean shorts. He couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips when he revealed your soaked underwear, feeling pride in how wet he could make you without even touching you where you craved him most. He sat up again, crouching between your legs before leaning in to rub his member against your clothed clit.

You mewled at the friction muted by the fabric as he stroked himself against you, enjoying the teasing. Your hand reached up to caress his tattooed arm that rested on your thigh, forcing him to look up at you. He gave you a bashful smile at the way you furrowed your brows, then sliding his fingers under your panties and pulling them to the side to reveal your small cunt that leaked your juices.

He rubbed himself against you again, this time sliding between your folds. Your clit practically buzzed, cunt aching to be fucked. Matt leaned down to kiss your inner thigh, "You're so fucking sexy, baby, fuck. This perfect body," Matt praised, his tone desperate as he contined to tease agonizingly slow, "How could someone ever think there's something better than this out there?"

"Will it fit?" You asked, not meaning to stroke his ego as you looked down at the way just his shaft spread your lips wide with each stroke between them.

"Will it fit?" Matt echoed, unable to contain his laughter. "I'll make it fit," He assured you, pulling his length back to rip open the mangnum packaging labeled 'large' with his teeth and slide it on effortlessly.

Quickly, Matt went back to stroking his length between your folds, sliding just your tip in every now and then. You whimpered desperately, which only made Matt want to tease you more. He couldn't help himself, he just needed to hear those sweet noises. "Please, Matt. I want more," You pleaded, looking at him with begging eyes as you squirmed more and more beneath him.

Finally, he began slowly pushing himself into you. Your jaw went slack as he stretched you out in ways no one had before, careful not to dive in too fast in hopes to keep it as painless as possible. Your knees bent on either side of him as he groaned. "Fuck, you're so tight," Matt heaved, bottoming out, "I needed this– shit."

You panted beneath him, looking fucked out already. Matt waited for your nod before slowly pumping in and out of you with one hand on your hip as the other pulled your thong to the side. You squinted in pain at first before it slowly turned to pleasure, causing you to let out long moans. Your sounds let Matt know you were really ready for him, picking up his pace as time went on.

Moans began filling the room as your perfect tits bounced in front of your face. Matt lowered himself into them, not stopping his deep, sensual thrusts as he sucked on the skin of your chest between your boobs gently. One hand reached up to take your soft boob in it, kneeding it a bit before he attached his mouth to it. He swirled your hardened bud with his tongue as you moaned, both of your breathing becoming ragged.

You felt that familiar knot in your stomach, tembling a bit under his touch. He took his mouth from your nipple with a 'pop', itting back up straight to see your eyes screwed shit and one side of your face in the pillow under your head as he fucked into you. The image alone was enough to make him bust then and there, but he knew he had to wait. Your pretty sounds grew louder as his pace picked up, bringing you closer to the edge. "Fuck, Matthew! I'm- I'm so close. So fucking close," You babbled out, unable to open your eyes.

"Matthew?" He grunted, chuckling like he'd done earlier that night. Of course, under different circumstances. "I love it." No one ever called him by his full name, and he'd kill for you to be the only one.

Soon after, you reached your climax, practically screaming as you repeated his name like it were a prayer. "Matt," You chanted as he fucked you through your orgasm, cumming himself not long after with a loud groan.

Matt pulled out slowly and plopped on the bed beside you as the two of you caught your breath, both staring up at the white ceiling. Matt's length slowly softened, still fairly large, to your surprise.

"Who would've thought Matthew Sturniolo had an absolute chopper?" You teased as soon as you caught your breath enough, finally looking at him beside you.

Matt gave you a quick chuckle, rolling his eyes lightheartedly as he forced himself off the aide of the bed, standing up to grab your guys' disgarded clothing. "Whatever. Here, put these back on." He threw your clothes back onto you, including your now mostly dry shirt.

"I mean, seriously. And he knows how to use it?" You continued on as you sat up in bed. "What's the rush with this?" You picked up your bra, reaching an arm out to put it on.

Matt shook his head in embarrassment. "You haven't go to dance yet tonight," He explained as he slid his boxers back on, "It's what you usually do, and I wanna join you."

dt : @mattsturnihoe

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous. 

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded. 

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly. 

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket. 

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself. 

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom. 

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support. 

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down. 

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company. 

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. 

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him. 

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. 

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious. 

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms. 

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense. 

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

��No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?” 

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head. 

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.” 

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him. 

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything,  he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” 

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment. 

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission. 

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close. 

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding. 

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault. 

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional. 

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

[ohbueckers]

WHAT’S MY NAME? not everybody knows how to work my body, knows how to make me want it, but, girl, you stay up on it.

THIS IS PART FIVE! pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, it took me so long to perfect this the way i wanted so enjoy muahahaha. also paige saying she prefers netflix & chill fits so well with this it’s so funny. warnings, sexual content (thhhheeee moment) honestly just filth.

paige laid sprawled across the stiff hotel bed in austin, her back against a pile of pillows she’d thrown together. the only light in the room was from the bedside table lamp to her right, and her phone was propped up in front of her, angled perfectly so that she could take in every detail of liana’s face on the screen. paige knew she should be asleep, or at least pretending to be, considering tomorrow’s game. but she couldn’t help herself.

liana was curled up on her couch, wearing an oversized crewneck that slipped off one shoulder, revealing only a slip of her skin. her curls framed her face just like always, a few stray tendrils catching the light as she shifted slightly under her blanket. paige couldn’t stop staring.

“you look way too tired, bro,” paige teased, her lips curling into a smirk that liana was getting way too used to seeing. “let me find out somebody else been gettin’ you right while i was gone.”

liana’s eyes widened from their previously low state, the blonde’s words sending her into a fit of laughter. “please! you’re the only one keeping me up these days. literally.”

paige nodded eagerly, tilting her head up with a smile as if she was completely satisfied with that response. “good. ‘cause i’d hate to have to come back and handle business.” they’d obviously just been flirting, but there was always some realness behind that. it was more like, ‘let me find out naomi been gettin’ you right while i was gone.’

liana knew paige wasn’t just talking about coming back from austin; she was talking about coming back to her, making sure no one else had taken her place. making sure that talk had really happened.

liana let her head fall back against the couch. “work’s just been killing me,” she admitted, her voice a little bit quieter now. “and of course, i miss you.” liana, if honest, didn’t usually say things like that. not with naomi, not with anyone she’d been with before��at least not so plainly. but with paige, it felt different. it felt necessary. maybe it was because, since the day they met, they’d spent nearly every day together or at least made time to talk, even when things got hectic. it had become part of her routine, part of her day-to-day existence. and if you didn’t know, that’s the quickest, easiest way to get attached to someone, especially when that someone is putting in the exact same amount of effort.

it wasn’t just about the physical attraction, though that was undeniably there. it was the connection, the way they could talk about anything—or nothing at all—and it still felt like they were sharing something important. the little moments, the ones that seemed insignificant, were starting to mean everything. and that’s what made it all so complicated for the both of them.

“i miss you too, liana,” paige said finally, not able to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as she moved her arm behind her head, adjusting her posture a little. following that, she couldn’t help the extra bit of focus she had on her screen. her eyes scanned down liana’s face, and as she licked her lips slowly, her attention was fully locked in.

liana noticed immediately. the look wasn’t exactly subtle, it never was. it made her pulse quicken, moving her phone out of frame as she rolled her eyes, unable to keep the smile from breaking through. “paige, stop trying to rizz me up over the phone.”

paige’s grin widened, chuckling as she ran a hand down her face. “so it’s working?” she asked.

liana laughed, shaking her head. “yeah, okay. you know exactly what you’re doing.” and she did. paige always knew how to push just the right buttons, how to get under her skin in a way that made her feel seen and wanted. it was part of what made it so hard to ignore. and maybe that was part of the problem, too—because liana knew just how easy it was to get swept up in all of it, to let herself fall into something that felt too good to be true.

and then, just like that, the door to paige’s hotel room swung open, breaking the moment. kk came in first, loud as always, with aaliyah, aubrey, and nika trailing behind her. liana couldn’t help but laugh as kk made her way over to paige’s bed, the blonde’s face immediately scrunching up, clearly annoyed they were interrupted.

“yo, p, you still cupcaking your girl over here?” kk teased, making her way over to paige with zero hesitation. she leaned over her shoulder, her widest smile filling the screen as she greeted liana. “what’s good, lili!?”

liana chuckled, the tiredness from before easing as she straightened up. “hey, kk. y’all treating paige alright?”

kk flashed a grin, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed now. “you should be asking if paige is treating us alright,” she shot back, the blonde instantly moving against the sheets to jerk her head back at kk’s words. but before she could say anything, kk continued her thought. “she gets annoying as hell when she can’t get to her phone to text you back.“

paige immediately rolled her eyes, trying to play it off, smacking her lips. “alright, alright, i didn’t know the feds was in the room,” she muttered, shooting her teammate a glare as she made sure to move kk’s frame from the screen.

aaliyah chimed in, of course. “yeah, she’s been getting real soft on us lately—smiling at her phone and everything.”

ice just shook her head, laughing along with the room. “she’s down bad, liana.”

liana couldn’t help but chuckle herself, the entirety of their words being absolutely hilarious, but also cute. there was something in the way they all talked about paige’s softness, the way she was smiling despite their jokes, that made her stomach twist in a good way. she liked knowing she had this effect on her, that she could make her feel something deeper, something real. it made liana feel a little more sure of what she wanted, of who she wanted.

the exhaustion from the day began catching up with her, and as she yawned, she could feel the weight of it settling into her bones, covering her mouth. paige, ever the noticer, shooed her teammates off, her teasing tone softening as she let her eyes fall over the large frame on her phone.

“imma let you go,” paige said quietly, running a hand down her ponytail. “you needa rest.”

liana nodded, smiling. “yeah. you do, too, though,” she lectured, flipping over to her side. “good luck with your game tomorrow.”

“we’ll talk after, okay?” paige replied, her eyes never leaving her screen. she hesitated for a moment, searching liana’s face for any sign of doubt, any worry that something was off. the doubt still tried to worm its way into paige’s mind, especially with everything unsaid between them. but she didn’t prodde, as much as she wanted to. she trusted liana, trusted what they had, even if there were moments when it all felt a little too fragile. in a few days, when they were finally together again, paige knew she’d let her actions speak louder than her words ever could.

after a busy day being back in storrs—filled with practice sessions and home game prep—paige was finally heading over to liana’s apartment. it seemed like their schedules had aligned perfectly for once, but even so, paige couldn’t shake the nagging wish that she’d been able to spend more of the day with her. the season was always busy, but lately, she found herself getting frustrated with it in a way she hadn’t before. it wasn’t just the games or the practices—it was the fact that she actually had someone she wanted to see, and it made everything less satisfying because it kept them apart. the promise of a quiet night together felt like a much-needed respite. the evening had settled in, and as paige approached liana’s building, she felt almost nervous. she’d actually been invited to sleep over, which they’d never done before. it felt intimately scary.

when she walked into the apartment, she was greeted by the soft sound of running water coming from the bathroom. paige closed the door behind her, locking it out of habit before making her way to the back. liana had insisted she come in without knocking, saying she’d be in the shower when she arrived.

paige wandered into the bedroom, dropping her overnight bag onto the floor as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. her tv played some music, and although paige had been in this room a few times before, it felt strange… different. it’s only because you haven’t seen her, stop it.

she could hear the water shut off in the bathroom, followed by the sound of liana moving around. paige leaned back on her hands, letting her eyes wander around the room, trying to steady her thoughts, but something caught her attention, her mind obviously wanting her to do anything but. it was a small pile of clothes sitting neatly on the bed right next to her. she blinked, realizing that liana had left them there, which meant one thing: she’d have to come out in just her towel.

paige licked her lips, her nerves quickly giving way to a different kind of anticipation. she knew she should probably look away, give her some space, but she couldn’t help but feel like the girl had done it on purpose.

her attention drifted toward the bathroom door just as it creaked open. and there she was—liana, wrapped snugly in a white towel, steam still trailing behind her as she stepped out. her skin glowed, still damp from the shower water, and her hair was still dry, cascading perfectly over her revealed shoulders.

a smirk pulled at paige’s lips, saying the one and only thing that came to mind. “daddy’s home,” she mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

liana rolled her eyes, though the laugh that bubbled up within her betrayed her amusement. “whatever,” she shot back, quickly grabbed the clothes off the bed, clutching them to her chest as she turned, making her way back to the bathroom to change.

paige’s eyes followed her every step, appreciating the way the towel hugged her figure until she disappeared behind the door again. when liana finally emerged, she was dressed in an off-the-shoulder tee and a pair of short shorts that showed off just enough to keep paige’s attention firmly locked on her.

“there,” liana said with a grin as she walked back over to where paige sat, sliding herself into the space between her legs. the closeness was natural, easy, like it had always been this way. “better?”

paige shook her head in a way that was deliberately iffy, still smirking as she admired her. “eh. you sure we’re not married yet? ’cause it’s starting to feel like it.” her hands found their way to liana’s body almost instinctively, fingers resting just below her hips. the touch was subtle, yet possessive in that way paige always seemed to manage without trying too hard.

liana looked down at her, placing her hands on paige’s shoulders. “married, huh? i don’t know, p… feels like you’d have to put in a bit more work for that,” she teased, though her voice softened toward the end. they both knew what they were doing, toeing that line between playful and serious, testing the waters without saying too much.

paige tilted her head up slightly, eyebrows raised. “really? feels like i been working overtime for you,” she shot back.

liana chuckled, her fingers absently playing with the ends of paige’s hair as she looked down at her. “you think so?” she asked, overall rhetorical. “maybe i’ll give you some credit… for effort.”

a few moments later, the two girls had long since found their spots at the top of liana’s bed, limbs tangled up together like they were made to fit this way. the room felt even smaller now, or it could’ve just been the proximity. liana had her head nestled on paige’s chest, her cheek pressed against her heartbeat that was trying to stay at a normal pace.

paige kept one arm draped around her, her other hand resting on liana’s thigh in a way to ground it, keep it in place. because paige was sure if she moved, she wouldn’t be able to contain herself. that same leg was thrown over her longer legs, her body angling into her. the movie played on, but neither of them were really paying much attention.

paige’s eyes drifted down to the girl in her arms, watching the soft rise and fall of her breath, the way her lashes fluttered slightly as if she were lost in thought. she felt liana shift slightly, her breath hitching for just a second before she settled again. paige tightened her grip ever so slightly, as if she could keep her from slipping away. she wasn’t sure if it was for liana’s benefit or her own, but it didn’t matter.

it was liana who broke the silence first.

“paige?” she whispered, her voice slightly shaky.

“yeah?”

liana hesitated. “can you move your hand?”

paige adjusted her posture slightly, letting her hand slide a little further up liana’s thigh, closer to her heat. she was still gentle, her movements innocent from anyone looking from above the covers. she cleared her throat. “‘course. wanna tell me why, though, baby?”

liana turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting paige’s with some soft intensity. they could make out each other’s features through the dark, knowing it like the back of their own hands. “making me feel things,” she murmured, voice almost shy.

paige’s smirk softened into something more genuine as she tilted her head, or maybe more mocking. “that a bad thing?”

she hesitated, eyes darting between paige’s eyes and lips, chin still nestled comfortably on her hand. “no.” her reply was a short, almost whiny breath as she shook her head.

paige felt a sense of satisfaction at liana’s response, that tiny, breathy “no” probably making her feel the same way. she loved this—the way she could reduce liana to these quiet, needy sounds with just a look or a touch. she felt almost addicted to the power she held, the way liana’s eyes darted between her own and her lips, as if she were waiting for permission. but beneath that, there was a softness too that came from knowing that liana trusted her enough to be this vulnerable, to fall victim to her with little shame.

there was no doubt they were inching towards something they couldn’t come back from. it should be savored, or simply not done at all, but only one of those options were actually doable. paige let her hand move just a bit higher up liana’s thigh, right where the girl needed her to be, fingers curling slightly against the fabric. “good,” she murmured. “’cause i don’t think you invited me over here just to sleep.”

liana nodded slightly, smiling. “definitely not just to sleep,” and before paige could say anything else, liana closed the distance between them, kissing her with all the strength and roughness her smaller body could muster up.

paige responded immediately, using one hand to guide liana’s body until she was perched on top of her, straddling her thigh. the weight of her smaller frame settled perfectly against her, and paige let out a low hum, eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of the heat radiating off of her. it was safe to say that they both unshamefully had some pressure built up.

liana’s hands found their way to paige’s shoulders, gripping tightly as she tried to keep up with the intensity. she could feel paige’s muscled thigh pressing into her, and her body was already reacting, hips instinctively grinding down, seeking out more of her if that were even possible. it was all-consuming, the way paige effortlessly took control, guiding her movements, making her feel everything all at once. like she knew she had to.

paige slipped her tongue past liana’s lips, exploring her mouth as her hands did their part on her lower body. hands roaming underneath her shirt, fingers digging into her soft skin as she pulled her even closer. paige’s heart raced, her thoughts hazy with the overwhelming urge to make liana just forget about everything else. about naomi, about any doubts or second thoughts. it was just them now, and she was determined to make sure liana knew exactly where she belonged.

every little sound she made drove paige deeper into wanting her. she loved the way liana’s fingers dug into her shoulders, the way her hips moved so instinctively. it was the kind of control that went beyond just physical—she could feel it in the way she was giving herself over. her fingers slipped into the waistband of her shorts, moving them right over her clit, not being interested in making her girl wait. with thought-out slowness, she began to rub at her heat, feeling the dampness that had already soaked through thanks to her lack of underwear.

“fuck, liana.” her mutter against her jawline almost went unnoticed, her voice low as she placed soft, messy kisses along her skin. “so wet. knew you needed me, huh? could feel it the second you started grinding this pussy on me.”

liana’s eyes screwed shut at paige’s words, her entire body shivering as she pressed herself harder against her fingers. the slickness between her thighs only intensified, her need growing with every passing second. she could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, but she managed to let out a shaky, “y-yeah… needed you… so bad…”

paige grinned against her skin, her lips trailing down liana’s neck, ghosting over the spot from their night in the car that had started to fade with time. she made sure to leave a new one, sucking at it relentlessly for a few moments. liana bit her lip, trying to stifle the whimpers that kept slipping out, but it was useless. paige knew exactly how to unravel her.

liana’s moans grew louder, her hips bucking uncontrollably as paige’s fingers moved faster, in circles, up and down… the pressure building inside her. it was overwhelming, the pleasure throbbing through her in waves, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. “p-paige… i’m—fuck!“ she said, clearly frustrated she could hardly get her words out.

paige watched liana lose control underneath her with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, quickly throwing the thick blanket off of them so she had more room to move. “go ahead. lemme hear you.” her heart pounded in her chest, her own restraint hanging by a thread as she focused on driving liana over the edge. none of their other encounters had ever felt like this, this personal and damn good.

paige’s words hit liana like a command she couldn’t disobey. her entire body responded, trembling as the tension that had been building inside of her finally snapped. she cried out, following the blonde’s commands word for word as every muscle in her body tightened, then released in a rush, leaving her breathless and spent.

paige kept her eyes locked onto liana’s face as she watched every moment of her unraveling, licking her lips and leaving them glistening. she was lost, so completely undone by her hands alone. “that’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice bringing liana back to reality, opening her eyes as paige slowed her movements, drawing out liana’s climax. “so fuckin’ perfect.”

liana’s breathing began to steady, though her legs still trembled slightly in the aftermath. paige, all in her lust, leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. then another one, and another one… all while helping her off her leg and settle back into the pillows, smoothing the damp curls away from her forehead, her thumb brushing softly along her flushed cheeks. she just wanted to take care of her in every way.

for a second, paige thought about stopping there. that shared vulnerability was already enough, right? the way liana had lost herself, gotten comfortable real quickly—it felt almost sacred. they could have left it at that, and it would have been more than enough. but when paige looked into liana’s eyes—saw the way her chest still heaved with shallow breaths, the softness of her expression, the way her lips were parted in that unguarded, needy way—she knew they weren’t done.

liana looked like she wanted more. hell, paige knew she wanted more too.

she leaned in, capturing liana’s lips again, this time with more intent, more need, the kiss deepening as her fingers ghosted down her side. she loved the way her body responded underneath her, arching ever so slightly into her touch, like she was asking for it without saying a word.

paige pulled back just enough to murmur against her lips, “you good?”

liana’s eyes fluttered open, lips still plump, but there was a small, almost shy nod. “yeah… i’m good. i’m really good.”

paige smirked at that, kissing her again just to feel liana melt a little more before slowly hooking a finger into the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down and letting them drop off the side of the bed. she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of liana spread out beneath her, chest rising and falling as she watched her with those wide, expectant eyes. without breaking eye contact, paige grabbed the hem of her own shirt, tugging it off in one quick motion, leaving herself in just her sports bra. her shorts followed, discarded just as easily as liana’s.

leaning over the side of the bed, the blonde pulled her overnight bag up, rummaging through it for a second before pulling out the strap she’d packed. liana’s eyes widened a little, watching as she slid the harness on, adjusting it snugly around her hips. her focus was on the way paige moved—so sure of herself, so in control. but underneath that control, the girl was just as nervous, the receiving end of the strap pressing against her, giving her just enough to heighten every movement she made.

paige climbed back onto the bed, hovering over liana as she pressed a few kisses along her collarbone, down her chest. liana’s breath got caught in her throat when paige’s lips brushed just above her stomach, her hands instinctively finding their way to her sides, fingers digging into her skin as she waited for what was next. paige settled between her legs, hands firm on her thighs as she focused on stretching her out to get her ready.

“paige,” liana whispered, trying to find herself before they got around to that. “i’ve never…” her voice came out practically breathless, and it took a second for paige to process the words, but as they sank in, she stilled, looking up from where her fingers had been previously getting to work. her mind instantly went back to the conversation they’d had in the bar, the first time liana had really opened up. that night when she’d admitted she’d never been with any guys. she’d said it so casually at the time, and it didn’t matter then.

it mattered now.

she pushed herself up slightly, hands resting gently on liana’s hips. “it’s alright,” paige said softly. “we ain’t gotta do nothing y’aren’t ready for.” she didn’t rush or push, even though every nerve in her body screamed at her to keep going. liana’s comfort mattered more than anything else.

liana’s eyes were as wide as they always were, still dark with uncertainty as she contemplated something within herself. paige kept her gaze steady, her thumb brushing soothing circles against liana’s skin, doing everything to show her that this was her call. no pressure. no expectations.

she swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling as she looked at paige, the connection between them pulling tighter.

“i want it to be with you.”

those words, where she felt so sure, slammed into paige like a million bricks. it was everything and more than she’d expected, and yet, hearing it made her chest tighten. nobody had liana feeling like this but her. she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, nodding slow. “okay,” paige said, her voice low. “just gotta know, li… you sure?” her tone was gentler than usual, but still distinctly her with that bit of edge that was all paige. she tilted her head, eyes never leaving the girl in front of her’s every expression.

“yeah… i’m sure,” liana whispered back, her lips barely moving as she adjusted her spot on the bed, and it was clear she wasn’t just saying it to say it. she meant it.

and with that, paige nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as liana’s first time was now left in her hands. she pulled back to focus, hands finding their way between her legs, fingertips grazing her wetness just like she’d done before. her movements were slow, deliberate, taking her time as she positioned herself, letting the tip of the strap brush against her heat.

she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t have to. she guided the tip along her folds, moving it slowly in gentle circles. liana’s hips bucked involuntarily, eyes squeezing shut as the sensation built. without another word, paige angled herself and slowly pushed inside, her movements careful and measured as she watched liana’s expression shift—first a slight wince, then her lips parting in a quiet gasp as she adjusted.

paige’s movements were thoughtful before they picked up, each thrust slow as she sought to make the experience as comfortable and intense for liana as possible. her blue eyes never left her face, as if tracking her down. the first subtle wince, the way her lips parted in a breathless gasp as paige pressed deeper another inch of her length.

liana’s hips bucked gently as she adjusted to the fullness. paige’s hands were steady, veiny, and using their grip firmly against her hips, sure to leave some kinda of mark. as liana’s breathing grew more ragged, paige guided her hand to her lower stomach, pressing it down so the girl could feel the bulge of the strap moving inside her. “feel that, baby?” her voice was low and throaty, yet expectant of an answer. “feel how deep t’shit’s in you?”

liana’s eyes mouth fell agape, her frame rocking up and down against the bed. her hand trembled slightly as it rested on her stomach, and the sensation was overwhelmingly good. she’d expected her first time to feel like a lot of things, this not being one of them. paige made sure to take care of her. she nodded, her voice a breathy whisper as she responded, “yeah… i can feel it… oh!”

paige’s grip tightened just a fraction, head falling over as she took in the sight herself, blonde hair creating a tent around her face. she let out a soft, appreciative groan, eyes locked on liana’s face as she took in the intimate scene.

as the intensity built, paige’s breathing became uneven, her hands still guiding liana through it, ensuring that every moment was as fulfilling as it could be. “doing so well,” paige murmured, as she watched liana become more lost in the moment.

her thrusts became more urgent, less controlled, and more sloppy. she could feel her own climax creeping closer—too close. she gritted her teeth, unwilling to let it take her first, not before she could feel liana fully surrender to it. with a low groan, paige pulled back, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the room as she steadied herself.

in one smooth motion, she shifted, pulling liana on top of her. “c’mere,” paige directed, positioning her so she straddled her waist. liana’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and already fucked-out, the slickness between her thighs coating paige’s strap as she lowered herself down, immediately gasping at the depth of the new angle.

paige’s hands found their spot just under her ass, fingers gripping firmly but leaving enough space for her to move as she pleased. “take it at your pace,” paige whispered, though her voice was thick with the kind of strain that said she was barely hanging on herself. watching liana ride her like this, hair tumbling down around her face, wasn’t doing anything to help her keep her composure. her hips rolled in the same motion over and over, riding like a fucking pro. no way she hadn’t done this before… or maybe the ‘things come easily to me’ gene ran further than just in the books.

liana bit her lip, her breath coming out in short, soft gasps as she rocked her hips harder, feeling every inch inside her. she leaned forward, pressing her chest against paige’s, entire body trembling as she whispered, “feels so good, p…” although it was more a whine.

“i know it does, li,” paige responded, her own voice starting to fray around the edges, overwhelmed by the sight and feel of liana on top of her, and now her broken voice saying all the right things in her ear, chests bonded together by the sweat. if this was what skin to skin was like, the blonde wanted to take her in like that forever. “takin’ me so good. you gonna come?” her hands slid up to her hips, tightening slightly and pulling her just a little closer.

liana’s body trembled, lips parted as she gasped for breath, barely able to nod. “yeah… oh my God… i’m so close…”

“yeah?” her response was breathless, almost there herself as she jerked her hips up to help, wanting liana to feel her deeper as she let her own hands drop, letting her get off by herself. “just let go. i got you.”

liana’s pace quickened, her moans becoming louder and more desperate as her body tensed. her head fell forward, hair falling over her face, and paige could hear the exact moment when she lost herself to the sensation. the heat between them exploded, and with one last thrust from paige, they both came undone at the same time, the release hitting like the best thing all night.

for a moment, everything was quiet except for their heavy breathing, the sound of their chests rising and falling in unison. paige could barely think, let alone speak, as she wrapped her arms around liana, pulling her close as they both came down from the high. the only light in the room came from the mounted tv, now playing random netflix previews, but it was the least of their worries.

paige was the first to break the silence. well, kind-of. it was a breathless laugh, her normal shit-eating smile returning to her face.

liana sat up from paige’s chest, her eyebrows furrowing in mock annoyance, though the corner of her lips quirked up against her will. “don’t look so smug.”

paige’s grin widened, hands still mindlessly rubbing her back slowly. “i’m liana bales’ first body.” her voice was filled with some playful arrogance, and she was clearly just poking fun, but she had only really come to terms with it now.

liana rolled her eyes, but her own smile broke through, and she shook her head. “don’t make it a thing.”

“oh, it’s a thing.”

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

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Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[aycius]

— WHEN YOU CAN’T SLEEP ‧₊˚

feat. satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, & nanami kento

warnings. none! just a whole lot of fluffiness

if you can’t go to sleep, SATORU will definitely try to help or (for lack of better words) force you to go to sleep. when he feels you shuffling around, he’ll grunt before placing his body on top of yours, hugging you tightly before mumbling “sleep” in your hair. 

“i’ll try if you get off of me. you’re crushing me to death!” you say and he contemplates for a few seconds, but ultimately decides that you’re a really comfortable body pillow. from how he’s laying, he can feel your heart beating and your soft, steady breaths and it makes him wonder why he never thought of using you as a mattress before. 

“promise?” and even though you nod your head, satoru can feel your smile on his collarbone which easily gives away that you’re not telling the truth. regardless, satoru still rolls off to the side and stares at the ceiling with you. 

“what’s bothering you,” he whispers, it’s soft and genuine and that alone is enough to make your heart throb at 2 am. it’s also really funny seeing his concerned look right now because he doesn’t know he’s overanalyzing the whole situation. 

you see, you didn’t eat dinner tonight. satoru ordered you takeout on his way home because he assumed you’d be hungry, but you weren’t, so you let him have yours. what you failed to realize though, is how hungry you’d be later on and now you’re facing the consequences. you finally sigh and turn your body so you’re face to face with him on the bed. 

“toru,” you bite back the laugh that wants to come out because of how serious satoru looks right now. you figured that you should tell him straight up to ease his mind of any possible negative thoughts he could be thinking. “i’m really hungry.” 

and satoru sighs, (you can’t tell if it’s of relief or disappointment so you choose the latter), and props his head up so his elbows are supporting him. “i am too.” 

“but you ate your takeout and mine.” you mirror satoru actions, propping your elbow to get a better look at his face and he blinks twice. you can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

“do you want food or not?” 

with that, you roll off the bed before stating, “i’ll get the car keys!”

it’s not until you tap TOJI on the shoulder for the fifth time that he blinks and slowly comes to his senses. poor guy, he can hear your mumbles but he isn’t fully able to process what’s going on because of how drowsy he is. at this point, you’re staring at him with teary eyes and all toji can do is deadpan, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. 

“i told ya not to read the ending of that book this late, y'know. if ya read it earlier, y’could’ve had more time to recover. ” he grunts. 

you sniff once and nod your head and all toji can do is roll his eyes as he brings you into a tight embrace. he can act irritated all he wants, but he finds it so entertaining that the book he recommended you to read really took this much of a toll on you. You guys went on a library date, (your idea of course), and he chose a random book for you without much thought, and boy was that a bad idea. 

“they didn’t end up being together, toji.” you wail, arms wrapping around his torso even tighter. 

“i know, baby. i know.” he sighs, planting a kiss on your forehead when you sniffle again. 

“toji, we can never break up. if i couldn’t handle the book’s break up, i won’t handle ours.” and he only chuckles, because honestly, why is this book putting thoughts like these in your head? it’s fiction, toji thinks, but then again, it’s you we’re talking about, so he smirks and let’s out a chuckle.

“can’t get rid of me, i’m in it for the long run, babe.”

NANAMI knows you’re not asleep. if there’s one thing you know most about kento, it’s how light of a sleeper he is. that’s why, even though you’re struggling to fall asleep, you try not to twist and turn around the sheets, though that fails. it’s only when you hear him clear his throat (even though he did it on purpose just to let you know that he was awake), you decide to gently tap his shoulder. he responds immediately, shifting to his side so he can face you. 

“yes, sweetheart? what’s up?” he asks, voice raspy and all. although it’s 2 am, you can perfectly make out kento’s beautiful face with the help of the moon light, via the sheer curtains in the room. you find yourself getting lost in his eyes and it’s not until he gently grabs your hands and intertwines it with his that you finally get the courage, (or at least attempt to), speak to him about your restlessness.

 but he understands – he always does. 

“i’m not feeling that tired either,” he winks, “let me make us some tea and talk.” 

you want to tell him that you know he’s completely exhausted, but he’s already pushing the both of you out of bed and to the kitchen. you figured that he may not mind staying up for a bit more.

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[allllium]

Jason Todd x childhood friend fem

fluff and potential angst

Jason runs into childhood friend from befor he died and she recognizes him

Back in Time

[ Jason Todd x Childhood Best Friend!Reader ]

~ Fluff, Maybe a little hurt/comfort, WC: 1,089

~ I'm so sorry this took so long 😭 Every time I went to write this it's like all ideas flew out of my head, but I finally got it done and I hope it meets your expectations<3

"Jason?"

He freezes.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice today.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice ever again.

Once he came back, you were gone.

He would say he tried to look for you but that isn't true. He thought your leaving was the universe telling him to leave you alone.

But now you're here. You're here and you recognize him. He doesn't know how to respond. He knows you know he heard you, otherwise he wouldn't have stopped moving.

The first thing he hears in your voice is the sadness. Not anger like he would've expected. Not even a hint of confusion. Just something sad.

After a minute of him being unmoving, clearly lost in his thoughts, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Jason." You say.

This time it's not a question.

After he hears you a second time, he brings himself to turn around and look at you.

"Hey."

"Hey." He can't tell if you're about to cry or smile.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologizes. Maybe for leaving or maybe for not finding you. He's not quite sure.

"For what?" You ask and take a deep breath.

He sees the way tears form in your eyes and has the strange urge to cry himself.

"I don't know. I just feel like I need to."

"You don't. Dick told me what happened. That's not something you need to be sorry for." You say it so surely he doesn't know how to respond.

"I was gonna find you."

"That's not your job. I mean a phone call would've been nice." You shrug and let out a small, awkward chuckle.

"I didn't know what to do." He tells you quietly.

"I would assume." You look around the sidewalk you're on. You're standing in front of what looks like a busy shop, people walk in and out every couple seconds.

"Where did you go?" He asks you after a moment. Probably to determine whether or not he could've found you.

"I was here. I mean I stayed in Gotham just not where I was before."

"If I had known you were so close I would've gone to you but when they told you left I assumed-"

"Jason, you don't have to defend yourself." You cut him off quickly, "If I died and came back the last thing on my list would be finding someone who left."

He nods. "This might be easier if you were at least a little mad." He smiles softly at you, watching more tears shine in your eyes.

"I missed you too much to be mad right now."

He goes to say something back but someone walking by bumps into your shoulder.

"Maybe we should get coffee or something?" He suggests, not wanting to keep blocking the sidewalk traffic.

"Are you free?"

"Oh yeah, yeah." Dick can wait, he thinks to himself.

"Then yeah, coffee sounds great."

You both walk into the coffee shop and order whatever drinks sound good. Jason chooses a table against the wall and by a giant window.

You sit awkwardly in silence as you both try and think of what to say.

"How are you doing?" You ask, after multiple minutes of nothing.

"I'm okay, I think." He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. You take notice of his fingers tapping nervously along the side of the cup.

"That's good." You nod and sigh.

"How are you?"

"I've been better." You answer honestly. Your fingers also tap nervously along your cup.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why this is so weird."

You laugh at his words, "I do. It's been a while."

"And I'm guessing we've both changed." He smiles.

"Changed? No shit Jason, look at you." You smile at him in a reassuring way. You can clearly see how dying has changed him.

"Yeah I guess I did get a little taller." He jokes and shakes his head.

"Maybe just an inch or two." You play along, laughing as you speak.

"I missed this. I missed you." He tells you with a sudden seriousness in his tone.

"Well good thing it isn't going away this time." You reach across the table and grab his hand.

It was never unusual for you and Jason to be touchy. That's just the kinda friendship you had. But this feels different.

Instead of being a friendly touch between best friends, it's more like a reassurance that's he's actually alive. A piece of you feels relief that you're not imagining this.

"I really hope so." He wishes with a frown.

"It won't. If you think I'm leaving your side anytime soon you're very very wrong."

"What's one more person to the gang that follows me everywhere?" He laughs again and squeezes your hand. It's the first time he's felt so free to last in a while.

"Where is that gang by the way? I would've expected one of them to be here by now."

"Oh I left while they weren't looking. I needed time to myself."

"You snuck out? Jason, they're probably panicking." You scold him softly.

"It's fine I'm meeting with Dick later."

You shake your head in disapproval but a smile on your face gives you away once again.

For some reason no matter how sad you are, a smile can't leave your lips.

You fall back into a silence but this time it's not awkward at all. It's a comfortable silence that reminds you of old times.

"I should probably get going. Dick will be pissed if I'm late."

"Yeah I don't doubt it." You recall the many times Dick has given long lectures about being late to anything he's involved in.

"I'll call you." He swears, standing up from his seat at the table.

"You better. I know where to find you." You stand up as well and finish off your drink.

"Yes you do." He agrees but doesn't leave.

You stand together in front of your table. Both of you are waiting for the other to move first.

Just as you're about to make the move to leave he steps forward and pulls you into a hug.

You immediately hug back and feel the tears reappear in your eyes.

"I really missed you." He whispers.

"I really missed you too." You whisper back.

You savor every moment of the embrace. Not wanting to leave out of fear that he would leave again.

But as you watch him walk away to meet with his brother, you're overcome with the happiness of knowing your best friend is here.

[etheries1015]

Imagining Yuu being Lillias as first and last love.

Let's say he was gravely injured during the war, and you, a human, had snuck him away to tend to his wounds. (I like to imagine this in a scenario where in chapter 7 when they meet Lilia in the 'dream world', he retains those memories, only for it to loop back to the modern day, less than a reincarnation.)

You, knowing Lilia from NRC and being enamored with him for so long, obviously had no choice but to help their fae....friend. When he became gravely injured during a particularly difficult battle, He awakes and is immediately on guard. He never really trusted you and the others who suddenly came face to face with him, two humans, a beastman, and a fae-human hybrid. You were all suspicious to him, yet he couldn't help but feel a ting of familiarity in his heart the second his eyes met yours. He knew, by some force, you were different than the other humans; you were kind, caring, and worked on your lonesome rather than a group.

"Are you okay? Do your wounds hurt? I can change your bandages If you'd like. You have been out for only a few hours..." You pursed your lips, hands hesitating over his injured waist, "But...I understand if you rather me leave now. I just wanted to make sure you would be okay, you really took a hard hit."

He just stared at you with wide eyes and a rapidly beating heart. He came to realize you were truly no threat, and he honestly, owed you his life. He never thought he'd see the day; General Lilia Vanrouge allowing a human tend to his needs, he frankly felt rather pathetic at the notion of this being affecting him as much as they had. Since the moment they arrived at his camp, he knew you were trouble for his heart.

"There 's...no need," Lilia said, sitting up slightly grasping his covered wound with one hand and holding his other out for you to set the spare bandages to him. You nodded slightly and handed it to him, turning around and starting to walk out. Before you had reached the door, Lilia called out to you.

"Human," He said, causing you to turn around in surprise and tilt your head with anticipation of his next words, "Why...why aren't you like the other humans? Are you not betraying them by helping your enemy?" You sighed and shook your head, chuckling at a question that seemed obviously ridiculous to you. Your reaction had caused Lilia to furrow his eyebrows and frown.

"Because I have... a lot of love for everyone," You finally said, looking up with the most serene, sincere, and peaceful gaze he had ever seen, "I love Humans, I love Fae, I love beastmen...and.." You blushed slightly, "I love you, too." The general couldn't wrap his head around it- your comments seemed utterly ridiculous to him- you hadn't known him for long at all, it seemed you two had only met for a couple days at best and here you were already admitting your affections for the fae? Despite this fact, he could tell by your unwavering stance and confident voice, that you were not lying. He simply replied with a nod and dismissed you with a wave of his hand as he had done so with many of his subordinates, muttering a quick thank you before you exited the hut.

Lilia stared down at his hands where the bandages you handed him lay, his cheeks taken a rosy tint. The red-eyed Fae shook his head and wiped his brow beaded with sweat, scoffing in disbelief. Did he just fall for a human...? A human he hadn't even known for long yet felt like he knew a lifetime, at that, over some silly hopeful words? He couldn't deny the way his heartbeat sped up at your kindness, your gentle touch tingling across the skin you cared for, and his ears begging to hear more of your mellifluous voice. Taking a deep sigh, he felt a deep rooted resolve force him to stand upon his feet and chase after you- his heart yearning to learn more about this mysterious human that had somehow shaken him to his core.

However, he never could find you after that.

Queue modern time.

Lilia had well after a while understood he would never be able to find that human- he knew after decades you must have wound up dead. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that you were around, somehow, somewhere, alive and living a happy life- yet he had no proof you were either dead or alive. He didn't particularly look very hard, either. You had given him conflicting emotions that he had never experienced before, yes, but he knew he had a duty to attend to. There were indeed nights where he re-played your words over and over again- eventually bringing him to his resolve of peace between humans and fae and finding solace in the idea of loving all creatures for what they were, just had you did for him when you saved his life with reckless abandon.

So the moment he lay eyes upon you when you stumbled upon NRC, he had the same exact feeling all those years ago rushing back to him all at once, as if he had been hit by a sudden train of emotions. His heart thumped and the sound of blood rushing overtook him overwhelmingly- There was no way, right? The human who saved him must have been long dead by then. It couldn't possibly be...

Then you said your name.

You had the same name, the same unwavering confident eyes, the same serene peace that he felt wash over him in that little hut during the years of war. He wasn't sure how, if this person who suddenly came to NRC was a long distant relative of that person, or if there was something else going on beyond his comprehensive skills. You were alive, your voice as beautiful and mysterious as you were all those years ago. He spent a considerable amount of time studying you, being by your side, trying to put together the puzzle piece by piece. Yet he surprised himself- he never knew, even at his old age, he could feel such vibrant emotions as strongly and just as beautifully as the first time he laid eyes upon you. He felt like that young general again- passionate, young, and this time without animosity and war to get in the way of his curiosity.

Perhaps it was old age getting the better of him making his mind warped into believing he had some sort of magical entity on his side bringing you back to him, or his old heart yearning for something he had never had before and had deeply regretted never experiencing; love. Whatever was going on, Lilia knew one thing for certain;

He would not let his chance slip away this time.

[periwinkla]

Final NRMT poster with all panels! Print here <3 Did anyone notice... anything about the bottom right panel? It's not too obvious but I wanted it to at least be noticeable within the poster itself that something is... 'off' if you compared it with the other panels. And there's a reason. Honestly it's just about a silly headcanon of mine, and it is also a silly way for me to include it but... I'm silly myself. Under the cut, the hanakotoba notes for the flower panel... and other stuff. The other stuff isn't important really but it was funny for me.

Already talked about this in the flower panel post - but these are the main things I took into consideration when choosing the flowers:

3 sunflowers specifically mean 'I love you' - so I also added 3 chrysanthemums to complement them. By the by, among other things, sunflowers mean 'passion', 'love', 'adoration', 'I only have eyes for you' - while white chrysanthemums mean 'truth'. Red chrysanthemums signify 'love' but I opted against them in favor of the following flowers.

The small blue flowers are forget-me-nots, which, other than the obvious, mean 'true love' in hanakotoba. 

The pink flowers are Japanese primroses ('sakurasou' - they get their name because of their resemblance to cherry blossoms), which mean 'first love', 'longing', 'purity', 'youthful love', 'the beginning of youth and sadness'...

Also, here the nmweek24 tag on the blog to see the posts for the individual panels with additional info/behind the scenes: https://periwinkla.tumblr.com/tagged/nmweek24 note: there are a few minor adjustments I made for the final poster compared to the individual panels (you probably won't even be able to see them honestly) ---Sentimental story time--- The reason I wanted to do something special for nrmt week was because tomorrow (the 8th) will mark the day I first started playing AA1. And I'm so happy I got into it! Funny story: my first exposure to AA was the anime (almost 10 years ago!) I got to the end of the first 12ish episodes, obviously was very confused because it's not meant to be consumed by someone who didn't play the games, and promptly abandoned ship and forgot all about it. Completely. I even forgot I had watched it! until I got to Turnabout Goodbyes because I had a vague recollection of having seen the boat photo. But other than that, complete oblivion (my memory is quite terrible in general). Basically, last year I had finished Detective Pikachu 1 and wanted something similar because I usually play classic jrpgs and needed a change of pace... AA1 was my choice. As I mentioned, I remembered absolutely nothing from the anime (I had no idea Mia died, so, imagine the shock). I went completely blind till I finished with AJ and AAI1-2. Honestly, it's a beautiful experience when you play games without knowing anything about them. It feels like the good old days. I absolutely don't believe that study that says spoilers don't spoil the experience. Also I find it nice that I got into nrmt without outside prompt, because I find it funny that my brain needed to play through 6 games in order to see it. I seem to have prosciutto on my eyes (Italian idiom). In my defense I usually don't look for romance in stories and ship stuff unless it's very obvious. Nrmt comes too close to it to ignore. Ok, end of nostalgic sentimentality. ...And here's the 'other stuff': This print was the thing I said I had hidden 'in plain sight'. It has been on the print shop since... Thursday. 'It was there all along'-well more like half-along really <3