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dangerousstrawberryshark · 2 months ago

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Full Circle

🔥Pairing(s)🔥→ Stepbrother Dean Winchester x Male reader ⚠CW⚠→ stepcest, gay, gay-sex, top Dean Winchester, bottom male reader, possessive Dean, obsessive Dean, choking, spanking, praise kink, rough sex, Dean stalks you, jealous Dean, sort of fluff then smut, anal, anal sex, anal fingering, masochist reader, and Dean is rough but loving. He sabotages your relationships. 🔥Rating🔥→ Explicit 🔥Requested🔥→ Yes

🔥Word Count🔥→: 3.3k

🔥Summary🔥→ Dean has been in love with you since you moved in. It was wrong but he couldn’t help himself. He intimidated all your pursers and made sure you were single. However, he stopped his ministrations when he saw he was ruining your love life. He watched with jealousy as you got into relationships. His moment came when you came crying to him.

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING!

This fic doesn’t follow the supernatural timeline!

It was wrong. Anyone who saw it will say it's wrong to love your stepbrother beyond a family bond. Dean didn’t see it like that, though. He defended himself by saying, “We’re given the title of brothers, but we’re not related in any way.” People will still say it's wrong, but at this point, Dean didn’t care.

Dean still remembers the day you appeared in his life.

Dean was eighteen when their father announced he was remarrying again and that they’d get a new brother. Dean wasn’t too happy about getting another sibling—he thought he and Sam were enough—but he stayed quiet and didn’t complain. John then gave another announcement that they’d be meeting their new mother and brother.

The older Winchester was reluctant to meet the addition to the Winchester family. From the information he was given, you were a year younger than him. He was spacing out and blocking external interactions. ‘Why must father’s new wife come with an attachment? It would’ve been better if it was just her… not some “brother” that’s coming.’ Dean cursed as he bit his lip from annoyance even though they hadn’t arrived yet. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear his father calling out to him. “Dean! Change that attitude and meet your new brother.”

Dean groaned and sighed as he drank his soda before looking up to meet his new stepbrother. He choked as he made eye contact, hacking as the soda itched his throat the wrong way. His face was flustered from embarrassment as he tried to clean himself. ‘Shit! I wasn’t expecting him to be that…’

The Winchester who was usually confident, charming, and witty embarrassed himself. He was gobsmacked, he didn’t expect you to be cute, handsome, and attractive! Dean never found another man attractive but he was bi-curious; guess he’s bisexual. After his humiliation, Dean introduced himself, attempting to brush off the incident.

“Well, I guess we’re gonna be stepbrothers! Nice to meet you..”

XXX

You were a plague on his mind. You filled his mind every waking day as he tried to push down those feelings for you. It only got worse after the wedding ceremony when you and his new mom moved in. The older Winchester unknowingly began watching your moves; how you acted, dressed, and talked. Every last piece of you made him want you more.

He went as far as to steal your underwear, jerking his cock to your musky scent. His imagination went full drive, imagining you in various positions. Begging and whining for him while he fucks you to oblivion. Dean had the greatest orgasms in his life, painting himself with his load.

“Dean! Where is my underwear?” You yelled as you searched your room. This was the fourth time this week that your underwear had gone missing! Other belongings had gone missing like some clothing, pillowcases, and even your toothbrush.

At first, he was adamant about you, but now he was becoming obsessed with you. Whenever you two spoke together, he cherished those memories and every detail. He started stalking all your social media accounts, gathering every piece of information. His obsession reached the point where he could feel your presence in the room.

Obsession was blooming, but so was possessiveness.

Dean masked his possessiveness by acting like a concerned older stepbrother, justifying his actions to be out of love and protection for you! He was protecting you from rotten men! So, he invaded every aspect of your life, asking who you’re texting, seeing, or even where you’re going. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I just wanna protect you.”

“Aww, you’re worried about me?” You teased. You always wondered what it would feel like to have another sibling, especially one that’s protective. So, you played off Dean’s protectiveness as just a sibling thing. However, Dean was serious, something you couldn’t comprehend.

When you started attending his university, he began stalking your every move. Jealousy and fury surged through his body as he watched men and women alike talk with you. Your natural charisma and good looks caused more attention to come to you.

Dean attempted to cease further advancements from other men by making– forcing you– you to be in his group of friends. Using his popularity and large stature, Dean intimidated any of your pursers, blackmailing them, or getting physical. Whenever anyone came close, he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you possessively like you two were a couple.

You were flattered by Dean's possessiveness, unaware of his obsession though. He just wanted to protect you! That’s what a good stepbrother does, but it's starting to get out of hand. Because of Dean’s ministrations, you were lacking any type of social interaction or relationships. All the guys you talked to distanced themselves or refused to speak to you again.

Dean was too blind to see how you were feeling until he heard your cries coming from the dorm. Whenever he looks at you now, you just look depressed– saddened that nobody wants to be near you or be in a relationship. The older Winchester began questioning himself.

After days of contemplating and trying to justify his actions, Dean decided to back off. Even though the deepest parts of his mind were telling him that everything he did was for your safety. Despite his own unpopular opinion, Dean backs off and watches as you engage with other men. It took a lot of willpower to not stomp over there and snatch you from them.

As a way to channel his jealousy and fury, Dean went to the gym every day as he continued to watch you. The constant routine caused him to become bulky. Many men and women threw themselves at him, and Dean indulged, trying to bury his affection and jealousy. However, none of it worked. Someday, Dean hopes your feelings will come around.

That day finally came three years later.

XX(three years later)XX

For three years, Dean watched in agony and jealousy as you got into an intimate relationship with someone who wasn't him. Dean, from day one, said he didn’t approve and made it abundantly clear. He watched like a cuck as the guy was lovey-dovey with you. Even worse, he could hear the sounds of moaning and bed squeaking at night. Admittedly, he did jerk off but only imagined himself being the one fucking you.

Every day, Dean prayed to whatever God there was for misfortune to strike your relationship. It was an asshole move to pray on the downfall of his stepbrother's relationship, but Dean felt something was wrong with that man. He was later proven right.

“H-He cheated on me! That fucking asshole! I… I did everything…” you yelled as you took all your anger on some pillow before crying and burying your head.

Dean watched, having the face of a concerned brother but inside, he was ecstatic. This was his chance! He could use this moment to slowly insert himself back into your life. Surely, helping you overcome this massive obstacle would make you fall in love with him! Dean will never cheat on you like that asshole did and could be a better boyfriend, maybe husband.

Because nobody is gonna pay some guy or girl to come after him!

“Hey, Hey… it's okay. Come here, let me hug you.” Dean says tenderly as he pulls you into his embrace. Your cries muffled into his flannel jacket as the older Winchester soothed your cries. He could hear your rugged breathing calm down as you relaxed into your stepbrother's hold.

Dean repeated this for the next few days which turned into weeks and months. He did everything to make you forget that man; taking you out to eat, movies, just sitting around and talking, or playing games together and just getting closer. Closer than what’s accepted between stepbrothers. He made sure you blocked the asshole's number and got rid of everything that reminded you of him.

You were starting to feel something with Dean. You never looked at your stepbrother like that but now you were seeing him differently. His charming smile, funny personality, and bulky body from hours at the gym. You often caught yourself staring at Dean for long periods before turning away embarrassed.

His biceps flexed, pulling his shirt slightly up to show his happy trail, walking around with no shirt on, or hugging you from behind. You blushed and smiled as Dean’s muscular body pressed against yours, and it was something you didn’t expect to need. These unexpected thoughts led to constant wet dreams– Dean pushing you into the bed, ramming his cock into your ass as he praises you for being a good boy.

“So fucking good… You’re amazing, baby boy.” Dean groans as he nibbles and kisses your neck as he fucks his cock into your tight ass. His large burly hands roam your body to soothe you from the pain.

You woke with bad morning wood.

Everything was going as planned, if anything, faster than Dean anticipated. He could feel you warming up to him and often begging for his attention. You two were hanging out in your room, doing nothing, and the older Winchester felt the time was right.

“Y/n… I feel like this is the right time to tell you. I’ve always loved you ever since we met.” Dean confessed as he got closer. His natural scent filled your nose as his large body was close to yours. The room was turning around, it felt like it was getting hotter as you processed what Dean said.

You didn’t remember what you said, probably saying you loved him back, but it ended with you and Dean being in a heated kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth as he took the dominant role and pushed you into submission. Feeling your submission, he pulled you onto his lap.

“D-dean…” You whine as you feel your stepbrother pulling your shirt off. His worn hands roam your body as he touches every crevice. His thick fingers tweaking your nipples, your moans muffled by the kiss. Suddenly, the rest of your clothing was torn off as Dean moved you from his lap to the comfortable bed.

The cold air touches your cock causing you to moan softly. Looking up at Dean, you could see lust in his eyes and he hastily takes off his clothing, almost tripping. His whole body was only for you to see. He was muscular, with perfect abs and pectorals along with his biceps. Tone thighs as his long cock was erected, acting like a third leg.

Dean looked down at you, seeing the eagerness in your eyes from seeing his cock. You're shifting comfortably, thrusting your hips upward to get stimulation and spreading your legs further to let Dean get more room. “Look at you… all needy and I barely did anything.” Dean groans as he wraps his hand around your aching cock, giving it slow strokes. Your breath was caught in your throat as you tried to chase the pleasure, thrusting into Dean’s hand for more. Suddenly, a loud slap rang; Dean’s hand leaving a significant handprint.

Instead of feeling pain, you felt pleasure from being hit. This caused you to thrust more which resulted in Dean slapping your thighs. “Ah? My baby is a fucking masochist? Want me to continue?” Dean purrs as he hears you moaning like a bitch in heat. You nodded desperately, wanting more. He continued his ministration, slapping your thighs until they looked bruised– not that you minded. Your cock was throbbing painfully, coating the older Winchester’s hand with your precum.

Dean was doing everything to prevent your orgasm: ruining it by pulling away when he feels you were close and squeezing or pinching your cockhead. While it may look painful to others, you were ascending to another reality. Your moans filled the room, and you started begging for more. “P-please… I-I need… god… more. Please! Touch me.” Your whines were music to Dean’s ear as he felt you were ready for the next stage.

“Darling. Lick my fingers,” Dean says as he shoves his fingers into your mouth. Three thick digits filled your mouth as you lathered them with saliva, slobbering around the digits, tongue swirling. It felt like you were losing air when Dean pulled his fingers out– satisfied by how coated they were. “Good job, darling. Amazing.” the older Winchester says causing you to whine with happiness from his praise.

Slowly, Dean pushes one finger inside, grinning as he sees you pushing yourself back onto his finger. Your breathing got heavier with only one finger filling you, and flashbacks of your boyfriend filled your vision, but Dean was much better. He was thicker and bigger, speaking about his fingers, you’re nervous about his cock. “Breath, darling. I know you’re eager, but you need to calm down so I stretch you.” Dean says as he uses his other hand to soothe your thighs.

Letting a soft “yes” you started relaxing. The tension leaves your body as you feel Dean pressing and pushing two more fingers inside. He was stretching you nicely, reveling in the way you were keen on fucking yourself on his fingers. Dean continued pumping his fingers, loud squelching mixing with your moans and whines. He sees your body squirming and wiggling, trying to get more.

Dean groans with mild frustration as he tried to find the sweet spot. After wiggling and thrusting his fingers, feeling your hot ass clenching around his digits– “Dean! There! Right there!”

Bingo

He began abusing your bundle of nerves. The tip of his fingers rammed into your sweet spot as he was milking that spot for your pleasure. Feeling the signals your body was giving, an orgasm, Dean pulled his fingers with a loud pop following. “W-why did you stop?” You whine before Dean gave your ass a harsh slap.

“I want you to cum with my dick inside you,” Dean says as he strokes his cock. Opening your drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. He put a generous amount on his hands before lathering his aching monster cock with the substance. “Please… fucking, please. Fuck me,” you whine as you gave Dean teary eyes.

Who was Dean to deny his darling his pleasure?

Dean grins, slowly thrusting his cock into your ass, pausing when he is fully inside. He wants you to adjust, your ex-boyfriend probably never filled you this much. He was right. Just from him entering, you were on cloud nine. You’ve never been filled or stretched this much. Your ass clenching around Dean’s large cock, trying to pull it deeper. “Fucking hell, darlin'. That pathetic man didn’t fill you this much?” Dean groans as he starts rocking his hips, thrusting in, pulling back, and then slamming into you.

You were already cockdrunk. The perfect feeling of Dean’s large cock filling you up, cockhead ramming into your bundle of nerves. His rough thrusts caused the bed to squeak which mixed with your loud moans and groans, caused your cries for Dean to rougher. “Fucking slut, darlin’. You feel so fucking good. This ass was made for me.”

His praises sent you to spiral more. You then feel Dean’s worn hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing it but not hard enough to close your airways. Eye contact was made as Dean looked down– you were fucked beyond your comprehension. Drool seeped through the corners of your mouth, and your eyes rolled back as you gripped the bed sheets. “Who owns you, darlin’?” Dean growls as he grips your hips.

“Y-you! I’m all yours!” you cried as tears rolled down your face from the stimulation. You were desperately trying to keep up with Dean. With your prostate being consistently abused, you were on the verge of prostate orgasm.

“Atta, boy. You fucking belong to me. No longer than the pathetic excuse of a man. Only me! That’s all you need! Me…Only I get to see you like this.” Dean growls as his thrust gets sloppier. His breathing was getting heavier, your ass was heaven and it was about to send him there too. “Keep speaking. I wanna hear your voice, keep telling me who you belong to.”

You began babbling that you belonged to him repeatedly. Your mind was completely fucked to the ground. The only thing was pleasure surging through your body, your aching cock throbbing and swinging.

Dean was internally patting himself on the back. You were wrapped around his finger. His dreams throughout the years were finally coming true. He could have the future he had planned since he was eighteen.

With each bucking and rocking of his hips, you grew closer and closer to your orgasm. Desperate for your orgasm, you began pushing back against him, attempting to match the rhythm of his thrusts. You were driving each other crazy, your bodies covered in sweat, mixing with the stench of sex filling the room. The sound of skin slapping, the symphony of your moans and his groans, and the bed squeaking; heavenly music that Dean could do every day if you were up for that.

“So fucking good, darlin’. You’re perfect for me. I don’t care if we’re stepbrothers, you were always more than that since the day I met.” Dean moans as his breathing began to hitch, his large cock throbbing. He began praising you, making sure you would come undone. “I-I’m gonna cum… cum with me, darlin’,” Dean whines as he wraps his hand around your cock to ensure you both cum at the same time.

Both of your breathings got rugged. Your ass trying to milk Dean’s cock off its thick creamy load, and Dean stroking your aching cock while he rams into your prostate. “I-I’m cumming!” Dean growls as he collapses onto your body, biting your shoulder harshly. Your cock exploded, its thick load coating Dean’s hand and your chest.

Dean roars as he gives one final thrust, his cock throbbing, balls churning its load before his spend was flooding your velvety walls, painting your insides white. He groans as this is the best orgasm in his life. The ecstasy lasted for a few minutes, Dean licking the wound on your shoulder. The iron taste of blood touched his taste buds as he licked it clean. Now, people will know who you belong to. He was going to make sure of that to everyone.

“I love you darlin’,” Dean says as he pulls his flaccid cock out, a loud squelch and pop echo as a wave of his thick cum gushes out. He bred you well. The older Winchester lay down and pulled you closer to him, wanting you to nuzzle into his body.

The sounds of ragged breathing as you both calm down from the intense session. You cuddled into Dean’s larger body and you could feel his cum oozing out your abused hole. “I love you too.” You said as you slowly drifted off to sleep, Dean’s heartbeat comforting you.

Dean was satisfied with how things turned out. He finally got everything he wanted.

Your feelings and his went in opposite directions, but you both came back in a Full Circle.

THE END

A/N: Hello, my strawberries! Wow, this is the longest fic I made in a while. I do hope you’ll enjoy this. Very special thanks to my proofreader, @sagethegaywitch

TAGLIST: @spnfanboy777 @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #male reader imagine #smut #x male reader smut #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x male reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x male reader #gay #supernatural fic #supernatural x male reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x male reader

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eccentricallygothic · 6 months ago

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Trouble.

Hard Dom!Phillip Graves who has never been soft with a sub before you…

Warning(s): Established D/S dynamic, collar and leash, kneeling, total submission, fluff, size kink, age gap, shy!reader, intimidation kink. MDNI.

The little lock to your collar clinks as you whip your head towards the double doors of the balcony that the rain hits and melts itself against. Though your entire body years to rush towards the glass barriers and push them open to let yourself out, you bite your bottom lip to help yourself concentrate on staying in place like you had been ordered to do so.

Your Dom, the much older and experienced Commander Philip Graves, doesn't have to look up from his laptop screen to know the battle you're fighting within yourself. It's his order against your impulse and the attentive soldier catches your smaller form getting fidgety by the second right away.

You struggle for a few moments as your try to bring your eyes back to the spot that you are supposed to stare at while you kneel beside his couch and wait for his command -any command- to act upon. But it hasn't rained in a while and the louder and more aromatic it gets, the more restless you grow.

You nearly jump out of your skin from the shock and sensitivity -because you're extremely shy around him; something about his aura- when your desperate gaze bounces from the door to him and you find him already looking at you. Your heart leaps up in your throat and a thousand butterflies stem from the base of your stomach all the way up to your chest. A deep red burns into your cheeks and you whimper from the amusement that is on his face.

“Well?” He speaks when you choose to remain quiet. The two of you have never really needed many words to communicate. “Go on, then.” The Commander loves the colourful light that flashes in your eyes and your nervous expression turns into a big beam. Being the kind of Dom that he is, you suspected him of denying or teasing you about it just because he had the power to do so and you loved to surrender it to him. And unbeknownst to you, if it were any of his older subs and not you, Philip would have. He knows it as well as he knows the sun exists, he would have.

You are on your toes before the next second can start. The older man sits up a bit straighter to undo the leash that is attached to your collar and he cannot help but let out a little smile when you mutter a cute thank you, Master before bolting in the opposite direction.

But then you halt midway and spin on your heels. Though your body is half cocked towards the doors, your eyes eagerly find him and you smile. “Would you like to come with, Sir?” You question with a meek politeness, fingers shyly toying with the ends of the fancy lace underwear you wear for him.

Philip is taken aback, as he always is with you. He has never had this kind of a bond with any of his subs. Sometimes it's strange to him how you behave and care beyond your place as his sub. Of course, he cannot and would never harbor any ill feelings towards his past partners for not being like you as the conditions are always clear and strictly to be maintained within the Dom-Sub dynamic since his line of work doesn't allow him the liberty of a lover.

But Philip appreciates you nonetheless.

“Uh…” He looks down at his own navy blue sweatshirt dark grey trousers and then looks back up at you.

You understand. “Is okay!” Your links clinks adorably as you excitedly rush to him and hold a hand out. “I'll clean the mess! But you must come, it's really so fun, Sir!” When Philip tilts his head to the side and looks up at you in a contemplative manner, you do a series of restless mini jumps. “Please, c'mon!”

You'll be the death of him.

“Alright, alright” he puts the laptop aside and takes your smaller hand before pushing his heavy and broad body to stand up and tower over you. You squeal from delight and begin to pull his bigger form towards the balcony. The man shakes his head to himself.

Philip is in so much trouble.

His eyes follow your feverish form as he slowly lets you drag him towards the glass doors before he helps you slide one open since you are holding his hand in yours and are too small to manage to do so with one. You squeal again and this time the Commander cannot help but snort under his breath as reaction to your childish antics. Quirks of having a younger partner, he guesses.

“Careful” he calls firmly when you get too excited and start slipping and skidding about on your naked feet, the wet marble underneath your feet helping your play and Phillip's grip serving well as an anchor for your body. “Don't go hurting yourself now.”

But you're exhilarated as the cool water hits your face and semi-naked body. You giggle -though you're usually rather coy around him- and jump, you twirl and spin, you do a silly little dance sequence while holding his hands and making him copy you.

And though Phillip tries to be the responsible one, he cannot help but scoff out a chuckle at your antics, his heart erratic as it revels in the melodies of your pouty whines when he refuses to let you go off by keeping a firm hold on you.

And then the Commander surprises the both of you -as he is not one to show much affection- by suddenly pulling you closer until you are pressed against him and his arms coil around your waist. The hot kiss he connects your mouths in steals the very breath out of your lungs and the manner in which he refuses to let go makes you melt into him.

Oh, it's trouble alright.

. . .

I am too tired. Unedited would have to do for now.

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the-teufort-nine · 2 months ago

Note

Arousal hcs for the support class? What are they like when they’re horny?

Support Classes | What Support Is Like When They Need To Go To Horny Jail

Obviously, NSFW below!

Sniper:

<3 This man will go to insane lengths for privacy to jork it. Like, he will straight up drive off into the desert before his belt even gets unbuckled.

<3 UNLESS he gets hot 'n bothered during battle, and he has the object of his infatuation nearby his nest. Then they're getting yoinked off the battlefield and into his lap.

<3 Listen. This man is gross. I know this. You know this. Don't lie to yourself. He definitely has a scent kink and will snag his partner/crush's underwear to help him get off if they're not around.

<3 Get's FERAL when he's horny. If he's alone, he bites his hand so hard it bleeds, and if he's with someone, they ain't leavin' till he breeds. Expect lots of growls and snarls and rough love bites.

<3 Want him to get horny immediately? Stretch and show your neck/midriff.

<3 Likes post-nut snuggles. Don't expect him to be vocal for a little while.

Spy:

<3 Despite being such a romantic person who clearly gets bitches, he doesn't get horny very often. Like, if he's with someone, then obviously he doesn't have any problems getting it up, but he doesn't usually pop a boner midday.

<3 When he does though? Insatiable. This man is not going to settle for any old porn magazine. No, he's going to get his material straight from the source. Is this an invasion of privacy? Yes. Does he care? Right now, not at all.

<3 Acts just as stuttering and clumsy as his son if the person he's interested in shows up when he's trying to take care of himself, before he get's hella snappy. Either fuck off or come help him!

<3 Really slow to trust and get comfortable with someone. Don't expect the mask to come off until you have a super strong bond with Spy.

<3 Usually quiet if he's masturbating, but he likes to praise his partners. Lots of petting and light hair pulling to guide them.

<3 Wanna give him a 'problem?' Put on a classy outfit and take the lead. Tease him a little, and if you're good enough, he'll fold like wet, hard laundry.

<3 Post-nut cigarette inbound. King of aftercare, but please treat him nice too.

Medic:

<3 Exhibitionism! Get your exhibitionism here!

<3 This man has no shame. He won't do it, like, in the common areas, but if you walk into his Medbay or Room after work hours, that's on you. Def has masturbated on the battlefield before. Man's is a FREAK for blood and gore.

<3 Also pretty insatiable, though he gets hornier more often than Spy does. He can take care of himself, but he prefers a warm body to help him out.

<3 He's into bloodplay, doctor/nurse roleplay, and probably wound fucking, if I'm being honest. Also, he decided that, out of all the things he could of done to get back at Team Classic, he decided to get them pregnant.

<3 What i mean here is: Medic has a breeding kink, and he will make it a reality, no matter the sex of his partner.

<3 LOUD ASS GERMAN MAN. People know when he's taking care of himself or getting some. Please gag him. PLEASE.

<3 Wanna make him think with his other head? Dress up in a nurse outfit and/or rip someone's organs out. Fair warning, though, if you take the 'and' option, you'll be walking funny for a while, if you can walk at all.

<3 Great at cleaning you and him up post-nut. Gets clingy afterwards and very possesive. Pray your teammates don't accidentally stumble across you, because they're gonna meet a bloody end.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 spy x reader #spy tf2 #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 sniper #n/s/f/w #tw suggestive #tw kinks #tf2 headcanons

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xoxxbilliexoxx · 3 months ago

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Friends? Just Friends?

After years of being friends with Billie, the sexual tension comes to an all time high and can’t be ignored any longer. You finally let her teach you exactly what it feels like to be with a woman

This is super long but I promise it’s worth it ;)

Y/N Pov

I walk over to the speaker, turn it on, and ask Billie what playlist she wants to hear. It’s a chill Sunday afternoon, and after Billie and I woke up around noon, we’ve been lying in bed watching TikTok and yapping. Billie slept over last night after a late night at a friend's party. It seems like these days I don’t spend many nights without Billie in my bed, or me in hers. We’ve been friends for years but a while ago we both expressed how bored and lonely we each had been, and started hanging out almost all the time. Now a few months later, she's definitely my best friend, always attached to each other's hips. I finally pulled myself out of bed a little while ago, and now it is unfortunately time for my Sunday routine. Billie knows it well by now since she’s been forced to be a part of it week after week.

“Let's do some bossa nova this week, I’m in the mood to move my hips” Billie laughs back at my question. We’ve bonded over our love for international music and it has been slowly added into the Sunday routine, choosing a different type each week once I finally force myself out of bed, cleaning up my room while Billie's lazy ass stays under the comfy sheets goofing off on her phone and telling me all her crazy thoughts. She starts seductively moving her hips beneath the blankets as she laughs and hums to the Brazilian guitar purring through the speaker. I look over at her as I lean down to pick up the dirty clothes that have accumulated in the corner of my room, laughing back at her.

As I stand up and try to turn around, I feel my foot slide out from under me, seemingly having been planted on a dirty pair of underwear I missed. I hit the floor with a loud thunk and Billie darts to the corner of the bed, not even trying to hide her laughter as she tries to calm down long enough to ask if I’m okay. I turn my head to follow her voice, and all I can see is her head extending off the bed, hovering over me, leaving me laughing just as loud as she is. “Oh my god, I will never not make fun of your clutsy ass ending up on the floor” she yells out between her giggles, trying hard to catch her breath as she points down at me laughing more as she mocks my fake hurt face.

I grab the first thing I can find next to me and throw it at her face before pretending I’m mad, yelling for her to quit being a bitch and help me get up. She dramatically dodges whatever it is coming for her face then leans her hand up catching it. As she opens her hand and realizes it's my black thong I wore last night, she acts as if shes absolutely disgusted before she laughs and throws it back at me. “Bitch don’t you ever throw ur crusty ass panties at my face again,” she says with a tight smile, letting me know she doesn’t actually care. I open my mouth gasping at her words, “crusty? Whose panties you calling crusty cuz they sure as hell aren’t mine” I say, before standing up from the floor and grabbing them to add them to the laundry bin. “My kitty is nice and clean, and so are my underwear,” I add, as I turn to her, knowing she hates when I call it my kitty.

“Yea yea,” she laughs, before jumping off the bed, “I bet it is,” she whispers, leaning her head close to mine before winking and walking to the bathroom. I take a second to look for something next to say, not coming up with anything. Billie and I have always walked a fine line of flirting and just joking around as friends. It's clear we both do it, but we’ve never acknowledged it. Instead, it just stays in our presence, like a thick tension we pretend we don’t feel. I feel it all too well though, always holding an intense attraction to her, since the day I met her. Quite honestly it was even before that, when I was still just a fan of hers and never thought I’d end up her best friend. That is another whole story though.

Ever since I told Billie I thought I might be gay, the tension has only grown, yet we continue not to recognize it, like we are both terrified of what might happen if we do. I decide in a split second to be bold, regretting the words as soon as they come out of my mouth, “Nice and clean and with no one to show it to,” Billie whips her head back at me with a smile, toothpaste spilling out the sides as she laughs and wipes it away, rubbing it shamelessly on the big t-shirt she slept in. I giggle a bit before finding my confidence again. Maybe this damn bossa nova is getting to my head but I feel the tension as thick as its ever been. I catch a look in her eyes that I haven’t seen before, like shes thinking about what I look like under these boxers. “No *girl* to show it to”, adding emphasis to my words as I correct my previous statement.

I turn around and walk towards my desk as silence falls between us. I begin picking up all the makeup on my vanity, continuing on with my cleaning, letting the bossa nova fill my head again. I can hear Billie finishing in the bathroom, clinking her toothbrush on the side of the sink before setting it back in the cup and walking into my room again. She settles on the edge of the bed in criss-cross, watching me clean and hum along with the guitar.

“So you’ve thought more about it then, huh?” she asks me delicately, knowing we haven’t talked about it in a while. I look into the mirror and find her eyes on the bed behind me, eyes that have already found me. I turn around to face her before I shrug my shoulder. “I mean I think about it constantly, I just feel so nervous about it all. I really think I’m into women but I don't know where to go from here” I answer her, but continue on after a brief pause. “Actually, I know I’m into women, regardless it's scary as fuck…. Women are scary as fuck” I laugh out. “You’re cute,” Billie says with a little giggle. It comes out in a friendly way, but the way she continues to stare at me after she says it doesn’t match the solely friendly tone of voice. I pick up a shirt lying on the bench of my vanity and throw it at her head, harder than the panties this morning. It hits her right on the forehead and she sprawls out on the bed dramatically, acting far more hurt than she was. “Oh stop being dramatic and get ur lazy ass up, it's time to go downstairs and clean the kitchen,” I say as I walk over and pull her up by her arms. As I let go and walk out of the room with Billie following behind me, I turn to look at her, “at least it wasn’t another pair of my nasty crusty disgusting thongs” I saw with a big mocking smile, puckering my lips sending her fake kisses like we always do when we are making fun of each other. Yet again we have managed to completely ignore the tension we are both choking on.

TIME JUMP TO THAT NIGHT

Billie and I are sitting on the couch waiting for our postmates to arrive and watching some shitty rom com on that we both picked from the image alone. We already had cold vegan pizza for dinner and are on our second bottle of wine. This is just another classic sunday evening, junk food, wine, and a postmated dessert to finish off the normal routine. When I first met Billie I watched as she drank her sodas and water while everyone else around her drank mixed drinks and beer. She made it clear publicly that she didnt drink, and when I finally asked her why she told me she had no problem with alcohol or the idea of drinking she just hated every drink she ever tried.

One night when we very first started these constant sleepovers she tried a taste of my favorite wine and loved it. A few weeks later she and I shared a bottle and I had the privilege of watching her experience the drunk world for the first time. Nowadays, we usually each have a glass every Sunday night, and occasionally we will have a girl's night and drink more than a few glasses while we watch shitty movies. Tonight was turning into one of those nights, having just stocked up on our favorite when I went to Target earlier. I walk into the kitchen to pop open the second bottle and ask if Billie wants more. She excitedly grabs her glass and runs into the kitchen after me, purposely sliding with her socks on the kitchen tile as she laughs.

The couple of times Billie has ever been drunk have all been with me, and it’s very clear she is a goofy drunk. This girl is already the funniest person I know when she is sober, but being around her while she's drunk has my abs hurting from laughing. She is quite a lightweight, with her infrequent drinking and her tiny body, so usually we just finish a bottle and a half, before we get messy drunk. We both enjoy being just past tipsy, still in control, still with a filter to our thoughts, but just a little more light-hearted and silly.

When we finish the movie and go in for a refill before starting a new one, we look at each other shocked when we pour out the last drops of the second bottle. “Did we drink all of that?” Billie laughs, her cheeks rosy and her eyes big. “Ruh roh” she yells out before laughing and lifting her glass to take the last sip. “I think we just broke our pathetic previous record,” I giggle back at her. “Should we open another??” she asks me, her words making it clear she is leaving it up for me to decide. I can tell she’s never been this drunk, yet I know she’s nowhere near dangerous drunk, or even messy drunk. “Fuck it let's do it” I shout a little too loudly before I grab another bottle out of the fridge.

TIME JUMP (Smutty time)

Our empty wine glasses are sitting on the coffee table in front of us as we lay under the blankets and watch the movie the TV put on automatically after our first movie finished. We are about 20 minutes in and it's becoming incredibly clear this is not at all similar to the cheesy straight rom-com that came before it. I feel my breath catch in my throat and all the wine-filled blood run to my center when the TV fills with the images of two women making out, one being thrown on the bed while the other climbs on top of her. As the sex scene keeps going, I remember that this is Netflix, and they are putting straight-up soft porn in their movies now.

I feel the pool forming in my underwear as I watch this graphic, incredibly hot lesbian sex scene play out in front of me. My drunk face must not be hiding what I'm feeling well because as Billie turns to look at me, she lets out a loud laugh. “Baby you look like a deer in headlights,” she says, still quietly giggling, her drunkenness showing through in the sound of her laughter. I swallow loudly before looking at her and then back at the TV. The moans get louder as we watch one of the girls reach her peak, the other continuing to go down on her. I shift awkwardly on the couch, trying not to make it too obvious how much that affected me, how turned on it got me. The combination of the wine, the hot lesbian sex in front of us, and the sexually charged tension Billie and I shared earlier is making it impossible for me to look Billie in the eyes, too scared of what I might say or do. Billie is still staring at me as my eyes stay glued on the screen, the scene still playing out. I feel her torso lifting up from the couch and getting closer to me before smiling and whispering, “You wish that was you, huh? Sitting here wondering what it must be like to get fucked by a girl… or fuck a girl yourself” she stays close to me, swallowing and giggling before continuing. “It's fucking incredible, better than you could even imagine,” she says matter of factly. The tension is as thick as it could possibly get, almost like I could see it taking over my entire body, and just by looking at Billie it's clear she feels it too.

Before I can stop myself, I spring towards Billie. My momentum picking up as I get closer. Realizing what I’m doing, I pause, scared to move at all. Billie grabs my face, pulling me the rest of the way to her and our lips crash together. Months of building tension all explode at once as our tongues slide against each other, eagerly slipping between one another's lips, no longer hiding how badly we want each other. “Show me, Billie,” I say, pulling back enough to get my words out and swallow. “Show me what it feels like to be with a girl,” I finish. “you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say those words” she confesses as she stands up, pulling my hand to follow her to my room. We both lightly stumble down the hallway, giggling from the wine and the anticipation of what is to come.

As we make our way into my room I turn on my favorite lamp- it has a dark pink light bulb that glows so nicely in my room at night. I throw myself onto the bed and land right next to Billie, both of us taking a second to laugh at my ridiculous jump before getting quiet again. She turns on her side to face me and I do the same. My hair falls in front of my face as I turn. Billie’s hand comes up, brushing it out of the way before kissing me again, pulling me in tight against her as our legs dance together. Her leg finds its way between mine and as our kiss gets heated again she pushes up against my core. I let out a slight whine as Billie’s hands hit my waist, pushing me harder against her thigh and pushing her tongue into my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horny, been so wet, or wanted someone more in my life. Billie’s head finds its way to my neck as she begins placing light kisses against my skin. When she bites down and pushes her thigh against my clit harder, I let out a deep moan that I swear has been growing in me for months. “Mmmmhhhmm, Billie…” I huff as I begin grinding my hips shamelessly against her thigh, begging for any pleasure at this point. Billie's shorts have slid all the way up her leg, leaving her thigh bare and able to feel my soaked shorts gliding against her as I move my hips faster.

I feel her wet lips hit my ear, biting it gently as she breathes out. It is as if my body is on fire, every single nerve ending I have lighting up at once, every touch suddenly feeling sexual. I am melting at her every move and she hasn’t even touched me yet. If this is what it feels like to be with a girl, I want it forever. “Billie please” I whine out, desperation filling my voice as I grind my core harder against her. My wet shorts rub tightly against my clit with every move I make and I feel like I could cum from this alone. A slight embarrassment creeps up, slowing my hips as I realize how close I am to cumming, just from her thigh against my pussy. I grab the back of her head as she continues sucking and biting on my neck. Quiet moans continue spilling from my lips as my head begins to race. Is this a thing in lesbian sex? Am I crazy for doing this? Should I stop?

As my mind continues to take control and ruin my pleasure Billie interrupted the thoughts, almost as if she could hear them out loud. “Don’t stop grinding on my thigh until I feel your cum drench my skin, keep going for me Y/N I know it feels good” Her words are exactly what I needed, making my pussy clench tightly. I grab her chin and pull her into a deep kiss as her hands snake under my shirt and reach my bare chest. She squeezes my big boobs hard before pinching my nipple, giggling as I yelp into her mouth. She continues toying with my hard nipples as I pull away from her lips, too caught up in the pleasure to keep kissing. Each time she pinches and pulls at my bud I groan louder and move my hips faster. Billie catches on quickly, continuing her fun on my boobs, dragging me closer and closer to the edge, flooding every part of my body with overwhelming pleasure. I find my way to her neck, needing to feel closer to her, placing open-mouth kisses all over. I earn a quiet gasp from her when I hit a sweet spot, and latch on tighter.

As I kiss her harder, biting on her skin, continuing to pull moans from her, she suddenly pushes her thigh in a new angle right as I speed up my movements, throwing me over the edge. I grab her tight, pulling her as close to me as she can possibly be. My head is still nuzzled into her neck, my mouth hanging open as loud moans pour from my lips, lips that continuing lightly connect with her skin. My legs shake as she grabs both my hips and continues to move them for me, allowing me to ride out my orgasm for as long as possible. I hold my breath, shocked at the pleasure I am experiencing just from her thigh on my body. A light hum sings from her lips as I finally come down from such a powerful orgasm. I hold her tight as I catch my breath, needing to feel her close to me, trying to process the feelings I am beginning to understand, feelings I felt for her for a long time. Billie giggles as she rubs my back, helping ground me and letting me take my time with my descent back to earth. I finally pull my head from out of her neck and grab her face, needing to kiss her hard before anything is said, trying to gather my thoughts. I let my back fall onto the mattress as I laugh and breath out, still shocked at what was happening, shocked that Billie, my best friend, the girl I’ve secretly been attracted to for years, just pushed me to the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

“there ya go baby,” Billie says as she climbs on top of me, grabbing my chin, pulling me in for an intensely hot kiss before placing her lips on my forehead. “now let me clean you up” she whispers in between kisses, kisses that started as pecks and are now becoming more and more sloppy. She lifts my shirt up and I grab it, pulling it over my head needing to be free. “Can I see you too Billie?” I ask, a slight innocence and vulnerability peaking out of my words as I hold my fingers at the base of her shirt, slightly sliding it up. She smiles and sits up, tugging the shirt over her head and reaching behind her, immediately taking off her sexy black lace bra. My heart skips a beat when I watch her perfect big boobs drop to their natural, beautiful position. I lay myself up on my elbows pulling her closer, needing them in my mouth. I kiss lightly before wrapping my lips all the way around her nipple, circling my tongue around her bud as one of my hands plays with her free boob. “Ooo baby fuck… y/n mmmm” she sings, her hands pushing my head towards her as I continue on exploring her breasts.

She pushes me away and lays her own lips on my chest, eagerly moving down my body. “I need to taste you, mama, take these slutty little shorts off for me” She pulls at the waistband as I lift my hips up, helping her slide them off of me before laying back down. Her words make my pussy clench, pushing out more of my juices. She grabs both my thighs gripping them hard as she spreads them, groaning loudly as she sees my wet core for the first time ever. I swallow hard, the vulnerability of my exposed pussy hitting me all at once, wanting to hide from her, covering my face with my arm. Billie clearly senses my emotions, knowing me all too well. She places a light kiss on my upper thigh, then another on the other side. “Oh y/n you’re so perfect… sexier than I could have ever imagined,” she kisses my upper thigh again before continuing, “and I’ve thought about it a lot” I whine at her words, the hunger pushing away the vulnerability, and right as I’m about to beg for her tongue, she latches on. Still so sensitive from my last orgasm, I’m unable to hold in any of my moans, immediately drunk from the pleasure yet again. I grab her hair hard and push her against me as my hips buck. “Fuck Billie your tongue feels so good” my moans interrupt my own words, throwing my head back as her tongue circles my swollen clit. “oh baby, fuck Billie please don’t stop, fuck” my words fuel her on as she gets even more intense. It feels like she’s devouring me, eating me alive like she's been starved forever. She comes up for air and we make eye contact. I swallow back my drool as I stare at her, unable to process just how sexy she looks. Her eyes look black from her massive lust-filled pupils and her chin is covered in my cum, dripping down as she licks her lips. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good, mmm I can’t get enough of you” and with that her tongue is back on me, flicking and slurping, swallowing and circling, tasting every inch of my core.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, two fingers pump into me, filling me perfectly. I gasp and shake underneath her, beginning to feel overstimulated by the pleasure she gives me. I feel as if im floating, like this is all just a fever dream, it cant be possible for sex to feel this good. “God, fuck, baby. Fuck Billie yesssss” I struggle to get my words out as my hands dart around the bed, trying to find anything to grab hold of, something to anchor me to this bed as I feel my stomach contracting. “I feel you pulsing on my fingers mama, let go for me, cum on my fingers like the good girl I know you are” Her voice is raspy and low, sexier than I’ve ever heard it before. Her nasty words flood my mind and I scream as I feel her lips wrapped around my clit again, sucking and licking as she curves her fingers upward and hits my g-spot. She keeps devouring me and moaning into my pussy as she speeds her fingers up and I feel like I’m about to black out. Thank god I live alone because I don’t think I’ve ever been louder in my life. “Billie Im about to cum, fuck it feels so good please don’t stop” She smiles into my cunt as she flicks her fingers inside of me, doing a come here motion as she pumps them in and out, stimulating me in a way I have never been stimulated before. It feels like she knows my body better than I even do, like shes been fucking me like this for years. She keeps up the motions of her fingers as she flattens out her tongue and pushes it hard against my clit, moving her head side to side. “Oh my goddddd” I scream out as I begin shaking underneath her, being hit with my second orgasm, one that is somehow twice as strong as the first. “Fuck Billie yes fuck” I can’t get all my words out before needing to scream and moan again. “Im cumming baby fuck, f-fuckkkkkkk”

the last of my sentence turns into a deep moan as she keeps going. Keeps plowing her fingers into me, keeps moving her tongue side to side on my clit, keeps lighting me up with intense pleasure. I feel a new sensation as she continues to overstimulate me. It’s something I’ve never felt before and it's stronger than any orgasm I’ve ever had. “Wait billie, fuck, please oh god” She lifts her head up from my clit but speeds up her fingers. My eyes are squeezed shut and my lungs are frozen, unable to breath. I feel like my body is full of stars, like im no longer all the way here. My knuckles ache from how tightly im grabbing the sheets but somehow the pain fuels my orgasm more as it continues to take control of my body. “Billie stop I think i’m about to—” I can’t get my words out fast enough before the gates open and I pour out all over her chest and fingers, squirting hard. I try to move my hips but she grabs me, holding me where I am as I continue spilling out onto her. Screams meet with the wet sounds of my pleasure and I can’t take it any longer. “Okay okay billie fuck im done, im done” I say as my back returns down on the bed and I feel air fill my lungs again. My legs continue to shake and my pussy clenches around her fingers in a rhythm, like it has a heartbeat of its own.

She lays her head down on my thigh as she slowly pulls her fingers out of me. The movement causes me to groan and shake again, a clear indication of just how overstimulated I am. She looks at me, making sure I’m watching as she licks her fingers clean, moaning at the taste of them. As I sit up on my elbows and watch her lick her lips I look down to see her boobs covered in all my juices, wet and dripping, as sexy as they could possibly be. She catches me looking and smirks. “If I wasn’t so fucked out I would be licking my juices off those sexy boobs” I say with a new found confidence. She crawls up me and kisses me softly, letting my tongue slip between her lips and around hers. “You taste good don’t you baby” she moans, before pulling me tight against her naked wet chest. Our boobs rub together and our connection feels electric. “You know I’ve never squirted before, you’re the first” I say, glowing from all the pleasure I just experienced. “I didn’t even know sex

could feel that good” i laugh admitting it then feeling embarrassed. “Welcome to sex with women” she giggles as the words come out, “I feel lucky to be the first of many for you baby, I’ve been wanting you for so damn long, I gotta admit it” she kisses me on my cheek and grabs my nipple playfully making me yelp. “I been dreaming about this for a long time too, Billie” I confess with a smile, looking back at her. “Good things there’s a whole lot more firsts for me to have” I say playfully as I grab her boob again.

I pull her closer to me, both of us back on our sides facing eachother. I crave a type of intimacy with her that I have avoided with every one of my partners for years. Maybe I really am gay and it’s just because shes a woman. Or, maybe, if I let myself really think about it, its because its Billie. My hand falls over her body onto her bare back and my fingers begin lightly dancing over her skin. She snuggles into me tighter and humms. Being in Billie’s arms feels like home. My cheeks flush as I realize that the love I feel for her is not the love you feel for a friend, it is so so much more than that. Its the type of love that terrifies me, or at least it has in the past. For some reason I don't feel scared at all right now, I feel quite the opposite actually.

I continue rubbing her back as our breathing slows, both melting into one another. She breaks the silence with a silky voice, “I think I could stay like this forever” my heart skips a beat at her confession, bringing a calm warmth throughout my body. “I’d like that a lot Billie” she lifts her head from the crook of my neck just long enough to place a kiss on my forehead, before snuggling back into me tighter. We lay like this for a minute before I interrupt. I giggle quietly to myself and she looks up with a curious expression, her eyebrows knit together but a smirk on her lips, “what the hell are you so giggly about?” she says, laughing with me now. “Does this mean,” I giggle again slightly more bashfully this time, before I continue. “Does this mean I get to learn all about lessssbbiiann sexxxxx with you?” I can’t help but say it in a goofy, slightly mocking tone, emphasising my purposefully ridiculous word choice. “Sure does baby girl, sure doesssssssss” She laughs out, matching the playful energy. “Ooo la la” I sing, pulling a laugh from both of us as we lay back down. I can’t help but feel overwhelming excitement for whats to come.

Should I continue on with the story??

update: part 2 here

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie x reader

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shuenkio · 8 months ago

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𝖶𝖾𝗍 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖣𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 | 𝖯𝗌𝗁. 💭

Paring: Sunghoon x male!reader

Genre: Suggestive, established relationship [no smut but-]

Cw: mentioned of dick, slightly dirty talk, mentioned of cum.

Summary: He didn't know he had a small dream that led him to this.

Non proof read|wc: 1.0k

Eng is not my 1st lang.

𝔸||ℕ: I wrote this in my sleep again y'all, mistake could appear so, sorry in advance ^^

Having Sunghoon as your boyfriend is one of the best gifts you've ever had. Even though he was a bit of a cold person who couldn't express their feelings, you know that he's into you. (Obviously, you fall hard, but he falls harder.)

After years of sinking into each other, Sunghoon decided to ask you to move in and live with him as boyfriends from those days. Which makes the bond between you and him grow even closer than anything. Sunghoon was so comfortable with you, to the point you would see him in boxers and a t-shirt on every single time you came back from college.

Though at first he was a little embarrassed being this wild to show you, you said whatever made him comfortable, you didn't care if you came home one day and saw him walking around the apartment naked. Sunghoon was happy and glad that you'd accepted his true behavior, and soon you started to see a lot of his different sides.

One night, while dozing off into Dreamland after the cuddle session, in the middle of the night, With your leg wrapped around his hip, like a koala. Suddenly, you feel a wet sensation beneath your leg, which makes you shift a bit in your sleep. However, as a light sleeper, being soaked or wet drives you nuts because it's so uncomfortable to lay with.

You open your eyes slowly, lingering on your vision, trying to find out if you're having a wet dream or if some source of water might spill. You feel nothing.

Confused, you pull up your short waistband to see your own dick, if it's leaking from a dream, yet you see nothing aside from drying.

Suspicious got the best of you. You move your leg away from your boyfriend's hip as you look at his underwear up and down, feeling something fishy under there.

You look at him, and your lips grow thin into a straight line as you keep telling yourself that there's no way Sunghoon is having a wet dream. Curiosity kills the cat; you didn't hesitate to pull your boyfriend's underwear down to his thighs level.

As expected, there's indeed a white liquid spilling and dripping from Sunghoon's cock. You take a deep sign, somehow in disbelief that a grown man like your boyfriend still had a wet dream. You shake your head slightly and find him both cute and funny before you pull his underwear back in. I didn't want him to be alone in an uncomfortable situation like this.

You wanted to wake him up from his dreamland, but remember that Sunghoon was a deep sleeper who wouldn't wake up to someone shaking him or calling for him in such a state in the middle of the night. Still feeling sleepy, you curse under your heart as you risk yourself to clean your boyfriend up by yourself without bothering him.

You grab the tissue near the bedside, and you again strip off his underwear and throw it into the laundry box before starting to wipe all the sticky, warm white orgasms away from his cock and around his lower abdomen.

The sensation of your hand around Sunghoon's cock made him grunt in his sleep a bit as he shifted his head to the other side. You froze in your spot and didn't realize you stopped breathing for a sec as you continued to wipe him clean. Luckily, it's all done.

Now you can go back to sleep at ease without worrying about your boyfriend or your sleep experience. You lay your head down on the pillow beside Sunghoon, slowly drifting again as something comes across your mind that makes you open your eyes again.

Sunghoon didn't have any boxers on! He is completely exposed besides his side split shirt. The room is completely dark, and all the laundry is still in the living room.

You couldn't process anything as you shrugged off as if nothing happened, he'd be fine. Just cover him with a blanket and work smarter, not harder. Finally, you take one last relief sign of breath, able to close your eyes tight without overthinking about any shit again.

Sun rays shine through the open curtains on the outside balcony. Morning has already risen. You are the first one to wake up early with your boyfriend, as usual. To prepare breakfast and do the housework. Meanwhile, Sunghoon is still in a deep sleep; his eyes were pumping like a panda from the lack of sleep he had.

As his alarm went off, ringing loudly to disturb his beauty sleep at 9 a.m. Sunghoon intends for his arm to close the alarm clock before sitting up, with his hair all messy.

He yawned huffy, trying to regain his consciousness and gather the strength to start his day today, but fortunately it's a holiday; he'd be at home, chilling with his boyfriend. As he's tucking the blanket to the side, he's about to leave the bed with his feet on the floor.

His eyes went wide, fully awakened by the sight of his naked form. The funny part is that he had his morning wood, with his own cock staring at him, cutely twitching. Sunghoon is on the edge of panic, but soon realizes there's nothing else but you who would, if you secretly ride him in his sleep.

Nevertheless, to make sure it's true or not, he stood up and walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen to look for you while his cock was cocking. Still wiggling around, breathing the breezy chill air.

"M/n? Bub, can I ask why I'm naked?" Sunghoon asks in a soft yet deep, raspy, sleepy voice at you; both hands are placed on his own hip, waiting for you to answer. You knew he'd be spring-free, so you turned around, unfazed, before opening your mouth.

"If I told you you had a wet dream last night, would you believe?" You speak in a playful manner while crossing your hands together on your chest.

"Me? I had a wet dream last night. Meh, you're a lie."

"Why would I lie when I'm the one who cleans you up? You're naked, love! Lol, now your cock is staring at me. Oh my."

"Um, uhh... really? If that is so, then sorry if I bother you, bub."

"Oh, Lord, stop saying sorry; you're fine. I'm fine; nobody was harmed; I'm just finding it funny that you've had a wet dream... At the age of 21," you respond in an unbelievable yet gentle way, as you inform him in the best way possible while your boyfriend answers you with different answers, as he just got it from the last night event from your talking earlier.

"Wahaha, oh, that's right, that's why I dreamt about having you on my hip."

"I beg your pardon... ?"

"Yeah, m/n, I dreamt that I fucked you last night, ke..."

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to rightful owner dividers&pics

🗣️ Thanks you y'all for supporting this thirsty male user who's a m! reader writer, this means a lot to me tysm bruhh~~ 🫶🫵

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koolades-world · 2 years ago

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Random Obey Me! Headcannons

Lucifer really likes human world blue cheese but refuses to admit it because he knows he will be made fun of for it by his brothers

Mammon has his first dollar he made in the Devildom framed and when Mc found it while looking for condoms he was really embarrassed

Idk it’s so funny to me to think of Mc and Mammon about to have sexy time and they need to go look for a condom. Mammon swears he has some so Mc goes digging though a drawer and finds a framed dollar bill while butt naked

“Mammon what is this-”

“SHIT UNSEE THAT HUMAN”

Levi has neck and back pains from all the gaming he does and really loves massages but is too scared to ask

Satan once stole a pair of Lucifer’s underwear and hung it from the RAD flagpole

Asmo made it a point to introduce Mc into his nightly routine as his face mask buddy, even to the point of doing it over call if they’re separated

This also sounds funny as shit imagine someone like Levi walking in on that

“So anyways, I stomped their skull in and got blood on my new boots. My hands also hurt from wringing the neck of that-”

“Asmo, Lucifer wants to know- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU”

“A face mask, Levi. You could use one”

Beel loves kids and likes it when they use him as a jungle gym

Belphie always kicks people in his sleep without fail. Mammon swears he does it on purpose but knows he doesn't

Simeon does the best hair braids and is regarded the best in the Celestial Realm

Luke hates girl scout cookies since he thinks homemade cookies are so much better

Solomon can be seen leaving Asmo's room at any point during the day but nobody ever sees him going in. Imagine hanging out with Asmo and Solomon just fucking appears and then disappears just as fast

Diavolo's favorite color is pink

Barbatos has a succulent garden and Mc will bring him a new one every time they come back from the human world

Thirteen definitely loves Mexican food and spice in general

Raphael is convinced soft blankets are the best thing to ever exist

Mephisto once accidently knocked over one of Luke's cakes and felt so bad that he sent Purgatory Hall a buttload of money and wrote an article in the RAD newspaper about how great the angels were at baking

Mammon and Lucifer openly hate white chocolate (because it's not chocolate). Satan does too but pretends to like it because Lucifer likes it

Whenever Satan needs a parter to go to the events he gets invited to, Mc and Asmo are his first choices. He's closest with Asmo (Belphie is a second close) and doesn't mind the fanfare

Asmo and Beel often travel around the Devildom together. Asmo can't eat everything he orders since he just wants pictres so Beel is the ideal companion. Beel is also the perfect body guard

Solomon's current favorite liquor is Fireball and always has some on hand, but Luke always hides it because he thinks drinking is a bad habit

Barbatos definitely listens to heavy metal but everyone thinks he listens to classical music

If my grandmothers met the brothers, Beel would be their fav because he would clean his plate but if it was everyone, Simeon would take it home because he’s so charming even though he’s barely clothed

Everyone is so downbad for Mc I think it might scare off other people how much they hover. Like, a lower demon bothering you? Literally anything could happen to them, like they could be thrown in an endless loop of suffering, they could be made dirt poor for eternity, or they could be torn limb from limb <3 gotta love it

Asmo and Belphie make a deadly duo when to comes to trapping people/demons/angels. They both have the power to lure you in, and would probably take turn luring in victims for an evening as some sort of strange brother bonding. They both remind me of angler fish in a way. Asmo lures them with the pretense of sex and Belphie with relaxation, two things people can’t get enough of and they can stay calm enough to pull it off

Solomon has definitely made the brothers swap bodies or something crazy like that, on accident or not, you decide

Whenever Mc is feeling down, Diavolo offers his man titties as a nice pillow to relax on because he read somewhere once humans liked that

Beel is like a bull in a china shop so do not take him anyway where you need to be delicate. Belphie knows this, and will put him to sleep and carry him when they need to go somewhere like an antique shop by promising him a snack afterwards

Beel thinks Satan, Belphie, and Mc make the best weights out of everyone. Satan will just read, Belphie will just sleep, and Mc is like his personal cheerleader. However, he can and will lift all his brothers and Mc and the same time if he wants to, it’s just difficult to get them all in the same place at the same time

Thirteen, Belphie, and Satan got in a prank war once and it had to end in a draw since one party could not best the other. In the end, they made a final, collaborative prank and pulled it on Solomon

Mc once fell down the stairs in the human realm, ended up in the hospital, and sent the entire cast into panic so much that they took turns watching over them

Mephisto and Mc once had a night out drinking together and (somehow) returned to the HoL but were totally smashed. Lucifer forbid them from doing it again, but they still sneak out together and just crash at Mephiso’s place instead

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icedout-pacemaker · 19 days ago

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Older brother and sister in college. Both live at home. Bro is in a fraternity and sis is in a sorority. They tell me, "it's only fair that we haze you. That's just part of being siblings." I guess that's true. It starts off with just cleaning their rooms in my underwear and a bra that my tits kept spilling out of. Then it was washing their cars without a bra under my white tank top.

But showering with them? Letting them clean me after I clean them? It seems a little...I don't know, weird? Bro always slaps my face with his cock. He says its to remind me to wash his balls. Ugh. And sis likes to wash my pussy until I start whimpering while her tits are in my face. Lately they've been tag teaming. They say I can't wear bras anymore and go out of their way to pinch my nipples through my shirt when we're all together.

"Why are they even hard? God, you're such a slut."

"I bet she likes when we pinch them."

"No, I don't! Does hazing usually go on longer than a month?"

"Why are you always trying to take the easy way out? Don't you like bonding with your siblings?"

"We're actually teaching you things too! Didn't you like when I taught you how to kiss?"

"And I taught you how to stroke a cock? Stop being a fussy slut and just listen to us."

Sis loves teaching me to kiss. She likes to grope me and shows me how to "not be a tease." She likes to rub my nipples through my shirt until they're erect, then pushes them back. She says I have a "perfect slut body" and that I was always gonna have a lot of attention from men and women.

Bro likes to finger my ass. He says I need to learn how to take it in there since a lot of guys would want to stick it in there. Lately, he's started teaching me how to ignore my gag reflex. Sis is in the room when he does it. She helps me go deeper and says I need to always keep my gaze up at whoever I'm sucking off. Yesterday, I got it in really deep, too! I mean, not that I'm enjoying this. It's hazing.

One day, dad catches me deep throating a dildo that sis gave me. He asks what I'm doing, but he doesn't seem disturbed or upset. I tell him that bro and sis have been hazing me and bro is teaching me how to take cock without choking. Dad says that sometimes, it's okay to choke on it and unbuckles his belt. He stands next to my bed and has me take him in, pushing until I gag. I can feel him twitch against my tongue as he tells me that sometimes men like when they hit the gag reflex. He says he's impressed that I'm keeping my eyes up when I have him in my throat but tells me to try and suckle at it more rather than just moving my mouth up and down. He invites his brother other and has me show him what I've been learning.

I ask if this is part of the hazing. They say yes, but seem in a rush to get their cocks in my mouth at the same time. They tell me that it's important to be able to take more than just one at a time. That would make me really popular. They start with my mouth and then tell me to try to take them both in my pussy and ass. It feels...really good. They tell me I'm a pro at this and start to pump into me at the same time.

Dad is under me. He's in my pussy. He tells me to try bouncing a little so that my tits move. I do as he says, bracing my thighs before starting to bounce. Uncle is behind me. He puts his phone up so that he is recording me and tells me to stick my tongue out.

"Look in the camera and say, 'I'm a good black slut for my family.'

"I'm a good black slut for my family."

I can see my tits bouncing in the video, drool dropping from my tongue as I look into his phone, bouncing on both of their cocks. Bro and sis come in the room when they hear me. They're annoyed. Dad and uncle said that bro and sis could have me! Why were they going back on their deal. Uncle says, "Because I didn't know she'd be this tight."

Dad says, "Quit your whining. Either get out or find some part of her to use."

Bro moves fast and stands on the bed. He stands in front of me and pokes at my lips, gently tapping my cheek. I open, looking up and doing like he told me. Uncle pulls out of my ass and tells sis she can bounce on his cock if she gets her strap and fucks my ass. She runs to get it and comes back, wearing the blue strap. She settles behind me, moaning as he goes in her ass and she goes in mine. Sis has her hands on my tits, making them sit high and bounce more.

"There you go. Take those cocks in you, sis. You're doing so well. You're perfect for this family. We haven't spent time like this together in a long time."

I can barely hear her as I'm filled in all my holes, pumped and dumped in several times with no signs of stopping, my tits glistening with my own drool as I take it deeper. I'm so good at this. I'm the best little sister.

I hope the hazing never ends. I love my family. <3

#1cky family #1cky ebony #1cky brother #1cky sister #1cky d@d #1cky uncle #fauxc3st #sibcon #sis x sis #sis x bro #niece x uncle

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butterflywingswrites · 7 days ago

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reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

(done with my anon fics, working on requests now)

teammate caitlin eating you out for the first time

“never have i ever eaten pussy” jada said to the team. many of the girls drank, but you didn’t. you could feel caitlin’s eyes staring you down, waiting for you to drink.

“never have i ever had my pussy eaten by a girl” gabbie admitted. once again caitlin was waiting for you to drink. her eyes grew even wider when you didn’t. you could feel her eyes on you for the rest of the game until kate announced it was time for you all to go to bed. you and caitlin returned to your room and got ready for bed, completely in silence. you both got into bed and you started thinking maybe she would let it be

“so really never?” there it is. you took a deep breath

“yes caitlin, never. is that a problem?” you turned to face her. she turned to face you. fuck, she’s gorgeous

“actually yes. the fact that you’ve never experienced sex with a woman isn’t right. you deserve that amazing experience. and i’m surprised you haven’t”

“why are you surprised?” you stared into her beautiful doe eyes and your heart rate increased. she brushed your hair behind your ear

“you’re really pretty and you’re so sweet. i’m surprised a girl hasn’t been interested in having sex with you” caitlin scooted closer to you

“you think i’m pretty?” your heart was beating out of your chest

“so pretty” she leaned in “pretty face. nice hair. sexy body” caitlin kissed you softly

“caitlin we’re teammates” you said before placing a sweet kiss on her lips

“yes, and?” caitlin put her hand through your hair and used it to bring your lips together again

“won’t this make things weird on the court?” you kissed her again

“if anything it’ll make us more cohesive, like team bonding” you nodded and pulled her into an open mouth kiss. you moaned as her tongue entered your mouth. caitlin moved to straddle you as you made out

“is this ok?” she asked “i should eat you out for hours for how long you’ve had to wait” you moaned at her words

“yes, keep going. do whatever you want to me”

“you’re so freaking gorgeous. you have amazing tits” her admission made you giggle

“you think so?” you smiled “you can do whatever you want with them” she pulled your shirt over your head

“yes. they’re fucking perfect” she played with your boobs as you made out. you moaned when she pinched and rubbed your nipples. caitlin moved her kisses lower, kissing down the center of your neck and chest. her mouth connected to your nipple and you groaned

“more” you requested. she replied by sucking gently on your nipple

“is this ok? i don’t want to hurt you terribly”

“yes this is perfect. you’re perfect. keep going” she sucked on your nipple then kissed down your stomach

“so” she kissed your stomach “fucking” another kiss “perfect” she pulled your shorts and underwear down and kissed your hip. you threaded your hands in her hair as she kissed your thigh by your knee. you moaned louder as her lips got higher

“eat me out. please” caitlin licked your pussy and moaned

“tastes so good. just like i knew you would” caitlin continued to lick your pussy and brought her hand to rub circles on your clit. when her mouth got tired, she replaced her mouth with her hand and she moved her fingers inside you expertly. every pump and curl of her fingers brought you closer to your orgasm. when you got super close, caitlin seemed to know from how your body reacted to her touch. trying to tip you over the edge, she gently sucked on your clit

“caitlin!” you screamed as you came on her tongue. you smiled as she cleaned you up and brought you in for a kiss

“was that worth waiting for?” she asked, seeking validation

“hmm maybe” caitlin’s shocked face made you giggle “i might have to try it a few more times to make sure” her shocked face turned into a smirk

“i think that can be arranged”

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut

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senseofnewness · 7 months ago

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what are your own like personal headcanons about art donaldson!!! i love hearing about silly thoughts people have <333 (i love your writing btw!!)

(thank you bby <3)

random art donaldson headcanons

• at 31 years old, art donaldson still can't grow a full mustache. it's as if god took all the body hairs meant for him and gave them to patrick zweig instead.

• art wears tom ford’s azure lime, a fragrance that is fresh and crisp, with none of the heavy muskiness you might expect. some might say it smells a bit feminine, but it suits him well, at least, it always smells clean.

• he named his daughter lily after his grandmother, liliane. although she didn't raise him, they shared a special bond. it was liliane who introduced him to tennis.

• he is a secret fan of the lord of the rings and occasionally quotes gollum, much to tashi’s annoyance, who rolls her eyes at the nerdy side of her husband.

• his favorite food is lasagna, but not the kind you'd expect. he doesn't crave the gourmet freshly made lasagna his personal chef prepares. what he really loves is the store-brand frozen lasagna, the kind that comes in a box and is microwaved. tashi only allows him to eat it on his birthday.

• out of all his body parts, hands are probably his favorite. which is why he finds holding hands to be one of the most intimate gestures. he prefers sturdy hands with slender fingers and manicured nails.

• art had never blocked patrick’s number all those years, just so he could one day say "the phone works both ways" if patrick ever tried to blame him for their falling out.

• he has an irrational fear of spiders. if he spots one in a room, he cannot bring himself to sleep in there, even if tashi has killed the spider for him. in his mind, the spider’s family might be plotting revenge, and that thought is enough to keep him awake at night.

• art donaldson hates the taste of coffee, no matter how many times he had tried to like it in an effort to appear more mature. to him, it always tastes like straight-up dirt. he prefers to stick with vanilla milk.

• he has tried the curly girl method countless times, hoping to restore the curly texture his hair once had as a teenager. despite his efforts and the many products he has tried, his hair remains persistently straight.

• art chews his nails when nervous. and he will chew on anything else he can get a grip on as well. tashi tries to break this habit by painting his nails with bitter nail polish but it doesn't stop him from biting them, it just tastes like shit now.

• art rarely swears or gets angry, but when he does, tashi knows he will spend the entire day brooding. it's all about muttered complaints and scowls. the only thing that typically soothes him is a warm bath.

• when lily was born, art sobbed so loudly that the nurses had to ask him to quiet down to avoid disturbing the other babies in the hospital wing. tashi was so mortified that she pretended not to know him.

[nsfw]

• he wears those tiny underwears because he doesn't feel supported in anything else. he needs his pink fuzzy balls to be secured on the court. a lesson he learned the hard way. when he was fifteen, one of his balls slipped through the leg of his loose boxers during a match, and patrick teased him about it for months. ever since that day, he has sworn off boxers entirely.

• when patrick taught art how to jerk off, art waited for patrick to be asleep to look closely at the sock patrick had used. he studied the slimy stains, comparing the cum to his own, just to make sure everything was normal with him.

• he isn’t a fan of quickies. he prefers to take his time with tashi, believing that making love is about enjoying every moment and taking the time to bring her to the edge. to him, it’s not really making love if she doesn’t climax too. however, there are times when he becomes so horny after a particularly intense practice session, where tashi had pushed him harder than usual, that a quickie becomes necessary.

• he has incredibly sensitive nipples and gets easily aroused when they’re touched or teased. when tashi wants to make him shut up during an argument, she just pinches them and he starts whimpering.

• sometimes he can't help but think about the fact that patrick had been with tashi before him, and it turns him on. the thought of them together becomes a driving force, turning into a personal competition. he feels the need to prove to tashi that he is the best sex she will ever have.

• tashi used threats of her strap-on as a way to motivate him during his matches, but now, instead of fear, it has become a source of excitement. art knows that each victory means tashi is waiting for him at home with her silicone cock, ready to celebrate.

#art donaldson #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers fanfiction #challengers fiction #challengers #challengers 🎾#art donaldson smut #challengers smut #ask

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ziggyzolch · 11 months ago

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Your Prettiness is Seeping Through (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: You and Wanda get sent to a mental hospital at the same time. Super huge trigger warning!!!! This story contains talk and descriptions of bulimia, eating disorders (reader) , suicide attempts, depression (Wanda) and mental illness in general. Please read at your own risk!! If you feel like any of these will trigger you, don't feel obligated to continue reading.

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

---------------where's your head at?---------------- ❅❅❅

Four times. Your mother caught you four times before she actually showed any concern.

The first time your mother caught you, she had called you disgusting. She threatened to tell your father, not out of worry but spite. She forgot.

You weren’t expecting her to be home so early, and that’s when she caught you the second time. The door to your room was open, which your mother took as an invitation. She stopped in her tracks, then slowly walked out, closing the door behind her, not without an awkward stare-off. She never brought it up.

The third time went about the same as the second.

Right now was the fourth, and this time she was accompanied by your father.

The position you were in was unbelievably compromising. You hadn’t even realized you blacked out until you were startled back into consciousness by your father barging into the bathroom. A gasp came from behind him, your mother peeking her head over his shoulder.

“Oh my god.” Your mother covers her mouth with her hand, your father staring at you blankly.

Crouched on the floor in your underwear, vomit covered tissues surrounded you, the stench of bile seeping from the toilet. “No, it’s,” You sluggishly push yourself off the floor, attempting to pick up the discarded tissues and wipe the vomit off the toilet seat, “Not what it looks like.”

Your mother pushes past your father, touching a sore spot on your forehead. Red coats the tip of her fingers when she pulls back her hand. That's when you notice the little blood pool on the floor, you must’ve hit your head when you fell.

In hindsight, you should have double checked the lock on the bathroom door.

“Please, leave.” You plead.

The worry in your mother’s eyes is nauseating. She had never shown this much care the other times. You figure the forehead injury is what pushed her over the edge, and the presence of your father.

“Clean up, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Your father gently places his hands on your mother’s shoulders, ushering her out.

You sighed, picking up the rest of the tissues you placed around the toilet to make cleaning up easier. Using up the entire toilet paper roll, you finish wiping the vomit off the toilet and go to the sink, cleaning up the saliva and vomit off your forearms and hands.

It’s been 3 years since you started. In all honesty, you had no idea why you resorted to bulimia. You had been losing weight fine, there was no reason to. It was after you got food poisoning that you realized how easy it was to reverse everything. Having an addictive personality didn’t help, and by the third day you were scrolling through forums and websites, trying to get worse.

Every girl you knew had some kind of disorder. It was a bond you and all of them shared. You couldn’t talk to the pretty girl about the various types and shades of lip gloss, but you could relate with her on how much you hated this one specific area of your body.

You couldn’t keep up with the STEM girls’ ramblings, but you found that all your mothers had called you fat.

You couldn’t offer any help to the digital artist when she complained about not finding the right brush to bring her idea to life, but you could offer each other weight loss advice.

You couldn’t relate to the girls’ boy obsessed conversations, but you could relate to how you could never be with someone that weighs less than you.

You couldn’t enjoy a plain rice cake for lunch with the skinny girls, but you could relate to wanting to get worse.

Vanity was a shared characteristic of every girl you knew. You’ve seen the fit soccer girl pull at her love handles, the STEM girl pull at her shirt and adjust her posture, the pretty girls sucking in when a mediocre boy passed by, and the skinny girl tearing up after getting weighed at the nurses office, and every girl that got weighed after her. If you could relate to one thing, it was that you all hated at least one part of your body.

So, nobody asked how you lost weight so fast. Nobody asked why your lips were cracked at the corners. You and your two best friends had all developed bulimia independently, which was crazy to you, but also encouraging. They would never report you and vice versa. You were each others fucked up kind of support system.

Right now, though, they weren’t there to reassure you that it’ll be fine.

'You’re not too skinny, your mom won’t find out, the marks on your knuckles aren’t too obvious.'

Right now it was all out in the open.

You were so fucked.

❅❅❅

On the other side of town, Wanda Maximoff was being made to throw up by her best friend. Her hand trembles as she shoves two fingers down Wanda’s throat. She had walked in on her half-conscious on the floor of her bathroom, an empty pill bottle held loosely in her hand. She gags when she feels the ridges, almost throwing up when she grazes her uvula. With one hand still down her friend’s throat, Natasha used her other to pull out her phone and call 911.

Wanda mumbles incoherently as Natasha ends the call and throws her phone to the side, sighing in relief when Wanda finally expels the contents of her stomach. Natasha had known how hard her brother’s death was for her, but she had never expected it to get this bad.

Pietro’s death was devastating for all of them, but they had to move forward. Natasha and Wanda threw themselves into their work, just like the rest of their team. Everybody was so preoccupied by their own missions, their own guilt and their own healing. A year had passed and everybody except Wanda seemed to have moved on. Natasha hated herself for not getting Wanda help sooner. She had seen the empty bottles of alcohol and discarded razor blades littered around Wanda’s room.

Wanda walked in on her cleaning up, face paling before she turned and left. Natasha hadn’t seen any more bottles or razors after that, and it was enough for her to think Wanda was doing better. That she got her wake-up call. She never brought it up, she never offered her any more help, she never asked. Natasha figured Wanda closing herself off even more afterwards was out of embarrassment.

Natasha had grown to be a kind of older sister figure to Wanda. She cared deeply for her and it scared her. After losing the closest thing she had to a little sister, the thought of losing another was terrifying. So, she didn’t get too close, she didn’t ask why Wanda never ate with the team anymore, she didn’t want to care.

Wanda throws up a little more before the paramedics arrive. Natasha looks back and forth between Wanda and the door, rushing to the door when the knocking becomes more insistent. “She’s back there.” She points towards the bathroom, guiding the paramedics to Wanda. Natasha finally gets a good look at her best friend as the paramedics carry her away.

She notices how thin she’s gotten when her gangly legs dangle as the paramedic carrying her rushes out. She notices how her nails had been chewed down to the nub as they placed her on the stretcher. Natasha notices how pale her face is as she enters the ambulance with Wanda. She can’t stand it.

She takes out her phone, texting the rest of the team and getting them up to speed. Everyone except Wanda and Natasha had been on a mission, Wanda must’ve thought she was alone. Natasha sighs, finally turning back to her friend. She grabs her hand and pushes down the nausea at how lifeless she looked. A napkin appears in her vision. She accepts the paramedic’s offer with a little smile, wiping the vomit off her fingers.

This was going to be a long ride.

❅❅❅

Next Chapter

A/N: This is just a prologue, and the story wont be so bleak after this chapter i promise. thank you for reading!

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #neutral milk hotel

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fvllingflower · 8 months ago

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NSFW Links

pairing: joshua x afab!reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

•Whenever you and Joshua make out, he can't help himself and starts to touch you. It's especially hard when you're both in just a shirt and underwear.

•You've been teasing Joshua all night, telling him how you have no panties on and how you wish he was there so he could touch you under the table. You finally came home from hanging out with your friends. The minute you step foot in the bedroom, Joshua is sitting you at the edge of the bed and goes to work.

•You and Joshua were dressed for bed. You two cuddled up in bed. It was your movie night. As the movie went on, you and Joshua's minds started wondering else places. He can't keep his hands to himself, and he starts touching you.

•One thing Joshua will do 95% of the time when you're upset/stressed, he'll help distract you from them for a while.

•Just because you cum doesn’t mean Joshua is gonna stop, he probably won't stop until he too tired. He's just obsessed with the thought of impregnating you, making your belly round, filled with his babies. Just the thought of it makes him hard.

•Joshua loves it when you're on his lap while making out. He thinks you look so hot sitting on top of him. He thinks it's even hotter when you're making out with him while riding him.

•Some of the guys were over at your shared apartment with Joshua. He noticed that you were a bit too friendly to Seungcheol. Joshua keeps his cool. The minute the guys leave the apartment, he's pulling you into the bedroom. He's gonna remind you who's girl you are.

•After sex and cleaning up. Joshua lets you lay on top of him. You two enjoy the closeness and the bond you two have. Joshua lets his hand wonder your back in a soothing manner.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #joshua hong smut #joshua scenarios #joshua smut #joshua x reader

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creepling · 1 year ago

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sawyer/slaughter family using captured!reader for sex

tags: dead dove - read at your own risk. smut - MDNI. gn!reader. all family seperate. bondage. rough sex. petplay. underwear sniffing. somnophilia. cannibalism-ment. aftercare (only with bubba).

harddom!johnny being your capturer but liking everyone having his way with you. his possessive attitude dampening over time and your novelty wearing off. leaving you chained in random parts of the house and going on with his day, coming back to see you exhausted, ready to have his turn with you. hanging you in his shack by the wrists, littering your body with bite marks, bonding your limbs with rope, using you like a glorified piece of meat. fucking your holes until their raw, amused by your moans mixed with screams. fucking you dumb until he undoes your restraints, making you crawl on your knees, and face fuck you until he blows his load over your face.

softdom!nubbins playing with your holes while you sleep, holding in his giggles as you squirm in your slumber, awed at your wetness under his touch. dry humping your leg until you wake up, basking in your surprise until you succumb to him. prying your legs open to enter his hard, meek dick. rutting into you like a desperate puppy, his moans sounding like sobs. praising your body, thanking you for letting you fuck him, pleading that he is not worthy of your body. but he never slows his pace, slamming his hips rapidly until he cums, careless on where his load lands; dripping on your leg pathetically.

femdom!sissy treating you like a little pet, playing with your hair and adorning a leash around your neck. using you as a foot stool while she lounges around the house, snapping her fingers when she wants your attention. pinning you to the floor and fucking your tongue, riding your face as you gasp for air. pulling at the lead when you disobey, demanding you to be a good little kitty/doggie and lick her cunt. when you're good for her, she lets you sleep with her and ride her thigh, mewling over your whimpers, pleasuring you when you're too fucked out to think. only letting you cum when you beg for her.

perv!drayton never laying a finger on you, but goes down to clean your cell, cursing at the mess you leave. wishing you were never here and degrading your existence. you're better off being their next meal, but now he don't wanna eat you now you're the family's cum dump. without you looking, he steals your underwear for his own possession. taking it back to his room, inhaling your scent, cursing his old age for not getting it up and letting him have pleasure. his body unresponsive, but his mind wild with thoughts about you.

scene-dom!bubba the one you have to anticipate the most, brace your frail, sore body for his manhandling. he tries to be gentle, bubbling concern noises at your winces of pain. stroking your face, but his heavy hand rough on your skin. wearing his pretty woman mask and wanting you to match, sloppily apply makeup to your face, red lipstick smudged along the corner of your mouth. he cheers at his masterpiece, ready to fuck his pretty little thing, sheepishly revealing his fat dick. the sight of it intimidating, his heavy build engulfing you, his large girth stretching you out. his thrusts slow but heavy, pummelling his whole length inside you, bubbling at the way you tense around him. he gets overstimulated from the pleasure, his moans frantic. he finishes inside you, cockwarming until he goes limb, letting you lay on his lap with his arms around you, not wanting to let you go just yet and milking all the time he has with his little play toy.

#texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #johnny slaughter x reader #sissy slaughter x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #leatherface x reader #nubbins sawyer x reader #drayton sawyer x reader #tcm drabbles #creepling.brainrot

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holdmytesseract · 8 months ago

Text

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Three - Loki's Bachelor Party

Warnings for this Chapter: alcohol, partying, Scott as a stripper – kind of? also fluff

Word Count: 3,6k

a/n: I absolutely love the gif for this. Fight me. 😂

Once again goes the shoutout to @sagitternolunaspace for the Midgardian (pre-) wedding traditions! Thank you! And again a thank you goes out to everyone who helped me along with this chapter!

💍 Chapter Two °☆• Chapter Four 💍

You had been barely swept away from Loki by Natasha, Pepper, Jane and Wanda, when the god returned to the now empty apartment in the tower he shared with you. Once the door fell gently into its hinges behind him, he snapped his fingers; causing his Asgardian armour to melt away from his body - leaving him completely nude.

Loki ran a hand through his untamed raven curls, while he made his way to the bathroom. It was time for a shower. Time to get rid of all the stains which had left the mission on his skin.

The warm water massaged his muscles and helped him relax. It usually always did. The god loved a good, hot, relaxing shower after a mission - and if you'd join him, he loved it even more. If the girls wouldn't have stolen you away for your bachelorette party, Loki would've totally taken you with him, but well...

You had discussed this Midgardian pre-wedding tradition with him already a few weeks ago. It was something you were eager to have - and your friends didn't let this tell them twice, of course. They were more than happy to plan the party for you and surprise you.

As for Loki... The god wasn't sure about it. He understood the concept of this tradition. You had explained it, but he didn't know if he should like it or not. Alcohol, silly costumes - or well, T-Shirts and Strippers in the most cases? Tendencies to no. Hence, Loki didn't even know if his oaf of a brother would think so far to prepare something for him and he was convinced that the other male Avengers certainly wouldn't do it. Why should they?

Back when Thor married, he didn't have a bachelor party, but only because he did not know of such a tradition. When you gathered up Jane for her party, it was already too late - given the fact that you all were on Asgard at that moment in time. So, no Stark or Rogers who could saunter through the golden palace doors and pick up Thor for his turn.

Loki laughed to himself. As if Roger would ever do that... He would have to remove the stick up his ass first.

With a sigh, the god turned off the tab, reached for his towel and stepped out of the shower. Thick, hot steam had gathered inside the room; fogging up the mirror. Loki dried himself, went through his after shower routine and lastly put on fresh underwear. Then he cleaned everything up with his seidr and left the bathroom.

His next destination was the bedroom he shared with you, in order to get dressed - preferably casual. In the closet, the god found his favourite grey sweatpants (What a shame it was that you couldn't be here right now and admire the things this specific kind of trousers did to him.) and a loose black t-shirt - perfect for a lonely and lazy afternoon, evening and unfortunately night.

Loki then paid the little shelf in the living room a visit, which was stuffed to the brim with books. The chosen one was a old Norse romance - one of your favourites. Book in hand, the god made himself comfortable on the sofa; ready to get lost in a fictional world.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite get that far...

Barely ten minutes in, a loud knock sounded from the main door. Loki's eyes lifted. Another knock - followed by further knocks. "Oh for the Norns sake..." The god cursed; laid the novel aside and stood up. It knocked again. "I'm on my way!" He grumbled annoyed and at last opened the door for the impatient visitor - and once he did, his eyes almost popped out of his head; jaw slacking.

It was none other than his oaf of a brother, of course.

Thor had the brightest smile on his face which must be physical possible. Nothing very unusual. It was the dress up that shocked Loki... His brother wore black leather trousers and a emerald green t-shirt, on which stood in big golden letters: Loki's Bachelor Party. And the worst was the huge, very unfortunate taken picture of himself, which was printed on the t-shirt as well.

He couldn't be serious right now...

"Thor... What in Odin's name is that?" The blond god giggled and proudly displayed the t-shirt. "Do you like it, brother? I created it myself!" He boasted, but added seconds later in a whisper after Loki gave him a disbelieving glance: "Alright, alright... Jane helped me quite a bit, but... Shhhh. Don't tell the others." "Others?" The younger man asked; blinking.

Thor started to smirk again. "Of course, brother! We are not celebrating your bachelor party alone - if that is what you think." The black haired god looked once more incredulously at his older brother. "Bachelor party?"

Thor sighed and shook his head. "For somebody so utterly witty and clever, you are really stupid sometimes." The blond gestured towards his green t-shirt again, "You did see what it reads, brother, didn't you? 'Loki's Bachelor Party'!" before he reached inside his seemingly endless leather pocket and pulled out another emerald green t-shirt. "Now let's go, brother! Get changed! It's time to celebrate!" Thor threw the t-shirt at Loki, who caught it effortlessly.

"T-Shirt, black leather trousers and black boots. It's the, uh, dress code - like the Midgardians say. Five minutes, then you shall meet us outside. You will be awaited." Loki wanted to say something - anything, in order to protest, display his discomfort and especially ask his brother if he had lost his last remaining braincells, but before he could, Thor had already walked away.

Loki sighed as he closed the door shut; pinching the bridge of his nose. He clearly didn't want to do this. He refused to do this. After all, who knew who his brother had invited to this ridiculous Midgardian pre-wedding tradition party? Nobody of the male Avengers liked him that much to spend a great amount of time with him on a party for him.

At least that was what Loki thought.

The god wanted to call his brother; tell him that he would not attend this... bachelor party. He had already picked up his phone; thumb hovering over the green button beside his brother's name.

But then he remembered a conversation he had with you not such a long time ago...

"A what?" The raven haired man asked; eyebrows slanting. You giggled beside him. "A bachelorette party, babe. It's a Midgardian pre-wedding 'tradition'. The female friends of the bride organise a day - or a weekend, where they take her somewhere in order to celebrate the fact she is going to marry. Commonly - I'd say, it is an evening, where they party, have alcohol and mostly book a stripper." "A stripper?!" Loki shouted out; almost horrified. You nodded. "Yeah, it's, uh, I don't know... It's somehow a thing for such partys. After all, they are celebrating the bride's last days or weeks as an unmarried woman..."

"Yes, darling, I think I understood the concept, but... A stripper?" Your fiancè shook his head. "I don't want this. I don't want another man stripping for you."

You kinda saw that coming. You knew Loki was very... territorial when it came to other men. He always had been and you couldn't deny that you loved this about him. You were the only one for him - the only woman he'd ever lay his eyes upon, and it should be the same for you.

"If the girls really do that, I will refuse, okay? I promise, I won't watch that man strip for me." Loki shot you a relieved, almost thankful smile. "I appreciate this a lot, my love."

There was silence for a few moments, as you walked side by side, until... "The same usually goes for the bachelor party as well..." Loki wasn't stupid, of course. He could connect the dots quickly. "Female stripper?" The god asked; swallowing. "Almost, babe... I'm sure you heard of clubs with a lot of stages and poles in it? Seats and sofas where men - and women can sit, have a few drinks and watch half naked - or naked, who knows... Women dancing at those poles?"

Loki knew what you were talking about. He had been quite a few years on Midgard now; having definitely heard of such... establishments. Before he met you, such a thought would've peaked his interest, without a doubt. Beautiful ladies dancing at poles and showing off their curves? Which man wouldn't be intrigued? By the Norns, he would've probably spent various nights there already, if he was still the same god he was years ago - but he wasn't. Meanwhile, the thought of such clubs was everything but a turn on. It disgusted him, because if he went there, he would disrespect you. Yes, Loki would probably go as far and say he would cheat on you - and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your fiancè scrunched his nose. "Love, alone the mere thought of such an establishment disgusts me. I am yours - and only yours. I don't want to see other half naked women dancing for me. They don't deserve my attention. I swear to you, Y/N, I won't ever set one foot in such a club. Not under any circumstances. Never." You blinked; were quite a bit... shocked? Sure, you never discussed that topic, because there hadn't been a reason, but... All your ex-boyfriends would've salivated at the mere mention of such clubs...

"You seem surprised, my love?" You blinked again. "I-I, no, I... It's not that, babe. I'd rather say I'm shocked about the fact that all my ex-boyfriends wouldn't have said no to such a club night and you..." Loki raised an eyebrow at you; a look of disgust on his face. "Pft..." He scoffed. "Mortal men... They never fail to shock and disgust me. It's almost embarrassing that they still don't know how to cherish, worship and appreciate a woman and the love she gives them."

You couldn't help but smile; feeling pure love pumping through your veins for the raven haired god walking beside you. You reached for Loki's hand; slipped your fingers through his and gave them a squeeze. "Have I already told you today how much I love you?" Your fiancè chuckled. "Yes, darling. I believe about five times." You shook your head. "That's not enough... I love you, Loki, with all my heart."

The god stopped abruptly in his tracks and reeled you in, causing you to squeak up and crash against his muscular chest. A strong hand kept you from rebounding and pinned your body against his. "I love you even more, my darling," Loki whispered and caught your lips in a feverish kiss; not caring the slightest that you two were actually on a walk - in public.

"Let's say the unthinkable happens and Thor organises a bachelor party for me... What am I going to do? I don't think I'm the right person for such things - and not really best friends with the other... men in this compound." You smiled gently up at Loki; once again giving him a loving squeeze. "I know what you mean, babe, but... If the boys, or just Thor - whoever throws a bachelor party just for you, I'd say it's a huge gesture. Give them a chance, please? See how it goes and then decide."

Give them a chance, please? Your words echoed through the god's head on repeat. He swallowed hard; pondering what to do, but in the end he closed the contacts app on his mobile and placed the little device on the sofa. With long strides, he moved to the bedroom to change his clothes - again.

A look in the mirror told him, that the decision he made was probably already not a wise one. The t-shirt looked... interesting. He didn't really like it, but if he wanted to participate in that game, he had to play by the rules, right?

Running a hand through his raven locks and collecting a few things he'd probably need on this 'party', Loki then closed the main door of your shared apartment behind himself. Taking a deep breath, the god made his way down to the first floor.

The moment the metallic doors slid open, he could already hear voices. His brother, of course; Laing, Banner, Stark... He fought the urge to roll his eyes and stepped out of the elevator.

Tony was the first to notice him. "Reindeer Games! There you are!" All eyes were on Loki now. "Man, I honestly didn't think he'd come...," added Bruce in a whisper, whereas Thor and Scott smiled brightly. "But my brother did come!" Thor boomed and made his way over to him; slamming his meaty hand on his left shoulder blade; causing Loki to grimace in slight pain. "He truly is here!" The blond continued. "No illusions!" "And he's wearing the t-shirt! Suits you, bro!" Scott smiled like a little boy in the candy store.

"Well, yes," Loki answered and adjusted the t-shirt - which everybody else wore as well; trying to stay cool. "Admittedly, I pondered to just call my brother and tell him I rather prefer to read, but... I thought I give this-" He gestured around. "-a chance."

Thor patted his shoulder once more. "Wise decision, brother. Now let us go. A merry time is awaiting us!" "Poetically put, Point Break." Stark commented; passing the two Asgardians by. The other two men followed. Loki watched them leave the building through the main doors, where already an all black bus - yes, bus, waited.

The god grimaced. He could've relinquished the sight of Tony Stark in black leather trousers.

Loki found himself in a so-called 'party bus' again. Like the name already said, it wasn't a normal vehicle with seats. The interior looked more like a disco than a bus... Loud music, tons of alcohol and bright lights. The god didn't really like it at first; was still reluctant and kind of mistrustful. He still couldn't believe that this - whatever it was or going to be, was for him. For his bachelor party.

While the others were already in party mode and having fun, Loki sat in a corner with a drink in his hand; observing - until Thor made his way over to him.

"Brother!" The blond shouted through the music. "Do you like our surprise?" Loki hesitatingly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I-" He got interrupted by Tony, suddenly shouting at the two Asgardians through the music as well. "Point Break, Reindeer Games, c'mon! We arrived!" And with those words the music stopped abruptly, just like the bus.

Loki frowned. "Arrived? Where?" Thor just grinned at him; the conversation he just started already forgotten and gripped his arm; pulling the younger god to his feet. "Let yourself be surprised, brother, but I can assure that you will like it."

And Thor should be proven right...

The building before the group of men stood now, wasn't just a building... It was huge and filled with dozens of different parcours; built for a game called Lasertag. Tony didn't need to explain much, since the game itself was kind of self-explanatory.

"Let's go, dudes!" Scott chirped like a little school boy; was totally excited and already made his way to the entrance. The others followed.

About twenty minutes later, after they all got a instruction and their attire, the Avengers decided which parcour to play first. Loki looked around. "Can we just choose anyone we like? I mean, what about the other people here?" The group started to laugh; giving the fact that the usually so attentive god didn't notice it yet.

"There are no other people here, today, Loki..." Bruce started to explain. "Tony rented the whole thing for us."

The god blinked. "The... whole thing?" He asked; quoting Banner. They all nodded. "Yes, of course the whole thing. Unless it wouldn't be fun." Stark shrugged his shoulders; looking around.

Loki blinked again. He was confused - but probably in the best way possible. "Why? Why would you all agree to celebrate this Midgardian tradition with me? For me?" The four other men exchanged a few looks, before Tony took a step closer to the tall, dark god; awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Because you're one of us, Reindeer Games. You're an Avenger - even if we don't always get along and approve of this, but you are." Bruce nodded; agreed with the billionaire. "Tony's right. You earned your place. You proved us and the world wrong. You can be good - when you want." Scott nodded approvingly. "Yeah, man."

Loki swallowed hard. To hear such words had always seemed to be in far distance for him. He would've never... never anticipated or expected that the team would accept him one day. He thought they'd see forever the psychotic, maniacal killer they always had seen in him... Apparently not anymore...

"I..." Again swallowed Loki hard. "I don't know what to say, except... Thank you. Truly. I mean it."

The mood was on the verge of getting very emotional. But before that could happen, Tony eased the situation up. "Yeah, well, your soon-to-be wife played a huge roll in this all, but don't get too comfortable. You are still a pain in the ass."

Loki just smirked; gave the billionaire his best, mischievous smoulder. "Vice versa."

It was already pitch dark outside, when the small group of men emerged from the Lasertag 'arena' again; laughing and smiling. Loki would've never thought that he could have so much fun with Thor, Bruce, Scott and especially Tony in his 'free time'. Perhaps you could blame it on the small amount of alcohol running through their veins, but who knew?

"I did not know that this... Midgardian game was going to be so much fun!" Thor boomed; walking besides Loki and Tony. "I told you, Point Break, haven't I? Just like I said that your drama queen of a brother was going to like it." "Indeed, Stark." "You do know that I can hear you?" Loki threw in; causing them to snicker - almost like little school girls. The raven haired god just rolled his eyes in mock offence.

The group made their way towards the party bus again. Happy already waited in front of the big, black vehicle for them to return. Of course, Tony had hired him as a driver.

Only now did Loki realise, that Happy was dressed in the same clothes as the rest of the men; paired with black sunglasses.

"Happy! Are we ready to go?" The friendly bodyguard nodded; adjusting his glasses. "Sure, Mr. Stark. The bachelor party is ready to roll on." "What are waiting for then?! Let's go, Reindeer Games! Time to really celebrate the fact that someone is willing to marry you."

Loki wanted to give a snarky response, but a clap on his back from Thor caused all the air to escape his lungs and the words to die in his throat. "Come, brother! Stark is right!" Grumbling under his breath, the god followed the others inside the bus.

It took him a little while to get comfortable and especially to just let go and - he repeated your words in his head... Give this a chance.

And he did.

The music was loud; echoing through the whole bus. Alcohol was flowing and Scott had already reached the level where he was awkwardly dancing around a pole in the middle of the bus - much to everyone else's entertainment. One thing was sure, though... Loki had fun, was definitely a bit tipsy, but also the most sober one. He hadn't had a single break yet from the loud, deafening, colourful and amusing chaos around him. Well, he went outside for a moment to call you, since he saw that you tried to call him, but that was hours ago and didn't really count as a break, did it?

A look on his mobile told him that it was already way past midnight. Usually, at this time, the god laid curled up in bed with you, but you weren't here and the alcohol and adrenaline in his bloodstream kept him wide awake.

"Hey! Guys, guys, guys!" Tony suddenly turned down the music; causing all eyes to land on him. "I have 'n idea." He prompted; swaggering over to the others. "What 'bout we ask Happy to take us to a strip club, huh?" The other three men were way too drunk to think straight and so they all agreed - except Loki.

The god shook his head. "Stark, no." Tony raised an eyebrow; looking at the raven haired man in disbelief. "Sorry, princess, I think I misheard ya. Did you say no?" "Yes. I won't go to a strip club with you." Tony started to pout like a toddler. "But why not? Lots of pretty ladies, Reindeer Games! They're gonna be aaaall over you!" Loki swallowed the anger bubbling up inside him. "That may be true, yes, but I don't want that. Y/N is the only woman for me. I don't want or need others."

Tony groaned and theatrically steadied himself on Bruce's shoulder; almost causing the doctor to tip over. "You're such a party pooper..." The billionaire shook his head, before pressing a button on his watch. "Happy, escort us to the next bar. Not strip club - unfortunately." Then he turned to Scott. "I s'ppose your performance has to be enough. Show us what ya got, Thumbelina." Lang didn't let himself tell that twice and Thor turned up the music again.

The party went on till the first rays of sunshine kissed the summer sky and the amount of alcohol coursing through the men's veins catapulted them into a deep slumber.

Loki awoke late afternoon that day, with a thundering headache and Scott cuddled up against him. The god groaned and grimaced. It had been definitely a night to remember.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (continuing in the comments!)

#the baby fever wedding #the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki smut #loki x reader smut #marvel loki #loki marvel #mcu loki

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archangeldyke-all · 1 year ago

Note

could u pls do more of sevika and reader w/ a child from a past relationship which our child is jealous of both reader and sevika like sev can’t even try holding our hand cuz little fuckers will literally be demanding for sev’s hand and vice-versa

this is so. fucking. cute.

men and minors dni

there are a lot of things you didn't expect when you first introduced sevika to your kid.

you didn't expect them to get along so well so quickly. the moment they met, a bond was forged between the two that you doubt anything could break.

you didn't expect your girl to start referring to sevika as 'babe' the same way you do.

you didn't expect her to call you the same, either.

you didn't expect sevika to become so clingy and attached to your daughter, calling you every night she isn't at your place so she can talk to your girl on the phone and coming to each and every one of her school performances or conferences or field trips.

and you certainly didn't expect your little girl's jealousy.

the first time you notice it, the three of you are walking to pick up your dinner. your kid's a few feet ahead of you and sevika, jumping in puddles and stopping to examine rocks and leaves. sevika's fingers are intertwined between yours, your hands swinging between your bodies as you walk.

your girl turns around at one point, grinning as she holds up a rock she wants the two of you to look at, only for her smile to falter when she sees that you guys are holding hands. she pouts, dropping the rock to her side, and you and sev swarm around her, worried.

"what's wrong, babe?" you ask. your daughter huffs.

"stop holdin' hands without me!" she whines, smacking your joint hands with her little fists.

you laugh and let go of sevika's hand, only for your kid to shove her way between the two of your bodies. she grabs sevika's hand in her left and yours in her right, and only then does her pout lessen.

"you jealous?" sevika teases. your daughter nods.

"'s no fair! i wanna hold your hands too!"

the next time it happens, sevika's playing with your rugrat while you're cleaning up the house. you can hear the two of them laughing, and there's a soft smile on your face while you work.

sevika sneaks away a few minutes later to check in on you where you're cleaning the stovetop.

"you okay in here?" she asks. you smile and twirl around to wrap your arms around sevika's waist, burying your face against her chest. she hums and presses a kiss to your head.

"i'm good. almost done." you mumble against her.

"hey!" a little voice pipes up from behind you. you both turn to look at the entrance of the kitchen where your daughter stands, both of her hands on her hips and a furrow in her brow. "leave sevvy alone mom, it's my turn to play with her!" she shouts.

you snort, and hug sevika tighter toward your body. "you're gonna have to take her from me babe." you tease. your daughter huffs, then runs forward to grab sevika's wrist, tugging her away from you.

"c'mon sev!" she whines. sevika laughs.

"she was mine first!" you cry.

"too bad, so sad!" your daughter responds, sticking her tongue out at you. you laugh, and let go of your grip on your girlfriend, sighing.

"sorry babe, we got a game of dinosaurs to get back to." sevika says as your daughter marches her out of the kitchen. you just roll your eyes and laugh.

one night, sevika wakes you up in the middle of the night with kisses to your neck.

you smile as you roll over, capturing her lips against yours and humming happily against her mouth. she sighs.

"think you can be quiet?" she whispers as her hand trails up your bare thigh and starts fiddling with your underwear. you grin.

"can you?" you ask. sevika snorts as she shoves her hand under your waistband.

"i'm not the one who's gonna be cumming my brains out in a few minutes." she whispers.

"yeah, but you got that dirty mouth on you-- can never shut the fuck up when you got your hands on me." you tease. sevika bites your throat and you gasp.

"fuck off." she whispers as she starts rubbing circles against your clit. you bury your face against her shoulder, muffling your moans against her sleep shirt. "can't get enough of you." she mumbles. you whimper.

"you too." you say. she chuckles.

"what're you doing?" a quiet, tiny voice suddenly asks. you both gasp, sevika launches herself toward the other side of the bed and you shoot up in bed to look at your daughter.

she's standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, her teddybear held close to her chest. you blink at her, and beside you, sevika starts to laugh.

"w-we're cuddling." you say. your daughter huffs.

"without me!?" she exclaims. you laugh and lean back down against the bed.

"c'mon." you say, resigned to the fact that you likely won't be cumming your brains out anytime soon.

your daughter laughs and launches herself into your bed, cuddling up against your side, then tugging sevika toward her.

"c'mon sevvy, you gotta make me a sandwich!" she demands. sevika laughs as she rolls over, holding your daughter from the other side, the two of you squishing her between you. she sighs happily. "that's better." she says. you snort, and press a kiss to her head, and sevika follows suit, kissing her cheek before settling down against bed.

"goodnight kid." sevika whispers.

"night sevvy. night mom."

"g'night babies." you reply.

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

254 notes · View notes

teddiee · 3 months ago

Text

Into Each Life: Chapter 11

Summary:

His hands tremble as he holds them in front of himself, and the room suddenly feels too tight. His pulse raises and he’s aware of every set of eyes on him now, including the shrewd glare of his father.

But most of all, he can feel Tiberius’s weighted presence, silent and steady. Tiberius hasn’t even acknowledged him for most of the evening, and yet now, with a simple caress, he’s reminding Tony of his power, of his control.

It’s deliberate, calculated, and that makes it all the more fucking infuriating.

“Sorry,” Tony gasps out. “My, uh. Foot fell asleep.”

Words: 13,112

Tony’s distracted. It’s why he misses so many of the signs.

And true, some hints that were once his most obvious tells are less apparent now. For the past week, he hasn’t given a second thought to pesky nuisances such as the constant throbbing of his scent glands or the ever-present flush of his skin.

The tightness in his lower abdomen feels like a factory setting whenever he’s in the same room as Bucky. And lately, his increased sensitivity seems more like an unexpected perk rather than a human-sized red flag indicating his looming biological crisis.

He’s practically a human slick-factory these days, impending pre-heat or not. What was once a source of shame linked to his deepest gender-specific insecurities has transformed into a nearly constant sensation that Tony has now, weirdly enough, grown quite apathetic to feeling in his underwear.

Sure, he’s done more loads of laundry in the past month than he’s done over the past two years, but it’s worth it to watch the way Bucky transforms when he detects Tony’s arousal. He’ll scrub his drawers and bedsheets in the sink every morning for the rest of his life if it means the Alpha will push out a breathy laugh, slot his thigh in between Tony’s, and croon:

“Oh, you poor thing. Wet for me already, sweetheart?”

Tony doesn’t remember Thursday night’s dream (if there even was one), but he wakes up on his stomach with his sleep shorts rucked down to his thighs. His release coats his belly and his half-hard cock, still fresh, while warm fluid dribbles out of his hole and drenches his cheap cotton sheets in a cocktail of bodily fluids that has his nose wrinkling.

Tony never knows what to make of his scent, usually—cloying, honeyed, and sharp to his own nostrils. Today, it’s practically overwhelming. He turns his head away and releases a low whine.

His lashes are wet, his lips red and bitten raw.

He knows one thing for certain, even while navigating through his post-climax haze—if he has to jerk off with his own hand or grind his mattress to one more half-baked orgasm, he’s going to fucking explode.

He goes through the familiar motions of cleaning himself off, his mind wandering. His muscles ache—he wants to crawl back into bed for the next week.

He sits through class and ignores the dull migraine pounding behind his eyeballs. He ignores the twinge in his jaw. He tries to ignore the—surprisingly aerodynamic—paper airplanes filled with study revisions that Rebecca Barnes launches onto his desk with frightening precision.

“You’re going to fail Home Ec. It’s called a ‘colander’, you dunce. Not a ‘water jail for vegetables’.”

“Leave me alone, wench,” he scribbles back, flicking the paper in her direction. He misses, and it hits Sue-Ann Whitaker—class snob and resident social climber—in the back of the head, one desk away.

The red-haired Omega casts him a glare fierce to melt carbon.

Tony responds by making an impolite gesture with his finger.

“You know, I heard the only reason Stark’s still here is because he got caught messin’ around, and now none of the Alphas want him,” Sue-Ann’s faux-whisper carries to two classmates Tony can’t be bothered to remember the names of. At the front of the classroom, their eighty-five-year-old professor grades papers at her desk, half-deaf and none the wiser. “He was supposed to be bonded off aaaaages ago, but now that all of New York knows he’s loose, no one’ll take him. Not even those Alphas shopping… secondhand.”

The girls snicker.

Tony rolls his eyes. If only he were actually getting any action, maybe he wouldn’t be dry-humping his pillow every night in his sleep.

“I heard that he was sneakin’ around with Rebecca Barnes’s brother. The army boy? My ma says she spotted them at Red Star on Sunday night. You know, that diner off Ellis Street?” Lackey Number One chimes in.

Tony doesn’t snap his pencil in half, but it’s a close thing.

From her own desk, Rebecca freezes.

“The older brother? James Barnes? Oh please, there’s no way,” Sue-Ann sniffs.

“I remember him,” Lack Number Two giggles. “He was here when Becca moved in. God, what a dish.”

The only dish on Tony’s mind is one he can crack over his own head so he won’t have to hear the rest of this conversation.

“They were sitting on the same side of the booth. Sharing a spoon. And—” Lackey Number One glances around conspiratorially. “—kissing.”

Becca shoots him a look, which Tony promptly ignores.

It’s a gross over-exaggeration, anyway. He tried one bite of Bucky’s pie, and the closest they got to any kissing was when Bucky hooked an arm around his neck and childishly licked the whipped cream off his cheek like an overzealous Saint Bernard while Tony sputtered in protest.

They had received several disapproving looks from the surrounding patrons.

Including, clearly, his classmate’s prudish mother.

“Whatever it is, it won’t last,” Sue-Ann declares. She sends another sneer in Tony’s direction. “Stark’s a boy-mega. My father says that his kind basically serve as chew toys for older men. Consolation prizes for disgraced, Alpha has-beens.”

Lovely.

“It’s a shame about the older brother, though,” Lackey Number Two sighs wistfully. “He’s gorgeous—like, a total dreamboat. That smile. I’d probably risk a little social impropriety myself to go to a diner with an Alpha like that.” Both lackeys burst into another round of giggles.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nancy,” Sue-Ann snaps. “He’s poor. The entire family is practically destitute. Have you seen Becca’s uniform? The buttons haven’t matched in six months. There are more patches than any original fabric. I suppose when you can’t afford a new uniform, you have to make do with what’s already falling apart.”

Becca scowls at her desk, her cheeks flushing with color.

“You don’t settle down with Alphas from families like that. My father’s a state representative; I already have offers pouring in from all over the country,” Sue-Ann boasts. “My Alpha’s going to be handsome and influential. I’ve already been corresponding with a boy who’s on his way to becoming a managing director for a private equity firm.”

Tony snorts. Loudly.

The three girls whip around to stare at him.

“Eavesdrop, much?” Sue-Ann hisses.

“Oh no, don’t flatter yourself,” Tony says. He’s carving at his pencil with Jarvis’s old pocketknife, shaping the wood to a fine point. By the end of class, he’ll probably have himself a make-do shiv.

God willing, he can use it to lobotomize himself.

“Just reminiscing on my own propositions. Of course, nothing so ostentatious as the, what was it? ‘Son of a managing director of a something-something-snooze-fest’? Mazel tov to you and your charming future doormat.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sue-Ann seethes. One of the lackey’s lips twitch. ”I mean, we all can’t expect to be so lucky. Last weekend, my sole offer was a pass from some sleazy U.S. Armed Forces Committee chairman.”

Becca bursts into a startled laugh, which she quickly disguises with a strangled cough.

“You’re a filthy liar,” Sue-Ann spits. “My father would never. My mother, God rest her soul, just passed this winter—”

“No, of course, you’re right,” Tony says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He hasn’t even bothered to look up from his shiv-pencil. “Richard, right? Representative Richard Wanker—sorry, Whitaker. Though, I suppose it must have been some other skank’s pervert of a father. New York is just so large, and my dumb, horny boy-mega brain gets all of the influential scumbags confused.”

“You complete WORM!” Sue-Ann cries, slamming her palms down on her desk. Several heads turn in their direction. “My father is an honorable man. He would never demean himself by associating with someone like you.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Your drunken slob of a father asked if I was ‘pure’—which, gross—and then made several observations about my ‘burgeoning wiles’. At this rate, Whitaker, you can expect to be calling me ‘Step-Dad’ by next Christmas.” He glides the pocketknife up the pencil with a satisfying scrape, and tosses in a wink for good measure.

He gets kicked out of Home Ec.

He’s supposed to go to the Headmaster’s office, but that’s always a colossal waste of time for all involved parties. Instead, he slinks back to his dormitory room and sleeps fitfully until it’s time for Jarvis to pick him up.

He wakes up feeling marginally worse, somehow. Groggy and disoriented, he tosses clothes into his duffle bag and splashes his face with cold water, hissing at the hypersensitivity to his pulsating glands.

By the time he’s dragging his feet into his butler’s awaiting chariot, he’s a half-conscious, delirious, shivering mess.

“Don’ feel so good,” he mumbles, tipping over and pressing his face into the cool, leathered interior of the Rolls Royce. “Might be dyin’.”

Jarvis takes one glance at him through the rearview mirror and sighs, long and heavy and audible.

“Oh, Tony. I truly have to commend your knack for somehow managing to escalate every potential disaster. Not to mention your gift for seeking out the most horrendous timing imaginable.”

“Missed you too, buddy,” Tony says into the leather. And then: “Wait, huh?”

“Having your real heat directly after we informed your father about your fake heat isn’t exactly ideal, you know,” Jarvis remarks, tone deceptively light.

Tony’s brain grinds to a halt.

“I’m not—” he pauses. He slaps a hand to his throat. His mating gland pulses so hot he can practically feel it vibrating under his palm. “Oh, my God.”

“Ah, I see you’re just now joining us in the real world. Welcome.”

“Oh my God. What the fuck, J. What the fuck.”

“You have always had a flair for the dramatics; however, I fear I’m missing the punchline to this particular bit.”

“Take me back,” Tony demands. He sits up too fast, and his head spins. He grips the headrest to keep from vomiting onto his shoes. “J, take me back. Turn around. Right now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Jarvis sighs, sounding truly apologetic. “Your father is having guests for dinner, and your presence is expected.”

“Dinner?” Tony wails. He falls onto his back and presses his fists into his eyes. “Howard and his fucking vanity celebrations. Jarvis, I can’t be at dinner. I’ve been in pre-heat since… fucking Christ, since last night. I’ll be fully out of commission in a few hours, max.”

He’s so stupid. He’s so, so stupid.

The signs were right there.

And he was too busy basking in the glow of five-day courtship to notice.

Tony hates spending his heats at The Institute. The designated heat rooms are sterile and impersonal, and after three days Tony feels more like a lunatic locked in a padded cell than anything resembling a sexually satisfied Omega.

But Tony hates spending his heats at home even more, where his father’s disgust and scorn permeate every wall of the Manhattan mansion.

Besides, there’s nothing quite as humbling as sobbing into your childhood pillow with two fingers up your own ass.

“You’ve had a … tumultuous week, I’m sure,” Jarvis says, not unkindly. “I’m sure many factors could have triggered your cycle.”

“Gross, Jarvis. Please never say ‘cycle’ ever again,” Tony moans petulantly. “This is a fucking disaster. Howard’s going to know I was lying. He’s going to know I wasn’t at school. He’s—”

“Relax, Anthony,” Jarvis cuts in. “I can’t smell you, yet. Chances are, your father won’t be able to, either.” Small mercies for Beta noses. “I’ve just become more attuned to your early… tendencies.”

“Flattering,” Tony says dully.

“We’ll get you washed up. We’ll use those scented oils your mother always buys you for Christmas that you pretend not to throw away. Ana keeps spares. You’ll sit opposite the table, as usual. You’ll behave yourself for one dinner, and then you can hide up in your room for the remainder of the weekend. Your father will be none-the-wiser.”

“That’s ambitious,” Tony croaks. His eyes are burning a little. “Who’s coming to dinner?”

“I’m not sure,” Jarvis admits, and Tony’s heart sinks like a rock into the pit of his stomach. “Ana was just told to prepare four extra place settings in addition to yours and your mother’s.”

“Any Alphas will know,” Tony whines. “They’ll smell me.”

“Any mention of Howard Stark’s son’s biological well-being at dinner would be highly inappropriate, I am certain.”

Tony snorts. “Hasn’t stopped any of Howard’s friends before.”

Jarvis sends him an exasperated look. “Bath. Oils. It’s still early. I am confident that you will be fine.”

Tony swallows heavily. His throat burns. “Monday,” he says. “You take me back Monday. Regardless of… it doesn’t matter. It it’s not… over.” He wipes at his eyes. “Monday, I go back to Brooklyn.”

He doesn’t specify The Institute. It’s not what he means.

Somehow, Jarvis knows.

His butler nods. “Monday,” he agrees softly.

Now that Tony knows he’s in pre-heat for certain, the symptoms suffocate him.

Ignorance can indeed be bliss. After all, ignoring his sticky thighs and half-hard cock is manageable when he’s fully aware that a libido gremlin dominates his every waking thought.

But this time, when he tears off his clothes in his ensuite bathroom and is confronted by a familiar, inevitable mess in his underwear, he panics.

The whine that erupts from his vocal cords is shrill and feminine. He sneaks a frenzied look at his reflection—flushed skin, wild eyes, noticeably swollen scent glands—and knows he’s doomed.

He’s cut it too close. His thoughts are mostly lucid, but he can feel the fog creeping in on the outskirts—the familiar haze that makes his mind go a little soft, lets his brain float in and out of that submissive space. The urge to succumb to his body’s cravings is already palpable—last night’s interaction with Bucky outside the school was enough to send him dropping, and that was almost twenty-four hours ago.

He rakes a hand over his face and resists the urge to scream.

When he dunks his head under the bath water, he briefly contemplates drowning himself.

He scrubs at his overly sensitive skin. He washes away the evidence of the past week with scent-neutralizing soap. He rubs floral-smelling oils into his glands and even spritzes down his underwear, though the sensation immediately makes him physically recoil. His body only craves one scent, and it’s certainly not the artificial aroma of his mother’s expensive jasmine perfume.

He tucks his non-cooperating prick into the waistband of his pants and prays to a foreign deity that tonight’s predictably dull conversation is enough to suppress his arousal and keep his body in check.

He refuses to focus on the sliver of dread that curls in the pit of his stomach. The distant recognition that this pre-heat feels so much more intense—is already taking a heavier toll on his body—than any heats previously.

That he’s craving the presence of a certain Alpha so deeply, it feels all-consuming. He can already feel his desire for Bucky taking root inside his body, echoing within his bones.

“I need a drink,” Tony announces, pushing into the kitchen ten minutes later. The fabric of his suit scratches at his skin with an intensity that makes him want to pluck his eyes out. “Vodka, whiskey, lighter fluid. Anything.”

Ana opens a hidden cabinet, and moments later, a bottle of Old Crow is thrust into his hands.

“Bourbon works,” Tony croaks, swigging the cheap liquor straight from the bottle. He relishes the burn. It distracts him from the burning in his own veins.

“You look terrible, Antal.”

“Thank you, I’m fully aware.” Tony waves the bottle of bourbon for emphasis. “S’why we have to blame it on me getting… er… how do you say ‘drunk as swine’ in Hungarian?” He takes another large gulp before the bottle is yanked from his lips. He frowns. “Heyyyy.”

“If you’re wasted at dinner, I’m the one who will have to hear about it from your mother,” Ana chastises. The Beta presses a palm to his forehead, causing Tony to hiss and flinch away. “You’re too warm.”

“Noted,” Tony says. He reaches for the bourbon, but Ana holds it out of his grasp. “Who’s all here?”

“Your father is entertaining his guests in the billiards room. A group that I recognize from the last dinner. The officer, the Omega woman. That funny-looking German.”

Dr. Abraham Erskine.

Tony curses.

Suddenly, it becomes glaringly clear why he’s being forced to attend supper.

No one revels in a power play like Howard Stark. By forcing Tony to share a meal and engage in social niceties with the man who once attempted to enlist him in some secret scientific war effort—without Howard’s consent, to boot—his father sends a clear message to both: he’s still the one in control.

Heaven forbid Tony have a pipe dream.

“Jarvis said there were four extra place settings,” Tony presses.

Ana rolls her lips, returning to her kitchen station.

“Mr. Stone will be joining a bit later. Dinner is at eight; you can stay if you don’t make yourself useless. Come, finish the silverware for me.”

Tony doesn’t move.

“Tiberius is coming?” His voice pushes out as a strangled rasp.

Tony can’t remember Tiberius ever attending a family dinner.

“He… insisted,” Ana says delicately.

Tony stares blankly at the wall behind the stove.

“Oh,” he says, because if he says anything more he’ll definitely throw up.

Ana touches his elbow. The contact startles him.

“We’ll seat him at the opposite end of the table. Near your father,” she says carefully. “He won’t know.”

“He’ll know,” Tony replies numbly. He blinks away from the wall and stares at his family’s cook. “He… I’m not sure what he’ll do about it. But he’ll know.”

Ironically, the only one who appears oblivious to the situation is Howard.

Tony’s mother blinks at him.

“You look nice, dear,” she says in that typical absent way of hers. But her eyes, usually distant and unfocused, trail from his throat to his face, and for a brief, startling moment, Tony detects a flash of clarity. His Omega mother’s nostrils twitch, almost imperceptibly, and she reaches for his arm. Her fingers tighten around his sleeve. “Jasmine, right?”

Tony nods mutely.

She smiles. “Lovely.”

The dour Alpha—Colonel Phillips—regards Tony with a look of such pure bewilderment, Tony would probably find it amusing if he weren't vibrating with panic. He sits on the far end of the table from Tony and avoids eye contact.

‘No one will notice’, my ass, Tony thinks petulantly.

The British Omega woman, Agent Carter, quickly schools her expression and shakes Tony’s hand, but not before sending a fleeting sidelong glance at Dr. Erskine.

The German doctor simply smiles at Tony. Tony ignores him.

He sits beside his mother while the group crowds around Howard at the opposite end of the table and resists the urge to bury his head in his arms.

As far as humiliation rituals go, he has to admit that a group of strangers sniffing out his impending heat ranks pretty high up there.

“Just waiting on one more,” Howard assures them, grinning like a shark. “My business partner. Running a little later, should be here any minute. Don’t be shy, dig in. Miss Carter, more wine?”

“Agent,” the Omega says primly. “And no, thank you.”

The seat next to Howard’s is empty, and suddenly doesn’t feel far enough away.

“Tony,” his mother says quietly. Her voice doesn’t carry past the two of them. “Are you feeling alright, dear? You look quite peaky.”

“Swell, Ma,” he remarks. He swirls his soup with the spoon but can’t seem to bring it to his mouth. “Just tired.”

“Still… recovering?” She asks. “From last weekend, I mean.”

Tony’s spoon ceases its movements.

“Yes,” he says through his teeth. “Still recovering. Can we change the subject, maybe?”

He plays with his soup more than he manages to eat it, and his mother won’t stop casting him these frantic, worried glances, but miraculously, he somehow manages to survive the first course while preserving his dignity. Until:

“Sorry I’m late, everyone.”

Tony’s fork clatters to his plate.

Tiberius Stone sweeps the room, his presence immediately consuming the space like wildfire smoke—suffocating and inescapable.

Tony grits his teeth and holds his breath to avoid choking on it.

“Ty!” Howard exclaims. “The chair is all yours, my friend. Grab a seat.” He gestures to the vacant spot on his right.

A king and his regent.

But Tiberius isn’t looking at Howard. His ice-blue eyes are locked onto the Omega at the opposite end of the table, flushed and petrified and furious and trying desperately to conceal his emotional turmoil from escaping through his scent like a guiding torch.

For a brief moment, Tony’s own gaze flits to Stone’s, revealing a fleeting glimpse of something dark and predatory, only to be swiftly replaced by a facade of practiced neutrality.

The entire interaction lasts mere seconds, if that, but it feels like a lifetime. The Alpha’s nostrils expand, and Tony knows; he knows that Tiberius can smell him, even through the oils and the perfumes and the bullshit.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Tiberius chuckles with a good-natured wave of his hand. “I’m merely here to observe. Howard’s the pro at handling negotiations; I just sign the papers.”

The table laughs, Howard preens, and Tony watches with a dry mouth as Tiberius plucks the chair from next to Howard and stalks toward Tony’s end of the table.

“I’d rather not interrupt. Lord knows I frequently have Howard’s ear. You all can catch me up after dinner,” Tiberius offers. He pushes his chair next to Tony’s left. “Anthony, do you mind terribly?”

Tony gapes. The rest of the table goes silent.

Publicly, Tony doesn’t associate with Alphas. Not without a chaperone.

He hardly interacts with them. He doesn’t really speak to them. He certainly doesn’t sit directly next to them at his father’s dinner table.

As far as his parents are concerned, these are the first words Tiberius Stone has uttered directly to Tony since he presented.

His mother clears her throat. “I don’t think—”

“Can’t promise you’ll have as much fun on that side as down here,” Howard teases, signaling a servant for more wine. The rosy spots on his cheeks indicate he’s becoming healthily tipsy. “My son never did know when to keep his trap shut. But hey, pal, it's your funeral.”

“Howard, I’m not sure—”

“More wine, Phillips?”

And that’s that.

Tiberius presses in next to Tony, and when his shoulder brushes against the Omega’s, Tony drags his chair closer to his mother’s.

“Missus Stark. Tony.” Tiberius’s gaze flashes to both of the Starks. “You both look lovely.”

Maria smiles amicably. “Tiberius. So pleased you could join us.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Tony stares down at his placemat with a fixed, burning intensity and wills himself to ignore the looming presence of the Alpha just a few feet away.

His grip on his autonomy is already slipping with every inhalation of Tiberius’s encompassing, obnoxious pheromones, and Tony loathes the way his body betrays him.

The Alpha’s scent is everywhere—thick, invasive, clinging to his skin like it’s soaked into his very being. It’s overpoweringly earthy, like soil churned up by a storm, and beneath it lingers the faint metallic tang of iron, sharp and jarring, scraping against his senses. It slams into Tony like a tidal wave, raw and unrelenting, and he can’t stop how his pre-heat body responds, no matter how hard he tries to suppress his own primal instincts.

His subconscious doesn’t care that this scent feels wrong, that it grates against every rational part of him. His heat only cares that it’s Alpha, strong and undeniable, and it twists through him like a cruel mockery of what he truly needs.

He grips his fork with enough force to dent the sterling silver, the tension coiling through his body leaving his limbs feeling tauter than a bowstring.

Tiberius takes a sip of wine, and Tony avoids staring at the translucent, vampiric expanse of his throat.

“Maria,” the Alpha says. His voice is deep and controlled. Tony shivers. “Howard tells me you’re in charge of hosting the upcoming charity luncheon?”

“Oh, yes,” Maria replies pleasantly. “For the children. Education and care for those orphaned by the war. It’s going to be the event of the season.”

Tony takes his knife and stabs at his steak, pretending it's Tiberius’s head.

“I’m sure it will be simply dashing,” Tiberius says, and Tony’s mother beams.

Tony sends a long, resigned look toward the ceiling.

Tiberius prattles on with his mother over his head. They discuss luncheons and garden clubs, the latest opera, Maria’s bridge party. Tony chews his food without tasting it and challenges himself to hold his breath for dizzying expanses of time.

Lightheaded and feverish, he almost misses the brush of the Alpha’s finger against his thigh.

Tony’s breath hitches. It’s a ghost of a touch—Tony’s distracted, and the sensation is so light, so subtle that with anyone else, Tony might question whether he simply imagined it.

But then it happens again.

Tiberius’s hand, warm and insistent, slides across his thigh under the dinner table, and the sensation feels like an electric shock to his nerves. For a split second, he’s utterly paralyzed.

And then, without thinking, his legs snap away from the table, jerking him out of his seat with a sharp, involuntary motion. His plate clatters to the floor.

The sudden movement catches the small group’s attention, the quiet hum of conversation faltering as Tony’s chair scrapes harshly against the floor. He’s standing now, face flushed with mortification and the rush of blood in his ears, his eyes darting around in a blur as he tries to compose himself.

It’s deliberate, calculated, and that makes it all the more fucking infuriating.

“Sorry,” Tony gasps out. “My, uh. Foot fell asleep.”

Tony wants to carve the rotten smirk off Tiberius’s face with his steak knife.

“Sit down, boy,” Howard orders. He snaps his fingers towards Tony’s mess of dishes. “Clean that up,” he directs sharply toward a member of his staff.

“I’ve got it,” Tony says numbly, dropping to his knees. Desperately looking for an excuse to escape back into the kitchens.

“Don’t be absurd; get back in your seat,” Howard hisses. “Now.”

Tony’s throat constricts. Tiberius’s pheromones are an electric crackle in the room’s dense ozone; an oppressive humidity that the Alpha does little to conceal.

It’s a game, Tony realizes, and he’s the prey.

“Apologies, everyone,” Tony rasps. He sinks back into his chair, feeling ill with trepidation, angling towards Maria until their knees are practically touching.

Tiberius is still watching him, his stare heavy and knowing, the silent challenge hanging between them.

His mother’s hand reaches out to feel his forehead, and Tony cringes away.

Why do people keep touching his fucking forehead?

“Anthony,” she gasps. “You’re burning up.”

Tony bats her hand away.

“M’fine.”

He is so not fine.

Tiberius’s presence is a plague. Every moment that passes, the Alpha’s own arousal—subtle, contained, but unmistakable—becomes more palpable, and Tony knows with dreadful certainty that his impending heat is the thing that’s drawn it out.

And Tiberius is letting his pheromones linger, just enough to make Tony’s skin prickle with discomfort. Reminding him that the storm in the air is real, and it’s closing in.

Because the sick bastard knows exactly what he’s doing—knows that the heat pulsing through Tony’s body is a weakness he can exploit without ever having to look at him.

When the Alpha’s foot grazes his leg during dessert, it takes every modicum of Tony’s self-control not to fling his spoonful of pudding at Dr. Erskine sitting across from him.

It’s not until dishes are cleared and coffee is poured and Tiberius deliberately squeezes Tony’s kneecap with deft fingertips, forcing a gush of slick to pour into his underwear, that the Alpha’s intentions swell like a symphony.

Tony spills burning liquid all over the tablecloth and wretches away from the table for the second time, chest heaving. His lungs on fire and his disposition murderous.

“Excuse my son,” Howard grits out. Tony can hardly hear him through the dull pounding in his ears. “Table manners have never been his strong suit. He’s acting like a—”

“Bitch in heat?” Tiberius interjects mildly.

Tiberius is wide-eyed and contrite. His palms are raised in defense.

“My sincerest apologies, truly. That was distasteful of me—I assumed everyone was aware.”

Tony doesn’t bother to stick around for a scandalized response because he’s already ripping himself from the table and barrelling into the kitchen with some excuse about helping Ana with the dishes.

He barely registers his feet moving, his body acting on autopilot as he bolts from the dining room. His vision blurs at the edges and his pulse roars in his ears, fingers trembling as he rips at the tie at his throat. By the time he shoves into the kitchen he’s shaking all over, slamming against the door as it shuts behind him.

His legs finally give out entirely and he slides down to the floor, his head dropping back against the wall as his chest heaves in shallow, rapid breaths. The coolness of the tile beneath him does little to soothe the feverish heat rolling off his skin. His fingers dig into his thighs as he tries to suppress the wave of shame and anger threatening to swallow him whole. He clenches his teeth, his jaw aching from the tension as he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the sensation to pass, willing himself to breathe.

The kitchen staff stares at him, bewildered.

“Antal?”

Tony blinks up at Ana, vision bleary.

The cook sinks down to her knees, pressing her palms to his face. Stabilizing his lolling head.

“Howard knows,” Tony says dully.

His mother bursts into the kitchen. Tony winces at the intrusion, the slamming of the door jarring to his heightened senses.

Maria takes in the sight of her son—an undignified, crumpled heap on the floor—and straightens her back.

“Ana,” she says calmly. “Our guests would like more coffee.”

Ana hesitates. Her hands are still pressed to Tony’s cheeks.

Tony pats her wrist. I’m okay.

He’s not, but.

The show must go on.

Ana’s reluctance is palpable, but she pulls away. Slowly, the rest of the kitchen staff trickles out of the room as well.

Tony ignores his mother. He stares at his slacks and wills her to disappear.

She doesn’t.

“Your father is… confused,” she says instead, after a heavy beat of silence. Her voice is collected, her posture perfectly composed. Tony kind of resents her.

He says nothing.

“He was under the impression that you experienced a heat last weekend. That’s what Jarvis informed us: why you spent the weekend away from home. At The Institute.”

Again, Tony says nothing. He just sits there—shaking and raw. His fingers curl into fists against his thighs.

His distress leaks from his ears, but still, he keeps his mouth shut.

Maria sighs. “Tony,” she says carefully, like she’s speaking to a spooked, foreign animal and not her teenage son. “About Tiberius—”

“Tony!” Howard’s voice cracks like a whip. His father storms into the kitchen, reeking of fury and wine. “You.” He points to Tony on the floor. “Get up. Now.”

“Howard,” Maria says, tone placating. She places her hands on her husband’s bicep. “Let’s just try and be rational about this; I’m certain there is a perfectly reasonable explanation—”

“Our son can’t even sit through a simple dinner without embarrassing us. Do you have any idea what this looks like for me? I’ve been trying to iron out a private contract with the United States military for months. But you just have to make everything about you, don’t you, Tony?” Howard laughs, abrasive and sardonic, and Tony turns and presses his cheek into the wall. He screws his eyes shut and tries to ignore the way he’s already losing the grounding he has on his mind, the edges of his brain turning soft and weak.

“He’s in heat, Howard,” Maria mollifies. “He can’t help the way—”

“He’s always in fucking heat. We have a son who can’t keep it in his fucking pants. This is getting ridiculous. You’ve been trying to push off his bonding, and I’ve listened, I’ve been reasonable. But enough is enough, Maria.”

“If I may,” interjects a fourth voice.

Tiberius pushes past the kitchen door, cool gaze darting to Tony’s position on the floor before flickering to Tony’s parents. “I beg you pardon, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I simply came to apologize. But I believe I may have some sort of… logical explanation, for your son’s predicament.”

Tiberius’s argument for Tony’s second heat justifies the existence of his last, nonexistent heat— which Tony is certain Tiberius knows never actually occurred.

He listens with growing dread.

“Tony is an unmated Omega. His cycles aren’t regulated yet and won’t be until he’s fully bonded. It’s not uncommon for unbonded Omegas to respond dramatically to… external stimuli.”

Howard gives Tony a withering look. “External stimuli?”

“It is my belief that Tony is suffering a re-bound heat. His biological impulses are most likely still sensitive from last weekend’s heat. Omega cycles are unpredictable; no one knows for certain how long it takes for the hormones to flush out of the system. If an Omega were to encounter, say, a biologically compatible Alpha so soon after a heat cycle, with an increased amount of heightened hormones still coursing through their body, well. It’s fully likely that this interaction could trigger another heat.”

Tony feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

He gapes at Tiberius in horror.

“Are you saying…” Howard’s brow furrows as he stares at his trusted advisor. “That your ‘biological compatibility’ with my son triggered a re-bound heat?”

Tiberius holds his hands out, shrugging his shoulders modestly. “It’s just a theory. I sensed something at dinner—you know, Howard, that my interactions with your son up until this point have been limited. I had no way of knowing prior… but, well.” He flashes his boss a grim smile. “I would be lying if I didn’t say that our close proximity tonight didn’t create a sense of intrigue. Omegas are fascinating, delicate creatures; like most Alphas, I feel a certain draw to them at a base level. I’ve heard rumors of a stronger sort of connection… one that transcends biology. If my instincts are correct, I am quite certain that our—affinity, if you will, very well could have been the factor that rekindled your son’s heat.”

The silence that follows is stretched. Endless.

Tony can’t move. His mind reels, a chaotic tangle of rage and realization as Tiberius’s words sink in like slow-moving poison.

The audacity, the sheer nerve of this man, to stand there so calm, so nonchalant, weaving this fabricated explanation while Tony’s entire world threatens to shatter around him.

Howard’s expression shifts, his frown deepening into something sharp and contemplative. “Rebound heat,” he says flatly, his gaze snapping to Tony. “Because of you?”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, to say something, anything, to deny it, but no sound comes out. His throat is dry, his tongue heavy, his pulse pounding too loud in his ears for him to string together a coherent thought.

Tiberius, the raging lunatic, has the audacity to look almost apologetic. “As I said, it’s just a theory. But if true, it would explain a great deal.” His pale eyes flicker to Howard. “Sir, this could even be seen as… fortuitous. A compatibility this strong is exceedingly rare. It could suggest—”

“Enough.” Howard’s glare pins Tony in place. “Well?”

Tony feels his throat tighten, the words of protest clawing at his tongue but refusing to emerge. If he denies it—if he even so much as hints at the truth—then Jarvis’s carefully constructed alibi crumbles, and Ana’s involvement comes under scrutiny. Both had lied for him, bent over backward to give him the freedom he so desperately needed, and now…

Now, Tiberius had him trapped, right where he wanted him.

“I… I don’t know,” he forces out, the words bitter and foreign on his tongue. “It’s been a strange week. Lots of Alphas at the gala.” The glare he sends in Tiberius’s direction is laser-sharp, pointed enough with the intent to melt the Alpha’s brain behind his skull. “Pretty sure I would respond the same way to a little heavy petting from the mailman.”

“Regardless,” Tiberius’s voice is suave, measured, the very picture of a benevolent Alpha with the best intentions. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Howard. Compatibility at this level could even be considered an advantage.”

Howard barks out a laugh, crossing his arms. “You think this is an advantage?”

“In the right context,” Tiberius says smoothly, “yes. A bond with an Alpha whose instincts align so strongly with Tony’s could stabilize his cycles, perhaps even regulate them more efficiently. Of course, I wouldn’t presume—”

“Please, Christ, no more presumptions,” Tony butts in, finally meeting Tiberius’s infuriatingly calm gaze. “Haven’t you already prattled on about this being ‘just a theory’?”

Tiberius’s lips twitch, holding back a smirk. “Of course,” he says mildly. “I only meant to offer some insight. I’ll take my leave, if that’s what you wish.”

Howard grunts. “You’ve done enough. Go.”

Tiberius dips his head slightly, gazes at Tony with something carnivorous in his icy expression, then turns on his heel, striding out of the kitchen as though the entire situation had been nothing but a minor inconvenience.

The oppressive silence returns. Maria hovers nearby, her expression unreadable, while Howard continues to glare at Tony as though he were a bug squashed on his windshield.

“Well?” Howard snaps. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, willing himself to stay silent. He can’t risk saying the wrong thing, can’t risk making this godawful situation worse. So he shakes his head, lowering his gaze to the floor.

Howard made a disgusted sound. “Unbelievable. If this gets out—”

“Howard,” Maria said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Enough.”

Tony risks a glance at her. Whatever passes through her eyes is fleeting, and her usual composure returns quickly as she turns to him. “Go to your room, Tony,” she says softly. “We’ll handle the guests.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With shaking hands, he pushes past them and out of the kitchen, his steps wobbly as he makes his way toward the relative safety of the upstairs wing.

And as he climbs the stairs, his stomach twists with the sickening realization that Tiberius had just tightened his grip on the strings, leaving Tony to play the part of the obedient puppet

“Telephone,” Tony says numbly. “Need the telephone.”

Jarvis pushes the device into his hand, and Tony dials the number he memorized by heart the moment Bucky tucked the slip of paper into his palm, seven digits scribbled in hasty black ink.

He sinks to the floor of the Jarvis’s private quarters, cradling the telephone in his ear, and pulls his tie and suit jacket off. Unbuttons his shirt to his sternum. Presses his forehead against the wood of the desk and instructs the operator to connect him to the one person who might keep him from completely falling apart.

The phone rings. The receiver clicks. And then:

“Hello?”

Tony’s lower lip wobbles.

“Hiya, Rogers.”

“Tony!” His friend sounds relieved. “Buck said you were gonna call. It was getting a little late; I figured—” Tony hears faint rustling in the background, and then Steve’s voice away from the receiver, “Yeah, it’s him. Hold on, just—hold on.”

Tony clutches the telephone between his sweaty palms like a lifeline. Ana and Jarvis bustle around the apartment, stealing stealthy glances, pretending not to eavesdrop.

Tony hears more rustling, followed by Steve yelping, “Ow, Barnes, Jesus. Fine, Christ, take it—just, tell ‘im I said goodnight.” A little louder: “Goodnight, Tony!”

“Tony?”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat, the sound probably audible through the receiver.

He swipes at his eyes.

“Tony? You there?”

“Yeah,” Tony croaks. “Yeah, hi, I’m here.”

Tony hears the rush of Bucky’s exhale, and it’s the loveliest sound he’s heard all damn night. It cracks his splintered heart in half.

“Tony,” Bucky sighs. “Hi, darlin’. It’s getting late, didn’t think you were gonna call.”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry. Got stuck at dinner.”

“No, hey, don’t apologize. I’m real glad you did.” He sounds like he means it, too, and Tony wants to cry.

Because two sentences from Bucky is enough to release that ugly, hateful feeling clenching in his chest. A quiet sense of rightness floods him, momentarily, replacing the noise and the confusion with something simpler, purer. The chaos in his head quiets.

The memory of Tiberius’s touch still burns on his skin. The way his body had responded to the Alpha’s presence—it was purely primal, a biological pull. Something out of Tony’s control.

But the way he feels when he’s surrounded by Bucky Barnes—even miles away, through the fragile connection of a telephone—is something sound. Sure.

A connection beyond hormones or heat or anything fleeting.

Even at a distance, even with nothing but memories to accompany him, he feels it—an anchor, a tether that keeps him from spinning out of control. Because with Bucky he knows, without a doubt, that something exists beyond the biology. Even if he can’t put a name to it, Tony recognizes a kernel of belonging that no amount of chemical attraction or external influence can replicate.

And that quiet epiphany after a night of shame and fucking chaos—that nothing had ever compared to the physical, mental, or emotional connection he shares with this Alpha—is relief unlike anything he’s ever known.

“Are you okay, Tony?”

Tony blinks up at the ceiling. His head feels foggy.

“Bucky?” He says.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be mad,” he begs.

A soft sigh through the phone. Tony wishes he were here.

“Could never be mad. Not at you.”

And God, if Tony isn’t already dreading the day Bucky will inevitably stop feeling that way.

“I’m going into heat,” he whispers.

Bucky’s lungs hitch audibly through the telephone, and Tony is pretty sure the Alpha stops breathing.

“You’re—” Bucky clears his throat. Tony pictures him running a hand through his hair, like he does whenever he’s anxious. “You’re in heat?”

“Going into heat,” Tony says miserably. “I’m in pre-heat. Have been since… last night, probably. It’ll probably hit full force tonight; it’s getting worse. I—” he licks his lips, chapped and bitten. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I usually notice. Everything’s been, uh. Different.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a long time. Tony’s almost worried that he’s hung up. Until:

“Sweetheart,” the Alpha rumbles, low and steady. Tony rolls his forehead against the desk leg and suppresses his whimper. “Oh, Tony. I knew… fuck, I knew something was off. You smelled so—” Tony can practically hear Bucky gritting his teeth. “But you always smell so fuckin’ sweet. I should have—” The Alpha bites out another curse. Tony squeezes his legs together.

“Come home.”

Home. Tony shivers.

“I can’t,” Tony groans. “My parents know. It’s a long story. Everything’s a mess. But I’m stuck here for the weekend.”

Bucky makes a noise of protest, something deep and primal, and Tony realizes that it’s probably not too long before he’s staining his butler’s floor with the evidence of his arousal.

“You should be here. Damn it. I don’t like the idea of you all alone in that house.”

Tony lolls his head backward. Croaks out a laugh.

“Yeah, well. You and me both, pal.” He doesn’t inform Bucky that he’s absolutely certain that this heat, in particular, is going to rock him.

His heats are always miserable and unsatisfying; however, this time, he has to contend with hormones are already a fucking mess due to his body’s very specific Bucky-Barnes-shaped-cravings.

Not to mention Tiberius’s wildly unnecessary interference.

The crash is going to be catastrophic, no doubt.

“When can you leave?” Bucky’s voice is gravelly, and it’s doing little to help reign in Tony’s already fleeting self-control.

“Jarvis already promised to take me back Monday. But I—my heats are always three days, at least. Sometimes four.” Not to mention Tony’s convenient susceptibility to post-heat sickness.

“Monday,” Bucky repeats. “Monday, you come back to me.”

Tony shudders.

“M’gonna be a mess, still. The worst of it’ll be over, but there will be, ah. After-effects.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

Tony’s face flushes, and he cups his hand over the receiver to give himself more privacy from the Jarvis’s prying ears.

“You don’t…” Tony’s tongue feels thick in his mouth. “I know we haven’t really talked. About that. I’m not expecting, uh, anything. I wouldn’t expect you to…” He trails off pathetically, cheeks flaming.

Bucky makes a noise into the phone, rich and throaty, and Tony’s toes curl in his socks.

“M’not gonna fuck you yet, gorgeous. Need you clearheaded for that. When you—fuck—when I get you coming on my cock for the first time, you’re going to be lucid.” Bucky’s voice is gravel and grit.

The sound that comes out of Tony’s lungs is an undignified moan. His own cock stirs in his trousers, and he draws his knees to his chest.

“Know this heat is gonna hurt, sweet thing. God, I’d do anything to be there with you. I’d kill a man to come take care of you.” Bucky’s delivery drops several octaves, sending reverberations that vibrate through Tony’s ribs. “Know you’d be so perfect, so sweet for me. Such a good boy for your Alpha, right, baby?”

Oh.

Your Alpha.

Tony bites down on the fleshy part of his palm and squeezes his eyes shut. He feels himself slipping, fast.

“Uh-huh,” he says instead.

“My beautiful, sweet boy. My perfect Omega. Just a few days, doll. Ride it out for a few days, and then you’re all mine.”

“S’not good,” Tony slurs uselessly. “By myself. After a while, can’t even…” He’s not usually able to make himself come anymore after he hits the height of his heat, on day two. Just writhes out the remainder in over-stimulated agony. He can’t reach the spot inside himself that his body craves, can’t simulate the pressure that he needs to crest that peak.

Bucky makes a wounded noise over the phone. “I’ve got you, pretty. I’ll take care of you. Make you feel so, so good.” Tony doesn’t whine, but it’s a close fucking thing. “I’ll take away all the hurt, sweetheart. Feels so good when I get my hands on you, my mouth on you, doesn’t it? When I kiss you nice and right, get you all sweet for me.” Bucky’s croon through the telephone is borderline obscene and just what Tony needs, making him feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re such a good boy for me, Tony. Always so good for me. Come home, and I’ll show you have fucking lucky I am to have you. My sweet, perfect boy.”

And Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s doing, really. Washing away the sins of Ty, replacing the acrid pheromones in Tony’s nostrils with something familiar, something trusted and sacred.

Dropping him right into his heat in a way that feels safe, cocooned.

“Promise?” Tony whispers.

“Promise, baby,” Bucky says back, hushed like a vow. “Think you’ll be able to call back tomorrow? Check in?”

“Prob’ly not,” Tony admits. “Can have Jarvis call you.”

“That’d be great. So thoughtful of you, honey,” Bucky praises, and Tony sighs.

“Miss you,” Tony says, voice wobbly.

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath over the telephone. “I miss you more, sweetheart. Thank you for calling. Are you gonna be okay?”

Tony’s mind drifts to Ty. He pushes that thought out just as quickly as it creeps in. “Maybe. Probably. Dunno. Hate it.” He rubs his hand over his face. “Hate this.”

Bucky lets out a strained laugh. His tone, when he speaks, offers no room for argument.

“Next heat, Tony, you’re with me.”

It is, predictably, the worst weekend of Tony’s life.

His heat rips through him like a raw hunger, tearing him apart from the inside.

He hardly has time to drag himself out of his second bath of the night (scrubbing the artificial oils and perfumes out of his glands) before he’s crawling into bed, naked and sobbing, hand wrapped around his weeping dick and wringing himself to the first of several wholly unsatisfying orgasms.

There’s nothing to extinguish the fire coiling through his veins, nothing to stop the relentless cramping in his abdomen. His desire is punishment, and he spends the next three nights in a delirious, frustrated state of constant over-stimulation, chasing a non-existent release. It doesn’t matter how many times he comes—by Sunday night, his cock is red and practically hot to the touch, too sensitive for his own hand anymore.

His fingers are no use, either; he can’t replicate that sense of fullness that his body demands.

Every time his heat hits, he almost understands why so many young Omegas get bonded off as soon as they present. The agony of suffering through his heat alone is so awful, so excruciatingly unbearable, that Tony knows he would have surrendered to Tiberius and his earthy, metallic pheromones by the second day if only to extinguish the flames temporarily.

The treacherous thought only adds to his overall misery.

He spends Saturday and Sunday in an incoherent, feverish daze, spilling bodily fluids all over his sheets and crying out for his Alpha into an empty room. Tony can’t stop Bucky’s name from tumbling past his lips like a drunken, agonized prayer, and when Jarvis half-carries him into the bathtub on Monday morning, he’s sore, raw, and shivering.

“This never becomes less humiliating,” Tony grumbles, swatting away his butler’s hands so he can scrub his own hair. His aching limbs scream in protest. A vast, empty chasm is starting to form in his chest—a deep, gaping void of loneliness that always looms during Tony’s more difficult drops.

If he starts fixating on it, the pressure becomes enough to restrict his breathing.

“I helped change your diapers,” Jarvis reminds him conversationally.

“Must we bring this up, every time you see my ticker?”

Jarvis drives him back to Brooklyn late Monday afternoon—after Tony washes up, eats as much of a sandwich as he can stomach, and sleeps fitfully until his father leaves for a work trip to some army base in New Jersey.

The worst of it is over—that’s to say, he’s no longer grinding into his come-soaked mattress for the umpteenth time, two fingers pumping into his ass, teeth tearing holes into his pillowcase—but he’s still in heat. On the downswing, mostly, and he hasn’t been able to touch his cock without hissing since Sunday afternoon, but the urgency no longer feels as ‘life-or-death’, so it’s a small victory.

His lower abdomen still clenches and cramps like a motherfucker, though, and he’s still daydreaming about the sweet, glorious, mouthwatering relief of an Alpha’s knot in a way that is probably devastating to Omegan suffragists and the feminist scholars whose journals he likes to sneak from the prohibited shelves of his school’s library.

When Jarvis finally pulls up to the Brooklyn side street, Tony practically falls out of the car in his urgency to reunite with people whose scents don’t turn his stomach. He bids his loyal butler adieu, trips up the rusty fire escape, and crawls through the familiar fourth-floor window Bucky promised to leave open for him, practically keeling over when he’s greeted with the glorious, familiar concoction of

Wintercedarfirewoodturpentineoilpaintsnowfallcharcoal.

His foot catches on the windowsill. Lacking any proper balance or strength, he tumbles gracelessly to the floor, landing flat on his back with his limbs sprawled.

Tony’s heart beats an erratic cadence against his ribs as he sucks in pheromones and blinks at the ceiling.

He inhales Steve. He inhales Bucky.

And that’s where Steve finds him, collapsed on the Alpha’s kitchen floor, releasing a syrupy warble of a moan that has his friend blushing up his ears.

“You made it," Steve observes, carefully diplomatic for a man who purposefully keeps several feet of distance as he regards Tony with a slight, shocked stupor.

“You know me and my grand entrances,” Tony croaks back at the ceiling. “Bucky left the window open. We felt it was best not to alert the neighbors of my current, ah, disposition.”

Tony can tell when Steve scents the air because the Alpha’s pheromones immediately swell into the space between them in a way that sends his weakened pulse hammering.

Steve’s pupils visibly dilate, and his blush heightens, but he doesn’t show any other indication that Tony’s heat is affecting him. Instead, he peers down at the Omega on his floor, and asks, “Are you hungry?”

Tony is not hungry.

Not for food, anyway.

But Steve coaxes him up with careful, platonic touches and helps him to the kitchen table. He regards Tony attentively, his brow furrowed, while Tony hugs himself with his arms, feeling lightheaded and woozy and a tad self-conscious.

The déjà vu is staggering.

"Wait here," Steve commands, as if Tony has anywhere to go. He disappears into Bucky’s room and returns shortly, a bundle of fabric in his arms.

“It’s Bucky’s nightclothes,” Steve explains. “And an extra quilt from the linen closet. One of his. I just figured… I don’t know. That it might help? For nesting?” The Alpha’s cheeks are bright, fire engine red. “I might be a little off base, I’m just goin’ off what I’ve heard. From school and books, things like that. I’ve never actually been around an Omega in heat before.”

Tony’s throat burns as he forces a swallow.

He’s never nested.

He never had anything to nest with, really, so he never saw the appeal.

“He should be home soon,” Steve continues anxiously, noting Tony’s extended silence. “He’s off from work at seven. If you want to… you can lie down if you need to; I’m sure you’re tired. Buck said to let you sleep, was sure you were going to be exhausted. And you look—” the Alpha cuts himself off, teeth sinking into his lip.

Tony—with his mussed hair and flushed skin and drowsy, half-lidded stare and abominable, sunken posture—knows exactly how he looks.

He takes the clothes from Steve. The bundle of fabric is warm and smells so heavenly he might keel over in his chair and black out onto the floor.

Alpha. Alpha. Alpha.

“These are perfect,” he rasps. The pheromones wafting from his Alpha’s pajamas rebound into his nose, his head, his dick, cracking into the parts of his body that have been relatively dormant for the past few hours. Reigniting sensation in his nerve endings.

Steve smiles softly. “I’ll warm up supper.”

Tony changes into the nightclothes and wraps the quilt around himself like a shawl, cocooning himself in the warmth of the only man who makes his blood sing.

It’s exquisite.

He collapses back into his chair, feeling drugged, euphoric, and half-hard. Everywhere he turns he’s surrounded by soft fabric that smells like Bucky, clinging to his skin and seeping into his pores, and the dying embers of his heat spark back to life in his veins.

Steve reheats dinner on the stovetop. It’s clear that the Alpha is on edge—his movements are carefully tight, his muscles rigid and his jaw flexing frequently. Still, he regards Tony with subtle, easy restraint and only reveals his discomfort through the barest slip of his microexpressions.

“Eat,” he says simply, pushing a warm plate under Tony’s nose. “And then you can sleep.”

Tony shakes his head. “Don’t wanna sleep. Slept all day.”

“Y’look like you’re about to collapse right into your carrots.”

“Blame my hormones, Rogers, not my circadian rhythm.”

Steve huffs. He fixes his own plate and sits across from Tony. His eyes are completely pupil, his nostrils flared, and his cheeks have a constant, splotchy pink hue. It’s the only indication that anything is amiss as he cuts into his own meal and chews thoughtfully.

“I didn’t schedule 'entertain a cranky Omega in heat until his Alpha comes back' into today’s itinerary," Steve muses. “Aren’t you supposed to be all sweet and sensitive right now? You know, amenable, affectionate,” he raises an accusatory brow, “docile?”

Tony launches a carrot at him. It hits the Alpha square between the eyes. Steve yelps.

“Sorry to ruin this lurid domestic fantasy, but the only thing feeling particularly sensitive right now is my dick after three days of being rubbed raw.” Tony spears a carrot with his fork and ignores Steve’s indignant sputtering. “If there are any Omegas managing solo heats with the poise and grace of Mother Teresa, please direct them to me. I’d love a few tips.”

Steve blinks at him, wide-eyed and sincere. “What would help?” He asks.

Tony recognizes his own posturing, aware that in his current state, there’s probably no discernible universe where Bucky’s cock inside him wouldn’t reduce him to a docile, mewling, submissive mess.

That, however, is not any of Steve’s business.

Instead, Tony asks, “Do y’have a deck of cards?”

When Bucky returns home an hour later, it’s to a thoroughly incensed Tony, bundled in his nightclothes, wrapped snuggly in his quilt, scowling terribly as the Omega loses his sixth consecutive round of Gin Rummy to a smug, self-satisfied Steve.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you’re a dirty, filthy cheat,” Tony sulks, tossing his hand onto the table. “I don’t know how. Don’t know why. What are you doing, marking cards? Stacking the deck?”

“Could’ve warned you to pick a different game. He’s godawful at Pinochle.”

Bucky strides into the apartment, smudged in soot, smile weary but eyes sparkling, and Tony briefly forgets what muscle groups are used to inhale because the Alpha is immediately crowding into his space. Bending over to wrap his arms around Tony from behind, around Tony’s blanket cocoon, and nuzzling into the Omega’s neck. Relief becomes palpable, tangible, in both Bucky’s body language and his scent. “Would’ve warned you that he’s a real sore winner, too.”

Tony’s tongue cements to the roof of his mouth. After a weekend of heat-induced fantasies of Bucky doing heavily explicit things to his body, his physical presence feels somewhat like a fever dream.

He thought bundling himself in Bucky’s clothes was enough to reignite his stagnating heat, but even that pales in comparison to the blazing flames that ignite in his belly from being bracketed in Bucky’s embrace and feeling his smile against his throat.

“S’all luck,” Steve volleys back, shuffling the cards with a modest shrug. “Just had some good hands. Dinner’s on the stove, Buck.” Too busy soaking in his victory to regard the way Bucky noses at Tony’s jawline. The way Tony trembles and sags in his embrace.

Pulled and picked apart during their separation, already slowly getting woven back together.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Bucky croons lowly, breath caressing Tony’s ear. “Did you eat?”

Tony nods.

“Good boy.” He hugs him tighter and presses his lips to Tony’s temple before releasing him. Tony tilts his chin up to follow him like a flower seeking sunlight.

Like Steve, Bucky’s composure is betrayed by small hints. The faintest sliver of gray iris, overshadowed by glittering, iridescent pupil. The way his jaw swells below his ear, Tony’s eyes fixating on the knot of tension. The warmth to his skin, curling from the unbuttoned expanse of his chest up to his temples.

Unlike Steve, however, Bucky doesn’t bother masking his scent signal. It blooms and swells, rich and musky, feeding off Tony’s pheromones to respond with an aroma so tailored to Tony’s specific brain chemistry that he has to bite down his primal urge to moan like a wanton animal.

The instincts that drive the deepest parts of Tony’s heat edge back into his body and churn like a roiling, crashing wave in his gut. His knees lock underneath the table.

Bucky keeps a hand on him. Sweeps it through his hair. Tony’s lashes flutter.

“I’m going to clean off, real quick.” If Bucky’s telling him or Steve, he doesn’t know. He lets the Alpha’s voice wash over him like a drug. “Keep an eye on him, alright? Try not to do anything that sends him down any further.” A thumb caresses his cheek. Tony pushes into it. “He’s dropping fast.”

“He was fine,” Steve says, a little quiet. Stunned. “A few moments ago. I mean, I knew he was in heat, but. He wasn’t… we played cards for an hour. You know Tony, he was talkin’ all about chemical radiation. Stuff I couldn’t keep up with.”

“Vita radiation,” Tony slurs, dropping his forehead against Bucky’s hip. The Alpha buries his hand under the blanket, under the edge of Tony’s shirt collar, palm flush against the expanse of Tony’s neck. Grip warm, steady and secure. Tony shivers. The skin-to-skin contact turns his spine turns to liquid. “Stabilizin’ properties. An’… electromagnetic wavelengths.”

“He’s in heat, jerk. What do you expect him to do next, help you with the dishes?”

“No thanks; I’ve already witnessed him attempt that task clearheaded. It’s fine, go shower. I’ll help him into your room—”

“Don’t touch him,” Bucky says, command sharp and laced with something a bit carnal, a bit more uncontained. Steve sighs.

“Put your knot away. Ain’t gonna try anything, Jesus.”

“Christ, don’t ask me to be level-headed here, Stevie. It’s taking every ounce of restraint to keep myself from throwing your scrawny ass out the window for stinking up the room.”

“He’s an Omega in heat. I’m not some superhuman who’s suddenly immune to thousands of years of biology. But he’s also Tony. I would…” Steve’s throat clears, hoarse and strained. “I would never, alright?” His voice quiets. “You know that.”

Tony tunes out the posturing until Bucky’s pulling Tony into his bedroom himself. He coaxes the Omega to sit on the edge of the bed but Tony refuses, doesn’t want to pull out of Bucky’s embrace, and when his hands cradle Tony’s cheeks, Tony nips at his thumb.

“Hi,” Tony says finally.

Bucky rocks his forehead against Tony’s. “Hi, honey.” He pulls back to assess Tony, his gaze sweeping over the disheveled, drowsy Omega. “How are you feelin’?”

Tony considers the question for a beat too long.

“Warm,” he says.

Bucky’s lips twich. “I can tell. You feel warm to me, too.” He pushes Tony’s curls out of his eyes. “Are you tired? Do you need to sleep?”

Tony shakes his head vehemently. The motion leaves him feeling dizzy.

“No. No, I need—” he cuts himself off, his voice hitching as he tries his best to assess the gravity of the situation through the thick, syrupy fog leaking into his brain. He releases a trembling breath and squeezes his eyes shut. When he reopens them, Bucky’s expression is an open chasm of affection and concern.

“Anything,” Bucky promises lowly. The weight of the word sinks like a stone into Tony’s whirling, cramping stomach. “Anything at all, and it’s yours. Tell me, Tony.”

The command activates his synapses.

“Need you,” he pushes out in a rush. His following breath is a whine. “I was alone all weekend. I’m alone every time. Wasn’t enough. S’never enough. Everything hurts, s’not done and I need to come but I can’t anymore. I tried,” he hiccups, and Bucky’s fingers spasm on his cheeks. “Tried everything by myself. Thought of you the whole time. Wished you were there, needed you—”

He’s cut off by Bucky’s mouth on his, kissing him silent. He grabs the back of Tony’s neck and devours him, ravenous.

Tony releases a soft, strangled warble when Bucky separates Tony’s lips with his tongue and pushes the quilt off Tony’s shoulders, his fingers reaching to grip the ridges of Tony’s spine. Tony’s heart gallops against Bucky’s and he feels the bow of his ribs as he’s arched backward. For a wild moment, he thinks Bucky’s going to lay him on the floor and oh, Tony would let him, can’t imagine anything he wants more in that moment than for Bucky to push him onto the cold, hard, unforgiving surface of his bedroom floor and fuck the ache out of his bones, quick and rough and dirty.

A low, predatory growl rumbles from Bucky’s chest, the vibrations pushing into Tony’s mouth, and Tony sucks them down greedily.

“Needed you too, gorgeous,” Bucky drawls, voice hoarse. His lips trail Tony’s jawline before sucking on Tony’s scent gland, and Tony shakes. “Drove myself near crazy, thinkin’ about you. My sweet boy, all alone. Hurtin’ real bad for his Alpha.” Deft fingers nudge Tony’s—Bucky’s—sleep shirt up to Tony’s navel, and Bucky’s fingers grip the skin of Tony’s bare waist like a vice.

“Please,” Tony gasps, not entirely sure what he’s begging for. He pushes his hips against Bucky’s, blindly seeking purchase, and his stomach dips when his sore, leaking dick presses up against Bucky’s own staggeringly huge, clothed erection.

“I’m gonna take you apart. M’gonna take my time with you, give you exactly what you need. And you’re gonna come for me, Tony,” Bucky croons. His own hips pitch rhythmically, his hands keeping Tony locked in place for the inevitable onslaught of magnificent, glorious friction. Bucky’s own breathing is shuddery, and he pushes his promises out through his teeth. “Bet you could come just like this, couldn’t you, doll?”

Tony’s responding moan cracks and shudders into a wail, and it has Bucky chuckling into his throat, low and dirty.

“Oh, baby doll. Pretty baby. So easy, just needs a few sweet words and a little help from his Alpha, that’s all. Nothing wrong with that, honey. Take what you need, baby, I’ll give you more.” His voice is rough yet soothing, warm yet dangerous, washing over Tony and heating him from the inside out.

He is going to come like this, no doubt—right into Bucky’s sleep pants like some hormonal pup, and it’s going to be the best damn orgasm he’s ever had.

Sensing Tony's resolve faltering in his shaky limbs, Bucky hooks his arm around Tony’s waist and hauls him toward the nearest surface, crowding the unsteady Omega to perch on top of the small, wooden desk pressed into the corner of his bedroom. Pencils and pens go clattering to the floor, papers scattering, but neither boy pays the mess any mind.

Bucky pulls Tony’s legs around his hips. Presses a bruising kiss to Tony’s mouth that’s mostly tongue and teeth, fingers gripping Tony’s thighs. His skin is still smudged in a layer of grit, his work clothes wrinkled and stained with grime, and he smells like smoke and sweat and something else so deliciously animalistic that Tony wants to sink his teeth into it.

When Bucky peers down at Tony, his eyes are a little wide, a little wild and unfocused, and Tony thinks it’s the most beautiful the Alpha’s ever looked. The Alpha pushes their foreheads together, his own damp with a layer of perspiration that Tony wants to lick.

“For three days, I thought of nothing else but you. I thought of every single way I could take you apart. I popped a knot into my own fist picturin’ you, just like this.” With single-minded determination, he rocks his hips into Tony’s, and stars explode behind Tony’s eyelids. “And maybe I’m a selfish bastard, sweetheart, because I promised you such sweet things, promised you a bed, and promised to take my time. And I will, darlin’. God, I’ll do everything. Anything you want.”

Tony’s gasp saws out of his lungs, slick gushing out of him like a faucet. Dripping into Bucky’s sleep pants and pooling between his thighs. Bucky’s nostrils flare and his scent spikes with something feral.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on every part of you. My hands on every part of you. You’re not leavin’ this room until all of Brooklyn knows you’re mine.”

“Bucky,” Tony whimpers, the familiar, delicious pressure in his abdomen building and swelling like an ocean wave. Bucky drops his head into the crook of Tony’s knock and grinds his hips into Tony’s and Tony burns, the contact bordering somewhere on the delicious cusp of pain and pleasure as his weeping, oversensitive prick drools against his bare stomach.

He tries to orgasm like this, in heat, on his own. Usually on his stomach, crippled with exhaustion, dragging his hips against a soft, unyielding surface after hours of spilling into his own hand.

It’s either a fruitless endeavor or bookended by the shame Tony feels immediately after. Stuck humping the mattress like a dog.

This is neither of those things.

This is Bucky’s scent curling in his nostrils. This is Bucky’s hands on his thighs, his waist, his cheeks, his neck, anchoring him in the Alpha’s grip. This is Bucky’s shallowed breathing punching into his ear, the press of his straining erection against Tony’s inner thigh, the lewd, filthy promises spilling out of Bucky’s lips that the Alpha can’t seem to contain.

So when Bucky’s hand trails from his hips to lift him, just enough to shift his grip to Tony’s ass, Tony knows he’s done for.

Because Bucky’s fingers ghost the unmistakable, dampened trail left behind at the seam of Tony’s borrowed sleep pants, and he snarls.

Raw. Uninhibited.

He runs a finger down the seam, just the tip applying the barest, teasing amount of pressure, before he pushes in and catches the rim of Tony’s hole with damp, sodden fabric.

Tony jerks like he’s been shocked, a full-body quake that makes his spine arch and his thighs squeeze tighter around Bucky’s hips. His body reacts before his mind can catch up, a strangled, desperate whimper spilling from his lips. The friction of the soaked flannel against his most sensitive spot is maddening—too much and not enough all at once.

“Ah, fuck, Buck—” Tony's voice cracks, breaking on the last syllable as his head tips back. His throat is bare—vulnerable—and his scent thickens, sweet and heady with desperation. It hits them both like a freight train and has Bucky’s pupils blowing wide.

“Language, baby doll,” Bucky chides, though the low rasp under his words betrays his self-control. His lips curve into a sinful smile, the hand at Tony’s waist squeezing just hard enough to remind him of the strength coiled beneath the Alpha’s flesh. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re beggin’ me to ruin you.”

Tony’s brain short-circuits. He doesn’t know whether to gasp or nod, so his body does both at once, resulting in a breathless, trembling noise that seems to light a fire in Bucky’s chest. The Alpha grins wider, his teeth flashing sharp.

“You want that, don’t you, pretty?” Bucky murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr that slides down Tony’s spine and pools molten in his core. He presses his finger harder against the seam of the sleep pants, rolling his hips in a deliberate grind that has Tony keening, his hands scrabbling at Bucky’s shoulders for something—anything—to hold onto.

“Yes,” Tony breathes, his voice trembling but certain. “Anything. Alpha. Please.”

The words snap something inside Bucky. His fingers tug at the waistband of Tony’s sleep pants, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly to his skin. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through Tony’s chest, as if the barrier between them is some kind of offense. With a single sharp motion, the pants are shoved down, past his ass and taut at Tony’s thighs, leaving him bare and dripping onto the desk.

Bucky’s hands seek out the newly exposed skin and palm the flesh of Tony’s slick, leaking bottom.

“You’re mine,” Bucky growls, pressing his face to Tony’s neck and inhaling deeply. The rough scrape of his stubble sends shocks of sensation racing across Tony’s skin, and the scent of cedar and pine thickens in the air, blanketing Tony in warmth and safety. “All mine, Tony. Say it.”

Tony’s lips part, but the words don’t come immediately. His chest heaves, his pulse racing under the heavy weight of Bucky’s gaze. The Alpha waits, his nostrils fluttering as his thumbs trace soothing circles into the flesh of Tony’s hips, grounding him.

“I’m yours,” Tony finally whispers, his voice soft but his conviction steady. Surprisingly clear-headed. “Always yours.”

Bucky’s response is a deep, satisfied rumble that vibrates against Tony’s skin. He presses his lips to the sensitive spot beneath Tony’s jaw, a kiss that lingers just long enough to leave a burn, and then his hands begin to roam. Every touch is deliberate, claiming, and Tony melts into it, his body pliant and willing.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises, his voice rough and reverent. “I’m gonna take care of you, honey. Gonna give you everything you need.”

Tony trembles beneath Bucky, too overwhelmed to process the mix of sensations flooding him. His body is caught between an unbearable heat and the aching, empty feeling that comes with wanting more.

Bucky’s eyes darken, catching the raw need in Tony’s expression as the Omega squirms beneath him. “You want more, don’t you?” Bucky murmurs, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down Tony’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. “Want me to take care of you properly, baby?” He doesn’t give Tony a chance to answer, rolling his hips again, the hard press of his cock a cruel tease against Tony’s bare, slick-coated thighs.

Tony can barely breathe, let alone form words. He nods, his hips instinctively rocking up into Bucky’s, seeking that friction, that release.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, pressing his lips to Tony’s ear. “I know, sweetheart. You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re needy like this. Want my hands on you again, don’t you? Want me to finish what I started?”

Tony can’t stop the whimper that escapes him, his fingers clutching at Bucky’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer as the heat in his belly builds again, stronger, more urgent. The ache is overwhelming, but Bucky’s own fingers are already trailing lower, down to the waistband of Tony’s sleep pants, his breath hot against Tony’s skin.

Without warning, Bucky pulls Tony’s hips forward, his free hand gliding under the fabric. His fingers brush over the wet, slick mess of Tony’s dick, trapped under the flannel and already straining with the desperate need for release.

Tony gasps, his back arching, his breath catching in his throat as Bucky’s warm, callused hand finally finds him, wrapping around his hot, aching length.

Tony bucks into the touch, unfamiliar and perfect. His mouth drops into a surprised o.

“Look at you,” Bucky murmurs, his voice thick with wonder and hunger. “Is this what you need, baby?” he croons. “Let me make you feel good, Tony. Let me help you come.”

Tony’s head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as Bucky’s hand starts to move, slow and deliberate, up and down the length of his cock. It’s perfect, the pressure just right, sending waves of pleasure crashing through his already overstimulated body.

Bucky’s thumb runs over the tip of Tony’s dick, spreading the pre-cum leaking from the slit. “You feel so good like this,” Bucky murmurs, his voice rougher now, the tension in his body palpable. His own arousal pours into the room through his scent, wolfish and unrestrained. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you, sweet thing?”

Tony can barely form a coherent thought, his body too consumed with the building pressure to focus on anything else. All he can do is nod, his legs trembling, the intensity of the pleasure hitting him hard.

“Fuck, Tony, I can feel you. You’re so close. Come for me, baby. You know you want to.”

Bucky’s pace picks up, his strokes faster, rougher, wetter, until Tony’s body is trembling uncontrollably beneath him, every inch of him aching with the need to release. He leans in, his forehead pressing against Tony’s, his gaze locked onto the Omega’s flushed, blissed-out face. “Let go for me, Tony,” he commands, his voice low. Wrecked. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

The command hits Tony like a lightning strike, and his body obeys without hesitation. His release crashes over him, white-hot and all-consuming, ripping a broken sob from his lips as his release coats Bucky’s hand and stomach in thick, sticky warmth.

His entire body trembles, his posture threatening to give out, but Bucky’s strong arms are there, holding him steady, murmuring, “Baby, baby, baby, oh, that’s it,” with the reverence of a prayer as he grounds him through the rolling crests of his orgasm.

“Sweet boy, pretty Omega, so perfect.” A hand sweeps through his hair fingers gripping his curls. Teeth scraping against the hinge of his jaw. “Let me hear you.”

“Alpha,” Tony near-sobs. The world tilts, the pleasure consuming him completely, and all he can do is hold onto Bucky for dear life as the Alpha continues to guide him through it, gentle but insistent.

When Tony sags against him, boneless and spent, Bucky presses his mouth to Tony’s sweat-dampened hairline, his voice a soft rumble in Tony’s ear. Tony is left panting, breathless, and utterly spent. He slumps into Bucky’s arms, his body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks.

Bucky presses another kiss to Tony’s temple, his hand lingering on Tony’s waist. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice softening. “So fucking good. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Tony nods, his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath. “Always,” he slurs, sinking into Bucky’s embrace. “Always w’you.”

And for the first time in days, Tony feels like he can finally relax—finally let go.

That sweet, syrupy feeling washes over him again.

He’s in Bucky’s arms, and that’s all that matters.

#winteriron #bucky barnes #tony stark #wip #steve rogers #alpha/beta/omega au #captain america #ao3

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