#4608 words

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember.

Oh, He Wants

Week #2 Prompt: Backseat/Clothes On/Bruise | Word Count: 4608 | Rating: E | POV: Steve | CW: Unprotected Sex, Bodily Fluids | Tags: Clothes On, Until They're Off, First Time, Virgin Eddie, Horny Boys in Love, Dry Humping, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, Barebacking

Note: It's backseat sex. Suspension of disbelief is often required for this trope. Like the Tardis, it's simply bigger on the inside than it appears, haha.

The windows are steamed up, condensation rolling down the glass, as Steve lays on top of Eddie, grinding down against him, over and over again. Steve kind of thought that was just a thing from movies, not something that actually happens in real life. But they've been at this for at least an hour, both breathing heavily, slowly heating up the car, literally fogging up the windows. 

He feels his face flushing, and his chest is heaving as he keeps rutting against Eddie underneath him. Fingers digging into his arms, his shoulders, his neck. Probably hard enough to bruise. Just clinging to him anywhere he can reach.

It's slow, and steady, and the feeling of Eddie's cock pressed against his, even through all the layers of underwear and jeans, is really working for him. Steve's never been much of a backseat makeout kind of guy. He always had other places for that: Skull Rock. Under the bleachers. The last row of The Hawk. Not to mention there's never been a bedroom window he hasn't been willing to crawl through to fool around with a girl right in her own bed, her parents none the wiser.

But with Eddie? He'll get into the cramped backseat and love it. All day, all night, because he gets it now. He understands, wholly. The thrill of feeling like they are sneaking around, of getting by with something, even if they have other places to be together in private other than an abandoned dirt road.

They could hole up in Steve's big, empty house. Or at Wayne's place when he's gone at work all night. And they have. Make-out sessions that leave them both gasping for breath, needing, wanting.

Jeans, underwear sticky from coming in them as they pushed each other over the edge.

But this is different. Illicit and thrilling. He could take Eddie to a bed, he has every opportunity. Instead, they're here. Pulled off along a dead end dirt road.

And it's good. The shared breaths, the confined space, all of it.

It's a heady mix of lust, and love. Steve's fallen fast, and hard. Just like he always does. He'll never learn, and he knows he's probably headed for another heartbreak after Eddie's wrung out everything he wants from him, leaving the rest. 

Tonight they've kissed so much, so hard, Steve's sure his lips are bruised at this point. But he can't get enough of Eddie. He'll never get enough. He almost lost him before he'd even found him, and he's not gonna waste another minute more.

For as long as this lasts, he's all in. He's gathered up the pieces of his broken heart before, and he could do it again. Would do it again, for Eddie. 

It's worth it. Eddie's worth it. Love, too. He's probably hopeless. Robin would definitely say so, but he wants it so fucking bad. To be loved. To be someone's first pick, to go in the first round, to build a dynasty together. 

Okay, maybe the sports metaphors are a bit much, especially for Eddie, who wouldn't appreciate them. But Steve feels like he's been drafted to the future he wants, if he can only hold onto it, long term. 

Eddie is everything he's been looking for. He loves him. He's sure of it, even if that's never been spoken between them. 

Steve pulls back to suck in a quick breath, all panting and soft eyes, "Hi." 

Eddie smiles, lips swollen and red, "Hi." 

And Steve dives back in. Pressing his lips to Eddie's neck, his tongue sneaking out to taste salty skin. All he wants is this. To lay here and kiss, and grind, and just be close to each other. Nothing else to worry about other than this minute, and the one that follows after.

It might last a month, a year, or a lifetime. Tonight though, he's drunk on the feeling of Eddie under his body, the way they can't seem to get enough of each other. Hands roaming, bodies crushed together.

Steve hasn't felt like this in a long fucking time, if ever. This attracted to someone. Just being with them because you can. 

Because you want to. 

And Steve? He wants to be with Eddie in all the ways.

"Here. Let me readjust," Eddie says, and Steve lifts up his hips, as Eddie sticks his hand down in his jeans, under the waistband without unbuttoning them, into his boxers. It's fucking hot, for some reason.

To see his whole hand disappear, knowing what he's doing. Steve wants that to be his hand. To close around the hard, silky warmth. To feel the weight against his palm. To see if holding another man's cock in his hand actually feels any different. He bets that it does.

Eddie makes the adjustment he needs to make, then pulls his hand back out, and Steve re-lowers himself again to reestablish contact.

Goddamn, now Steve can feel even more of his length. Hard and ready, under him. 

He wants to put his mouth on him. Use every ounce of knowledge he has from girls sucking his cock, and apply them to doing the same to Eddie. Take all the best tricks and move forward, and leave all the worst ones behind in the past. 

He rolls his hips, and Eddie moans, in response, and it makes Steve smile.

"Like that?" he asks, keeping up the same soft, slow roll of his hips.

"Fuck yeah, I like it," Eddie answers, breath catching in his throat, his hands finding Steve's hips, not forcing him to move any faster, nor any harder, just holding him, desperate to feel the motion they're making together.

To hear the sound of the rough denim scratching together in the quiet of the car. Steve had turned the key to accessory mode to keep the radio on, but that went off long ago, now. And he's glad. He just wants to hear the sound of Eddie's breathing, and the rustling noises of their bodies moving together.

They haven't shed a bit of clothing, but they don't need to. This is so good on its own. 

He likes the cramped space, the feeling of being cocooned with him, like they are the only people on earth that matter at this exact moment in time. 

Then, Eddie is twisting under him, and seems to be all knees and elbows. But he squirms, and Steve leans back to see where this is going. He's unsure, but vows to just stay out of his way, and let it play out. He'll follow Eddie's lead, no matter where he's headed.

Surprising Steve, Eddie rolls onto his belly, bumping and jostling Steve the whole time. And Steve watches, trying to let him get situated, just enthralled as Eddie's hands are clearly moving beneath him. Unbuttoning. Unzipping. Then he's pushing his jeans down onto his thighs. Plaid boxers still covering his ass. 

Steve grips his hips, unsure. 

Steve's not even sure what Eddie needs. Or what he needs. He's never had sex with a man before. He's willing, and he wants, oh, he wants, but he can't ask for what he's never had. He doesn't have the words. 

He's not sure Eddie does either. 

But he's pretty sure they can't fuck in a car. He doesn't know much, but he thinks he knows that. 

He's satisfied with this, he'd be satisfied with anything, when it comes to Eddie.

Steve unbuttons his own jeans, pushing them down, and then presses his underwear-clad dick right against Eddie's ass. And presses down, testing, trying it out. He makes small thrusts against him, finding a rhythm and it must be right, because Eddie moans beneath him. 

"Goddamn," Steve breathes out. 

Steve's pretty sure Eddie wants this, maybe more, by the way he's providing the counterpoint. Pushing back, helping keep the rhythm. 

He's never been with a guy before Eddie, but he's been with plenty of girls, and knows horny when he sees it. And Steve wants to fuck him. Wants to slide into him, feel their bodies connected and Eddie all around him. 

Hell, he wants to rub off on him, just like this. Anything. Everything. 

He just wants to make Eddie feel good. He wants them both to feel good. 

"Is it good?" Steve breathes out. 

And Eddie nods. Hair moving. Shaking up and down. 

Steve takes a hand from one of Eddie's hips, and brushes the loose hair from his neck, and then bends down, kissing his slick skin. 

Then, he wants to at least see more. 

So, he pulls down Eddie's boxers, revealing the shock of white skin. He's so pale. Even here in the dark. Maybe even more now that he survived the bats. Like all that lost blood never quite returned to his circulatory system. 

There are jagged scars on his hips, and Steve is familiar with those himself. But they are somehow opposites. Steve's sides still look webbed with streaks of white on tanned skin. Like they were able to heal, but not disappear. Only fading with time. In contrast, Eddie's are dark against his pale skin, still reddened.

They're different, but the same. A matched set, both having survived the same terrible version of hell together.

They made it. Just not unscathed. 

And that's okay. 

Then he grips both of Eddie's ass cheeks, and spreads them apart. It's dark in the car. Nearly too dark to see, everything hidden in shadow, but what he can make out by the moonlight is enticing.

He digs his fingers into Eddie's ass, kneading a little, and then lines up. Cock bumping against Eddie's asshole through the remaining layer of Steve's underwear, and it sends Eddie scrabbling at the leather seats, with no way to find purchase. 

It feels good for Steve, and it clearly does for Eddie, too.

"Fuck me," Eddie whines, begging. 

Steve can't fuck him. Can't just slide inside. No matter how much he wants to. Eddie's not slick and open and ready like a girl, even if he's just as willing. 

But Steve brushes his thumb against his opening, then pulls his thumb back, licks it, getting it wet and sloppy with spit, and does it again. Pressing against his hole, but not trying to push inside. 

Eddie arches off the seat, moaning. 

Steve wants to eat him out. Eating pussy always got him going. Got his dick hard, and ready. He's absolutely certain eating Eddie's ass would do the same. 

He doesn't know how they could possibly make room for that in here, though. 

They'll have to do other stuff. 

Steve presses himself upwards. As close to upright as he can get in the backseat of his car, his head and neck crammed against the roof, the soft lining tickling the back of his neck, as he unbuttons his jeans and wrangles them off his body, struggling with the lack of room.

But getting them off. Tossed out of the way.

And he knows shouldn't, but he does. He pushes his underwear down under his dick, and slides the head of his cock right against Eddie's hole. Pressing against him. Steve's leaking, because he's been leaking all fucking night, making a wet spot in his underwear, but now that helps slick the way.

Not enough to fuck, but enough to glide against him, definitely.

"This okay?" Steve asks. 

"Yes, yes," Eddie answers, "fuck yes."

So, Steve takes his cock in hand, and rubs the head right against Eddie. And Eddie whines, and pushes back. 

Another bead of precum slides out, right against Eddie's warm skin. 

Maybe they could rut here until he finishes between his cheeks. Come splattering his hole. Fuck. The thought. 

But there's more he wants to do first. 

"Flip," Steve says, and with some sloppy, slightly dangerous maneuvering, Eddie does. Again on his back, looking up at Steve. 

Steve pulls his own underwear back up, but forces Eddie's jeans and boxers down even further, until he can slip them off one of Eddie's legs, leaving them dangling off the other. 

Then he heaves Eddie's legs over his shoulders, bumping them on the roof of the car, making Eddie fold himself nearly in half to make the angle in this limited amount of space work. 

Eddie's cock is hard, wet and dripping at the tip, laying back against his belly, begging for attention. But Steve bypasses it. Instead, nudging behind Eddie's balls, and swiping his tongue against his hole. 

Eddie keens, letting out a wild noise that makes Steve's cock throb in his underwear. Getting even wetter.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Eddie whispers, mainly to himself, Steve thinks. 

He looks fucking hot all contorted like this, spine bowed, hands in Steve's hair. Pulling. Tugging. Clawing. 

And Steve keeps licking him, before pressing the tip of his tongue inside, making Eddie gasp. He wonders if he could eat him out enough to loosen him up to fuck.

He'd definitely be willing to try. It's musky and earthy, and not at all bad, even if he feels a little naughty doing this. Especially tasting the salty traces of himself there. As if he's staked his claim. As if the taboo-ness of it makes it even hotter. 

Steve pulls back, and spits on his fingers. This isn't ideal. They can't go from zero-to-fucking, but that seems like exactly what they'd both like to happen tonight. 

But he presses the tip of one inside alongside his tongue.

"I've never," Eddie groans, "uh, never even, oh fuck, gotten head. And Steve Harrington is eating my ass. What is happening?" 

Steve stills at that. Well, leave it to him to skip a few bases. 

He scoots forward, pressing his chest against the back of Eddie's thighs.

"Can I? Can I do that?" Steve asks, searching his eyes.

And Eddie nods, emphatically, "Fuck. Yes. Please. Anything. You can do anything." 

He sounds shocked and borderline hysterical, but in a good way. A really, really good way. 

Steve feels like maybe Eddie's gonna be his undoing. And isn't that a hell of a drug to have rushing through your veins?

Steve wants to slide into the floorboard, but his driver's seat is too far back. 

He can fix that. He lowers Eddie's legs, and leans over the seat, reaching the lever, scooting it up as far as it'll go. 

Then he wedges himself down on the floorboard, and cups Eddie's bare hips. Sliding the still dangling clothes off Eddie's leg, and tosses them up front with his own, out of the way. Eddie's still got his shirt on, but so does Steve, and that's okay. Kinda hot, even.

He takes in the sight of Eddie laying there, cock hard, the base surrounded by wild, dark hair. Even his cock looks like it belongs on Eddie, somehow. 

He's gorgeous. 

"You're gorgeous," Steve tells him, meeting his eyes. 

"Stop," Eddie whines, looking embarrassed. He shouldn't be. He is gorgeous. How nobody else ever did this for him, how they never wanted to see him looking like this, is actually insane. Crazy. 

Steve presses both thumbs onto the dips of his hips, "If you actually want me to stop, say so. If not, I'm gonna eat you alive."

Eddie's dick jerks and bounces at that promise, and Steve grins, "That's what I thought." 

He wraps his hand around Eddie's girth, sliding, giving a slow stroke, before pushing his hand down towards the base of his dick to keep his pubes out of the way, and out of his mouth. Then he lowers his head, sliding the head of Eddie's cock between his lips. Eddie's never gotten head, and Steve's never given it, but they're in this thing together now.

And Steve couldn't be happier about it.

He glides his mouth up and down, not going too far, definitely not brave enough to take him very deep. Eddie doesn't seem to mind, with all the noises he's making. So, Steve keeps it up. Finds a rhythm, using his mouth, his hand, and it doesn't take long. 

Steve feels Eddie's dick harden further, knows that tell-tale sign.

"I'm gonna," Eddie says, and Steve nods, squeezing his hip with his free hand.

And Eddie does. Comes in his mouth, and Steve doesn't know what to do with it. He holds it there for a few seconds, and then lifts his shirttail, and spits in it.

Maybe not the first choice, but it worked, and Steve pulls his now wet shirt over his head, tossing it away with their jeans.

Eddie claws at him, pulling him towards his face, and Steve kisses him. Over and over. Hoping he's tasting himself on Steve's tongue.

Eddie tilts his head, pulling back, and Steve lets him go.

"I. I need," Eddie says, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"What do you need?" Steve asks, hand brushing the hair off his forehead, to get a better look at him. He'll give him anything.

"I need you to eat me out some more," Eddie says, head twisted to the side, not looking at Steve. As if he's embarrassed to ask for this.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, surprised, but happy.

And Eddie nods.

Steve maneuvers his body backwards towards the other door, and then gets Eddie's legs up over his shoulders again, and goes all in. Licking, pressing in with his tongue. Eddie's whole body is loose from his orgasm, and sliding the tip of his tongue inside is a little easier, now. So, he licks, and presses his tongue flat against the furled skin, loving the sounds Eddie makes. Breathy moans, heady whines.

"Steve, Steve," Eddie says, "Can you? Can you fuck me?"

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's sweat-slick skin, "Are you sure? We don't have to do this now. We can wait. Do it right."

"Do it now," Eddie begs, "do it, do it." 

Okay, Steve will do it now. If he can. If he has anything to make that happen. He digs around in his bag on the other side of the floorboard, and comes up with a strip of three condoms. But nothing to use as lube.

The condoms are lubricated, and he opens all three, sliding one on his dick, and then getting all the lube off the others as best as he can. With that, and the foreplay, he thinks it just might be enough. 

It's not a lot of lube to work with, but he's finally knuckle deep, and Eddie's making good noises. Which he finds encouraging. 

"Have you ever?" Steve asks, twisting his finger, and then adding a second. Eddie groans, and presses back against his hand. And well, he's not acting like this is the first time something's been in his ass.

"Only to myself," Eddie says, and Steve puts that on the list of things to try alone, now. To see what it feels like. Steve wishes Eddie were slicker, but this is what they've got to work with. 

He'll have to see if it's enough, now.

"If it hurts, let me know. We'll stop." 

"I like a little pain," Eddie admits. 

"Well, if it's bad pain and not the good kind, speak up," Steve tells him. He definitely doesn't want to hurt him. What a shitty first time that would be.

Eddie nods, and Steve starts pressing the head of his cock against Eddie with steady, solid pressure. Not rushing, but not pussy footing around, either. He's not scared of sex. It's one thing that he feels confident about, and he can't see why that'd change today. 

But it's not slick enough. Eddie doesn't give under him. Not at all. Fuck. 

He pulls back. 

"What? No," Eddie says, reaching for him. 

"This is gonna hurt like this, there's gotta be something in here we can use," Steve says. 

Because there has to be something. Anything. 

And he hits the jackpot. A bottle of aloe vera in the console. Left over from summer, he's sure. When the girls wanted to get oiled up to tan faster, and Robin just burned. Badly. 

He squirts some on his fingers, and presses one inside Eddie. The sound Eddie makes is something he'll take to the grave. It was that good. 

Once he has him slicked up and even more open, he's gone a little soft from the concentration, and when he tries to get filled out and the condom back on right, it tears. Fuck. And he used all the others he had trying to get some lube off of them.

He crawls on top of Eddie, putting the bottle down by his head, "Please tell me you have a condom in your wallet. 

"I don't," Eddie admits. 

And Steve punches out a breath, cupping Eddie's cheek, "That's okay. Next time."

He presses his mouth to Eddie's, tongue sliding back in. Eddie wraps one arm around his back, and tilts up his hips. 

Then he takes his other, working it between them, guiding the tip of Steve's cock right against him. 

And Steve moves his hips to rub against him. 

"Oh," Eddie breathes out, "Oh, Jesus Christ. Fuck. Goddamn." 

Steve grins, "That's what I like to hear." 

And Eddie laughs. Steve likes to hear that even more. 

"Fuck me," Eddie says. 

"I don't have-" 

"And I don't care right now. I've never been with anyone, so this is your call." 

Steve's good. Eddie knows it, too. Robin made them all get tested at some event in Chicago, where she was stretching her little lesbian wings, both of them just along for the ride. 

They shouldn't. But they could.

"Steve." 

And Steve nods. 

He inches in, head of his cock popping past that tight ring of muscle, then letting Eddie adjust. Even as it feels like a fucking vice grip on his dick. He wonders what it feels like to be on the receiving end. He hopes he gets to be on the other side of this, and soon.

"I can't wait until I get to do this," Steve says, because he can't. He wants it. He wants it all. 

"I'm almost ready, I think," Eddie answers, and Steve screws up his face, thinking. Finally realizing. 

"Not that," Steve says, hands running down Eddie's thighs, loving the feel of the hair there, tickling his palm. He's so fucking bisexual that he isn't sure how he ignored it until Eddie. Like, it seems absurd, now. 

"Not that, take all the time you need," Steve says, reaching his hand down, touching where they are connected. "This. I can't wait until you fuck me. If you want to. Do you want to?" 

"Fuck, Steve," Eddie says, "of course I want to. But if you keep making me think about that, I'm gonna come again before we even get started." 

Steve might just have the same problem. He's never been inside anyone without a condom before, and he's never done anal at all. He's overwhelmed, overstimulated, in the best way. 

Steve chuckles, stroking Eddie's skin, laying a kiss on the inside of his knee, then resting his cheek there, eyes still gazing towards Eddie's face, "Okay. I'll quit." 

"Thank you," Eddie teases, rocking back just a little, clenching down on Steve. 

Testing. Trying it out. And even if it's hard to stay still, so hard Steve swears he's about to break a sweat from it, he lets Eddie go at his own pace until he's sliding up and down on Steve's cock.

It's over fast. Before it really starts, honestly. They just barely get a rhythm going, Eddie fisting his own dick, then groaning as he clenches down on Steve as he comes. That's all it takes, Steve has to make a decision, "In or out?"

"Are you crazy? In," Eddie demands, tightening his legs around Steve, punctuating his answer. Steve thrusts a handful more times, uneven and hurling towards the point of no return, before following him over the edge. 

Coming inside Eddie. 

Goddamn.

After he catches his breath, he slips out, watching, and slides back into the floorboard, knees against rough carpet, and immediately presses his tongue to Eddie's cock-loosened hole. 

"Oh, fuck. I died. I died, the bats got me, and this all in my poor, oxygen deprived head," Eddie rambles, and Steve pulls back to laugh. That's when he sees that Eddie has the back of his hand on his forehead, like he's in fear of fainting. 

He's ridiculous.

"I'm hypoxic."

So ridiculous. 

"Not likely." 

And Steve puts his tongue back on Eddie, in him, tasting himself. And the bitter aloe. But mainly himself. He's fucking his tongue in and out, just eating him the fuck out some more. If Eddie wants this, Steve's happy to be face-deep forever. 

In fact, this is gonna be his new thing. He's decided. 

He gets lost in the feeling. He only takes breaks to bury his nose in Eddie's pubes, inhaling the musky smell of him. He feels like a pervert, but doesn't fucking care. Eddie's a self-proclaimed freak, and by god, Steve's gonna be a freak right along with him.

"Steve. Steve," Eddie says, and Steve finally pulls back. Eyes heavy, and hooded.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie says, pulling on him, tugging until he slides up his body, mouths sliding together, slick.

Getting lost in just being together. Basking in the afterglow, the heady smell of sex surrounding them in the car.

Bodies grinding. And Eddie is hard again, but so is Steve. How long was he down there? And when can he go back?

Eddie starts wiggling, and rolls over, again. Like he can't stay still. But it's worth it. Now, his ass is right there. Pretty, used hole looking right back at Steve. 

He's gonna put his tongue in it again. 

"Again," Eddie says, and Steve doesn't need to be told twice. He moves to scoot down, but Eddie whines, "Your dick. Not your tongue, even if that's gonna be the star of every wet dream I have from now until my inevitable demise." 

"Okay, okay," Steve says, smiling at his weird, but endearing, rambling as he slicks himself back up, squirting more aloe on Eddie, watching as he jumps, "Sorry. Cold, I know."

Then he slides right back inside. No resistance now, all slick give, and soft moans. Hole gripping him, sucking him in, as if it wants him there as much as he wants to be there.

Fucking him for real this time. The edge off, so he's able to actually set a rhythm. And in the moonlit car, he watches his cock slide in and out of Eddie. 

Then he slides all the way out, and rubs the head of his cock against the warm, welcoming opening, the place he's meant to be, just teasing Eddie as he gets to watch. The sight of Eddie stretching, opening, as the head of his cock finally slips back inside, is so fucking hot. 

"I wish you could see this," Steve says, then adds, "because, fuck, I love…this," Steve says, catching himself, pivoting his words, and Eddie laughs, which makes him clench around Steve.

"I love you, too," Eddie says, not letting him get by with it, and Steve presses in all the way, stopping. Chest heaving, tears burning his eyes. 

"You do?" Steve asks, desperate for that to be true. 

"Don't be obtuse," Eddie says, and Steve's not exactly sure what that means, but he gets the message. Loud and clear. And then Eddie doubles down, and it's music to Steve's ears, hearing him say, "Of course I love you." 

Steve pulls almost all the way out, and slams back in. A punctuation, as he says, "I love you. I love you, too." 

And he fucking does. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesmuttyseptember and follow along with the filthy fun! 💦

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 4608

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30s), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist

Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal

Previously:

This may be (and hopefully is) Bucky's last day as a Hydra patient, but that doesn't mean he won't have some group classes and therapies left to attend with the other boys in his cohort that afternoon and evening. Steve will just have to find a way to fill his own time, leave Bucky to his schedule, and hang in there while he gets the ball rolling to secure Bucky's release into his custody.

That afternoon, Steve completes a plethora of paperwork. He submits his recommendation for Bucky’s care, fills out a formal application for custody, and hands in his letter of resignation to Raynor.

He’s completely transparent with her about his intentions, and Christina isn’t just fair in her response: she seems downright pleased. She does call him a traitor for leaving Hydra, but she’s smirking when she says it, so Steve knows he’ll still be getting a stellar reference from her.

He is officially quitting, but Bucky’s still a patient on-ward—with all the services afforded one—for at least the next twenty-four hours. So to avoid interrupting his scheduled therapies and groups, Steve tries to keep himself busy, closing out his cases and saying goodbye to some of his more friendly coworkers. Hydra Sanatorium might not be the nicest or the most well-funded place, but for a county-run institution it’s always done the best it can with what it has for the people who come through its halls. Lord knows Steve has. After five years of working there, doing his best to help the people that he could, Steve hopes he made some sort of a difference. In one case, at least, he knows he has.

Later in the day, he goes looking for Bucky and finds him with the rest of his cohort in the soft room. A lot of the boys are napping, the rest of them engaged in various stimming activities. Steve doesn’t immediately spot Bucky, but the room attendant points him towards one of the nesting pods. When Steve pokes his head through the little circular opening into the cave-like space, sure enough there his boy is: nestled amongst an impressive collection of blankets, throws and pillows.

Inside it smells heavenly, Bucky’s scent built up in the air. All sexually mature omegas experience something called persistent genital arousal, or PGA. It can be more debilitating for some, and it’s definitely more intense at certain points of their cycles, but in general Steve’s heard it described as a low-level thrum of arousal—like what one might feel from touching themselves idly from over their underwear while watching mediocre porn. Essentially, omegas really do always have sex on the brain.

The resultant smell they give off is, of course, one easy identifying marker for any omega out in public, and Bucky is no exception. The nesting pod is already thick with his scent, sweet and cloying, and Steve finds himself breathing in deeply to get more of it as he crawls inside. He smiles when Bucky’s sleepy eyes peek open and register his presence. The boy is beautiful. “Hey,” Steve murmurs.

Bucky lets loose a huge yawn and stretches with a lazy smile, his hair all floofed in different directions and his eyes nothing but puffy, squinty slits. “Stteeeve,” he hums, reaching for him with grabby hands. “Mmm. C’mere.”

How could he ever resist? Steve crawls over and settles next to him, pulling their bodies close together. “Hey you.”

Bucky’s already purring as he wriggles up against him. “Mmm. Hi.” He shoves his face into Steve’s chest and rubs his cheek against his pec, scenting him. “I took’a nap.”

“I can see that.” Steve’s mood is already in the stratosphere, because he’s suffused with Bucky’s scent: happy, safe, content—and yes, mildly aroused—omega. It’s infectious, making Steve’s body respond with all of those same feelings and more. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here, tucked into a tiny, warm nesting space with his omega. 

“His” omega, because Steve’s already started thinking of him that way. The transition feels almost seamless, feels natural, like maybe Bucky was his long before he knew it. He rumbles in his chest to match the boy’s purr and holds him close. “Missed you,” he murmurs, speaking against the softness of his hair. “How’s your day been?”

They’ve only been apart for a few hours, but after the intensity of their morning together, Steve hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky’s wellbeing all day, even though he knows he’d left him in a good place, mentally. He’d made sure to bring him down from the high of their sensory session, had tenderly changed him and dressed him in warm, soft clothes, checked that his body’s lingering confusion from the therapy wasn’t anything that was going to cause him discomfort or distress during the day. He’d personally escorted him to his life skills group, kissing him on the cheek and promising to find him later, even watching from the doorway for a few long minutes until he could be certain that Bucky was relaxed and taking to the company of others well.

Now, in the safe confines of the nest, Steve kisses his hair again. “Good?”

Bucky does a happy little wiggle. “Mmm, good,” he mumbles, still seeking contact through the way he rubs himself against Steve’s body. “Missed you.”

It’s like he can’t get close enough, like he’s stubbornly trying to dig himself a space inside of Steve. It’s adorable. Steve smiles and rubs his back. “Me too, Honey. I’ve been getting a lot of things sorted out, so that I can take care of you after today. If you want.”

Bucky peeks up at him. “‘If I want?’”

“Yeah.” He knows that this is a talk they need to have, now that Bucky’s sober and fully back in his head. Steve doesn’t think there’s a high chance that Bucky’s going to change his mind, but they still have to discuss it. Because Steve would be a bad person—and a garbage Alpha support—if he didn’t give him the chance to decide for himself now.

And he’s going to have to tell Bucky about the castration issue. As much as Steve hates it, he can’t deny the sheer medical facts. It’ll help Bucky. His body produces too much testosterone as it is, his testes given too much time to develop before he finally presented. They’ve always known that the elevated hormones are part of what contributes to Bucky’s aggression and his struggles. Steve takes a deep breath and forces composure into his voice. “So, my boss asked me to put in my recommendation for you.”

“Recommendation for what?”

“Um, since your folks signed over custody, the state is in charge of you now until you turn twenty-five. That is, unless you find an alpha guardian to take care of you in a personal capacity. But you know, Hydra isn’t really … it’s more of an acute care facility, right? So even if you didn’t have an Alpha, you’d still have to go somewhere else, like a group home or a treatment facility that’s geared toward longer term stays. My boss asked me to submit my assessment of what your needs are and where you should go. It’s called an ongoing care plan.”

In his arms, Bucky tenses up. “My ongoing care?” he repeats, uncertain.

“Yeah Honey.” Steve tries to smile reassuringly. “There are lots of places where you could go to live other than with me, if you wanted. Nice places.”

Bucky’s face crumples in distress and he keens lowly. “But I … I mean, I thought …” His lip trembles. “You changed your mind? Don’t you want me?”

“What?” Steve’s heart sinks at the way Bucky’s looking at him—as if he’s just revoked a promise Bucky had been counting on. “Oh, Honey,” he mourns, pulling him in close again. He cradles his head and kisses over his hair in apology. “No, no bub. I do want you. I was just trying to be fair and give you all of your options. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. Didn’t want you to feel like you had to make that choice to go with me.”

It’s immediately obvious that his words calm Bucky down. The scent of distress dissipates as quickly as it had formed, and their dimly lit nesting pod is once again filled with nothing but cozy, happy omega pheromones. Bucky butts his head into Steve’s chest and grumbles at him for having scared him. “I always want to go with you, Steve. I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

Steve strokes his back. “Okay, okay. I understand.” His hands dip under the soft fabric of Bucky’s top, tracing up the vertebrae of his spine. It feels good to have the connection of their naked skin again. Steve hums and flushes, aware of his cock having a vague but growing interest. It’s all chubbed up in his briefs, tingling with a low level of arousal. And even though he has little intention of doing anything about it right now, it’s still nice to feel when he’s close to Bucky like this. He turns in towards him a little more, pressing him back and down into the nest with his bodyweight. The boy’s legs part for him on instinct and Steve hums, pleased. He slots his thigh between Bucky’s legs and tucks his face into his neck. “I just want to make you happy, Buck,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you have to do anything other than what you really want. And if it takes you time to figure that out, then you’re allowed to take your time.”

“Nooo, Steeeve. I want you to be my Alpha. I don’t need to take time. S’stupid.”

Steve scoffs fondly. “Oh yeah?” He searches out the slight swell of Bucky’s bonding glands beneath the skin, closes his lips over the spot, and sucks. Bucky gives a surprised little ‘meep!’ of a sound, then pretty much melts full-body into the blankets. Steve chuckles. “There’s a lot that comes with that, you know. Having an Alpha you’re bonded to is different than just what we do here.”

“Mmm. Yeah. Like you said before, in the bathroom when my tummy was full. You said you could be my for-real Alpha.”

Steve kisses where he’d sucked, the spot now pinked and swollen. “Do you know what that means?” he whispers. “To have a for-real Alpha?” Bucky shivers pleasantly in response to the question, but Steve’s not just asking to get him worked up over it. “Buck,” he prods gently. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Means you’d be in charge a’ me,” Bucky sighs, his scent shifting as he grows more aroused. Beneath Steve, he squirms purposefully against the weight of his body. “I’d live with you, right?”

“Yeah. You’d come live with me and I’d be in charge of you.” Steve nuzzles against him, not missing the way that Bucky’s breath catches in a tiny little sound of pleasure. “Hey now, you might not always like that.” He playfully nips his skin. “There might be times when you’re mad as a hornet at me. That won't change anything. I’ll still be your Alpha. You’ll still have to listen.”

“... Could I still call you Daddy?”

Steve groans and turns his face away from Bucky's neck while the omega giggles at his reaction. “Yeah, Buck. You could.”

“Mmm, and you’ll still call me bub?” he asks, looking up with shining eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. “I um … I kinda always liked that you called me that. Even back when I was new and mean to you and stuff.”

Steve smiles tenderly at him. “I know, bub. That’s why I always did.” He kisses him softly, just once, on the lips. The first time he’s ever let himself do so.

Bucky’s wide-eyed by the time Steve pulls back, looking like a whole new world of possibilities has just been opened up to him. “Oh, man,” he breathes. “Do we get to have sex whenever we want?”

Steve laughs, taken aback. “Buck,” he scolds, but he’s already dipping back down to kiss him again. “Yes. Though I do have to keep a day job, so you can’t go full-on nymphomaniac on me.” Bucky whines and Steve kisses back down to his neck and seals his lips over his tender glands to suck some more. “Mmm, you’re swollen here, Honey,” he murmurs, kissing the spot, thinking that he’ll have to check the kid’s chart to see if he’s nearing estrus. It’d make sense, given how reactive he’s been lately. And, oh god, they’ll definitely need birth control. Steve would love to breed Bucky up, but that’s not something they should take lightly. It’s too soon to pup him, not when so much else is in flux, and Steve still needs to tackle the castration issue with him. There’s a lot to be done. Everything is changing. Steve sucks hard on his glands in one, long pull.

“Oohh,” Bucky moans, both hands coming up to run through Steve’s hair. “Oh, S-steve. Mmm. That feels so good.” He hitches his leg up higher on Steve’s hip, rocking against him, and Steve indulges him by driving his thigh forward to give him more firmness to grind on. Bucky whimpers and jerks. “Oh!”

“Mm hm.” Steve gently scrapes his teeth over the swollen spot on his neck. “I’ll need to bond you, if you’re living in my household long term.”

Bucky whimpers and nods, hips shoving up harder at the feeling of the alpha’s mouth on his glands. “Okay,” he gasps. “Yeah, Steve, do it. I'm ready.” His fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders and he cranes his head further to the side, presenting himself for a bite.

Steve chuckles, the sound morphing into a groan at the end as he denies himself and moves his face away. “Mmm. Not right now, silly. You need to be in heat for that to stick.” He gives him a peck on the lips. “Besides, it’s supposed to be something special.”

“Special?”

“Mm hm.” It kind of breaks Steve’s heart that Bucky doesn’t know this, though he supposes the kid couldn’t possibly have had many positive exposures to A/o relationships, growing up with the family he did. Steve kisses him again, explaining, “We’ll make it nice. Relaxing. Bonding is something special we’ll do in private.” They may currently be sequestered in this dark little space, but Steve sure doesn’t count a communal nesting pod in a state-run Sanatorium to be the appropriate place for such an important, intimate act.

He crawls off of Bucky and moves over to the side, sitting up in the mounds of soft nesting materials with his back against the pod’s wall. “C’mere.”

Bucky happily crawls over to sit in his lap. He straddles him, and Steve’s hands settle at his hips. Steve smiles at the bright teal clothes the kid is wearing now. After their sensory session that morning, he’d helped Bucky to get changed, and teal pants with a tangerine top was what the omega had wanted to wear. “All these years of navy blue,” Steve teases. “And it was just you being stubborn, huh?”

Bucky huffs and squirms, but he doesn’t deny it. “I always liked the colorful ones. I just never picked ‘em because I … I didn’t want to be this way,” he admits softly, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Didn’t want to be just another omega. Dumb and drooling in my rainbow patterned sweatsuits.”

“Bucky,” Steve chides. “That’s not nice. The other boys on-ward don’t deserve that kind of talk, do they? ”

Bucky flushes and looks away. “No,” he mumbles. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean it.”

Steve sighs. Just because Bucky wants to be with him doesn’t mean that the kid’s suddenly going to be well-adjusted. He's got so much internalized omegaphobia from being raised by his asshole parents, it isn't even funny. Steve gives his waist a squeeze and tells him, “Hey: you’re still going to have to go to some therapy, bub. I hope you realize that. Just because you’re leaving here doesn’t mean there won’t be rules and discipline. It doesn’t mean you don’t still have issues you need to work on.”

Bucky grumps about that a little, but eventually he nods his head in understanding. “What rules?” he asks shyly. “‘Discipline’?”

“Mmhm. That mean consequences if you act up. I’ll never be harsh with you, Honey, but being someone’s Alpha also means correcting their misbehavior.”

“Like … like spanking?”

“It could be, yeah.” Steve personally believes in gentle domestic discipline for omegas, so long as it’s administered fairly. He watches Bucky’s reaction carefully. “How does that make you feel, hm? If you knew you might get spanked if you did wrong?”

Bucky squirms a little in his lap before he’ll admit, “I dunno. Maybe embarrassed but … kinda nice, too.”

Steve tilts his head to try and catch Bucky’s eyes. “Nice?” he prods.

“Yeah. Kinda.” Bucky pouts and shrugs. “I dunno. I guess it just, um … it makes it seem like you care about me. Like you’re enjoying takin’ care of me.”

Steve’s heart warms, and he kisses Bucky’s forehead. “I do, baby. I care about you a whole lot, okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky sits there thinking it over, sucking his lip into his mouth and releasing it repeatedly. “What are the rules gonna be?”

“Oh, well … I don't know them all yet, but we'll figure it out. Just be good in general, I guess. Don’t make messes, don’t be rude to people, listen to what I tell you to do. That sort of stuff. My place is in Flatbush, not too far from here. You’ll have to be good, stay there when I go to work. I’m looking at changing jobs, so we might have some time together to start off at first, but then you’ll need to mind yourself when I’m away.”

"I'll be good," Bucky promises, sounding adorably determined. It makes Steve smile.

"I know, bub." He strokes the side of Bucky’s head, running his fingers through the soft curls that he’s come to love so much. “We’ll make you an area in the apartment to nest up real nice, just the way you like it. And I can get some stimming tools if you need ‘em, for during the day. I don’t want to see you ignoring your needs like you have been.” At Bucky’s hips, he digs his fingers in meaningfully, crinkling the plastic of the diaper beneath. “And these,” he says, arching a knowing eyebrow when Bucky peeks up at him. “You still need to wear them.”

Bucky looks mortified, but he does eventually give a reluctant nod. “I know,” he grumbles. “I wasn’t gonna argue about it.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm mn.” He’s blushing and avoidant, bites his lip and tries to wiggle away, but stills when Steve holds fast. He sighs. “I mean I guess I don’t hate ‘em so much.”

“No?”

“Mmn. Not … not when it’s just in private,” he admits. “Sometimes they even make me feel kinda, I dunno, kinda safe. … And when you take care of me with ‘em. That part feels really good.”

Jesus. Steve grips him harder and rumbles deep in his chest, praising him for his honesty. “That’s good, Honey. That’s what they’re for.”

Bucky’s physical level of need for the diapers isn’t actually all that high. He has the same small, spastic bladder that most omegas do, and he suffers from the typical pattern of stress incontinence. Most of his wetting occurs when he’s upset, aroused, or asleep. He could feasibly attempt daily life without them, though accidents would happen. But beyond the practical, it’s the emotional impact of wetting that’s so huge for someone like Bucky. That’s why consistent diapering has always been part of his therapeutic program at Hydra. It’s one routine that Steve intends to maintain once he’s got Bucky home and living with him. “It’s nothing to be worried over,” he reminds gently. “Remember what we talked about?”

Bucky sniffles and nods. “... S’normal,” he recites, voice tiny. “Lots of omegas wear ‘em.”

“That’s right,” Steve praises. “And Alphas don’t care. We like taking care of you. We like seeing you feeling safe, and knowing when it feels good for you.” He sees the color rise in Bucky’s cheeks and hums knowingly. “It’s okay when you enjoy the feeling, bub. Like how you did this morning? That’s totally okay.” Bucky whines and squirms a little, and Steve shushes him. “Hey now: I mean it.”

He uses his grip on Bucky’s hips to rock him in his lap a little, and Bucky squeaks and grabs onto his shoulders, pushing into the motion reactively before he can shame himself out of it. Steve hums, pleased. He leans in and takes Bucky's mouth in another, coaxing kiss. That seems to be the key to disarming the boy. He moans and gives another uninhibited roll of his hips. He keeps going, grinding against Steve’s crotch and panting quietly.

Steve smiles and holds him while he rocks. Ever since he ducked into the nest, he’s been able to smell the general level of arousal that Bucky always carries with him. But now it’s heavier, the distinct scent of new slick and a more urgent sort of need coming to the forefront. All Steve’s talk of discipline and acceptance and care has gotten Bucky worked up. He hums encouragingly as the omega stims himself against his lap. “Aw, Sweetie. There you go. That feel good?”

“Ah, uh huh,” Bucky pants quietly, eyes going a little muzzy as he starts to lose focus. “Oh, Steve, ff-feels good, nnngh …”

“Good. That’s all I want, honey. Just want you to be happy and feel so good. Don’t need to worry about a thing, okay? Cause I’m your Alpha and I like you just like this. Rocking in my lap, doing what feels nice, just being a sweet n’ happy omega for me.”

Bucky chirps in a way that he rarely does, his hips juddering forward hard. “Oh! Steve I … I have to …” He squeaks and tosses forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck and whining plaintively.

Steve tuts and wraps his arms around him, still guiding him in the rocking motion. “What’s up, bub, huh? You have to go?”

Bucky nods fast against his shoulder. “Nnn! But, but …” He shakes his head back and forth, trying to fight it. “Nngh …”

“Okay, okay Honey. You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Steve wraps his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck and grabs him in a firm scruff. He slides it up into his hair and pulls, using his grip to guide him back a little. Bucky yelps and meets him with wide eyes. “Shhhh,” Steve hushes, shoving his other hand down inside the front of Bucky’s pants. Bucky’s eyes go even wider. “It’s okay, bub,” he soothes, hand cupping the bulk of the padding and rubbing. “I know you just don’t get it. And this is me showin’ you. Cause I’m gonna keep you right here, and I’m not moving my hand until you let go for me.”

Really, he’s sure he’ll have Bucky naked and straight up wetting in the middle of sex in the very near future, but for now this’ll do. They are still in the hospital, after all, and this is still a communal nesting pod they’re in. If nothing else, Steve knows that the orderlies would not appreciate the mess.

Bucky gulps in a huge shaky breath and nods frantically, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes as he gets overwhelmed. “Okay, okay,” he pants, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders fiercely while his squirming gets frantic. “Oh god, S-ssteve …”

Steve kisses his forehead, murmuring non stop praise and love at him. Finally, Bucky tenses up and goes stock still. “Theere it is,” Steve coaxes, jostling his hand as he feels the warmth start to spread. Bucky moans and loses control completely, going limp as a noodle against Steve’s front and panting as he loses control. “Good boy.” Steve keeps murmuring it against his skin, giving pulses on the swollen crotch of the diaper with one hand and petting up and down his back with the other. “Good boy. That’s my good boy, Bucky. So good.”

Bucky doesn’t go all embarrassed, after. He stays a little dazed, in his head, chirping and humming at Steve when he encourages him to come out of the nest. They walk together to the bathroom, and Bucky does speak on and off when prompted; little 'yeah's and 'no's' and ‘okay’s. So he’s not quite non-verbal, and he’s definitely not in a fugue or a fit of any sort. No. He’s just a soft, contented, aroused ball of very happy omega.

In the bathroom on the changing bed, Steve is hardly surprised to find a pool of slick and a chubbed up little cock underneath the diaper. “Would you look at that,” he chuckles, going about cleaning him up. Bucky starts to whimper afterwards as he’s lying there, clean but exposed and untouched. “Please,” he begs, proving that he can, in fact, speak. “Please Steve?”

“Of course, Honey.” He wasn’t planning on denying him, poor thing. Steve smooths his hands over Bucky’s inner thighs, right up to the crease of his groin. He brushes his fingers over his half hard penis, back and forth a few times, just teasing it lightly. “How do you want me to make you cum?” he asks, only anticipating that Bucky will either ask him to touch his cocklet or else use penetration. He is not prepared for the kid’s breathless request of,

“Suck me, please.”

He freezes, taken aback. Oral sex—giving or receiving—is not permitted between Alpha Supports and their patients on the ward. Steve’s not precisely sure why, when digital and device-aided penetration is done every single day, but at some point in history, some guy writing the rules drew the line at oral. Anything that could be easily twisted to gratify the Alpha support rather than the omega patient is strictly forbidden. Steve has actually never given head to an omega before—patient or otherwise.

But he’s suddenly, achingly hard at the thought of doing so. “Oh, Honey ...” he hedges. “I don't know if ...” He grimaces at the pleading look on Bucky’s face, the anxious, wanting pinch in his brow, and finds himself throwing all his reservations aside. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s been professional long enough. Bucky’s going to be his by this time tomorrow, anyways. “Okay, Baby,” he says, giving in and rubbing over the boy’s belly with one hand. “Okay. You want that? Want to feel Daddy’s mouth on your sweet prick?”

Bucky keens and nods, “Yeah, please.”

“You ask so sweet,” Steve praises, sinking down his body, trailing kisses from his neck to his chest, down to his belly and the base of the sweet little cocklet he’s got between his legs. Steve tells him how pretty it is as he kisses it, mouthing over the softness. It’s only half hard, never really getting rigid, but it's still more to play with than the average omega has. Steve pulls him into his mouth and sucks until he gets an orgasm out of him. Bucky shudders hugely, his little prick squirting a tiny bit of useless seminal fluid, but nothing more. Steve pulls off, rubbing his inner thighs soothingly as he comes down from it. “Good?” he asks.

Bucky shudders and nods, smiling dreamily. “Thank you, Alpha,” he breathes. “We can do that all the time?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, Honey. There’s nothing off limits anymore once I take you home with me. You can touch me and ask me to touch you any way you like. Whatever you’re curious about.” Steve is well aware that, outside of his treatment on-ward, Bucky is very sexually inexperienced. There’ll be a lot of firsts, once Steve brings him home.

Bucky's eyes have slipped closed, and Steve takes a moment to stare. He pets his belly, trailing his hand down to the boy’s wet little cock and further down to his balls. He plays with the soft skin, considering him. Bucky’s shrunk up some in the past three years, but he’s still bigger than he should be. Steve imagines what he’ll look like, after the procedure. There’ll be a bare space there, room to press and stimulate him. Steve's never had much of a preference with male omegas, finding both the little pocket of looser skin left after a castration and the tiny, coin purse sac of an intact omega to be attractive, in their own ways. But he can’t deny that he likes the aesthetics of a cut omega.

“Bucky?” he says softly. “There’s something I have to talk with you about, something we’re gonna have to do eventually. And I don’t want you to be scared, so hear me out, okay?” He waits until Bucky opens his eyes, a little wrinkle of worry forming between his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks.

Steve cups his sac and rubs it gently. “Here,” he murmurs. “You’ll need to have these removed, Sweetheart. Do you know about that?”

Bucky tenses. “What? N-no,” he looks pleadingly up at Steve. “Why?!”

“It’s something they’ve had written down in your chart for a while,” Steve admits. “I’ve avoided bringing it up until now. We had more short term parts of your treatment plan to work on, and I didn’t want to upset you. But I’m going to bond you, Sweetheart, and I gotta take care of you. This is what all your doctors have been recommending.”

Bucky keens miserably. “I don’t want to. Please. Please don’t make me.”

Steve hushes him, rubbing his belly and cupping his balls. “It’s such a simple procedure, Sweetheart. Lots of omegas are cut. Your body had a little too much time to develop. Remember how we talked about that?”

Bucky whimpers and nods uncertainly. “Y-yeah.”

“You’re bigger than most omegas down here,” Steve tells him gently. “Your body’s making hormones that you don’t need. It gets you all confused. That’s part of what makes you get so angry sometimes.”

Bucky whimpers. “Will it hurt?” he asks tearfully.

It’s such a naive question that it makes Steve’s heart ache. “No, Honey,” he soothes. “Not very much at all. You’ll just go to sleep while they do it. And then you’ll have nice pain medicine to keep you comfy while you heal. We’ll get you nested up at home. You’ll probably sleep a lot. You can watch movies and eat as much ice cream as you want,” he coaxes. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Bucky sniffles. “I don’t wanna.”

“I know, I know. It’s new and scary, but it’ll be so simple, I promise. I’ll be right there to take care of you, okay?”

Bucky sniffles for a few more minutes, but then he nods meekly, giving in. “Okay,” he whispers. “You’ll be with me the whole time?”

Steve bends down to kiss him. “The whole time,” he assures. “You’re such a good boy, Bucky. It’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate to nod this time, and Steve rumbles low in his chest, pleased. “Good boy,” he praises. “Once you’re healed it’ll feel nice,” he promises. “You’ll have an easier time getting pleasure from here.” He touches Bucky’s hole gently, circling the rim. “Release will be easier.”

Bucky’s still nervous, Steve can smell it on him. But he calms down enough for Steve to get him in a fresh diaper and dressed again. He can hardly believe the conversation went the way it did. If Steve had attempted to talk about this during Bucky's last stay on-ward, he's nearly positive he would've had a meltdown on his hands. But Bucky accepted it so easily.

“So proud of you, bub,” he praises. “Come on. Let’s go get you some lunch, huh?”

By four fifty, he’s said goodnight to Bucky and promised to be back the very next day, when he’ll see him discharged from his stay on-ward and bring him home. He clocks out and takes the train to a specialty omega shop up in Queens, where, along with a bunch of nesting supplies, he purchases Bucky a nice collar to go home in. It’s pricey and has all the bells and whistles, from inflation features and removable D rings, to insertable scent chambers and a GPS locator. Steve figures he must really be giving off the 'new Alpha' vibe, because the saleswoman smiles at him indulgently and says “congratulations” as she’s ringing up his purchases.

"Oh. Thanks." He blushes and tries to keep a straight face, but can't help but wind up beaming anyway.

At home he takes the tags off all of the purchases and sets them aside tidy and ready for Bucky, excited about how the kid will react when he sees his new things and gets to experience someone taking care of him properly and spoiling him for the first time in his life.

Geez, Steve thinks, by tomorrow he’s going to have an omega living with him. He feels giddy about it. Even with knowing Bucky’s personal issues surrounding his designation, Steve still isn’t worried. He cares so deeply for Bucky, loves him even, at this point. And he knows that no matter what obstacles they may face going forward, this is the best thing that he could do for the omega.

He flits about the apartment that evening, full of nervous energy but in a fantastic mood. He shoots off a few emails, one to Sam, inquiring about job possibilities at Shield or other local private practices. Even if there isn’t a position available at Sam’s firm, Steve is still very confident in his ability to find a new job. He’s got excellent qualifications, and omega healthcare is a chronically understaffed field. He’ll have to give up the role of support Alpha, though. At least in a sexual capacity. It wouldn’t be fair to put Bucky through that, coming home each day smelling of other omegas. Steve couldn’t do that to him.

He tries to fill his evening up with distractions, but it’s hard. He surfs a few job boards half-assedly, scent marks the stuff he bought for Bucky, makes a microwave dinner that he can barely taste, and watches an episode of a show he’s been following. Nothing gets his mind off Bucky for long. He’s simply too elated and impatient for the next day to arrive. So when eleven P.M. rolls around and he’s still wired as fuck, he goes rooting through the medicine cabinet, downing four Benadryl tablets in an effort to get at least a modicum of sleep in for tomorrow.

Predictably, he wakes up earlier than usual. Rather than closing his eyes again until his alarm goes off, he forces himself to don sneakers and go for his usual morning run, pounding out a few extra miles because he’s got the time and because he needs to burn off some of this nervous energy. He goes back home, showers, changes. He heads for the Sanatorium with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a skip in his step. 

God, he thinks as he keys into the hospital’s ground floor, the building really is ugly: very outdated, institutional, depressing. He’s gotten so used to it over the past five years. He’s glad that Bucky won’t ever have to come through its halls again.

Stanley isn’t at the security desk when he passes by, and Steve’s kind of glad, since for the first time in a long time he’s forgotten to grab their usual morning pastries. He leans through the security window and snatches his badge from the wall, heading for the elevators.

Raynor intercepts him at the double doors leading onto the ward, her mouth set in a grim line.

Instantly, Steve is on high alert, tension pulling through his body. “What happened?” he says, already panicking that something awful has happened to Bucky in the last sixteen hours. “Is he hurt?”

“No. His parents showed up. Come on.”

Steve’s guts sink and harden with dread, yet at the same time he doesn’t really have the chance to work himself into a true panic, because they’re on the move. Raynor marches straight to the conference room, inside of which they find a somber-faced orderly at the door, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes seated at the table, and Bucky huddled down over in the far corner, having a bit of a fit. Steve instantly recognizes it as another stress fugue, though thankfully it seems to be less severe than the one he’d found him in yesterday. He’s still got all his clothes on and he isn’t humping anything, so that’s a plus.

Steve hurries over and kneels down next to him. “Buck? Oh Buck, Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m right here with you, Baby. Please don’t cry.”

Bucky’s huddled on the floor, tearfully rocking in place, one arm wrapped around his knees and the other hand up at his face, sucking two of his fingers. Steve wipes his cheeks and kisses his forehead, heartstricken at seeing him so upset. “Shh sh sh, Honey. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He remembers his backpack and slings it off his shoulder, unzipping it and dumping half its contents on the floor in search of the collar inside. He finds it and starts putting it on him, getting the buckle closed and the pressure points lined up with Bucky’s glands. “Can you get something for his mouth?” he tells the orderly at the door. The man nods with wide eyes and hurries out of the room. Steve finishes with the collar and fits the little air pump to its port, squeezing it until the pressure points in the lining have all inflated. Bucky’s breathing calms down considerably just from that. Steve rumbles low in his chest for him, giving him the sound of his Alpha’s approval. “Good boy,” he Voices, petting his face soothingly. “So good for me, bub.”

“Excuse me."

Steve looks back over his shoulder and meets George Barnes’ scowl with one of his own. “Be quiet,” he growls at him, making the man’s face go slack in sheer surprise. “Trust me, I’ll be right with you,” Steve grits. Turning back, he continues to murmur quiet, comforting words for Bucky to hear and latch onto; telling him how he’s right there and he’s not leaving, how he’s his Alpha and Bucky’s his omega and how they’re safe and good and everything is going to be just fine. Bucky whimpers and pushes himself closer to Steve, still crying sluggishly, but he’s non-verbal and even if he weren’t, he’s still got half his hand shoved into his mouth, his body’s reflexes in full gear as he tries to calm himself down.

Behind, Mrs. Barnes is complaining at her husband to “do something,” and Bucky registers her shrill voice and starts to rock a little harder. Steve winces as he sees the red indent of where Bucky’s started chewing on his fingers.

Luckily that’s when the orderly returns, and he hurries over to give Steve the suckling gag he’s brought. “Thanks,” Steve grunts, glad to see that the guy actually had the foresight to bring along a container of PheroGel for the thing. Steve exhales in relief and takes it from him. It'll help Bucky calm down. “Good thinking,” he mutters, maneuvering Bucky so that he can coax his hand away from his mouth and feed the rubber head of the gag past his lips instead. Bucky parts easily for it, accepting it with an anxious whine. “Shhh, there you go.” Steve velcros it in the back and checks the fit, then opens the valve and fills the chamber with the PheroGel.

Bucky makes a tiny, surprised sound when the taste reaches him, his cheeks hollowing as he returns to suckling instinctively. Steve smiles and encourages him. “That’s right. You just focus on that, okay?” He pets Bucky’s face and watches as he visibly calms down from the pressure of the collar and the feeling of something heavy and Alpha-scented in his mouth. “There you go, Sweetheart,” he soothes. “Just close your eyes and focus on how that feels. Can you do that for Alpha?” Bucky sniffles and nods tearfully, and Steve’s heart squeezes as he watches his eyelids start to droop closed. “Good boy,” he praises him once more. The gag is a slow suckle design, so Bucky should be able to keep using the pheromones to self-soothe while Steve works on dealing with the Barnes.

He’s enraged that they’re here at all. Steve fully intends to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Forcing himself to pull away from Bucky and stand, he’s stone faced by the time he turns around to face the Barnes. He walks over to stand across the conference table from them. They’re sitting side by side, but Steve doesn’t pull out a chair to join them. He locks his arms and leans with his hands braced on the back of a chair. “What are you doing here?” he says, letting his full displeasure come through in his voice.

For a second, both of the Barnes look a little bit intimidated. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last. George Barnes seems to recover some of his willpower and squares his shoulders to glower back at Steve. “We came to get him,” he snaps, sparing a disdainful glance towards the corner where Bucky is huddled. “We came to take him home and now they’re telling us we don’t have permission. ‘Permission’!”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s bullcrap. He’s our son!”

Steve smiles nastily at him. “Well unfortunately, Mr. Barnes, You signed paperwork relinquishing custody of him.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. That was only a few days ago! We’ve changed our minds, so you just get him packed up or, er …” he glances back over at Bucky and winces in disgust when he sees his son: collared and rocking and stimming with the sucker strapped over his mouth. “Just get him ready to go. Take that crap off him. We’ve found somewhere to put him, and he’s coming with us.”

“‘Put him’?” Steve repeats, frowning.

“Yeah.” George raises his chin defiantly, looking every bit the asshole that he is. “Found out he’s actually worth somethin’, even like this.” At ‘this’, he casts another disdainful look in Bucky’s direction. “Milking center up in New Rochelle takes cases like him. Said they’ll pay six grand up front.”

Steve sees red so fast, he has to hold on tighter to the chair for a few seconds. “What?” he says, the word coming out quietly only because he’s so breathlessly fucking mad. “Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

George Barnes’ snide expression is more than enough of an answer. “At least he’ll be useful, not a leech on society.”

In his head, Steve hears Bucky’s tearful, bitter words from two days ago: 

“Just a waste of hardworking people’s tax dollars!” 

An unpleasant groaning sound meets his ears, before he figures out that it’s his own hands, stressing and warping the plastic backing of the chair. He pulls them away and glowers across the table at the other man. A fucking milking center, he fumes, wanting to pick the chair up and put it straight through George Barnes’ smug fucking face.

Because Steve’s been to those places, has been called in to evaluate the omegas housed in their custody. He’s seen the warehouse-sized rooms: filled with rows and rows of omegas, fat and sedated, restrained to benches and hooked up to machines, bred and fed and watered and hosed down in place, like animals.

Christina steps in, probably because she can sense that her employee is about to unleash imminent violence on their visitors. “Unfortunately, the law is clear in this matter,” she tells Mr. Barnes, as no-nonsense here as she is in any other situation. “You signed all legal rights to James over four days ago and you no longer have any say in his care. The hospital has full custody of him, and we’ve already approved a long-term guardian for him.”

“What?” George Barnes stands abruptly from his chair, sending it rolling back to thunk against the wall in his haste. “What are you talking about? You can’t do that! I’ll … I’ll get a judge. There’s no way you can just—”

“There’s every way we ‘can just’,” Steve growls, unable to restrain himself from being unprofessional at this point. Fuck it. He doesn’t work at Hydra anymore, so unlike in times past where he’s been forced to make nice with less than stellar parents, now he can say exactly what he’s thinking. “You are a piece of shit, garbage human being, who shouldn’t be allowed to raise a fucking dog let alone a child. I think that you should leave now. In fact I strongly advise it. Forget about ever seeing Bucky again—because you never will—and just be grateful that you got away with the level of abuse that you did for so many years without ever being charged in a court of law.”

George Barnes opens his mouth, ostensibly to say something pissy, but before he can, Steve tacks on:

“Oh, and in fact you should be very grateful that you did sign those papers when you did. Because if you hadn’t? You’d best believe I’d be making sure you’d lose custody of all your children before you ever got him back. Now why don’t you pick your jaw up off the floor, help your wife heft her sloppy ass out of that chair, and leave this place before you’re thrown out?”

Of all things, it’s the comment about Mrs. Barnes’s weight that fuels George Barnes into action. He gets alarmingly red in the face, and it’s to the background noise of his wife’s insulted screeches that he starts to come towards Steve (presumably with the intention of hitting him). But before he can so much as round the end of the conference table, Stanley is bursting through the door.

“Hold it! Not another move, Buster!”

At Stanley’s back, Rumlow is standing with his taser gun drawn and pointed right over Stanley’s head. It’s that sight which seems to catch Mr. Barnes’ attention, and he pulls back from where he’d been approaching Steve, hands raised and gesturing for his wife to get up, too. “Alright, alright. We’re coming. Geez.”

“Sure you were.” Stanley sports his tough guy face, proud of himself, and ushers the Barnes into the hallway. Steve’s opinion of Rumlow inches marginally higher when he sees him hurriedly holster his weapon and step back, so that Stanley doesn’t realize he’d had a little bit of backup, there.

With the Barnes led away, Steve returns all of his attention to Bucky. The tension of this confrontation seems to have had surprisingly little impact on him, and Steve is especially pleased when he sees that the orderly had at some point managed to get both a blindfold and a pair of noise cancelling headphones on Bucky as well. With the positive stimulus of the collar and gag, he’s much calmer. Steve hurriedly takes the headphones and blindfold off, followed by the gag. “Hey, hey baby.” He’s petting all over Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression and scent the state he’s in now. He’s surprised when Bucky blinks a few times and then looks up at him with clear eyes.

“Steve,” he breathes.

“I’m here. It’s okay. You don’t have to go with them. You’re safe. You got your words back?”

Bucky blinks some more, looking between Steve and the place where his parents had been sitting at the conference table. “... They can’t take me, right?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Buck. That’s right. They can’t. They legally can’t.”

Slowly, Bucky’s expression starts to brighten. He smiles. “But you can take me,” he says hopefully. “To live with you. Because you’re my Alpha now, right? And I’m your omega?”

Steve doesn’t even think of propriety, he just leans in and kisses Bucky straight on the mouth. Bucky’s lips are so soft, and he whimpers and responds so eagerly. Steve forces himself to pull back before he can get carried away. “Yeah, bub,” he says happily, trying not to get emotional in front of Raynor. “Yeah. You’re my omega now.”

In reality, they’ve probably got close to a half day’s worth of paperwork and consent-confirming counselling sessions ahead of them. But in the way that Bucky’s asking about? Yeah. They already belong to each other.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Gentleman and Graduates

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53836816 by yellowsunflowerheart Peter’s school has a tradition for their seniors. Before graduating, a morning is set aside for students to share their high school journey and achievements with their Fathers, Grandfathers, or the important man in their lives. May sends Tony a date, time and location. Nothing more. Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 3 of Iron Dad and Spider Son Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Peter’s school holds a function intended for Dads, May sends Tony the date and time, but fails to mention the ‘Dad’ part, Tony is surprised, Peter is surprised, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, He’s slowly coming to terms with that, Nervous Tony, Shy Peter, father-son bonding, Father-Son Relationship, no other characters or ships, just full spider-son and iron-dad read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/53836816

[ao3feed-narlie]

Happy Birthday! PS - Marry Me?

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Kn1Ub8e by CadburyOreo, Coach1305, eli__writes Nick suspects that Charlie is keeping a secret from him in the run-up to his birthday. Charlie hopes that with a little help from their friends, Nick’s big day will become Their Big Day. Can he pull off the biggest surprise of their lives? Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Heartstopper (TV), Heartstopper (Webcomic) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Darcy Olsson, Tara Jones, Michael Holden (Solitaire), Victoria "Tori" Spring, Tao Xu, Elle Argent, Sarah Nelson Relationships: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Elle Argent/Tao Xu, Tara Jones/Darcy Olsson, Michael Holden/Victoria "Tori" Spring Additional Tags: Smitten Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charlie Spring is a menace, Fluff, surprise wedding, beach wedding, birthday fic, Fluff fluffity fluff fluff read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Kn1Ub8e

[firstprince-ao3feed]

i want all of you forever. you and me.

by dreakawa Henry and Alex meet on a hot summer day in 1980 in Washington, DC. Their lives would never be the same. Or: Firstprince x The Notebook AU that I've been teasing FOR MONTHS. Words: 4608, Chapters: 2/7, Language: English Series: Part 13 of FirstPrince Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz, Ellen Claremont, Oscar Diaz (Red White & Royal Blue), Leo (Red White & Royal Blue), Philip Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Catherine Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Queen Mary (Red White & Royal Blue), Arthur Fox (mentioned), Liam (Mentioned), Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Original Characters Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz/Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loosely Based on The Notebook (2004), time jumps, POV Alternating, Mostly POV Alex Claremont-Diaz, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, 1980s, Falling In Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, breakups and makeups, Letters, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Bisexual Disaster Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues via https://ift.tt/B4M2zgn

[ao3feed-ateez]

Out of all the stars you're my favorite

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/s6c0Evn by Atelphobiaameow Hongjoong is taking a break and visiting his aunt's farm. He's taking a walk when he suddenly is somehow faced with an angel. A literal angel with a pretty face, wings and all that. He brings the winged person with him to treat his wounds.   The more Hongjoong learns about the angel, the less he wants to let him go. But nothing lasts forever, right? It's only a matter of time before he has to go back to his duties up in heaven, just like Hongjoong needs to go back to Seoul for work...right?? Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong, Choi San (ATEEZ), Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ), Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ), Song Mingi (ATEEZ), Choi Jongho (ATEEZ) Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Soft Park Seonghwa, target audience: me, Soft Kim Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong is Whipped, Park Seonghwa-centric, Park Seonghwa Needs a Hug, Abusive Parents, Angels, Fluff, Slow Burn, First Meetings, Producer Kim Hongjoong, Pink-Haired Park Seonghwa, I'm Bad At Tagging, Not Beta Read, Blood and Injury, Jung Wooyoung is a Little Shit (ATEEZ), Blue-Haired Kim Hongjoong, Oblivious Park Seonghwa, POV Third Person, Kim Hongjoong-centric, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa-centric, Torture, Past Abuse, Gay Panic, Angel Park Seonghwa, My First Fanfic, kinda nervous, Strangers to Lovers, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Trauma read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/s6c0Evn

[ao3feed-itafushi]

You got me...?

by 6vinn Itadori strangely sleeps better when Fushiguro is around. Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji, Gojo Satoru Relationships: Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji Additional Tags: No Spoilers, little cannon divergence, Because I want a happy ending, Happy Ending, Fluff, No Smut, No Angst, You're Welcome, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, just a little hurt a swear, Gojo Satoru Being Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru is a Little Shit, i don't think he is, but I was forced to write him like this, happy itafushi because i need it, Itadori Yuuji is a Ray of Sunshine, Protective Fushiguro Megumi, Idiots in Love, its gay, Gay, Boy x boy, you should know that by now, I Wrote This While Listening to Melanie Martinez's Music, Kisses, Other Additional Tags to Be Added from AO3 works tagged 'Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji' https://ift.tt/stY87FJ

[ao3feed-peterstiles]

Pele e Páginas

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/57865672 by Viih_Slytherin Foi por acaso que Stiles encontrou uma antiga revista pornô voltada para o público lobisomem em sua busca por quadrinhos para sua coleção. O astro da capa sendo ninguém menos que um jovem Peter Hale o fez levá-la para casa, sem saber que o lobo se tornaria sua maior obsessão. Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Português brasileiro Series: Part 12 of Steter Week 2024 Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Steter - Freeform, Steter Week, Steter Week 2024, steter week 2024 - day 6: necz n throats au, necz n throats, Pack Beta Peter Hale, Human Stiles Stilinski, Frottage, PWP, Porn Magazines, Porn Star Peter Hale Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/57865672

[dhr-ao3]

A Night in the Library

A Night in the Library https://ift.tt/46EmOXI by nonsensible Hermione is settled in for a night of diligent work in the library. Draco has other ideas. Loads of smut ensues. Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Smut, Library Sex, Hogwarts Library, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy is Good at Sex, POV Hermione Granger via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/qtSjBsP December 10, 2023 at 08:00PM

[hollandorks]

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter seven

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: I know I’ve already said it but this fic is so self-indulgent that it’s hard to even formulate an actual plot. Oh well! I’m having fun and that’s all that matters! Also I definitely think Matt Murdock is extra sleepy grouchy in the mornings due to his late nights devilling. 

(side note: I just passed 80k words on this fic...I have no idea where all of those words came from) 

Series Masterlist

word count: 4608

He knew he was lying to himself, but he pretended he wasn’t.

He was in a lot of trouble, having her there, but there was nothing to do about it now.

Grace woke up slowly. She knew immediately that she had slept long and deep, muscles stiff in an almost luxurious way like she had been in bed for too long. 

Awareness seeped in as she dragged her heavy eyelids open. Warm sunlight poured through the windows across from the bed. She inhaled and stretched languorously, the silk sheets sliding across her skin like the touch of a lover. 

Grace jolted when she realized just how rested she was. That could only mean one thing–she was late for work. 

She scrambled for her phone, only to find that it was ten minutes before her alarm was set to go off. She frowned at the time. Apparently sleeping in a real bed had done her body wonders. 

She quickly got ready for the day, made the bed, and then tiptoed into the living room. Matt was already up, however, and setting a pot of coffee to brew. His hair was mussed, his t-shirt wrinkled, and he seemed to be operating with his eyes closed. 

Grace paused in the doorway, taken aback by how….cute Matt Murdock was first thing in the morning. 

“Good morning,” she said, grateful that he wasn’t aware that she had stared at him for a full minute. The coffee maker percolated cheerfully on the counter and the smell wrapped around them. 

Matt grunted and then yawned. “How’d you sleep?” he finally asked in a voice that was rough with exhaustion. 

“That was the best night of sleep I’ve ever gotten in my entire life,” she said truthfully as she made her way into the kitchen. Matt half-smiled, eyes still partially closed. “Any chance you made enough coffee for two?” 

“Of course,” he said, then reached to open a cabinet. There were four plain white coffee cups and one in the back in the shape of the Death Star. 

“Star Wars fan?” she asked as she grabbed one of the plain mugs. 

Matt’s brows drew together for a moment. “Oh. No, that was–Foggy said he wanted something fun for when he was over here, so he brought one of his own.” 

Grace laughed softly as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She and Matt moved at the same moment and bumped into each other. “Sorry,” she murmured with heat in her cheeks. One of his hands gently brushed her arm as if to steady himself, or maybe her. “I’ll–I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“It’s alright,” he said. His brown eyes were unerringly close to meeting hers. “I’d offer to walk you to the office, but Foggy and I are meeting with a potential client this morning first thing.” 

Grace ignored the pang of disappointment. “I’ll probably go ahead and get going then so I can get breakfast. Good luck.” 

She quickly gathered her things for the day while she finished her coffee. Matt seemed to be in no hurry, simply leaning back against the kitchen counter while he sipped from his mug. She quickly washed the cup and put it back in the cabinet. Matt was lost in his own world, hardly moving as she maneuvered around him. 

“See you later,” she said, the words feeling strange on her tongue, as she got ready to leave. She hefted her bag over one shoulder and let her gaze trail along Matt’s frame where he leaned. He was still in that tight shirt and the sweatpants. She could see how muscular he was, how fit. The tight shirt left little to the imagination. She forced her eyes away as he said a soft goodbye. 

He was still leaning against the counter as she left, his head tipped towards her as if he were listening to her go. 

Grace locked the door behind herself, keys jangling as she pocketed them.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but replay the morning over again. It was strange to live with an attractive man and not be dating him, she mused as she went to her new favorite breakfast place. She wondered if it was weird for Matt, too, though she didn’t think he found her attractive. 

Karen was already at the office when Grace arrived a little while later. 

“So,” Karen said as she hung up her jacket. “How was your first night at Chateau Murdock?” 

Grace laughed a little. “It was fine,” she said with a shrug. There was a big box waiting on her desk–her new computer. “Matt’s definitely not a morning person though. I caught him walking around with his eyes closed this morning. How was your night?” 

Karen gave a surprised laugh. “Yeah, I’ve always gotten the impression that mornings make him grumpy. And it was…weird.” 

As they got to work setting up the new computer, Karen launched into a hilarious story about Ellison roaming around in his robe late at night, muttering to himself as he looked at paper layouts and articles on a tablet. She had apparently startled him so bad he’d screamed like a girl and thrown said tablet into the air. 

Grace enjoyed Karen’s company, probably even more so without the other two there. She was quiet but not reserved, her mind sharp and her humor even sharper. 

They were still laughing and talking as Matt and Foggy returned from their client meeting, Karen’s office door open so they could talk freely from their own desks. 

“Great news, team!” Foggy announced loudly as he came inside. “My bride to be has sent an actual paying client our way and we have ourselves a nice, big case. And a nice, big paycheck, might I add.” 

“They saw our new website,” Matt said as he stopped before Grace’s desk. He lightly tapped her desk twice. “They said it looks great.” He gave her a slightly crooked grin. 

Grace flushed with pleasure. “Really?” she asked, hardly daring to believe it. She’d put a lot of work into the website and was still tinkering with it, but so far she was happy with how it was turning out. “It isn’t finished, but–”

“Grace, if I wasn’t already engaged, I’d kiss you,” Foggy said with his own grin. They all laughed. “I’ll admit, I didn’t look at the website until they mentioned it. But it looks great.” 

“Oh, God, Foggy’s in a kissing mood,” Karen said. She rolled her eyes and met Grace’s gaze. “Quick, we’ll barricade ourselves in my off–” She cut off with a shout as Foggy strode over to her and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. 

“He just kissed her, didn’t he?” Matt said with a laugh. Grace was trying not to laugh but it was hard. Matt leaned against her desk and shook his head. “I’d tell you the website looks great, Grace, but I’ll have to take my colleague’s word for it.” 

“Actually–” Grace said as she straightened. “I’ve been looking into making it accessible for the blind and visually impaired. I could use a guinea pig at some point, if you don’t mind.” 

Matt dipped his chin and opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

“Really?” Foggy said, no longer trying to kiss Karen’s face. “That’s awesome!” 

“Great idea,” Karen added with a nod. 

“I don’t mind helping,” Matt finally said, voice soft. There was a note of emotion underneath the words. 

Grace felt that little sting of pride again. “Great. I still have a ways to go, but I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” 

The rest of the day was a blur as Grace split her time between figuring out her new desktop computer, working more on the website, and beginning to help prepare for the big case Matt and Foggy had secured. 

While she worked, she contemplated just how much of a difference a good night of sleep made. Even before sleeping in her car, she spent many nights awake and in fear. Since she was a deep sleeper, she’d never known if Dean would react badly to her sleeping later than him or falling asleep before him and not waking when he came to bed. His expectations had always changed rapidly along with his moods. And oftentimes, when he was angry about something, the mood lasted for hours, lingering beneath the surface of soft words and gentle apologies. Then he’d snap again over some small thing. So she would lie awake, wondering if he was going to hit her again, dreading it, anticipating it. 

But now that she was away from that she was so much more…settled. She’d slept deeply, all night long, for the first time in a while. And even when she switched to sleeping on Matt’s couch, she knew she’d still sleep deeply, comfortably. 

The four of them ended up eating dinner together at a small restaurant around the corner. Grace had been surprised to be invited, but pleased. She really did like hanging out with them, all of them, and liked how well they all got along. Even though the three of them had been friends for years, Grace never felt out of place. They always made sure to include her, to tell her the stories they were referencing, to make her feel like she belonged. 

She and Matt walked back to his apartment in companionable silence after dinner. She’d offered him her arm when they left, still uncertain about the etiquette for being around someone blind. 

His grip was strong and warm at her elbow. 

“You know,” Matt said as the building came into view. “You don’t have to feel obligated to hang out with us.” 

Grace’s heart stuttered. She glanced at him in surprise. “What?” she asked, because she wasn’t really sure she’d heard him right. Did they not want her to hang out with them? Was she only being invited as a courtesy, because they felt bad for her? 

“Me, Foggy, and Karen. You don’t–I feel like we’ve kind of been dragging you into things.” He looked a bit sheepish. 

“I…no, not at all. I like hanging out with you guys.” Her stomach sank. An odd, prickling sensation crawled across her skin. “Unless you don’t want me intruding. I know you’ve known each other for–” 

“No, no,” Matt said hurriedly. “That’s not it at all. I just didn’t–I didn’t want you to feel like you had to.” 

Grace’s face was hot. “Oh. Well, I like hanging out with you guys. You’re fun.” 

Matt flashed her a smile as they entered the apartment. “Good. I know Foggy has a…strong personality sometimes and can be a bit of a bulldozer when it comes to things.” 

Grace laughed. “That’s one way to put it. Trust me, though. I like you, all three of you. It’s been a while since I’ve been around people who were so…easy.” 

“Easy?” Matt repeated skeptically, brows raised behind his tinted glasses. 

“Yeah, easy. You guys are easy to get along with.” She shrugged, hoping he’d feel it since his hand was still on her elbow. “I feel like there aren’t any expectations when I’m around you.” 

“I’m glad,” he said softly. 

They parted ways in the living room. Matt went and changed while Grace made a shopping list on her phone of things she’d need to purchase, namely food. 

“All yours,” Matt said a few minutes later as he came out of the bathroom. He was in sweatpants and a tank top. 

Grace’s eyes widened when she took in his very muscular arms. Matt rubbed a hand absently over the back of his head. 

“Right,” she said, because she’d been staring. She cleared her throat. “I’ll shower.” 

She gathered her pajamas and bolted for the bathroom, embarrassed that she kept reacting to Matt like that. He’s attractive, she told herself firmly as she waited for the shower to heat up. So what? You live with him. Chill out. 

She showered quickly. She wanted to do more research on accessibility for the website before bed. 

Matt was on his way out with a duffel bag when she emerged from the steam of the bathroom. He paused when he heard the door open. 

“I was going to go to the gym,” he said, hefting the duffel bag that was in one hand. 

Grace perked up. “Maybe–Maybe I could come sometime?” she asked, thinking of those self defense classes. “I take self defense classes on the weekends, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere else to go during the week.” 

Matt winced slightly. “I…Don’t usually like people to be there. It’s–I have an arrangement with the owner to go after hours…” He trailed off. Even from across the room, she could see his blush, mirroring her own. 

Mentally, she kicked herself. She didn’t particularly like people watching her either, and she wasn’t blind. “Oh, that’s fine.” She almost winced at the palpable awkwardness in the air. “Have fun?” It came out like a question. 

Matt gave her a fake looking smile. “I’ll be back late.” 

“Night, then.” 

“Goodnight.” 

When he was gone, Grace groaned and put her head in her hands. Two awkward conversations in one night. She wanted to scream or hide or both. It really was like college all over again, two people who knew nothing about each other forced to live together. She hated the awkwardness. It was almost as if hanging out with Dean and Dean’s friends for so long had caused her to forget how to act around, well, anyone else. 

Grace pulled out her laptop and settled on the couch in order to get her mind off of the lingering embarrassment. She set to work researching accessibility options, trying out various ones on the Nelson, Murdock, and Page website until she found a few that would work well. 

A couple of hours passed, and her research turned into a search into Matt Murdock.. She read about his accident as a child, blinded saving an old man in a traffic accident, only to lose his father not too long after. 

The most prevalent articles were about Wilson Fisk and Frank Castle. She went down a bit of a rabbit hole looking through those and reading about the firm’s involvement with them. The articles about Frank Castle debated the pros and cons of vigilantes, when led to her clicking through to articles regarding Daredevil specifically. 

Then, somehow, she was watching old cell phone videos and grainy security footage of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He used to not have the armor or the horns, back when he was simply known as the “man in black” or the “man in the mask.” The devil moniker and the suit had come later.  

Grace had watched a lot of the same videos of Daredevil after he’d saved her. She had read a lot of the same articles and information and forums, too. But she found herself going over it again, the curiosity still burning bright within her. 

She kept reading as she got ready for bed and then shifted from her laptop to her phone so she could lay down on the couch as she grew more and more tired. 

She slipped into sleep with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on her mind and dreamed of smoke and shadows with horns. 

–

Grace woke the next morning in Matt’s bed. 

She startled awake, sitting up in one fluid movement. Hadn’t she been on the couch? She blinked blearily at the room around her before realizing that her alarm had woken her. She smacked her phone to turn it off and rubbed at her face to try and dispel some of the cobwebs in her brain. 

She vaguely remembered Matt shaking her awake and then…nothing. 

Grace swung her feet over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment trying to remember if she’d walked to the bed or if Matt had carried her. But why would he have carried her? 

She yawned hugely and decided that any more thinking could wait until she’d been caffeinated. She brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back and dressed for the day before going out into the living room. There was no evidence the couch had been slept on at all. Her laptop was still on the coffee table where she’d left it. 

Matt was in the kitchen, already in his suit, tying his tie. 

“How and why did I end up in the bed again last night?” Grace asked as she greedily made a  grab for the coffee pot. 

Matt tilted his head towards her. “You don’t remember me waking you up?” 

Grace frowned. The vague memory resurfaced. Matt’s hair had been damp with sweat, or maybe from a shower. “I…no, not really.” 

“You weren’t kidding about being a deep sleeper,” he said with that disarming smile of his. 

Grace glared at him over the mug as she sipped the too-hot coffee. She didn’t even care that it burned a bit. “Again, how and why?” 

Matt shrugged and slipped his suit jacket on. “I told you I was taking the couch. I got you awake enough to help you to the bed.”

“Matt, I told you I’d sleep on the couch. I was already asleep on the couch, why didn’t you just take the bed?” She crossed her legs and widened her stance. 

Matt set his jaw. “You’re my guest,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch from here on out. Besides, I got in late–I wouldn’t have woken you up if you’d been in the bedroom.” 

Grace threw up her hands. “There’s no point in arguing with a lawyer, is there?” 

A crack in the stubbornness as he smiled. “Nope.” 

She pointed a stern finger at him even though he couldn’t see it. “Watch it, Murdock. Pink shirts.” 

Matt laughed, and the tension around them eased. The argument was far from over–Grace would make sure Matt let her sleep on the couch if it was the last thing she did. But it was time to go to work. 

As they walked to the office, Grace thought about various arguments that would change his mind. Or maybe she could simply figure out how to lock him in the bedroom until he went to sleep while she took the couch. 

Grace’s phone went off with the chime she’d set for Google alerts right as they got to the firm. 

She glanced at the headline and jerked to a halt. 

Harold Spencer found dead in Hudson River near Hell’s Kitchen. 

Grace’s hands shook as the scent of blood filled her nose, the sounds of creaking metal doors and the rattling of chains echoing in her ears. 

“Grace?” Matt asked as if from very far away. “Are you alright?” 

She blinked and mentally shook herself. “Yeah I just–someone I used to know was found dead, is all.” 

Not technically a lie. Harry Spencer had gone to college with her and Dean and their circle of friends. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said softly. “Do you need to…go?” 

She shook her head vehemently. “No, it’s–I haven’t seen him in a long time.” Another half-truth. 

Matt reached out and his fingers brushed her forearm. He patted her. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

Grace forced herself to focus on work and work only for the rest of the day. She emailed Foggy, Matt, and Karen about lists of accessibility things they could add to the website, scheduled a couple of appointments, and started working through some paperwork for their newest case. 

Her concentration was so single minded that she didn’t notice it was time to leave. 

“I’ll catch up,” she said to Matt, who was hovering near her desk. “I need to finish a couple of things.” 

The other three bid her goodnight. 

The moment the door closed behind them, Grace pulled up the news on her computer. 

She clicked the breaking news article. 

Harold Spencer, 27, was found dead early this morning in the Hudson River near Hell’s Kitchen. Details are limited at this time. No statement has been released by the police or the family of the deceased. Spencer supposedly went missing after failing to return from a business trip six months ago. 

Grace’s breath caught again. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the cool wood of her desk. 

“Fuck,” she whispered. 

She looked up every article related to Harry Spencer that she could get her hands on. None of them had any other details. His body had been found–that was the extent of the information. Some websites even claimed that he hadn’t been missing, since his family had never formally filed. 

She clicked out of the windows and gathered her things. It was later than she thought.

She knew that she should tell someone what she knew, or at least what she had pieced together. But that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? Dean Bennett was too powerful. No one would believe her. Not a single person. 

Maybe Matt, Foggy, and Karen would, a small, hopeful voice whispered in her mind. She shook the thoughts away. She was already relying too much on their charitable hearts, especially Matt. She couldn’t ask them to believe the impossible of her, the unprovable, something that would bring at the very least bad press to their firm but most likely ruin. 

Grace bit her lip as she stalked to Matt’s apartment. 

She’d left Dean for a reason. She wasn’t going to look back, not anymore. She was working a job she liked with people she thought could become good friends, and she didn’t care about Dean Bennett and the things he may or may not have done anymore. 

To further occupy herself, she stopped at a grocery store to stock up on food. Even if she had to live off of cereal and instant ramen, she would save money for a place of her own. 

Maybe she could sell her car, she thought as she lugged the heavy bags back to the apartment. Having a car in New York was more trouble than it was worth. She’d barely used it in the past week other than as a bed. 

Matt was nowhere to be found when she let herself into the apartment. It was just as well, because she was spiraling so much that she knew she’d probably get on his nerves. She put all of her groceries away, showered, then spent another hour eating cereal and reading more news articles and scouring social media for more information. 

She started pacing as she read some posts on her phone, her laptop battery dead from her obsession first with Daredevil and then with Harry Spencer. 

A picture she recognized was being circulated around social media. Young, handsome Harry in his Cornell sweatshirt, the picture splashed everywhere. But on a certain social media site, the full picture was posted, revealing a second figure. 

Grace dropped her phone as if it had burned her. 

No wonder the photo was familiar. 

She had taken it. 

She sank onto the couch and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

From the floor, Dean and Harry smiled up at her, arms around each other in matching Cornell sweatshirts. 

Grace fumbled for her phone and closed the app. 

She started pacing again. The room was suddenly too hot, too small, too much. 

She grabbed her keys and went up the stairs to the roof. 

Cold air hit her in the face. She shivered as the sweat on her body cooled. It wasn’t too cold yet, summer giving one last dying gasp before the autumn frost came. 

Grace inhaled greedy gulps of air to calm herself. 

She needed to forget Dean. To forget Harry. To forget her entire life up until the past week. None of it mattered anymore. She was starting over and there was absolutely nothing she could do to change anything except her own circumstances. The only thing she could change was herself and her own situation, so she needed to focus on that. Nothing else.

“Goddammit,” she muttered as she started pacing around the small rooftop area. 

There was a soft scrape somewhere behind her. Like a shoe against the asphalt.  

Grace whirled. 

There was a shadow standing there, watching her. 

She opened her mouth to scream but the shadow stepped into the light. 

Daredevil.

She immediately relaxed. “Oh,” she said a bit breathlessly. Her heart started pounding for an entirely different reason. She pressed her palm against her chest to calm the racing of her heart. “It’s you. You probably don’t remember me–” 

“Of course I remember you,” he said in a low voice. She had to strain to hear him over the noise of the traffic and other city noises below them. 

Grace stared at him a moment, stunned that he had remembered her. “What are you…doing here?” she asked when she recovered. She crossed her arms, aware of her flimsy pajamas and lack of a bra. 

He spread his hands. “The rooftops are kind of my thing.” A hint of a smile. He kept his voice low, almost too quiet. “Besides, I could ask you the same question.” 

“Right, yeah. The whole vigilante thing.” She shifted and glanced away. “I was just…clearing my head.”  

“You should be careful,” he said. The low timbre of his voice made her shiver. It made her think of the shadows wrapping around him, ready to swallow him up at a moment’s notice. It made her think of bruised knuckles and blood. 

“My friend is downstairs,” she lied. “I’m just staying here for a few nights.” She didn’t know why she lied to him. It came naturally, not to give too much of herself away to a stranger. 

Daredevil hummed. He still hadn’t moved. His hands hung loosely at his sides. 

She took the moment to study him in the low light. Now that she wasn’t afraid for her life or suffering a head wound like she had been the last time they’d met, she could take him in. The tight suit revealed a muscular frame, built solidly even though he wasn’t incredibly tall. The line of his jaw was sharp. She couldn’t tell if it was another shadow or a shadow of stubble that shaded it. She stared into the glass eyes of his mask. He tilted his head slightly and the eyes glinted red, making her shiver all over again. 

“You should go inside, it’s cold,” he said after a moment. She wondered if he had been studying her like she’d been studying him. 

“Do you–want a drink or something? A snack?” she blurted. She didn’t want to leave, not when he was so close. She might have developed a slight obsession with him after he’d saved her but–who wouldn’t? Half of Hell’s Kitchen was obsessed with him, based on what she could tell from her internet sleuthing. 

That head tilt again. “No thank you.” Again she could barely hear him over the noise of the city around them. He seemed puzzled by her offer. 

“I just–I figure being a vigilante is hard and you might need some water or a granola bar or something.” 

A sudden grin, the flash of teeth in the low light almost predatory. “I’m alright, I promise.” 

She shrugged and bit back a nervous laugh. “I just want to thank you somehow,” she finally said. Her voice quieted even as her face heated. “If you hadn’t been there–” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice growing even deeper. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides again. “Goodnight, Grace.” 

“Goodnight,” she said with a small smile and wave before she ducked back inside. 

She pressed her back against the door after locking it and bit back another smile. 

But she didn’t question how the devil of Hell’s Kitchen had come to know her name.

Next Chapter 

taglist: 

@zaminoo​​ @yanna-banana​​ @bellal1 @thetrinitytest​​ @harry-bowie-mercury​

[ao3feed-ichiruki]

The Unstoppable Eclipse

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ESMJNId

by SugarPea

Years after the Blood War, everyone thought that their suffering was finally over. Everyone thought they would have normal lives again. Everyone wanted their happily ever after. Instead, life after the war became suffocating for Rukia. After achieving all her goals, having nothing left to gain-and everything to lose-she finds herself on the verge of a mental break. Engaging in behaviors unbefitting of her status as a captain and noble woman, sneaking off into the World of the Living to chase her own destruction. Life after the war is white noise for Ichigo. The days bleeding into each other, feeling as if he found himself on the wrong path, and stuck in a marriage that has long since lost its luster. Leave it to the two of them to have their crises at the same time, in the same town, on the same night. After years apart, the sun and moon finally collide again-allowing fate to do its bidding. Betrayal, adultery, love, sex, and confessions are abound in this post-canon/pre-kids fic!

Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Bleach

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia, Inoue Orihime, Abarai Renji

Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Inoue Orihime/Kurosaki Ichigo, Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia

Additional Tags: Adultery, Cheating, Marriage of Convenience, Depression, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst and Romance, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stripping, Crying, Hurt Kurosaki Ichigo, Kurosaki Ichigo Needs a Hug, Kuchiki Rukia Needs a Hug, Captain Kuchiki Rukia, Established Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Explicit Sexual Content, Dubious Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Double Life

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ESMJNId

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 4608

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist

Chapter 8: Sensory Reset Therapy

Previously:

Steve may have made up his mind to quit Hydra, but he still has a job to do for the time being, and that’s to take care of Bucky the way he needs. He finds the specific audio track he wants and sends it through to the room’s system, then closes out the laptop. "Okay bub," he says, pushing out from the desk and standing. "Time to come down nice and gentle from your high."

He goes over to where Bucky’s been investigating the plushies and steers him towards the area of the room that’s covered in foam floorboards. Bucky’s eyes light up and he starts heading for the very same rocker that Steve had scraped him off of that morning. Steve chuckles and grabs him by the shoulders, pulling him away from it. “Ah ah, bub. You’ve had enough of that today.”

“But Steeeve,” he whines, sounding younger than usual. “I need to. I feel all … nghh.” He makes a face and squirms, rubbing his padded butt back on Steve to no avail. “Please?”

Steve calms him down with promises that he’ll get to have as many orgasms as he wants during this session. “What do you think we’re in here for, silly?” Bucky goes lax again at the promise, and waits while Steve gets everything ready for their session together. “You’ve done one on one sensory before, yeah?” he checks, already knowing the answer. Bucky nods, and Steve rumbles in approval. “Okay, good. That’s what we’re going to do.”

Bucky looks at the things Steve’s arranged and huffs, though his scent betrays his interest. “Why can’t I just rock?” he whines. Steve pulls him close and threads a hand into his hair, using a gentle but sturdy grip to ease his head back and force eye contact. Bucky looks up at him with parted lips and blown pupils. “Alpha?”

Steve kisses his forehead to keep from kissing him straight on his mouth. “It’s because of the fit you had earlier, Honey. I can’t just let you rock mindlessly. This is a partnered activity. We need to keep you present and engaged while you feel things, so you don't just slip into another fugue.”

Bucky grumbles obstinately, and Steve smiles and bops him on the nose with a finger.

“Don’t be that way. Any time we do hormone inflation we gotta do sensory after. Those’re the rules.” He doesn’t bother detailing it much further, knowing that the information would probably only go in one ear and out the other, with the state Bucky’s in right now. Instead, he uses both hands to give him a scalp massage and explains, “This’ll help you come down nice n’ steady, bub. It’s gonna feel really good.”

Bucky, who currently has his face mushed into Steve’s chest, groans in pleasure and nods. “Mmph. Kay.”

“Good boy.” Steve pulls him back and gets a look at his face. “Do you want to keep your clothes on or be naked?” he asks. “Any way you want is fine. It’ll just be different based on what you pick.” He waits patiently while Bucky struggles to decide. When it becomes clear that the kid is too dumbed down to make much of a choice, and that the options are stressing him out, Steve takes pity on him. “Why don’t we start with taking just your top off for now, huh?” He rubs his upper arms, squeezing lightly. “Mm? That way I can touch your chest and your tummy. How’s that sound?”

Bucky chirps in agreement, so Steve helps him with the shirt, then guides him down to kneeling on the padded floor. “There ya go.” He pushes over a half barrel-shaped support for Bucky to straddle, helping him settle over it. “How’s that?” he checks, palming his shoulders. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers. His eyes are already hazy, looking like they’re ready to slip closed at any moment. He shifts a little in place, moving his bottom against the support and feeling the pressure of it between his legs. His shoulders stiffen for the barest second, and then he relaxes even further, humming happily as his hips give another experimental shift, and then another. “Oh, mm, mmm …”

He’s so sweet when he’s fully in his instincts like this. Steve’s chest flares with fondness and he encourages him with a gentle murmur. “There you go. Good boy. See? You can rub on it like that if you want, and I’ll help you focus on everything else we’re doing.” This particular half-barrel form isn’t as soft as some, and it’s not shaped for mindless stimming in the same way the rockers are. It would take a bit of effort for Bucky to work himself up to orgasm on it, especially with the added layer of his diaper to work through.

Steve watches as he gives a few more hopeful rolls of his hips, the muscles of his legs tensing and releasing underneath his pants as he grips the form with his thighs. Steve keeps rubbing his shoulders until Bucky gives a frustrated whine from the lack of stimulation. He slumps in resignation and looks to his Alpha with big, pitiful eyes, asking for help.

“Good,” Steve praises. “Okay, Honey. So for now I just want you to relax. Can you close your eyes for me?”

He waits, and Bucky obeys and closes his eyes, his dark lashes resting prettily against his cheeks. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, and for a moment he starts moving them closer to his crotch, but then stills as if he’s realized what he's doing, and keeps them on top of his thighs.

Steve swallows heavily, aware of his own dick plumping up in his pants yet again. “Um, good,” he croaks, forcing himself to ignore it. “Okay. Now keep your eyes closed. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

There are posters on the wall that chart out the various basic ASMR starter dialogues. Steve chooses the one that matches the audio file he selected, and he reads through it in a low and soothing voice while keeping his hands heavy on Bucky’s shoulders. He can feel Bucky shiver in response to the intimate and praise-heavy words. It’s an old-school, traditional gender roles-themed script; a guided dialogue of an alpha to their omega, with lots of pet names and gentle comforting. The track that goes with it, Steve knows, has a lot of the hypothetical omegas' soft moans, and the alpha's answering murmurs of encouragement—all things which Bucky has responded well to in the past.

“Okay,” he says when he’s finished the sample. “So that’s what the audio will be like.” He slides his hands up Bucky’s neck and circles his thumbs in at the base of his skull just behind his ears, eliciting a quiet moan. “Did you like how it made you feel when I said those things?”

Bucky continues to breathe open mouthed for another minute or two. His lips are swollen and wet, his eyes still closed obediently. There’s a pleasured little pinch between his eyebrows, and he nods his head as he works on verbalizing an answer. “Uhh—uh huh.”

“Good.” Steve pets his hair to comfort him and gently says, “You know … I can smell a little change in your scent right now. Are you aroused?” Bucky whines and Steve shushes him with a chuckle. “No, no, Sweetheart. You’re okay. That’s the answer I was looking for. You’re responding beautifully already, you know that?” He cups Bucky’s face and strokes a thumb gently at the corner of his eyelid. “You're keeping your eyes closed and staying focused just like I asked. What a good job you’re doing. So smart and pretty, being so good for Alpha.”

Bucky doesn’t know it, but it’s been well documented these past three years, how well he reacts to praise. It’s noted in all his charts. He responds much better to gentle praise and encouragement than he does to any sort of firmness or discipline, and he's in the ninetieth percentile for how strongly he responds. Even now, just being given a few words of encouragement, he’s already softening under Steve’s hands.

“Such a good boy for me, Buck,” Steve praises again. He gives his shoulders another squeeze and then pulls away to grab the restraints: a puffy pressure collar that has a strap attached to go down the patient’s back, with two wrist cuffs there, one atop the other, to keep the patient’s hands behind their back. It’s all made from soft but sturdy fabric, and in butter yellow, of all colors; certainly nothing you’d see in a sex shop or a BDSM dungeon. Soft, but it’ll do the job. Normally Steve would think about using one of the comfort coats to really give Bucky the full effect of a long and steady hug, but he has a general idea mapped out of how he wants to stimulate the kid in this session, and he’ll need access to more skin than that would allow. So he brings the restraints over and runs the fabric of the straps against Bucky’s skin: over his cheek and down his naked neck and back. “Feel that?” he asks softly. “It’s a collar and some cuffs in the back. That’s what I’m gonna tie you with, okay?”

Bucky nods, a belated “kay” coming right after. Steve puts the collar on first, wrapping it firmly around his neck and securing the Velcro. Bucky makes a tiny sound at the feeling of the pressure against his glands. “Oh.”

Steve chuckles and moves to secure his wrists. They go one on top of the other, resting right at the small of his back, and Bucky’s hands curl into loose fists as he accepts the restraint. “That feel nice, Honey?” Steve asks.

“Y-yeah.” Bucky tugs a little with his arms, making another small sound of enjoyment when he feels himself held fast. The tugging of his arms will only bring more force through the collar’s pressure points at his glands, so it’s a positive feedback loop. “Mmm. S’nice,” he mumbles. On the half-barrel form, he’s widened his knees a bit, putting more of his weight through his crotch, hips shifting restlessly.

Steve gently stills him. “Hang on, bub. Just a couple more things.” He grabs the blindfold from his pile of supplies. Again, it’s nothing hardcore—just an elasticized loop of blue terrycloth. “Here you go.” He slips it on him and Bucky’s body seems to melt another inch into the floor. Not being able to see will make everything else Steve does to him feel more intense—which is, of course, the entire point of the session. Steve stands in front of him and cups his jaw. Bucky presses his cheek into the touch, and Steve’s previously half hard cock is suddenly filling again, interested in what’s going on. He uses his free hand to give himself a harsh press from over his clothes. “Okay. I’m going to put noise cancelling headphones on you,” he tells him softly. “All you’ll hear is the track, but you’ll feel me stimming you, during. I’ll be right here with you the whole time."

Bucky nods, shifting in position again. “Steve, what if I have to, um … go?”

The fact that he’s even asking means that he must feel at least some urge in his bladder right now. “Then you can,” Steve tells him gently, petting at his cheek. “You’ve got your diaper on. It’ll just be another thing to feel.”

Bucky whimpers and squirms a little at that, but the restraints quickly calm him down.

“Shh, you’re good. Here.” Steve fetches one of the candles he’d lit, kneeling down in front of Bucky and pouring some of the melted oil into his own palm. It’s warm but not too warm, as these candles are designed for aromatherapy massage. He spreads it between his hands and then claps them onto Bucky’s shoulders.

“Ah.” Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat, shocked, and then he lets it out in a long moan. “… Oohhhh.”

“Mm, yeah. I bet that feels good, huh?” Steve leans over for the headphones and checks to make sure the Bluetooth is turned on and working. “You just make some racket if you need ‘em off at any point, m'kay?” He slips them over Bucky’s ears and turns on the ASMR recording. Bucky gets still for a second, listening, and then he relaxes as the soothing tone of the alpha Voice on the track’s dialogue seeps into his brain. Steve continues to massage him with the warm oil while he watches it happen:

He's beautiful, slowly dissolving into pleasured hums and purrs as he takes in the audio. Steve brings his hands down to rub Bucky's chest. It’s still a little swollen from his body’s reaction to the inflation session, his normally flat breast tissue engorged and his nipples puffed up. Steve slides his hands all around, kneading and pressing what little there is to play with between his fingers, thumbing back and forth over the buds of his nipples as they draw into hard peaks, darkening in color and achingly pretty from the shine of the oil. Steve licks his lips and soaks in the sight of his big hands on such delicate skin. Fuck, it’s gorgeous. He hums happily when he can see Bucky beginning to pulse his hips against the form again. “There you go. That’s right. Rock it out while Alpha touches you. Bet it feels so good, huh? All this warm, slippery oil on your tits. They’re extra sensitive right now, aren’t they? Yeah, I know they are.”

Bucky can’t hear him, but Steve murmurs the words anyway, maintaining a steady string of filth to give himself some sort of outlet for his own arousal. Under his pants, his cock is hard and pulsing, pressed uncomfortably against the seam of his compression briefs, not understanding why it hasn’t been buried in somebody’s wet cunt by now when the room is suffused with the smell of an omega’s climbing arousal and slicking asshole. But Steve is a professional, goddammit, so other than a few peevish glances down at his throbbing dick, he manages to ignore it and keep his focus on his patient.

He can tell exactly when the ASMR dialogue finishes, because Bucky becomes restless, frowning and then chirping plaintively at the loss. Steve removes the headphones and rumbles low in his chest to soothe him. “You’re okay. I’m right here with you, bub.”

“Daddy,” Bucky whines, mind still stuck on the audio, which Steve knows used the title 'Daddy' in its script.

Hearing it makes his chest tighten and his balls throb. Bucky’s never really called him that much before. It’s an old-fashioned term, an endearment that encompasses all of the deepest, most intimate things that an alpha can share with their omega. To someone like Steve, it means far more than the title of ‘Alpha’ ever could. It implies care and belonging and devotion. It means love. “Oh, Buck,” he says, moving the massage lower down to the kid’s belly. “Is that what you want? Want me to be your Daddy?”

Bucky moans at the question and at the feeling of big, strong hands rubbing him. He presses into it. “Daddy, yeah, oh …” On the floor, his knees part a little wider and he rocks harder against the form between his legs. The bulge of the diaper is obvious as he humps, and it makes him whimper self-consciously. But Steve encourages him with gentle sounds, holding him at the hips and guiding him in the motions.

“Shhh, that’s good. That’s so good, Bucky. That’s what Daddy wants. Daddy wants you to feel everything.” He brings one hand further down to press on the front of Bucky's pants, squeezing on purpose to make the plastic crinkle. “Mmhm. Feel that?”

“Nnnn, nn-hnngh.”

“Aw,” Steve coos, jostling his handful. “I know, Honey. I know. Does it just feel so nice, all that padding smooshed up between your legs? Rubbing your little cocklet on it?”

Bucky makes a hurt sound and tugs against his restraints, and Steve figures it’s in response to his use of the word 'cocklet'. Before his transition, Bucky had plenty of time to grow up ascribing worth to his penis like any other beta boy, but he’s shrunk up quite a bit in the past few years. One of his therapy goals has always been to build a positive self-image around his changed body.

So Steve shuffles closer on his knees and pulls him into a hug, hushing his cries. “Shhh. S’okay. Daddy loves the way you look down there. You know that? You’re so beautiful. You’re perfect.”

“I sh–shouldn’t ...”

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn't like it?” Bucky makes a miserable little noise of assent, and Steve tuts and rubs his back, finding one of his bound hands and giving it a squeeze. “Stop. It’s okay to let it feel good, bub. It’s okay. I love that this feels good for you, y’know that? I love it.” He kisses the side of his head. “I love you.”

Bucky keens and nuzzles his face against Steve’s chest, leaning fully into him as his scent blooms richer with an added layer of intensely happy omega. He doesn’t say “I love you," but Steve knows it all the same, and his confidence over whether that was the right thing to say out loud is bolstered.

Somehow, at some point, this thing between them has gone from purely medical to intensely personal, from sex to love. And the only thing Steve knows for sure is that it didn’t happen in the last few hours or even in just the last few days. It’s been building for a while, obscured by Steve’s professionalism and Bucky’s insecurities, by the large gaps of time between one stay on-ward and the next. But now that they’re both in a place to let that truth come bobbing to the surface, Steve can finally see the full shape of it: Bucky is meant to be his omega. He always has been.

Steve hugs him tightly for a long moment like that, just breathing in the scent of his pheromones, the slick in his diaper and the cheap hospital shampoo in his hair. Only when Bucky starts moving his hips again does Steve pull back, putting just enough space between them so that he can see everything and enjoy the view.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world is still completely dark, the soft material of the blindfold blocking out any distractions. His breathing gets a little heavier the more worked up he gets, and even though he’s pretty dumbed down at this point, the sweet thing still tries to communicate, stringing together a bunch of slurred words in lieu of real sentences. “F-feels good … don’ w-wanna … nnngh, it’s so, mmmm, f-feels so—Oh! ... god. I jus’ wanna, I wanna …” he whines loudly in frustration, the tail end of it morphing into an angry sob as his hips shove forward.

Steve tuts and pets him to calm him down. “That’s alright, Sweetie. I know what you’re tryin’ to say. I know it’s a lot. Alpha knows.”

“—l‘pha,”

“Shhh. No need to get frustrated, bub. We’re just exploring all these different feelings, right?” He waits for Bucky to settle down and nod. “Good boy. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, Buck. I’m gonna make you cum, I promise. I’ll make you feel so good. All you gotta do is listen to my voice and sink into it, okay?”

Bucky says his name—a shaky, broken “Ss-teve,” that makes Steve’s heart swell and his cock throb. Without thinking, his hand finds its way to the crotch of his own pants and cups his erection. Fuck, he’s so hard. He even gives in to temptation for a second and squeezes himself, jerking over the fabric to bump the head just the barest bit. But then he gets a hold of himself. He exhales harshly through his nose and yanks his hand away.

No, he thinks sternly. He’s managed to do his job ethically for over three years with this kid tempting him. He’s not going to fuck it up this late in the game. All those things he’s been dreaming of: touching himself, touching Bucky while touching himself, and—god—letting Bucky touch him; those’ll all have to wait just a little bit longer.

He hastily leans over to reach for something from the pile. The suckers are the first thing his fingers touch and he grabs them up, wasting no time in applying them deftly to each of Bucky’s nipples. Bucky, who can’t see what’s coming, makes a sharp cry of surprise as they latch on, the sound dissolving into an uncertain but pleasured warble in his throat. “Ohh,” he breathes. “Mmm …”

Steve smiles. Really, they’re for use on any erogenous zone or pressure point. More often than not, he’ll use them for gland stimulation on his younger patients who aren’t yet cleared for sexual touch therapies. But they work just as well on the chest or genitals. The suction keeps them sealed to Bucky’s skin, sticking straight out like little rubber knobs.

Bucky moans and squirms as his nipples are slowly pulled into the pressure, whispering a tiny little “ohhffuck,” under his breath.

“That'a'boy,” Steve hums. He goes back to rubbing his tummy, thumbs dipping just below the plastic waistband of the diaper to dig in at either side of his pelvis. If he angles it just right, he can get at the glands that’re hidden under the muscle there. Bucky’s still making pleasured noises of confusion at the pressure on his chest and how good it feels. “This is normal. Your body’s extra sensitive from the enema,” Steve reminds him, because the poor kid is definitely too far in his head to remember that right now. Steve frees up one hand to nudge and flick at the suckers, intensifying the sensation, and Bucky sobs,

“Ungh, noooo. Oh god. I have’ta, have’ta … nngh.” He pulls against his restraints, shoving his crotch forward. “S-steve, I can’t. I’m gonna.”

“It’s okay. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay, bub.” Steve hasn't missed how he’s been licking compulsively at his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it, over and over, stimming to satisfy his body’s natural reflex. Maybe it’s time he had something in his mouth. Steve hadn't thought to pick out a gag, but there is a jar of PheroGel sitting in the pile of things he’d hastily grabbed for this session. He pulls it over and unscrews the lid. The stuff comes out pearly white and creamy, lewdly similar to the appearance of cum (so of course it sends his mind wandering). He coats two fingers in the stuff and brings them up in front of Bucky’s slack mouth.

Immediately, Bucky reacts. He whimpers and searches out blindly, bumping into Steve’s hand before eagerly drawing him in. “Mmmn.” His lips mold to the shape of Steve’s fingers and suck hard. "Mm, mmph ...”

Steve chuckles lowly at the display. “That’s it,” he murmurs, letting him suck them clean before dipping back into the jar for more. He feeds the fake cum into his mouth with a sense of awe, watching as Bucky’s gorgeous lips shape to his fingers and suck in long, demanding pulls. God, the kid has a pretty mouth, so lush and full. Steve can’t help but to imagine those same lips wrapped around the head of his cock, instead; how wet and red they’d be as Bucky worked hard to pull what he craved out of Steve’s body.

If you were mine, Steve thinks, then changes it to 'when', in his mind. When Bucky is his, Steve’ll jerk off into a cup every day if the omega wants. Save up every bit of his spend that isn’t fucked straight into Bucky’s ass, feed it back to him leisurely whenever he needs or wants it. Maybe fix up a slow-pull sucker tool for him to work at during the day when Steve’s away at his new job.

Because he is getting a new job. Kneeling here in front of Bucky and seeing him like this, Steve has no doubts anymore. He needs to be Bucky’s Alpha. He needs to bring this boy home with him. For good.

Even though Bucky seems to be enjoying the taste of the PheroGel, he eventually turns his face away, forcing Steve’s fingers from his mouth. His lips are shiny from the fake cum and he’s panting harder all of a sudden. “Oh.” His hips jerk and his face goes pink. “Oh, S-steve, I think … I’m gonna …” He shudders and stops breathing, body taught as a bowstring, and for a few long seconds, Steve isn’t sure if he’s wetting or orgasming.

“Ohhgn-shhit.”

An orgasm, Steve concludes, as he slides his hands all over Bucky’s skin and eases him through it. The scent of omega release hits the air, telling him that Bucky’s managed to stimulate his prostate enough to find that deeper level of pleasure. Normally, it’d be impossible without penetration, but the enema must have his insides swollen enough and sensitive enough that he’s been able to achieve it nonetheless.

Steve groans at how fucking hot that is and rubs encouragingly up and down his sides. “Good,” he praises, letting the pleasure he’s feeling come through in his voice. No point in hiding it anymore: He’s aroused as fuck. “That’s so good, Honey. Did you get a release out, there?”

He knows he did, but Bucky’s shaky nod confirms it. “Mm. Mm hm,” he grunts, his hips still making shuddery little movements through the aftershocks. “Oh. Oh no ...” he whispers, freezing up again. That’s when the faint hissing sound comes, and Steve knows he’s lost control of his bladder. He whines and pitches forward, hiding his face in the bend of Steve’s neck and shoulder. “Nnnnhh!”

Steve just holds him and coos a steady stream of supportive nonsense, hushing and comforting him the entire time. He wraps one arm around his waist and worms the other down between his legs, cupping where the warmth is spreading and making the diaper fill out. “Shh,” he soothes, letting Bucky moan and rock into it. He provides pressure with his hand and hugs Bucky tight against him. “Remember what we talked about? This happens. It’s totally normal. Just means you’re feeling relaxed and safe like you should be, right? Thaat’s right. Shhh. Just let go now and enjoy the way it feels. Doesn’t it feel so warm and full?” In his arms, Bucky sobs and nods, and Steve hums in understanding. “I know, bub, I know. Such a relief, huh? That’s okay. Just feel it, just get it alll out. Alpha’s right here.”

Bucky’s sounds of distress lessen to almost nothing the longer it goes on and the longer Steve holds him and tells him that it’s okay and that he should just enjoy it. It still takes him a while to finish wetting. Under Steve’s palm, the padding bulges out to an obscene fullness, and when he keeps up the pressure he’s been providing, Bucky eventually begins making little, aroused huffs again. He grinds against Steve’s hand and works himself up to another orgasm, tipping over the edge when Steve plucks the suckers off his chest.

“Ah!” His cries are shorter and sharper this time—an orgasm, but no release.

Quite predictably, after it's over he gets very sleepy, very fast. It’s been a long morning but a good one, and Steve kisses his forehead when he goes limp, utterly spent. “Good. You did so good, Buck. Let’s get these restraints off, okay?” he whispers, already working away on the cuffs. The fastenings are nothing but Velcro, so it’s only a second until he’s got Bucky free of both the collar and the attached cuffs. He tosses them aside and gathers the omega up in his arms, carrying him off to get cleaned up.

This may be (and hopefully is) Bucky's last day as a Hydra patient, but that doesn't mean he won't have some group classes and therapies left to attend with the other boys in his cohort that afternoon and evening. Steve will just have to find a way to fill his own time, leave Bucky to his schedule, and hang in there while he gets the ball rolling to secure Bucky's release into his custody.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

i still don't wanna go mr stark

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51750085 by norahdevore the prime example of peter parker needing a hug. (he gets them :) Words: 4608, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English Series: Part 2 of irondad & spiderson

[ao3feed-steggy]

Hello Goodbye My Darling

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/G8lTxHy by RachelLyseBrook His task is finished. All of the stones have been returned to where they belong and all Steve Rogers wants to do is be with Peggy. But his heart is still heavy, if he pays attention to it. Words: 4608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Characters: Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Additional Tags: Minor Steve Rogers & Sarah Rogers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov Deserves Better, BAMF Peggy Carter, I hope!, She gets Steve thinking at the very least, Mentioned Sarah Rogers (Marvel), Planet Vormir (Marvel), Time Travel, Implied Sexual Content, Steve/Natasha if you squint, (because I'm trash), Steve Rogers Loves His Mom, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, not as heavy as it could be, But It's Still There read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/G8lTxHy

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Before taking off please extinguish all smoldering resentments. 

by llamallamaduck The fact that the newest of Gotham’s wackjobs was a cat-eyed, long-limbed snack of a boy is not, in itself, that surprising. Even the fact that the kid dressed and spoke like the platonic ideal of a 70’s punk dirtbag and seemingly knew every protest song ever written. No, in the end, Jason was only properly surprised that both wisdom and intelligence were lurking behind the facade of a bougie, sneering teenager without substance or consequence. After growing up with Brucie Wayne and Richie Wayne, Jason really should have known better than to fall for it. Words: 4608, Chapters: 2/4, Language: English Series: Part 18 of Set in Batman-verse Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Jason Todd, Hobie Brown, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Hobie Brown/Jason Todd Additional Tags: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Strangers to Frienemies to Lovers, Hobie Brown is the coolest person in any universe, And Jason is a disaster, song-fic, An excuse to cram in as many protest songs as I can, Totally not a Pride&Prejudice AU, absolutely not, how dare you via https://ift.tt/LSPebUC