#full fic tags on ao3

[gayphob1a]

I'm in Love with the Way You Always Come Around

Chapter relevant tags: implied/referenced drug use, past child abuse, mention of needles, smut, hurt/comfort, flagging, kink negotiation, dom/sub, underage drinking

Part 2 - Fall of '86

Eddie never really liked Hawkins. It was a small town whose residents had even smaller minds. With his long hair, leather jackets, and ‘satanic’ music, he was an easy target from day one. Not to mention the rumors that he was gay and speculation about why he moved there in the first place.

He heard all kinds of stories. Some people said Eddie was a runaway, just some troubled kid who didn’t want to deal with his parents' rules, so he left. Other people said he killed them both and came to Hawkins to outrun the cops. Maybe that was part of the reason the town was so willing to accept that he was a cult leader committing ritual murders. The truth was unfortunately a much different story. 

When he was only 11 years old, Wayne showed up to Eddie’s house unannounced. Eddie had heard vaguely of his dad’s brother, but they never got to meet until Wayne got a phone call from Eddie’s school to check up on the family. Turns out it was a damn good thing he was called, because when he entered the home it was immediately clear that this was not a safe environment for a kid. The place was a mess, an obstacle course of trash. Eddie’s mom was in the middle of it all, reclined in a La-Z-Boy, high off her ass, his dad long gone. Eddie had made sure to take the tourniquet off her arm and dispose of the used needle safely, and was quick to tell Wayne as much. That’s what really sealed the deal and had Wayne helping Eddie pack up all of his belongings.

Eddie loved Wayne more than words could describe. He was the parent Eddie always wanted, even if they saw each other infrequently due to their schedules. He just wished Wayne lived anywhere else. 

The only time Hawkins was tolerable was the fall. When the temperature started to drop, and Eddie’s heavy leather jacket made a little more sense, attention on him dropped as well. Not all of it, and never enough to actually feel normal, but it was just a little easier to exist. This fall was entirely different. For starters, he was in hiding from the town that wanted him dead. There was no weather cold enough to make him blend in now. Even worse, with the change in temperature came eerie noises. Things that he may have assumed to be wildlife earlier this year, but now he could point out the screech of a demobat from miles away. He could also point out the threatening clicking sound of a demogorgons growl after Steve heard the first one circling through the woods. They were only spared so far by sheer dumb luck. It was all very dramatic, very Eddie the banished… again.

That stupid ‘Eddie the banished’ joke. At the time he still believed there was hope in clearing his  name. At the time he had the energy to fight tooth and nail for revenge. At the time he hadn’t nearly bled out on freezing, slimy vines. Now none of those things were true and Eddie felt truly banished, like there was no future for him beyond prison or worse. 

Eddie was so tired. An exhaustion unlike any he’d ever experienced slowly, but surely sapped away every good thing he’d ever felt. He found one of the only ways to slow the process was Steve.

Steve somehow felt like a bright spot in Eddie’s comically dark life. They spent the entire summer holed up in the cabin together. At some point, some of Steve’s stuff ended up there. First his toothbrush, then a change of clothes, some books and tapes, until little by little he was basically moved in. Eddie asked Steve how his parents weren’t suspicious of where he was going, but apparently they were all too happy to have Steve out of the house. And Eddie felt bad that Steve’s parents were so shitty, but he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that he could hold Steve as a sort of willing hostage in banishment with him. He definitely made it more fun.

Sure, they spent a lot of time getting to know each other, laughing and flirting and crying, letting the flutter of infatuation grow bigger and stronger. But they also spent their time on more physical activities. Unsurprisingly, Steve was incredible with his hands, and not just wielding that bat.

Eddie had experience. Like, a LOT of experience. Between ditching boring ass Hawkins for gay clubs in the city, and shows that inevitably caught the attention of someone in the crowd, Eddie had been given plenty of handjobs and blowjobs and what have you. Some were bad, some were good, some were downright incredible. But Steve? Steve made him see fucking stars. There was a certain type of way Steve started to act when he wanted to make Eddie feel good. Like he was hungry and Eddie was a five course meal. Like the only thing in the world was Eddie’s dick. But his absolute favorite was when Steve would get bossy. Not bossy in a bratty way that made him want to punish Steve like a cute little sub, bossy in a way he was much more familiar with.

Eddie never had any doubt that he was a switch. Both dom and sub roles brought him incredible pleasure, one just involved a little more trust on his end. Which is not to say that trust on both ends wasn’t important, but he always felt like it took a little more from him to enjoy subspace. He loved being a dom – it was one of the more rewarding activities in his old life, but never once did he imagine himself as such with Steve. Steve just had this energy, inviting and intense, that made Eddie’s knees weak. Even back before they knew each other and he was sure Steve was just staring to find some reason to kick his ass. Saving each other’s lives, bonding in the hospital, falling head over heels in love – they all just made that energy stronger.

There was one night Eddie played on loop in his mind, the first time Steve had let that side of him slip. Steve usually cooked dinner when he got home, but he had work and then gate patrol immediately after, so Eddie made his best attempt at a decent meal. They had much more food now that Steve was able to do some actual grocery shopping to stock the kitchen, but that didn’t mean Eddie was a particularly skilled cook. Still, Steve almost cried, he was so happy. Eddie even had a movie they’d been meaning to watch in the VCR, but he never even got to hit play.

As soon as they sat down, Steve’s hands were all over Eddie. They usually sat near each other in their spot on the couch, the stage for their first kiss, but this time Steve guided Eddie into his lap, the same exact position they were in that night. 

“Do you remember this?” Steve asked, running his hands up Eddie’s thighs. It sent a violent shiver down his spine and Steve laughed at his reaction. 

Now the thing about Eddie was that he always preferred a softer dom. He’d never felt a strong enough connection or trust with anyone to enjoy any form of degradation. But in that moment, that sharp breathy laugh from Steve, specifically aimed at him, made Eddie’s pants a little tighter. 

“Fuck, I- How could I forget? You’re not going to run out on me this time, are you?” Eddie had noticed a bit of a large problem growing in Steve’s jeans as well. 

“Not a chance, baby,” he answered, and pulled Eddie down into a kiss. 

That kiss was something else entirely. Steve didn’t hesitate to take control, slipping his tongue into Eddie’s mouth with ease. Eddie whimpered in shock and joy at his eagerness, and the noise only made Steve hungrier. The grip on Eddie’s hips got tighter, digging fingers into his bony sides, and then Steve was bucking his hips, looking for friction between their jeans.

“Get up.” Steve ordered, his voice dusky and Eddie didn’t have the willpower to disobey even if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to, he wanted to do everything Steve told him, wanted to be good for him, so he stood up and let Steve unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down.

When his bottoms were in a heap somewhere out of sight, bare as the day he was born from the waist down like fucking Pooh bear, Eddie sank down to his knees between Steve’s legs. He leaned his head on one of Steve’s thighs and stared up at him through hooded eyes. Steve really was a sight to behold. Legs spread to house Eddie, putting his bulge on display, his arms spread over the back of the couch exuding confidence and power, his gaze fixed on Eddie, so good and on his knees for him. Steve tried to drop a hand to undo his own jeans, but Eddie stopped him. He loved this part, relishing in the way he could take Steve apart with the zip of his jeans. With his head still cushioned by Steve’s thigh, he began undoing the button, then the zipper, but Eddie had always been scolded for playing with his food, a habit that wasn’t about to break now. His face drifted up to the opening in Steve’s pants to nose at his aching cock. He was leaking and the smell made Eddie’s head swim in pleasure. He gently mouthed over the wet spot to taste Steve, but a hand gently brushing over his hair stopped him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Just made to sit down there.” Eddie nodded frantically, the point of his nose digging into Steve’s confined shaft. And then Steve was guiding Eddie’s head up to look at him by the grip in his hair. “I have something else I want to try tonight, cutie.” Steve’s voice was saccharin sweet, and Eddie whined into the attention, into being called cute. He grabbed Steve’s waistband and started working his bottoms down. Eddie’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Steve’s cock bouncing up against his stomach, desperate to get his mouth all over the throbbing length. But Eddie is being good. He’s never seen Steve like this, and he wants to listen, to keep Steve in this headspace and ride it out to the end. 

continue reading on ao3 | part 1

[muffinlance]

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[jacksfilms-gave-me-megalophobia]

Internet rule 1446: for every obscure fandom, there’s some person on tumblr who uses the characters for their piss kink fulfillment

[spicycinnabun]

Good Omega

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

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

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“Damn it!”

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

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

Ah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve didn’t care that Eddie was an omega. He was so talented with the guitar and had written some gorgeous songs. Steve was in awe of his style and energy.

Every fiber of Steve’s being had wanted to be a part of the band. He’d had a good feeling about it and never could have dreamt of the places it would eventually take them outside of their small town.

It truly blew his mind how successful they’d become, graduating from a van and bus to finally flying from show to show and staying in hotels. It had become so much fucking fun to sing his heart out and fool around on stage with his best friend.

Eddie turned his face into Steve’s bare stomach, nipping at his belly button with a playful growl. Steve wouldn’t question shit like that. Nuzzling, hugging, cuddling, wrapping himself around Steve like a snake—he was used to Eddie’s jokes and flirtations. Used to Eddie teasing him and scenting him and almost pushing their friendship into friends with benefits territory.

Eddie always toyed with the line, and it was made easy by the demands of their fans. The fans loved seeing him all over Steve—went absolutely bonkers for it—and Eddie was too happy to oblige. Steve always played along, too. He was a good sport and secure in his skin. The most tolerant straight man Eddie had ever met.

And good goddamn, he could act. He always made it feel real. It fucked with Eddie’s head and raging hormones. It was a constant torture, but that was the nature of their relationship, and Eddie was attached. He didn’t know what he was going to do when it ended.

Because it was going to end eventually. Steve wouldn’t be unmated forever. He would find his omega. Eddie always backed off when Steve had a girlfriend. Mysteriously, none of them lasted more than a couple months. Eddie figured it was because of their lifestyle. They were frequently on the road, making relationships long-distance and difficult.

But once Steve officially courted an omega, his and Eddie’s connection would change forever.

Steve was already feeling butterflies for their impending performance. The bites made him squirm a little and suck in. It felt like he was being scented, and Eddie’s tiny growls sounded possessive.

“My mouth is too empty,” Eddie told Steve. Whined, really. “We got candy? Cigarette?” Eddie made no move to get either of those things himself. He knew Steve would take care of him. He pouted pathetically. “Help.”

Steve pushed Eddie’s hair back and bit his lip. Usually, when Eddie’s mouth was empty, he talked a lot or treated Steve like a snack—like he was doing now. Steve slipped out from under him. “‘Course we got candy, Eddie bear. Gummy bears are on our rider, just for you. Let me grab them.”

Steve felt a bit better standing up and being of service to the omega. He lightly caressed his scent gland as he walked over to the treats. He had peanut M&M’s waiting for himself but knew better than to eat them before the show. He was jealous that Eddie could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, and it never showed. He had the sluttiest little waist. Steve shook his head to rid the thought and tossed the candy to Eddie.

“Thanks.” Eddie caught the bag and opened it with his teeth, pouring an indecent amount of bears into his mouth.

As he stared up at the popcorn ceiling and noshed, his mind couldn’t help but betray him and conjure up a scenario where Steve had answered differently and occupied his mouth with something else.

Steve looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re gonna doll me up a little, aren’t you, with the eye stuff?”

Eddie jumped to his feet, gummy bears scattering across the floor. Oops. He set the bag down on the arm of the sofa. “Of course I am,” he answered with the confidence of a man who had not just been daydreaming about sucking his best friend’s dick two seconds ago.

Eddie usually helped Steve with his stage make-up. While the Alpha was an amazingly talented vocalist, his cosmetic skills were worse than a face painter at a pup’s birthday party.

Eddie knew more than any guy probably should have about makeup. In high school, he had been intensely into Dungeons and Dragons, which sometimes required costuming. Also, one of his close friends had been a cheerleader who had educated him on a lot of things—not limited to beauty and skincare—after she found out what a hopeless homosexual he was.

Steve perched on the dressing room’s stool, waiting patiently for Eddie to paint him up. The last time he’d tried putting on makeup himself, Eddie had laughed, which had bruised his ego, and then there had barely been any time for him to fix it before they’d gone on. He’d vowed never to do it himself again.

Eddie dug through his kit for his eyeshadow palette and popped it open, dabbing his thumb in glittering gold powder and blowing off the excess. “Close, please,” he requested.

It was hard for Steve to close his eyes because Eddie was so fucking pretty. Steve wanted to keep looking, but he obeyed the omega. Steve trusted Eddie. He always improved the way Steve looked, whether it was with makeup or outfit suggestions. Eddie’s dark aesthetic enhanced his preppy style, making him at least look more edgy. Eddie had that ethereal omega beauty most male omegas didn’t have. Truly, Steve never wanted to stop looking at him once he got started.

Eddie gently swiped his thumb along Steve’s eyelids and continued until the color blended to his satisfaction. “Done.”

Steve’s eyelashes fluttered open slowly, meeting beautiful doe eyes staring back at him. He smiled at Eddie sweetly.

Eddie touched Steve’s chin and turned his head for him so he could see the results in the mirror. “Look at that razzle dazzle.”

Steve blushed. Getting painted up was feeling way more intimate than it usually did.

Eddie grinned. “See?” He grabbed the same eye pencil he’d used earlier. Some liner would really make Steve’s eyes pop on stage. “Hold onto me so you stay still for this,” he advised. He had to lean in extra close to do this part, or he’d completely fuck up the lines.

Steve laughed at the instructions but quickly steadied himself and held onto Eddie’s hips. Steve rubbed them when he was finished as a thank you. Eddie’s hip bones were out of this world. “Thanks for making me half as pretty as you.”

Eddie laughed. Leave it to Steve to compliment Eddie when they both knew Steve was the better looking one. He was a gentlealpha for stroking Eddie’s delicate omega ego like that. “Stevie, you know better than anyone that beneath all the smoke and mirrors, there’s nothing but an ugly little rat of a man under here. You’re the beauty; I’m the freak.”

Steve made a face like he always did when Eddie insulted himself. He didn’t like it. He didn't think Eddie was ugly or resembled a rat. Regardless, he smiled a bit at the flattering remark. It made his chest puff out in the typical Alpha’s ego is successfully stroked fashion. 

He let go of Eddie but couldn’t withhold another stronger urge to give affection. As Steve stood up, he leaned in and nuzzled the hell out of the omega. It was an actual scenting, like the ones he reserved for his girlfriends. The breathy noise Eddie made in response and the jackrabbit kick of his heart confused Steve’s brain a little. He pulled back slowly, reluctantly.

The rest of the band shuffled into the room, interrupting them. Steve quickly checked his reflection again. Luckily, he hadn’t messed up what Eddie had just done, thanks to his big nose doing the brunt of the nuzzling.

They began their pre-show group huddle, and Steve gave them a speech reminiscent of his basketball and swim team championships. Gareth and Jeff’s eyes started to glaze over at the sports analogies.

It was dragging on a little, so Eddie slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and cheerfully interrupted, “Boys, let’s rock and roll!”

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There was nothing like the roar of the crowd, the sea of excited faces waiting just for them, chanting their name as they ran out. Eddie would never get tired of hearing that.

The confetti cannons burst at the start of their first song, and Eddie’s blood sang along with Steve's.

By the middle of their set, Eddie had lost his shirt and shoes, but he was still getting service from Harrington, who kept gyrating his hips in Eddie’s direction and, at one point, had grabbed Eddie’s nipple ring with his teeth.

Near the end of the set, Eddie was so sweaty he could probably bellyflop and glide down the stage like a Slip ’N Slide.

There was a break in their current song, about forty-five seconds of instrumentals, and no vocals: Eddie’s guitar solo.

Steve took ten seconds to play the crowd, going to the edge of the stage and touching the hands of star-struck fans. One girl nearly fainted, her friends catching her when her knees buckled.

Eddie watched, mouthing, “Your majesty!” when Steve turned around. He stuck out his tongue, bratty.

It had its intended effect. Steve crossed the stage and got right up in Eddie’s space. He wrapped himself around Eddie, draping himself along Eddie’s back like a cape. One of his big hands, warm and alive and buzzing from adrenaline and holding the mic, splayed across his abs. (Eddie had those now. Actual abs.) Eddie’s stomach jumped a little, and he felt the vibration of Steve’s laugh, his breath hot against Eddie’s scent gland.

Then, Steve actually had the balls to press his lips against Eddie’s skin and drag his tongue up the side of Eddie’s neck.

That was new for Eddie—and everyone else. The crowd went wild. The girls screamed so deafeningly loud it almost drowned out Eddie’s guitar. Probably a good thing because he fumbled a note and nearly forgot where he was.

Steve laughed again. That absolute fucker. Steve couldn’t have the upper hand. Unacceptable. And the crowd clearly wanted more, more, more. (Just like Eddie wanted more, more, more. Off the stage, away from the audience, alone in their hotel room, on the bed—maybe cuffed to the bedpost.)

Eddie relaxed, tipping his head back onto Steve’s shoulder as his fingers sped up, hammering the frets. He panted out his breaths and pushed his sweaty body back against Steve’s, so Steve was forced to take his weight and hold him tighter. “Two can play at this game,” he hissed playfully.

Because he thought that was what this was. Steve was just playing for the fans, like always. They were competing over who could push this the farthest.

But then Steve looked down at him with something dark and inscrutable in his eyes, something not so familiar that made Eddie’s stomach swoop hard, and then he was tilting Eddie’s chin up and—

They were kissing. Eddie hit the last note on his guitar, and it rang out, his pulse rushing in his ears, his lips moving on their own to kiss Steve back. Too eagerly, too seriously to laugh off to everyone later as a joke, and he let go of his guitar, and it hung there while he reached up to grab Steve’s face and his hair that was still somehow perfectly styled, messing it thoroughly as Steve’s tongue ravaged his mouth.

That was new, too. They'd never kissed each other before. They'd gotten extremely close more than a few times, but like this, for real? No.

The crowd was roaring, but the world around Eddie barely existed until Steve suddenly pulled away and ran back to the mic stand, straddling it, singing to the crowd in a deep, breathy tone. Eddie felt dizzy.

Gareth shot him a look, subtly nodding to Eddie’s limp guitar, and Eddie quickly got with the program again—a huge, fake smirk pasted on that he hoped was convincing. Fuck.

Panicking a little and needing something to obliterate his sudden manic horniness and confusion, Eddie thought, What better way to do that than to dive into a crowd of smelly, sweaty people? Insta-boner killer and slick stopper.

Barb, Mind Flayer’s manager, was going to kill him for this.

Letting out a war cry, Eddie ran towards the edge of the stage and jumped, spread eagle.

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The second they stepped on stage, Steve felt on fire with adrenaline. Goosebumps erupted over his arms when Eddie strummed the first note that kicked off the show.

Steve shot a sultry look in Eddie’s direction as he grabbed the mic and hit his cue. It wasn’t lost on him that what really got the girls and guys going was him and Eddie. Steve shared the spotlight with him. Alphas fawned over Eddie, and the omegas and betas fawned over him. When they played it up with each other, everyone went wild.

It started innocently enough. Embracing Eddie’s body while he played his guitar solo. Eddie losing his platform shoes made him slightly shorter than Steve, and being shirtless made it easy for Steve’s hand to graze Eddie’s hot, sweaty, and toned stomach. His mouth had gone dry again, he was dying for a taste.

Eddie’s scent had been clouding Steve’s mind since he’d walked into the dressing room. Intoxicated, Steve was high off Eddie. He was going feral for him. The second his lips touched Eddie’s skin, Steve knew he was going to scent him much harder than he had earlier. He gave Eddie’s scent gland a slow, rough lick. He could feel the effect immediately. His pupils blew like he’d just consumed the most delicious drug.

He laughed because he was in shock at himself for doing that. The crowd's reaction was one of approval, he could only assume, by the deafening screams.

Eddie leaned back against him while he continued to skillfully play the guitar. Steve had no other choice than to stand there and get rubbed against by the smooth leather covering Eddie’s ass. The payback was sweet; Eddie knew exactly what he was doing to Steve. The rough material of his jeans naturally created a delicious amount of friction between them.

When Eddie looked up at him, Steve guided Eddie’s chin towards him and kissed him. They’d gotten close to kissing a couple of times, but at the last second, one of them would smile or pull back. Always playing, always teasing. This time, it really happened.

Steve knew better than to scent an omega without explicit permission, but his hormones were absolutely raging, and they both consensually scented each other in the dressing room. The way Eddie kissed him back was with enough vigor that Steve felt it in his bones. Eddie’s reaction made him feel like what he had done wasn’t wrong. Steve did his best to let go and not suppress his urges anymore. He was burning up and melting.

Why had he waited so long to…?

Oh fuck, the end of Eddie’s guitar solo was his cue to get back on the mic. While Steve wished it was just the two of them on stage, he had to finish the show.

He caught his breath while he pressed the mic back into the stand. When he leaned in to sing the last line, his Alpha voice simmered just below the surface.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and Eddie’s guitar was thrust into his possession. With his baby in safe hands, Eddie took a graceful nosedive off the mother fucking stage. He was quickly surfing his way through the crowd.

All Steve could do was stand there while a sea of security guards hustled to grab the omega before he got eaten alive. Steve felt a white-hot rage he’d never experienced before as Eddie’s body got violated by their fans.

God damn it, Eddie was his.

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The fans were about as enthusiastic to get their paws on him as Eddie had expected. At first, it was actually pretty fucking fun, looking up at the metal rafters and travelling on an ocean of different palms.

Then, it got a little less fun. The touches got more aggressive—grabbing, squeezing, and tearing at his pants. All of his rings and jewelry were taken. He almost fell to the floor a few times. Somebody yanked out a whole handful of his hair and made him squeal. He was like a gangly zebra in a pack of hungry lions.

He’d never admit it, but he was starting to feel just a little bit frightened. By the time security managed to wrangle him back onto the stage, he was howling with laughter, although around ninety percent of it was relief. “What a fucking ride!”

The rest of the band were waiting in the wings. Only Jeff seemed amused. “Dude, that was insane.”

Eddie’s pants hadn’t come all the way off, but it was a damn near thing. The top of his ass cheeks and pubic hair were on full display. Steve moved to shield Eddie’s body from prying eyes. “I got him,” Steve told their main security guard.

Eddie swallowed his tongue when Steve stepped in. He wondered if Steve even realized he’d used his Alpha voice on Reggie.

Then, Steve pulled up what was left of Eddie’s pants, making him squeak, and started herding him back to the dressing room.  

“Steve,” Eddie said, not knowing whether to laugh more, feel embarrassed or get irritated. He felt like a naughty pup. And why was it also making him kinda horny again? Ugh, hormones. “I know you're trying to protect my modesty here, but it’s nothing a million people haven’t seen already.”

The paps had caught him with his clothes more than a few times in the past. Skinny dipping, drunkenly mooning someone, the list went on.

The dressing room door closed behind them, hushing most of the noise. Eddie got steamrolled by Steve’s scent. Usually, he smelled comforting, like a warm chocolate chip muffin. Now, that muffin was incredibly burnt.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, his voice naturally dropping to something lower and softer. Without the laces, his pants were a losing battle. When Steve let go, Eddie didn't bother to pull them back up again. Steve was seething. His baseline low rumble was currently a loud, angry growl emitting from his throat. No, Steve wasn’t okay. He couldn’t even smell Eddie anymore. His warm, buttery cinnamon cookie scent was gone, and any trace of his own scent on Eddie was long gone, too. All of it was buried under at least a hundred different scents. They all were flooding Steve’s sensitive nose. The concoction made his stomach hurt and his skin crawl. Eddie took that as a no. Steve looked pissed. Smelled pissed. Sounded pissed. They were all probably pissed that he’d ended the show abruptly like that. It must’ve just seemed like he wanted the attention—which, granted, wasn’t untrue because he loved attention even at the worst of times, but… “I didn’t mean to ruin the show.” “I don’t care about the show,” Steve replied. It didn’t feel like it was Eddie’s modesty that he was protecting. It was Eddie who Steve was trying to protect, albeit too late. Eddie had been so careless it made Steve sick to think about what could’ve happened. He was completely disheveled.

“You reek,” Steve blurted out, unable to hold back his emotion or muster any tact.

Eddie almost flinched. It was small—a barely noticeable hunching of his shoulders. Steve had never told him he’d smelled bad before, but of course he did after so many people had marked him.

It wasn’t like Eddie enjoyed having all their scents on him. It felt pretty repulsive, but doing what he did had given him something he’d needed. Being passed around like a toy by the crowd had bitch slapped Eddie back into reality. Steve hadn’t been scenting him for real. That kiss hadn’t been real. It had only been for show, no matter how much it had felt like Steve had wanted him in the moment.

Steve took his shirt off and threw it on the floor. He wasn’t planning on it but wasn’t above throwing a hissy fit. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, even though he felt like stomping them like a pup who hadn’t gotten the toy he’d wanted. His own scent had turned bitter. He knew it. What had he scented Eddie for? Why had he kissed him? Steve swallowed. He knew why he’d done it, and it hurt that it didn’t seem to mean anything to Eddie. Eddie seemed like he was okay—more than okay. He was acting like he’d had such a thrill and that it had been so much fun.

Steve was close to his rut, so it made sense he would be scentsitive and irritable, especially since he had to share a room with Eddie and would be sleeping near him. Maybe his rut was coming sooner than they thought.

Steve finally looked directly at Eddie, and that was when he noticed. “Fuck. You’re bleeding.” “I’m fine, Stevie,” Eddie said, giving the Alpha a smile that felt uncomfortable on his face. “I can barely feel anything. My scalp is just weeping because it’s gonna have to do some work to regrow that.”

Steve swallowed his pride, uncrossed his arms and went over to get a better look at Eddie’s head. He made a soft noise when he saw Eddie’s hair was just gone in one spot. Granted, the man had a lot of hair, so it could easily be hidden, but it still looked bad. He’d been wounded. “That’s gotta hurt. We gotta get you cleaned up, man.”

Some bruises were forming on Eddie’s alabaster skin, too, and Steve noticed all his accessories were gone. Eddie’s favorite belt, bracelets and rings.

Any other time, Eddie would have squeezed Steve’s shoulders to calm him, but it was clear that his touch would only make things worse right now. Steve looked so tense. He was shirtless. Steam was practically rolling off of him, and his scent wasn’t easing up. 

While Eddie was calm, crashing after the high of his ridiculous stage dive and body surfing stunt, Steve was just getting hotter and hotter.

Eddie grabbed his sweater from the crushed velvet armchair and pulled it on. The adrenaline started to wear off, making him cool down rapidly, and his hands began to tremble. Whether it was from nicotine withdrawal or the little stunt he’d pulled, or maybe both, Eddie didn’t know.

He realized too late that the sweater wasn’t his but Steve’s, and muttered an apology. Steve’s unburnt scent was embedded into it. Eddie resisted the urge to pluck the neckline up over his nose and hold it there. They borrowed each other’s clothes all the time when they were on the road. He’d have to make sure it got washed before he gave it back.

They only had one more night together before they all parted ways. Eddie was flying to Hawkins to visit Wayne for a few days before returning to his home in West Hollywood to ride out his heat. He didn’t know when he would see Steve again—maybe not until a few weeks later for their post-tour photoshoot and interview with Rolling Stone.

Steve spun in place again. Stopped. Eddie was wearing his yellow sweater. That gave him a tiny bit of relief. He liked Eddie wearing his scent more than he would admit. He also didn’t like it when Eddie was exposed when it wasn’t entirely his choice.

He shook his head. “We should head to the hotel now. I don’t think the afterparty is a good idea tonight, Eddie.”

Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t like his opinion, but he didn’t care.

Eddie glanced at Steve and then away, leaving the Alpha’s side to dig in his bag by the mirror for his jeans. He turned as he removed the tattered leather pants, kicking them into the garbage bin, and only turned to face Steve again once his jeans were zipped and buttoned. “Why isn’t the afterparty a good idea?”

The night was still young, after all. Eddie didn’t really feel like partying, but maybe getting blackout drunk would stop him from climbing into Steve’s bed and begging for more of what had happened on stage, which could very well happen if he stayed in. Eddie knew he’d be having slick dreams for weeks, if not months, of that fucking kiss. His mind already had it on replay. “Don’t think it’s safe. Not this close to your cycle. What if someone from the crowd got the wrong idea and took advantage of you?” Like they could’ve done when you threw yourself into the chaotic audience. Steve wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if something bad had happened to Eddie. Even if it would’ve been his own damn fault. He felt responsible for what had happened, almost like what he’d done had triggered Eddie to do it. Then, actually not being able to do anything to protect him was too much. He could control the situation by saying no to the party. “So, we’re going back to the hotel now.”

Whether you like it or not, Steve thought. He started to gather up his stuff and called for Barb to get them a car.

Eddie wasn’t as careful as an omega should have been, and Steve knew it. It worried him to no end when Eddie would go off to be with some rando after a show. If tonight was any indication of how reckless Eddie could be, Steve couldn’t imagine what else could be pulled and with who. 

Eddie paused, taken aback. They both knew he was an omega who was capable of protecting himself. He could be wildly irresponsible, too, but his self-defence skills were on the same level as an Alpha’s. The response only solidified in Eddie’s mind that Steve was very close to his rut—and for some reason, Steve’s pre-rut instincts were being directed towards Eddie.

He guessed it made sense, considering how close they were. Steve had no other omegas he’d been around as frequently as Eddie lately besides Gareth, but their relationship was more formal.

Eddie didn’t want Steve to come to the afterparty with him if he was going into rut. Forget Eddie; Steve could be taken advantage of. Eddie loved the guy, but he was painfully oblivious about some things.

He also didn’t want Steve to be alone in their hotel room while he went out. Not because Steve could potentially find himself a rut partner and bar Eddie from the room…

…Okay, exactly because of that.

Eddie opened his mouth, but Steve had already moved on from the subject and was trying to move out the door.

“Wait—“ Eddie stopped Steve with a hand to his bare, very furred chest. “You’re going to make the omegas faint if you go out like that.”

Christ, Steve was really warm. And he wasn’t thinking clearly. Eddie quickly let go when he noticed Steve reacting badly. He pulled out a tank top from his duffle and held it out. It was threadbare and soft—not likely to irritate Steve’s skin.

Steve put his hands on his hips and turned around. He didn’t know what to do. He was burning up, so he didn’t want to put the shirt on. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and take the coldest shower he could stand. He dropped his hands and took the top. The scent on the shirt was untainted Eddie, so he wasn’t going to object. Making omegas faint was a thing that had happened, but only a couple of times. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, so Steve complied. Luckily, it was just a tank top, too. He didn’t think he could handle a shirt with sleeves.

“Happy?” he asked Eddie once he pulled it on, magically feeling a little calmer.

Steve looked even sluttier now than he did shirtless, somehow. “Still going to make them faint,” Eddie muttered, stepping into his boots and hiking his bag onto his shoulder. 

Steve heard the quiet comment as he led the way out. It made him smirk, but he knew he didn’t have that effect on Eddie anyway. He’d never make Eddie faint.

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The rest of the band weren’t ready to leave yet and would get a separate car, so they said a quick goodbye.

“See you at the after party?” Jeff asked them, his arm around the shoulders of an omega groupie who was giggling into his neck.

“Maybe,” Eddie hedged.

At the same time, Steve growled, “No,” with enough force to raise Jeff’s eyebrows.

“Alright.” Jeff shrugged, happy to ignore them as the groupie murmured something in his ear.

Steve was deaf to Jeff’s response and blind to the slutty female omega hanging on his arm. He was too busy glaring at Eddie for having said maybe. He had said no and meant it. Neither one of them were going to the after party.

Eddie wrapped his arms around his middle as they exited the theatre, and security escorted them to their waiting car. A few paps got pictures of them despite security’s efforts to shield them.

Steve’s brow softened. Usually, they would huddle close together to make it easier for security to block them, but not this time.

Steve followed Eddie into the car. The smaller space wasn’t helping his nausea from the cacophony of scents still raging.

“You want me to shower in Gareth’s room?” Eddie asked once they were settled in the backseat. To be courteous to Steve’s scentsitivity. Gareth wouldn’t mind.

“No, of course you don’t have to shower in Gareth’s room. You can take the first shower, though.” He’d feel better once Eddie was in the safety of their own room and smelled like himself again. The ride wasn’t tense exactly, but Eddie could feel how much Steve didn’t want to be in the car with him. He was pressed against the door as far away from Eddie as possible. Eddie tried not to wilt in rejection.

Steve rested his hot forehead against the cool window. He felt bad for telling Eddie that he smelled bad, but he was angry, and Eddie really did fucking reek. “Sorry about what I said,” Steve added. “We had a good show. It was fun.”

Eddie was surprised by the apology, but he shook his head. “It’s okay, Stevie,” he answered softly.

He had an incredibly overpowering urge to take off his seatbelt and remove all distance between them. Climb into Steve’s lap and cuddle the motherfucking shit out of him. He held onto the seat instead, knuckles turning white as he resisted.

It stung a little the way Steve sprang out as soon as the car stopped, but Eddie understood.

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“You could have been seriously hurt,” was the first thing Barb said to him as she approached them, leading them into the hotel. “I know you don’t like them, but we have safety protocols for you guys for a reason.”

Steve nodded silently in agreement with her but decided not to pile on as Eddie took the gentle lashings with a hangdog head and a sheepish smile. “I know. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Barb replied, but her glare softened behind her gold-rimmed glasses, and she smiled back at him after a moment. She left them with a compliment. “You did great out there, by the way. Steve, you’ve never sounded better.”

Eddie smiled a little as Steve’s face turned pink under her compliment. “She’s right,” he said.

Barb handed over their room key, and they said goodbye. Steve led the way to the elevator, Eddie trailing behind slightly.

When they entered the room, Steve dropped his bag, popped the button on his jeans, and fell back onto the bed. “Eddie. Shower. Now,” he ordered. He turned over on his side and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “I’m calling room service. Do you want anything?”

The demand from Steve shouldn’t have sent a happy zing up Eddie’s spine, but it did. It made him wonder (probably for the millionth time since they’d met) what Steve’s Alpha voice would feel like. Probably fantastic.

“Yes, Alpha,” he sing-songed, dropping his duffle on his bed and kicking off his boots. “Pick something for me?”

Eddie didn’t feel like deciding what to eat, and Steve knew what he liked. He hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, too focused on prepping for the show. Steve might have fed him a few bites of his sandwich at lunch. He couldn’t remember. It felt like a long time ago.

Steve was still burning up, but the response from the omega made him shiver. He liked being obeyed. “Sure.”

“Thank youuu.”

Eddie went to the bathroom and closed the door. Didn’t bother locking it. His reflection almost made him laugh. No wonder everyone had had such a reaction. His makeup was smeared, and his hair was giving Medusa vibes. Those paparazzi pics were going to be interesting. He looked like he’d gone through a car wash without a car. “Bozo the fucking clown,” he said under his breath.

Even if Steve wasn’t straight, why the hell would he want this?

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Steve was starving. He was craving red meat and potatoes. He knew Eddie would want something lighter, so he ordered him a grilled cheese and the soup of the day. Then he ordered red wine, champagne and cake, too. Just because they weren’t going to the after party, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate.

While Steve wanted to undress, he figured he’d stay decent enough to answer the door. After he hung up the phone, he took off his shoes.

They were pretty high in one of the presidential suites. Their windows had no curtains, which had made sleeping in the night before difficult, but the view was worth it. Steve stood at the large window overlooking the city. He was still in a bit of shock that they were there. He hadn’t become used to the lifestyle or the fame yet.

Eddie’s shower was going on longer than Steve thought it would. He thought he heard Eddie cry out, but when he went to the door and pressed his ear against it, he didn’t hear anything else.

The food arrived pretty quickly, and Steve gave the bellboy a good tip. He poured some wine for himself and sat down at the table. The guy must’ve thought Steve’s mate was in the shower. He scurried around, insisting on dressing the table in a tablecloth. He lit two candles, too, making the room look incredibly romantic. Steve tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary but gave up and just allowed it since he didn’t feel like explaining.

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Now that he was completely down from his showtime high, Eddie felt everything that had been done to him. Every bruise was throbbing, and it would only feel worse in the morning.

His clothes hit the floor a few seconds later, and he stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the dried sweat, makeup, blood and itchy, filthy scents all over him.

He scrubbed hard and thoroughly, suddenly frantic to get clean, to be Eddie again so that Steve would like him again.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed. The shampoo was burning in the spot where he’d lost hair. He quickly rinsed it out, and the water turned pink.

Once every speck of dirt and scent had swirled down the drain, Eddie finally turned off the taps and stepped out into the foggy room.

The dirty towels from that morning were gone, but the towel rack was empty. Hopefully, the maid hadn’t forgotten to give them fresh ones.

Eddie floundered a little, then went to the door, opening it and sticking just his head out. “Steve? Are there towels out there?”

“Uh…” Steve furrowed his brow, confused as to why there weren’t any towels in the bathroom. Their room had been cleaned. Their beds had been made, too.

He got up from the table and looked around, spotting an abundance of towels stacked neatly under the nightstand. Usually, towels by the bed were reserved for heats and ruts. He grabbed two and brought them over to Eddie.

Again, Eddie’s delicious scent hit him, and Steve’s stomach literally growled out loud.

Eddie heard it. Poor guy. Alphas in rut needed an insane amount of protein to feel good enough to function. Their bodies burned through it quickly since they used so much energy fucking people’s brains out, Eddie supposed.

Steve rubbed his stomach. “Ugh, I gotta eat, man.”

“Thanks. Yeah, don’t wait on my account, big boy. Go eat.” Eddie shooed Steve and retreated to the bathroom.

He dried himself, then wrapped one of them around his hips as best he could. The towels Steve gave him weren’t regular-sized, he realized. Had about as much coverage as a loincloth.

Eddie came out and kneeled awkwardly to dig through his suitcase. He wasn’t prepared for the scent that hit his nostrils, either. Steve had flooded the room with Alpha pheromones, and they were getting stronger by the minute. Enough to make him lightheaded.

Steve took the dome off his plate and found the juiciest steak but nearly choked on the first piece when he saw Eddie. Steve averted his gaze slowly, catching a glimpse not so accidentally. He made a happy little noise, and not just about the meat. Eddie’s scent had returned, and Steve could feel a rumble bubbling up in his chest.

Eddie grabbed some comfortable boxers and an old band t-shirt he’d had since he was a teenager. He’d cut it in half during a particularly scorching summer, so it left his midriff nice and cool. He didn’t bother going back to the bathroom to put them on, changing right there.

When he turned around, he noticed Steve sitting at the kitchenette table.

“Oh,” Eddie said, heat flooding his face. He took in the champagne on ice, the soft glow of the candles, the tablecloth. His stomach lurched. Steve looked like he was waiting for a date. “Are you—um, did you invite someone over? Do you need me to go?”

It was strange, considering Steve had been so adamant Eddie return to the hotel with him, but maybe he had called someone while Eddie was in the shower. He had to realize by now that he was going into rut.

“What?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow. “No, and no. I told you I was ordering food for us. They kinda thought it was more of a romantic occasion… but I thought that since we’re not going to the party, we could still celebrate.” Steve felt bad for putting a damper on their last night together for a while. “I know you like the bubbly stuff.”

The little knot that had tied itself in Eddie’s stomach unwound. “That’s thoughtful, A—Steve,” he corrected himself.

One time calling Steve Alpha as a joke was acceptable. Twice in the same hour put him in the danger zone.

Steve flashed him a smile and got up to pull the second chair away from the table so Eddie would sit with him. Steve stopped him before he did, leaning into his space to scent him gently.

He couldn’t resist. Eddie smelled better than the food and looked like a snack in his comfy clothes. Steve had to restrain himself from licking and nipping him. He had food. He didn’t have to devour Eddie…right now, at least.

Eddie didn’t think much of being scented. He accepted it with a head tilt and a relieved sigh that he hid with a breathy laugh. Family and close friends scented each other casually all the time—he took it as a sign he was back in Steve’s good graces.

The Alpha looked much more relaxed. There was even that endearing rumble tickling Eddie’s ears. Steve sometimes did that when he was enjoying himself. The hotel’s chef must have really nailed that steak.

“Are you happy with the choice I made for you?” Steve asked. “If not, I know you’ll like the cake.” Eddie loved sweet things, so Steve knew the cake would do.

Eddie resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Steve and hang onto him like a koala. He lifted the metal dome over his plate instead. Soup and grilled cheese were the second thing he was craving. The first thing wasn’t on the menu. “You always know what I want,” he answered.

Steve was attentive like that. When it came to everything except… well, you know. Nobody on earth knew Eddie better than Steve, not even his only living relative.

Steve was pretty pleased with himself after receiving Eddie’s compliment. It fed his ego perfectly. He reached for the champagne. “You wanna pop it? I know it’s like your favorite part.” He chuckled and handed the bottle to Eddie.

Using his thumbs, Eddie popped the cork on the champagne bottle. They cheered as it foamed over, and Eddie poured them each a glass before sitting in the chair Steve had pulled out for him. “To Mind Flayer?” he suggested. “And another tour success.”

They toasted.

“Are you looking forward to going home and sleeping in your own bed again?” Eddie asked once he had sat down and taken a sip of champagne, trying to ignore the way the candles were making Steve’s eyes look darker than usual. Eddie probably wasn’t going to survive the rest of the night.

Steve sipped from his glass. The liquid was refreshingly cold from being on ice. Steve hadn’t cooled down yet, so he threw back the entire glass to help do that. He wasn’t aware of what was happening to him yet—what Eddie’s proximity and scent were doing to him.

He wasn’t sure how to answer Eddie’s question. “I’m going to miss you.”

Steve felt his lips tingle after he said it. He knew it wasn’t just from downing the bubbly way too fast. They’d kissed. Steve hadn’t had time to process it or reflect because of what had happened after.

Eddie did a lot of things that made Steve want to kiss him. Naturally, he was adorable, but finally, Steve had given in to his impulses. It wasn’t Eddie who’d instigated it, but he’d kissed Steve back, and Steve couldn’t quit thinking about it. Their kiss hadn’t been chaste. Steve had been able to taste the gummy bears Eddie had eaten and everything.

He’d always had a feeling Eddie had a thing for him. He’d tried his best to ignore it, feeling like it wouldn’t be right even though he played into it on stage. They’d never really crossed the line.

Off stage, he’d tried to be with women, but he hadn’t been able to commit to any of them. Weirdly, he felt like he had been betraying Eddie, and he hadn’t found anyone significant. He hadn’t been happy going through the motions every time their tours ended. He was not looking forward to going back home and being alone in his bed.

“I’ll miss you too, dude,” Eddie said, hiding a pleased smile behind a bite of grilled cheese. Maybe the casual use of dude would help deflect the way his scent perked up like a flower in the sun.

Eddie didn’t miss his place one bit. He was thinking of getting a cat. Now that the tour was over, he would have plenty of free time he wouldn’t know what to do with. Getting a pet was a solid idea. Eddie had never had one before. Cats were cuddly and warm and could take up some of the vast space and silence in his house. Maybe he would get several cats.

“It’s so hot,” Steve complained.

He had to take the tank top off. He pulled it from the bottom up and over his head in one fell swoop. Steve sighed as he let it drop to the floor, which only helped slightly.

He reached into the champagne bucket for ice. Steve got a piece and moved it up his neck to his jaw. It felt so good that he moaned a little, but the ice cube melted in seconds.

Any thoughts about felines fell right out of Eddie’s head when Steve started molesting himself with an ice cube. Eddie’s eyes widened into saucers, fist clenching around his spoon. What in the wet o dream was going on here?

“Gotta get out of these fucking pants,” Steve added. While the button wasn’t attacking him anymore, the heavy fabric was roasting him.

Eddie tried to keep acting normal. The shirt was okay—Eddie was used to Steve losing that during the night, but when the pants came off, Eddie dropped his spoon and choked on his soup. It went down the wrong pipe. He coughed. Thumped his chest. “Usually, it’s tequila that makes people’s clothes fall off,” he wheezed.

Sweet baby Jesus, he was gonna die today.

If this were a date, Eddie would absolutely be getting lucky. But since it wasn’t—

“How about we open a window?” Eddie got up, giving the almost naked Alpha a wide berth as he went to approach the one closest to them. He grabbed the handles and heaved upwards. Nothing happened. “Christ, it's stuck.”

He tried again to no avail when suddenly two muscled arms appeared by his sides, and two big paws circled his wrists. “Let me try, Eds.”

“Good day, biceps, my fair gentlemen,” Eddie said to them.

The joke was weak due to the fact he sounded like he was being strangled. He could feel Steve’s body heat along his back even though they weren’t touching. There was a small, minuscule space between them. Steve was like a furnace. Eddie let Steve remove his hands from the handles, and Steve’s hands settled onto them instead.

Steve laughed. He was still reeling over the tequila reference. It only stroked his ego more. His Alpha had a raging hard on from the omega’s continued praise. It stupidly fueled his faith that he could get the window open for them.

He leaned into Eddie instead of suggesting he move. It felt like Eddie being sandwiched between him and the window was helping somehow. His scent was so strong; the aroma was like Steve had just walked into a French bakery. The freshly baked chocolate croissant was calling his name.

Eddie should have ducked out, but for some reason, he stayed frozen where he was. There was straining, veins bulging, and some grunting right in Eddie’s ear that he really had to try not to imagine in a different scenario.

Finally, he could bear the torture no more. Also, the window wasn’t budging. Not a fucking inch. (And, of course, that had Eddie thinking about how many inches Steve had in those paper-thin boxers.)

“Steeeve, I don’t think these were built to open,” Eddie said, not turning around and subtly clenching his cheeks because his slick was trying to make a damn prison break and also, hey, that was an erection. “Maybe we should try the air con.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that first?

Steve should’ve realized the window was sealed shut. Hotels didn’t take kindly to people jumping out of their windows. Eddie was right, even though opening a window was his idea. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, pulling back.

Steve went over to the thermostat and cranked it down, then moved to stand in front of the vent and breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the cool air blasted hard enough to blow his hair back. A happy rumble left his lips, and after a minute, he joined Eddie, who had returned to the table. “Wine time,” Steve declared.

He poured a generous amount into their glasses and sat back down. Steve’s temperature was no longer spiking, but Eddie was smelling more and more delicious. “Eddie, you smell so fucking good. I feel like devouring you instead.”

Steve reached for Eddie’s hand and tugged it across the table, pressing his whole face against Eddie’s inner arm and nuzzling his way up. Steve scented him again and playfully gnawed. “Would you be okay with that?” he asked, eyes dark and hungry. 

Eddie had folded his napkin strategically across his lap. He had barely recovered from what would forever be referred to in his spank bank as the window incident when Steve unleashed more on him. Eddie was glad he hadn’t taken a sip of wine yet because he would have sprayed it all over the table. Instead, he failed spectacularly to repress a noise and a full-body shiver.

Was he hallucinating? Had the loud concerts finally gotten to his ears and damaged them?

“Would I…” Eddie swallowed. Hard. Would he be okay with that? Fuck yes! “I think we should have some cake! You probably just have a sweet tooth.”

Steve was leaning across the table, almost like he was going to kiss Eddie again (sweet mother of fucking mercy). In a desperate attempt not to give in and just let it happen, Eddie snatched his arm back and picked up his fork, stopping Steve’s trajectory with a big mound of cake. “Here, eat up.”

Eddie didn’t give Steve much choice unless he wanted icing smeared all over his face. While Steve worked on his mouthful, Eddie picked up his wineglass and threw it back, throat working as he downed the whole thing and stared determinedly at the wall instead of Steve, who was still trying to penetrate him with his eyes.

Jesus, who’d never listened to Eddie once in his entire life, help him.

“Alright, Alpha— fuck, Steve, you’re going into rut,” Eddie said. It didn’t feel right—not morally —no matter how happy his omega was by the turn of events. Steve seemed not in his proper mind anymore. At all. “You are in a vulnerable state. I can’t let this continue, even if I do want to offer my body as dessert.”

What was he saying? Was the wine already hitting him? He wasn’t really a wine drinker, but surely his tolerance for it wasn’t so weak. Eddie deflected and ripped his arm away so swiftly that Steve couldn’t compute what had happened. Since Eddie had shoved the cake directly into his mouth next, he couldn’t even make a noise in protest. The rush of moist chocolate cake wasn’t what he was craving. It was too much. Steve tried not to choke on it. He had difficulty chewing it and getting it down, so he had to sip the wine to dissolve it quickly. He wasn’t happy that Eddie had done that or about what he’d said. “You didn’t wear your blockers tonight,” Steve pointed out when he could finally talk. He still had enough sense to know that he wasn’t hot and bothered for no fucking reason at all. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth free of icing and crumbs.

Eddie was hot as hell, so there was always that, too, but he’d scented Steve. Threw himself in Steve’s lap and scented his entire stomach when he’d bit at it. The antics in the dressing room had only escalated on stage, and being that close and intimate enough to kiss an almost ripe omega had accelerated it, too. “I don’t have to worry about you taking advantage of me. And there isn’t a crowd of fifty thousand people you can throw yourself into in our room.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

Okay, so he still wasn’t fucking over that. He couldn’t stay mad, though. He cared about Eddie a lot.

Steve knew that he had the power to make Eddie succumb. He wouldn’t. He wanted and needed Eddie’s permission. Steve couldn’t take advantage of the nearest omega like some Alphas did. Eddie was the most important omega in his life. He wasn’t going to tarnish their relationship.

Eddie’s heart started to pound. “Gareth ran out of blockers. I gave him mine. I wasn’t trying to bait you or manipulate you or anything.” Not consciously, anyway. His instincts were a bit more tricky, but he hadn't had some slinky plan to induce Steve’s rut. “And even if I had been, I wouldn’t expect it to work. You’ve never been into me that way. Not in private.”

At least, that had been what Eddie had always assumed up until tonight.

As for his other behavior… Eddie shrugged weakly. He didn't have an excuse. “But I can’t always help the way I act around you.”

Eddie’s omega was convinced Steve was the one for him, and it was hard to argue with it.

Steve didn’t think Eddie was trying to do anything by not wearing his blockers, but he couldn’t deny what it had done to him. Steve already had a natural magnetic pull towards Eddie. He could never fully figure out why. He hadn’t gotten to experience Eddie’s scent like this until now. It was the missing piece.

Of course, Steve knew blockers were the best protection for an unmated omega, and they had to be worn constantly when they were in crowded public places. It kept Eddie safe against any Alpha that had bad intentions. It was imperative on show days where there were known to be rabid fans.

Steve reached out to touch Eddie’s arm again so the omega would look at him. “I know the timing is fucked up, Eddie, but I can promise that if I didn’t really want you, I wouldn’t have insisted that we come back here. Especially when you didn’t smell like you or me for a little while.”

That had really bothered Steve. He didn’t realize how much until now and what he’d blurted out. He’d never experienced it before. He didn’t like his omega smelling like anyone other than him. He knew he didn’t want Eddie’s scent to be tainted by anyone else ever again. Steve didn’t think it was his rut talking. He felt like claiming Eddie tonight so this wouldn’t happen ever again.

“The kiss on stage. Scenting me. That was for real,” Eddie said slowly. “Not just for the fans?”

It was maybe redundant after what Steve had just said, but Eddie wanted direct, verbal validation. Maybe it was the omega part of him.

“You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen, but chicks, man.” Steve thought he was one hundred percent straight. He had been a bit of a hound dog when it came to women. “Felt like I wasn’t allowed to,” he acknowledged. He thought he had to be with female omegas and hadn’t experienced a male one until he’d walked into Eddie’s band. Steve had always thought Eddie was attractive. He wasn’t blind. “You’re a guy,” Steve pointed out, then laughed because, yeah. “Obviously…” It had given him major reservations at first. Guys had liked him before, but he’d never liked any of them back until Eddie.

Steve had been apprehensive about fan service, but he was so comfortable with Eddie that it hadn’t felt wrong. It had only made their shows better. It had become fun to push the boundaries of his sexuality and their Alpha and omega dynamics. It had pushed other people’s buttons and had gotten them talking, making their band even more popular and Eddie a gay icon. “It was real,” Steve confirmed. “I wouldn’t kiss you for fan service, especially not for the first time. I couldn’t help it… I had to.”

Steve hadn’t been thinking. His hormones had been raging—still were—and his real feelings had taken over. He wasn’t sure if it’d make headlines since the more pressing news was the epic stage dive.

Eddie waited patiently while Steve explained his feelings in his own way, not trying to interrupt, just letting him work it out. It was probably the most quiet and attentive Eddie’d ever been in his life, but this was Steve. He was fucking important.

It all made perfect sense, even though part of Eddie still couldn’t quite believe his feelings were being reciprocated. And hey, what, hello, prettiest man he’d ever seen? That could not be correct. 

He thought it tragic that Steve had thought he wasn’t allowed to like omega men all this time. Didn’t surprise Eddie, but it made him sad and angry at their closed-minded society for drilling that into Steve’s head.

“I wanted to keep your scent on me.” Eddie touched Steve’s hand, upset with himself. Steve seemed genuinely wounded by what he’d done. He always got a little waspish when he was hurt. “I only jumped because I panicked. I didn't think it was real, and I didn't want you and everyone to see how much I…”

Eddie stopped. Poured himself another glass of wine because it was suddenly confession hour, and he was spilling his guts. He had been dreading this conversation since the day they’d met. Had hoped it would never happen because he had never pictured it ending well. He didn't want to lose Steve, and he was sure that would happen when Steve figured out just how deeply Eddie felt for him. This wasn't some light-hearted puppy love, as much as Eddie tried to twist it that way in his head when he was “harmlessly” flirting.

“I just don’t think I can do this if…” Eddie took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye, ”…if it’s going to be a one-time thing. I feel more than want for you, Steve—more than like for you, and I have for a long time. I’m not asking you to claim me,” he added quickly, nervously. “You don’t, uh, have to do that. Obviously. Just—I’d want to date you.”

Hearing Eddie's confession melted Steve’s heart a little. “You wanna date?” he asked. “You’ll allow me to court you? So, if we fucked tonight, it wouldn’t be in sin after all?”

Eddie went to toy with one of his rings but forgot it wasn't there, and he ended up rubbing his mating ring finger in an accidentally telling way. He smiled uncertainly. “I don’t want to be friends who fuck. Or friends who fuck and then go back to being just friends. Don’t think I could stand it, honestly.”

Steve’s teasing smirk softened. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d be okay if I never even got the chance to claim you.”

Steve knew his rut was responsible for him wanting to claim Eddie right now. He felt ready because he’d been so angry about not getting to have Eddie in the first place that he just wanted it to be official already. He knew he hadn’t scented Eddie thoroughly enough, so he got up and dropped down in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie’s body was practically vibrating with need for contact. Like Steve knew that, he was suddenly there, sinking his heavy, reassuring weight on Eddie and laying that delectable chocolate scent all over Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned back with a groan, making the chair creak (it probably wasn’t suited to hold the weight of two grown men).

“Babe, consider me courted.” Really, it didn’t take much more than that. This was his dream come true. Eddie laughed, and even that sounded like he was in ecstasy, threaded with a deep purr that didn't make an appearance very often. “Besides, you’re the one who needs my courting before I pop your cherry.”

Two could play at the teasing game, always, and Eddie was relieved to get back to their banter. Now, it was just sexier. Steve was a virgin who’d never experienced men before, after all—and there Eddie was, unworthy but happy as hell and honored to be the one to give him all the experience he could ever want.

“Hello, thunder thighs.” He meant that in the best way possible. Eddie squeezed them greedily because he was allowed to do that now. He tipped his head up to look at Steve, putting on his silky omega voice. “You know, a few perks come with dating a male omega, and one of them is…”

It had been enough time that his legs no longer felt like cooked spaghetti. Eddie stood up, taking all one hundred and sixty pounds of Steve with him, and dropped his sweaty body onto the bed. Eddie smirked. “ We can do shit like that.”

Steve was turning red, his temperature spiking again. It was a first, getting carried and thrown onto the bed like he was the one who was going to get fucked. Eddie was strong. Steve didn’t hate it.

“That was hot,” Steve said, rumbling as he pushed himself to sit up. He pulled Eddie by the shirt and guided him into his lap. “Don’t think you should be wearing this anymore.”

Steve removed it for him, and as soon as it was off, he went in for a kiss. Eddie tasted sweeter than he had on stage. It felt good to be kissing again. Properly, without a time crunch, and in the privacy of their room where they didn’t have to stop.

All of Eddie’s weight baring down on him felt good, too. Steve’s hands settled on Eddie’s ass. They needed something to hold onto. Since Eddie had shamelessly groped his thighs, it was only fair that Steve kneaded Eddie’s ass like dough through his boxers. It was the only other fluffy part of Eddie’s body besides his hair. Steve had always admired it.

“For the record, the only thing that’s getting popped tonight is my knot,” Steve promised, locking eyes with Eddie.

Like a trained dog, Eddie’s ears perked, and his pupils visibly dilated at the word knot. He’d been trying not to think about Steve’s most of the night. Trying very hard not to think about it stretching him out before locking inside. You know, respectfully, you didn’t think about your best friend’s knot fucking you stupid, especially when said best friend was in the room with you. (It was a little different when you were alone in your bed at 2 AM with your Turbo Knotter 3000 buzzing away.)

Now, that was mostly what was on Eddie’s mind as they kissed again, and Steve massaged his meagre ass like it was more than what it was. Eddie couldn’t resist rocking his hips in Steve’s lap, gushing slick like a river in preparation for it. The other thing that was on his mind was how desperately he didn’t want to fuck this up. He couldn’t be a lousy lay, had to be a good omega, the best omega, couldn’t do something to ruin this—but with his track record…

The thin material between them wasn’t leaving much up to the imagination. Eddie had a big cock—he acted like he did, too—so it wasn’t a surprise for Steve to feel it poking in his stomach. Steve smelled Eddie’s slick and then felt it saturating Eddie’s boxers. He was pleased. He knew he’d done a good job turning an omega on when slick started. He was ravenous for it and its source.

Steve broke the kiss to speak in his Alpha voice. “Let me get you out of these, baby. You soaked them, didn’t you? Just for me. I made you get that wet, huh?”

It was a shock, the filth that spilled from Steve’s mouth. Eddie was stunned into almost bashful silence (which wasn’t right because he didn’t do bashful), an aroused flush blotting his cheeks and working its way down his neck. He’d never experienced Steve’s Alpha voice. It was better than he’d imagined. Between his thighs, he throbbed with want.

In the past, he may have heard Steve’s voice through the paper-thin walls of the motels they used to stay at, but that was more painful than stimulating since it had been directed at whoever Steve had brought to his den for the night.

“Just for you,” Eddie echoed with a dumb smile.

Steve smiled devilishly. He pushed Eddie’s boxers down over his ass, then laid him back at the end of the bed so he could take them the rest of the way off. “I’m totally keeping these, by the way.” Steve sniffed them playfully, then tossed them to the floor.

Eddie had been reduced to a lovesick, brain-dead groupie. Future him would be sickened remembering his impulse to do anything for Steve’s voice. The way his body melted under it. He was glad he had the mattress underneath him for support. He was so wet, now rid of his boxers that Steve apparently wanted to keep as a snack for later, that he was making a puddle on the bed. “They’re all yours, gorgeous. Have them.”

Way to be subtle, Munson. Might as well have said you own me.

Speaking of owning, Eddie didn’t touch his dick, even though it was arching up along his belly and painfully hard, flushed dark red and ready for use. His omega was telling him that also belonged to Steve now. He could do whatever he wanted with it.

Steve sighed, rumbling deeply at the sight before him. He didn’t know where to start.  He spotted some slick on Eddie’s milky and much skinnier thigh and leaned down to lap it up with his tongue. “Fuck, it’s good,” Steve praised.

He got down between Eddie’s thighs and licked and sucked his way up to the source, lifting Eddie’s legs for full access to his ass.

Eddie’s breath hitched. Steve liked how he tasted?

“Been a while since anybody’s been down there. Might have to clear the cobwebs and bats out before you start.” A crappy joke. Eddie began rambling. Why was he fucking nervous? Oh yeah, because he was living his fantasy. He should have drunk that second glass of wine. “Thought I might have to be your teacher during this quest, but you—mh!” Steve’s lips were kissing his hole, his tongue circling Eddie’s sensitive rim. Eddie whined, legs closing briefly around Steve’s head before he got ahold of himself and opened them again. “You seem to be doing okay down there without my tutelage.”

Tutelage? Did he just say tutelage in the middle of sex?

Steve would’ve laughed if his mouth wasn’t busy. Eddie was so fucking cute. He was hungry. While he hadn’t eaten ass before, he didn’t hesitate. His need for Eddie was the driving factor behind his confidence. The fact that it had been a while since Eddie had an Alpha between his legs pleased Steve, too.

Eddie’s slick was delicious. Steve took his time licking and kissing. All he could think about was making Eddie feel as good as he could, considering it’d been a while and that he didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing. He just wanted Eddie to feel treasured and give him some good foreplay.

Steve’s face was getting messy. He loved it. When Eddie’s thighs put him in a headlock, he figured what he was doing was good. He could fuck him easily with his tongue. The texture was new, but the gush of slick onto his tongue made him hum happily. This was the sweetest slick he’d ever experienced. It was so addicting.

Eddie groaned. “M’already fucking this up, aren’t I?” Eddie closed his eyes, sinking his fingers into Steve’s hair, which was still semi-stiff and crunchy from all the Dippity Do. He tried to relax and stop thinking so hard. “Swear I’m usually better than this.”

Not too many of his past partners had done this to him before. Eddie wasn’t particularly interesting down there. His cock he was incredibly proud of, but he knew as far as omegas went, his ass was kind of a snore. Being up close and personal with it like Steve was probably wasn't as exciting as Steve was used to. Eddie knew he didn't compare to any of the curvy female omegas Steve had been with.

Eddie was fine with his lack of assets now, of course, but when he’d first started hooking up with Alphas, the lack of compliments had felt admittedly shitty, especially when he knew other omegas got a lot of them during sex. He’d had to work extra hard to get praise and attention there or pretend he didn’t care. Felt like he didn’t deserve any.

Now that he was famous, guys would tell him anything he wanted to hear and more, but it was rarely genuine.

Steve was confused. What was Eddie talking about? He was having a good time. He was working his way up to getting laid. They both were, but Eddie was worrying about being a good omega. Steve didn’t want to, but he had to stop and keep Eddie from spiralling. He licked up from Eddie’s hole, along his taint and balls and finally lifted his head to look up at him.

“You know, whenever I’m getting head, I never think about if I’m doing a good job.” He had to tease. He just wanted Eddie to enjoy this.

Steve was sitting up, which made Eddie panic a little, thinking things were ending, but it was probably for the best since he was starting to tense up so much that his slick had nearly stopped. He laughed weakly and resisted throwing an arm over his eyes. “Perk of being an omega: constantly needing validation.”

All omegas were whores for praise. Eddie didn’t want to be needy, but his biology just dictated some things for him. It was annoying, more times than not, but it was who he was.

“You’re perfect, Eddie. Look at my face.” Steve smiled, soft and big and genuine. “I’m so happy.”

Steve rumbled as he moved up Eddie’s body, kissing everything, his dick, stomach and chest. When he got to Eddie’s neck, he scraped his canine teeth along it.

Eddie made a noise, torn between embarrassment and that natural euphoria pleasing the Alpha elicited. Perfect? Was Steve telling the truth or just pitying him? It felt genuine, was the thing. Steve wasn’t a liar.

The command to look was easy to follow. Steve did look happy, actually. His cute little brown eyes were sparkling, the lower half of his face messy with slick, hair messy, debauched. Eddie smiled back, a gentle purr vibrating through his chest. 

“Being with you like this is making me so fucking nervous, Stevie,” Eddie confessed with a chuckle as Steve laid kisses on him that felt like little electric buzzes against his skin. As if it wasn’t obvious already, and the way his heart was pounding like Gareth’s drums under Steve’s lips. “I’m a wreck. I’ve thought about this—you—a lot.” Don’t want you to regret me.

There was a low ache in Steve’s belly when he got his mouth on Eddie’s neck. His knot started throbbing. Eddie’s words were music to Steve’s ears. He was so close to biting; his mouth was watering. Eddie’s scent gland was right there.

Eddie pulled Steve’s hips into the vee of his legs, his hands travelling down Steve’s heated back and caressing it. When he felt the sharpness of teeth near his gland, his nails dug in, making Steve gasp, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck,” he breathed. His pulse sped up even more, finding a new rhythm like it was learning a song. “Careful, sweetheart, you might…”

Mate me.

“Don’t be nervous, Eddie bear. I swear I want to. I want you,” Steve said with a possessive growl. He kissed the spot tenderly instead of heeding the warning.

His mating mark would look so good there. Everyone would know Eddie was his, and no one else could claim him. Why wasn’t he claimed yet?

Steve didn’t really know why either of them hadn’t found their mate. Maybe they were waiting for each other. Steve felt a relief tonight for the first time since he’d met Eddie. Eddie had always been closed off to him in a couple of ways. Through their friendship, the band and scent blockers. Their heat and rut schedules were always planned and purposely spent apart.

Steve also didn’t know why he hadn’t taken off his boxers. It was the last thing separating them from full-body contact. Steve moved to get them off. He was still burning up, knowing there wouldn’t be any true relief until he was knot deep inside of Eddie. He sighed a little when he was free and rolled them onto their sides so they could kiss again.

He’d missed Eddie’s mouth. While they kissed, Steve found Eddie’s hand and moved it to wrap around his cock. It needed attention immediately. He wanted Eddie to feel how hard he had gotten because of him.

Somehow, hearing Steve’s sweet nickname for him in the Alpha voice made Eddie’s blush deepen. He tried not to pant like a bitch in heat at the declaration, but it was hopeless. He was gone, gone, gone. Mating bells were ringing in his head. Steve sounded greedy for him. Holy shit. Steve wanted him for keeps. Eddie would do a little jig if he weren’t, y’know, horizontal and busy being utterly seduced.

They were making out again, and Steve’s thigh was between his, pressing up against his wet and sticky cock. Eddie groaned into Steve’s mouth at the friction. It was funny. Eddie had never enjoyed kissing all that much until today. Don’t get him wrong; it was fun sometimes, but more often than not, nothing to write home about. Like, he could do without it easily.

It was nothing like this. Steve tasted like cake and wine and Eddie’s slick, and he knew how to kiss an omega. They fell into sync naturally, both of them going back in for more and more like they would die if they stopped.

Eddie’s lips felt swollen when Steve grabbed his hand—Eddie was a little contrite to note he had just been clutching onto Steve’s side like a lifeline—and guided it to his big, gorgeous cock. It was so heated in his hand. Hard as steel.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve rumbled sweetly in between kisses. “You feel me? You did that because you’re so fucking hot. You have the sweetest slick.”

Eddie squeezed, though he was the one who gasped and shivered as Steve continued to stroke his ego. That was what he’d done. Made Steve hard for him. “I-I feel you,” Eddie responded.

Steve nudged his nose against Eddie’s. “You’re making my knot hurt.” He whined a little as he met Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie ran his thumb along Steve’s throbbing knot reverently and felt an echoing deep throb in his hole, slick running down the back of his thigh.

“You’re gonna let me pop it, huh? I’m gonna fill you up so good. You’ll feel full,” Steve promised. He planned to absolutely ruin Eddie for any other Alpha’s knot. Only his was going to fit. He pulled Eddie’s thigh towards him so he could have access to his ass.

Steve’s rut smell was heady and thick in his nose. Eddie was so thirsty for him that his vision was glazed and blurring, and he was nodding like a bobblehead. “Yes, yeah, yeah, please. Want all of you. Want your knot. Please. Need it, Alpha. Please.”

That was three times he’d said please. His nerves had run away. He really just wanted to be fucked into next Tuesday by his (yes, his!) Alpha.

Steve’s fingertips met so much slick. He rubbed his thumb against Eddie’s hole before pressing his index and middle finger inside. His eyebrows rose, feeling the resistance around his fingers. He slowly twisted his wrist, drilling his fingers to get them in while watching Eddie’s face.

By the time Steve had two fingers inside him, Eddie was so turned on his eyes were trying to roll up in his head, and his leg was trembling around Steve’s hip. Fuck, it felt good. No, it felt fucking incredible. Steve had thick, long fingers. Eddie had watched them closely and touched them when he’d taught Steve how to play the guitar a few years back. (He’d also jerked off furiously after each teaching session because… well because.)

“I know there’s this spot...” Steve worked Eddie open. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on feeling it.

Steve’s concentrated expression was hilarious and endearing as hell, but Eddie was in no state to tease him because Steve had found his golden ticket.

“Oh god, oh my god, oh my god,“ Eddie moaned. Too loud, too loud, shit. It had only been a short, experimental press of Steve’s finger pads, but it left Eddie shaking like an overstimulated chihuahua and gushing slick.

“Fuck yeah, there it is.” Steve grinned and added a third finger, readying Eddie to take his knot.

Eddie’s hand had gone limp around Steve’s dick since his brain had leaked out of his ears, but he got with the program again and renewed his grip, stroking Steve from knot to tip to the same rhythm Steve was fingering him.

The head of Eddie’s cock knocked against Steve’s from the fast motions. Eddie whimpered and tightened around Steve’s fingers as pre-come jetted out, hitting Steve’s chest and getting caught in his hair. “Steve, now? Now, please? I’m gonna co—not gonna—make it.”

Fingering was hot and a lot of fun. Steve loved using his hand first. He knew, without the declaration, that Eddie was going to come. “Oh, Eddie,” he said. “Baby, you can come now. I promise it won’t be the only time you’ll get to.”

Steve kept his fingers firmly inside of Eddie. He wasn’t going to stop, especially with the way Eddie was quivering. He was going to make it happen. It’d be cruel to stop and start again with him this close. Steve loved to get omegas off, especially without it directly triggering his own need to come.

It helped that Eddie was touching him. His hand was big and fit around Steve’s cock and knot perfectly, stroking everything. He moaned softly in Eddie’s ear. “You’re making me feel so good. It's so hot that you’re gonna come for me already. Just from my fingers? That’s amazing. You’re such a good omega. You’re easily pleased by your Alpha, aren’t you?”

Another shock to Eddie’s system was Steve’s… kindness towards him. Generosity. Those words didn't go together with sex. He wanted to make Eddie come more than once? Even though he was in rut that had to be demanding he just flip Eddie over and mount him already. It didn't make sense why he was putting Eddie’s needs before his own. It didn’t make any sense at all.

All the Alphas Eddie had ever been with treated him the opposite. It was never good omega. It was always bad omega. Needy slut. Desperate whore. You’re just pathetic for it, aren’t you?

And sure, Eddie looked like the type who would be into that sort of thing, he’d admit. His whole persona kinda screamed I’m a brat, put me in my place. He didn’t look like an omega who wanted to be treated nicely, and he’d never corrected anybody who’d assumed so.

But he was that kind of omega. It actually stung sometimes—okay, every time—he was called names like that. Made him feel as worthless as a broken guitar string. The worst part was that his partners had never had any problem crossing the finish line, even if Eddie had gone limp.

So this, being called good? Being hot? Making Steve feel good? Being his baby…Shit, it was like nothing Eddie had ever experienced, and it was hitting him so hard he probably could have come from the affirmations alone. Eddie was making animal noises instead of actual words. There was a direct line from his ear to his heart to his dick. The prostate stimulation was now just a bonus. The cherry on top.

Steve dug his fingers into the spot he found and jackhammered them as Eddie whined and came between them. Steve kissed him once more before gently pulling his fingers out and pulling back. “I can’t wait to give you my knot.”

Eddie had never come so hard in his life, and as the pleasure center in his brain lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, it became Eddie’s sworn duty—his eternal vow—to make sure he was Steve’s good omega forever.

Eddie could barely kiss back, uncoordinated and panting. “No more waiting,” he swore.

Steve made a little show out of sucking Eddie’s slick from all three of his fingers. He rumbled at the taste. Afterward, he used his hand to push Eddie onto his back. There was a good amount of come on Eddie’s stomach, fresh and glistening. “Goddamn, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s last brain cell took a swan dive to its death. Steve was acting like he was a delectable treat. Steve liked Eddie’s taste. Eddie was good.

Eddie flopped back bonelessly against the mattress as Steve maneuvered him, hair that was now mostly dry splaying out on the pillow beneath it. He watched Steve with hearts in his eyes, his post-orgasm scent overpowering the room and almost consuming Steve’s. He felt like he was floating, but also—

“Holy fuck, Stevie, you’re gonna kill me,” Eddie said, completely breathless. Steve had leaned down and was eating his come. The look on his face was predatory and ravenous. He let out a rumbly growl like he was still starving. Eddie’s abs clenched, and his cock gave a valiant twitch, aftershocks wracking his body before settling again as Steve finished his meal. He grinned. “And what a sweet death it’ll be.”

No way he’d rather go.

Steve hadn’t tasted come before. Eddie’s was good; salty and sweet but not as syrupy as his slick. “Definitely not going to kill you, Bambi.” That nickname slipped out easily with Eddie’s long, skinny legs in the crooks of his arms.

Eddie laughed. Now that the edge was off, he felt relaxed and happy, though no less needy. He could make sure his Alpha was taken care of. He wanted to make Steve feel more than good. He wanted to make him feel great and amazing. Eddie spread his legs a little more and lifted his hips, presenting his dripping hole as much as the position would allow. He clenched his muscles purposefully so Steve could see it gape open and closed, smirking playfully at the reaction. “Shove that pretty cock in me. Go as hard as you want. I can really take it.”

Steve didn’t have to hold back any longer. He could let his Alpha out and let it take him over, take what it wanted. Eddie was still soft—his refractory period was a lot slower out of his heat cycle, but he had no doubt he’d get hard again before Steve popped his knot. Honestly, probably as soon as Steve slid home.

The vision in front of Steve felt like a dream. The view of Eddie’s wet and prepped hole was perfect. It felt tight around his fingers. He watched Eddie control himself, and Steve’s jaw dropped in awe. “Okay, so that… that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie grinned, a proud purr erupting from his chest simultaneously. He loved Steve’s reaction so much; how his face went slack and almost amazed. Eddie had done that to him.

Steve had to laugh in disbelief. He’d never been so turned on. He’d never had Eddie, so it made sense. Eddie was telling him he could… could go as hard as he wanted.

Steve was so hard. He didn’t want to hurt Eddie. He guided Eddie’s legs to wrap around him so he could take his cock. He made a noise as he touched himself to Eddie’s hole for the first time, eyes trained on the target. He had to thread himself inside an incredibly tight hole. His eyes widened in surprise as he pushed, and Eddie pulled him in.

“Christ.” He breathed through it. Hot, almost searing, pulsing pleasure surrounded him. All Eddie’s tight resistance would allow was a painfully slow descent. He was so tight it felt like he hadn’t even been prepped.

Eddie crossed his ankles, heels resting along the small of Steve’s back as Steve pressed against his waiting entrance. He was more than ready to be fucked, to be taken, for his ass to be claimed (for all of him to be claimed). It was a pleasurable surprise when there was no shoving. Steve went slow instead. Slow, slow, deliciously slow, filling Eddie up one thick inch at a time. With each push, Eddie let out a soft ah, head tossed back.

Eddie was fully hard again by the time Steve’s knot teased at his rim, rocking against him, and if he didn’t have self-control, tears might’ve sprung to his eyes at just how whole he suddenly felt. Like a fucking missing piece of him had finally slid into place, and Steve was that piece. Jesus Christ. How were his thoughts turning this fucking corny when he wasn't even in heat?

Steve fell forward and caged him in with his arms. Fucking face-to-face was new. Eddie didn’t do missionary. Usually, he’d just be bent over the nearest surface, standing, or on all fours somewhere. He was pretty well acquainted with rug burns and bruised knees. This was intimate.

Steve nudged Eddie’s nose sweetly with his own, then tilted his head back and let out a guttural moan. “Feels like you got me in a goddamn vice, Eddie.”

A small, overwhelmed smile touched Eddie’s lips.  The moan was deep, satisfied, and raised all the hair on Eddie’s arms.

This must have been Steve’s first time. It made sense. Female omegas didn’t have a sweet spot in their ass like guys did. Of course, that didn’t stop greedy Alphas from using that hole anyway, but Eddie was quickly learning Steve was considerate in bed. He probably hadn’t fucked any of his girlfriend’s asses. He was too sweet. The thought was oddly comforting. (Eddie’s head was fucked up, man, okay. He knew it.)

Eddie watched Steve’s face, enrapt, and pet his hands down Steve’s shoulders and chest, wanting to touch. Steve was a beautiful Alpha. Pleasure looked so damn good on him, and he deserved so much. Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. What had he done to deserve him?

There was absolutely no give for Steve’s knot yet. He was used to some. Certainly, Eddie had taken a knot, maybe not as big as his, though. The realization inflated Steve’s ego.

Moving got easier as Eddie adapted and stretched more for Steve as he started moving his hips. “Good omega, you’re so tight for me. You’ve probably never had a cock this big and thick.” Slick started pooling as if on cue, and it made Steve smile. “You’re getting ready for my knot.”

Steve could feel it when he really started fucking Eddie. Eddie was so wet it felt like he had gone into heat for Steve. Steve picked up the pace, rumble growling as he slammed in harder with every thrust, rocking his knot. Steve was feeling frantic, his heart racing and knot throbbing.

“I’ve had guys tell me their dicks were as big as yours,” Eddie replied with a hitched moan. He cracked a grin, toes still curled from the second good omega of the night. Eddie had never smiled or laughed this much during sex before. It was fun. The most fun he’d ever had with anyone. “Always a disappointment. But you’re… fuck, fuck! ” A deep thrust had Eddie spasming around Steve and adding shakily, “Really living up to your nickname, big boy.”

That was the last thing Eddie could say for a while. The mood shifted. His hands were pressed to the pillow on either side of his head, and his fingers interlaced with Steve’s as they went harder and faster until Steve was drilling into him.

Again, it was incredibly intimate. The most vulnerable Eddie had ever felt, and it had nothing to do with the pounding his ass was taking. He was more than naked. His soul was bare. Steve was staring into his eyes like Eddie was the center of his universe—like nothing else mattered. He didn’t think it was just his omega hormones that were being dramatic and romantic. Was it?

Steve didn’t advertise that he had a big dick outside of sex. Sure, he’d mention it, like he just had in context. Eddie calling him big boy always made him blush. He hadn’t fully realized until now it was because of his dick. Steve’s face was already hot; he was sure it was crimson now.

Eddie felt so good he was questioning his sexuality altogether. Of course, he’d admired other men, but fucking one—fucking Eddie—he didn’t know it could feel this good.

Steve didn’t have any complaints about his past, but he didn’t want to fuck anyone else after this. It couldn’t be his rut making him want to claim Eddie. Steve knew he loved and cared about Eddie. He thought Eddie was gorgeous and talented. He was fun and funny, and Steve always felt nauseous when Eddie spent the night out when they were on the road.

The following day, he’d always show up disheveled, alabaster skin bruised and looking worse for wear—almost like he had escaped something dangerous. Steve never liked it, and his Alpha would get snappy. He’d end up blaming his bitchiness on his need for his morning coffee.

Claiming the omega could put a stop to Eddie’s reckless behavior. Steve had had about enough of it after the stage dive tonight.

Eddie’s back bowed, and he squeezed Steve’s hands like they were the only things tethering him to the bed. Whimpering moans punched out of him. It felt so fucking good, his cock was slapping against his stomach, and tears did spring to Eddie’s eyes then just from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Knot me, please?” he begged, feeling that molten hot buzz building up inside him too fast to control. He was about to come again. “Sweetheart. Alpha. Steve. I—I’m ready.”

And he was ready, so ready that I fucking love you had almost slipped free. It was true. It was way too soon to say that. He didn’t want to scare Steve away. But he couldn’t stop his next instinct. Chin lifting, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His neck baring itself, begging to be bitten.

Eddie was begging for his knot. Steve could feel with his thrusts that Eddie was almost there. So was Steve. He’d been in pain, his knot and heart aching in sync.

Eddie bared his neck, and Steve dropped their gaze for the first time since they’d started fucking. He licked his lips. He knew he had to and that he was going to do it. Enough was enough, and Eddie was finally going to be his.

“It’s yours. I’m yours. You’re all fucking mine.” Steve squeezed Eddie’s hands because he was going to do it. Eddie was ready for it—ready for his bite and knot.

Eddie shuddered hard, moaning. He couldn’t believe his ears. His lucky, lucky ears. Steve was giving himself to Eddie, verbally claiming Eddie.

Steve leaned down and kissed the prettiest place for his mark to be forever. It was his favorite spot on Eddie’s neck; his hair could hide it, but part of it would always be on display.

Steve bared down, popped his knot and let out the most pleased, possessive, growly moan he didn’t know he had in him as he locked in and came harder than ever before.

Steve’s knot grew in Eddie. It filled him up, so full he could barely contain it, but he did, closing around it greedily. The noise Steve released as he came made Eddie feel like a prize Steve had won. He sounded victorious. He hadn’t even had to hunt. Eddie had submitted completely to him without being chased. He’d always been by Steve’s side waiting, after all.

Steve’s face buried in his neck, accepting Eddie’s offering. The skin broke under his canines, and Eddie cried out as Steve’s teeth sank deeply into him. It was painful, burning, white-hot stinging—but he loved it. He loved it so fucking much. He loved Steve so fucking much.

Steve tasted Eddie’s blood, signaling a successful claim. A rush of it hit his tongue, and he moaned. He sucked the wound gently and lapped his tongue over it for good measure, making it clean. He pulled back and admired it. It looked so fucking good on him. Steve had an omega now.

It felt like his heart was fluttering out of his chest. It was beating so fast from the amazing sex. Eddie did pop his cherry, literally. He was panting and sweating, his body lightly shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm and being tied to Eddie.

Eddie was going to remember this until the day he died. He was going to replay this memory whenever he could, was going to play Steve’s Alpha voice in his mind forever and ever and ever and ever and—

“Yours! Steve, I love you! ” he gasped. He came hard. Even harder than the first time.

Then he promptly passed out.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮❤️️✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Steve hadn’t gotten to touch Eddie’s cock, but clearly, he had come again. Steve was happy he hadn’t broken his promise. He was feeling a little bashful when Eddie told him he was his and that he loved him.

“I love you, too…” he managed to say, but Eddie hadn’t heard him.

Eddie was unconscious. Steve could’ve sworn his heart stopped. “Eddie!” he yelled, and immediately grabbed Eddie’s wrist to check his pulse because had his dick killed him?

Eddie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his eyes opened to Steve’s panicked face above him. "Whoa. Shit, did I just…”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Steve said, still wide-eyed, though part of him felt like dying laughing for thinking his dick was capable of committing murder.

Eddie cupped Steve's cheeks with both hands when he was lucid enough to. He laughed in disbelief, stroking the apples of them with his thumbs. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m okay. …Guess I’m not immune to that Steve Harrington fainting charm after all.”

Eddie tilted his chin up to kiss the Alpha (he couldn’t believe he was allowed to do that now) gently and languidly, tasting the sweet iron tang of his blood on Steve’s tongue.

Steve accepted the kiss because, yes, it would make everything better after the fright he had just experienced. It was kind of funny��or would be later when they told people the story of how they had become mates.

Eddie used the last dregs of his energy to roll them over so he was on top, straddling Steve’s knot—which still felt enormous and wonderful, and Eddie was already so addicted to it he was going to be knot-stupid for days. It would be a while before it went down and they unlocked, and he wanted Steve to be comfortable. He’d been holding himself on top of Eddie for a long time.

Steve gasped a little as the switch tugged his knot deliciously. He was happy to rest on his back and get to cup Eddie’s sweet ass. He petted it gently and smiled up at him. They were a hot mess, sticky and wet.

Eddie reached up to touch the marks on his neck with his fingertips. The marks that said Property of Steve. They were sore and throbbing in the best way. “Fuck,” he muttered.

He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them. He immediately zeroed in on Steve’s neck. Unmarred, pretty skin, waiting for a bite in return. Eddie’s gaze flicked up, and he found himself trapped under Steve’s. His face suddenly flamed as he remembered what he’d said before the world had gone black. I love you.

He felt shame, especially because he was riding such a high right now—his whole body was vibrating with his purr, giving away his feelings that had already been so thoroughly outed.

He wanted to apologize for his behavior, for offering his neck like that when Steve was in rut and not of full sound mind. He’d just wanted it so badly. It had been selfish.

The apology stuck in his throat. Eddie just couldn’t bring himself to say sorry. It wouldn't be genuine. He didn't feel sorry.

“I hope it’s okay… that I did that,” Steve said. “You don’t have to do it back right now. You’ll let me take you out when we get home, right?”

Steve was going to court the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie was fucking floored that one, Steve thought he might not be okay with having been bitten, and two, Steve thought he was worthy enough, respectable enough of an omega that he needed to be formally courted. Eddie never thought he’d be one of those omegas who would get to experience that. As a celebrity, sure, but as himself, as regular Eddie? No way.

He didn’t need any grand gestures—Steve staking his claim was more than enough—but Eddie would admit that it did make his dumb little heart flutter to think about it —just a tad.

“Of course I’ll go out with you, pretty, but you don’t have to go through the trouble of romancing me.” Eddie flashed Steve a smitten smile that showed off his set of canines, much shorter than the Alpha’s but no less sharp. “I’m kind of a sure thing.”

More than kind of. Why play coy now? His heart was in Steve’s hands.

He’d have to bite Steve for their bond to take. Otherwise, his marks would heal and start to fade in a few months. A one-sided claim. The last thing Eddie wanted was for Steve to think Eddie was rejecting him. There was no way, in any world, in any fucking universe where that would happen. It was actually hilarious how unlikely it was.

“I just want to wait a little while. When your rut is over, and you’ve had more time to think about it,” Eddie added in a softer tone.

While part of Eddie—an extremely large fucking portion—wanted to latch onto Steve’s neck like it was a chew toy and never let go, the sober part of him wanted Steve to have some time, with a clear head, to make sure he really did want this.

Steve was slowly coming out of the fog of his rut, but he already knew that being sober from his hormones wasn’t going to change how he felt about Eddie. Eddie could make it official right fucking now, and Steve would probably sing Hallelujah. He was frustrated Eddie had told him he didn’t have to go through any trouble. “I do, and I will go through as much trouble as I think you deserve. Which is a lot.”

Steve wanted to take him on dates, buy him things, and, most importantly, love, protect and respect him. It wasn’t lost on Steve when Eddie told him before they’d started that he didn’t want this to be casual.

“You don’t have to spend your heats alone either. You have an Alpha now, and I’m going to take care of you.” Steve would’ve been dramatic about pulling out the stops if they had put off the fucking part during his rut, but he did think courting was important. Like most things, he’d overcommitted and claimed Eddie as soon as his knot had popped. It was what they’d both wanted deep down. Steve wanted to give Eddie experiences he’d never had, and there would be no more throwing himself into crowds or running off with lousy Alphas.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured. He chewed on his bottom lip, filled with emotions. Emotions even bigger than the knot inside him. He didn’t believe he was deserving of it, of any of it, but Steve’s solid conviction was making him doubt that a teensy bit.

Nobody had ever wanted to take care of Eddie before. Fuck him, yeah, of course. But care for? That would be a significant change from his heat routine. “I’m going to take care of you, too,” Eddie promised.

He would. Even better than how he was taking care of Steve now. He had already been fiercely protective of the Alpha as his best friend, but with their friend barrier broken down (or levelled up), Eddie’s natural instinct would be to protect Steve and please him even more. Whenever Steve wanted or needed him.

Also, Eddie guessed he would be retiring the Turbo Knotter 3000—hopefully forever. Eddie should probably thank it for its years of faithful service. About a month ago, he had been looking at the new Turbo Knotter 4000 in a sex shop and had been planning on buying it soon. He was glad he hadn’t.

“It’s a good thing you never brought any of the Alphas you’ve been with around. I probably would’ve kicked their asses for not treating you like they should.” Steve knew they hadn’t, and it made him bitchy, witnessing his best friend getting mistreated. “Their loss,” he huffed.

Eddie couldn't repress his chuckle. Steve wanting to defend him was cute as hell but unnecessary. Smartly, Eddie didn't say what he was thinking—that they'd treated him fine, that it was normal for a guy like him to be slapped around during sex, never anything out of the ordinary.

In the past, he'd noticed a pattern of Steve’s bad moods swinging on the mornings after Eddie had been with someone. He’d be tense during soundcheck or snippy with everybody while they had breakfast. Eddie still didn't understand why it was a big deal, but he regretted upsetting the Alpha each time.

(He had a feeling Steve wouldn’t be very pleased if he ever found out tonight wasn’t the only time he’d passed out during sex. The other time, it had been after some erotic asphyxiation gone wrong. It had been unplanned, mostly unasked for, and after that night, Eddie had never tried it again. Or at least, he’d requested it not be done to him.)

Eddie had to kiss Steve again. More than just a need. It was vital. Eddie was amused and flattered to note Steve’s hands were still on his ass as he carefully leaned down.

“You’re just unreal, you know that?” Eddie murmured. His hair fell off his shoulders, curtaining each side of Steve’s face. He copied Steve’s move from earlier, giving him a gentle nuzzling, nose to nose, before kissing him thoroughly.

Steve’s hands navigated up from Eddie’s ass to his back as he kissed back with a deep, satisfied rumble. He rubbed it gently. Eddie smelled like him now. There would be no mistaking that he wasn’t Steve’s. It was incredible. It almost didn’t feel real. Could this be the best dream he’d ever had? If so, he didn’t want to wake up.

“Goddamn angel.” Eddie smiled at him. Steve was still wearing his stage makeup, looking particularly angelic, if not innocent, as he blinked up at Eddie in gold. “Do you wanna come home with me tomorrow? To Hawkins?”

Besides the fact that Eddie would probably (definitely) be climbing the walls and biting his nails down to the bone if they were states apart in the next few days, he knew Wayne would love to see Steve. Especially if they were going to be mated in the near future. Wayne already considered Steve to be like his son, so Eddie was sure it’d go over well and his uncle would be happy for them.

Maybe it would be better if Eddie gave Steve the space alone to think, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to curl up in the jet with his Alpha, then take him to their old puphood haunts and kiss him silly all over their small-minded little town. He had also long since bought Wayne a house to replace his trailer so they wouldn’t even have to sleep in Eddie’s old twin bed.

Steve laughed a little and blushed. What he had done to Eddie wasn’t angelic, but hearing Eddie say something so sweet about him made him smile. “Yes. I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” Steve said honestly. He didn’t want Eddie going anywhere without him either. “You’re my omega.”

Fuck, that was music to Eddie’s ears. Steve’s omega. “I am,” Eddie confirmed.

Steve gently tucked Eddie’s hair behind his ears so he could see his face. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

The compliments weren’t going to stop now that they’d fucked. Now, he could just say what he was thinking.

Eddie’s purr ratcheted up even more, though he complained with a quiet, “ Steeeve,” because he didn’t know what to do with himself. How to act. He’d never purred so much in his life. He was going to get a sore throat.

“It’ll be fun to go home. I want to take you on a date to the place we met.” Going back to The Hideout would be romantic, but it was probably still a dive.

Going on a date would be fun. They’d made a lot of memories at The Hideout. Eddie would never forget the first time he saw Steve’s face in the crowd, how preppy and out of place he’d looked surrounded by drunks in ripped jeans and leather, watching the band play—watching Eddie. But he’d fallen into place with them so quickly. The perfect fit.

Eddie smirked. “I fully expect you to get up on the stage and serenade me,” he joked. “Better get busy writing me a love song.”

Steve’s heart fluttered. “I think serenading you is all I’ve ever been doing.” He laughed at the realization. He loved to sing, but seeing Eddie’s reaction to him doing it almost brought the same amount of pleasure. “It’s funny that you think I’ll have to write one and don’t already have one up my sleeve.”

Steve had written about Eddie before, but now he had a hell of a lot more material.

Somehow, Steve had managed to turn his joke into the most romantic thing Eddie had ever heard. He didn't even have a response. Damn Steve and his smoothness.

“Its been so long since I’ve been home,” Steve added. “I think the pups will be happy to see us, though I guess none of them are really pups anymore.” Steve laughed and rubbed his hands over his face. He was always going to feel like the pupsitter.

Eddie’s smirk softened into a smile. Steve’s pups. Not his biological ones, but basically adopted. Eddie had herded them into the fold, but Steve was the one who’d taken care of them like the protective Alpha mother he was.

“I wanna fuck you at skull rock, too.”

“Oh, the famous skull rock.” Eddie turned his head and kissed Steve’s palm, then nipped it playfully. He batted his eyelashes. “Take me to prom, too? I’ll wear your corsage.”

He was sure his prom experience, had he had one, would’ve been much more fun with Steve on his arm.

“Yes, that skull rock. The one that I made famous.” Steve leaned up to nuzzle Eddie and nibbled on him for the palm bites he received. God, he was so insatiable now that he had gotten a taste. “Of course I’ll take you to prom! Good thing I got that pesky virginity thing out of the way. We’ll probably both be crowned prom kings.”

It was a fun fantasy to think about. He’d taken Nancy to prom, and he was crowned Prom King, but Tammy Thompson had been Prom Queen—which reminded him that Robin was going to fucking die when she found out that he’d claimed Eddie.

“I’m okay with being a queen,” Eddie said. He sat up, making them both groan, and motioned to his ass. “Clearly.”

Steve’s knot was fully deflated now, and Eddie’s legs were starting to go tingly from being folded so long. Eddie slowly lifted himself off. He didn’t want to be empty, but he had no doubt it wouldn't be for long.

Steve groaned softly when Eddie dismounted. He felt at home inside of him, but his knot had deflated, so they weren’t tied anymore. They had just been chatting away in the afterglow anyway.

He watched Eddie gracefully saunter over to the bathroom door even though Steve’s come was trickling down his legs. It was a sight for his sore eyes. He couldn’t wait to fill him up again and again.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, turning on his best British accent. “I’m filthy, your highness. Does the king care to join me for a royal bathing?”

Steve grinned at the invitation and leapt up to join him in the bathroom. He gathered Eddie’s hair to the side so they could see Steve’s mark on him in the mirror. Steve rumbled. He was so proud of it and Eddie.

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle protectively as Eddie checked it out. Steve squeezed him tightly and kissed all over his bite. “Mine.” 

[littlemousejelly]

you make me wanna (make me wanna give it all to you)

relationship: Kara Zor-El/Lena Luthor

rating: E

word count: 7.2k

Summary:

She slips her hand between Lena’s legs—still at a publicly appropriate height—and gently draws an aimless pattern along the inside of her thigh.

The hitch of Lena’s breath sounds like a thunderclap to Kara and she stiffens, fingers stilling as her ears heat up.

She thinks maybe she shouldn’t keep touching her while they’re in a room full of other people.

OR

Kara's maybe more than a little obsessed with Lena in thigh-high stockings.

(read on ao3)

Kara really doesn’t think she’s super obsessed with how Lena dresses or anything.

Okay, sure, sometimes Lena will wear something that makes this molten-hot feeling pool in her belly, filling her up with such a sweet, melty ache that she wants nothing more than to rush home and fill Lena up until she falls apart just as sweet and melty.

But it's not like she's got an obsession.

It's just that Lena’s so ridiculously pretty that Kara has a revelatory, earth-shaking, breath-taking moment of that can’t be right every time she sees her. Which, again, has nothing to do with being obsessed with the clothes Lena wears, no. It's all because Lena is that pretty.

Case in point, the fact that just the other day, Lena opens the door for her—

(And this is an aside, but relevant: It’s the door to Kara’s own apartment, and more importantly, she opens the door from the inside. Because Kara had given her a key the month before, since Lena’s welcome whenever! And they haven’t talked about taking the next step and living together yet, but sometimes it feels like they already are?)

—wearing black leggings and Kara’s well-loved, gray National City University sweater (her favorite thing to steal and wear, and not-so-secretly Kara’s favorite thing to see her in). The thick glasses she trades her contacts for once she’s in for the night are perched on her nose, her hair is in a messy bun, and her lower lip is caught between her perfect teeth before she smiles a million-watt smile, even though it’s just Kara.

The hamster in Kara’s brain stalls out and gets flung around its wheel. Kara loses all brain function and just stares at Lena because, well, that can't be right. How does someone just look like that?

“Baby,” Lena says, an amused twinkle in her eye. "You’re gonna catch flies if you don’t pick your jaw up off the floor.”

It takes a couple long seconds before Kara’s brain hamster starts running again, but once it does, she nods quickly, shuts her mouth, and steps into their apartment.

And then she doesn’t really stop moving in, barely pausing to take her shoes off. She just toes off one shoe and then the other as she continues forward to wrap Lena up in her arms and press her into the couch cushions.

And maybe that isn’t the best defense for Kara not obsessing over Lena’s clothes since Kara really likes seeing Lena in that sweater, but it’s- it’s not about the sweater. It’s about the fact that it’s Lena wearing it, looking soft and warm and pretty.

It’s always about how unbelievably pretty Lena is.

So when Kara picks Lena up for a movie date on a rare occasion where she isn't already at Kara’s apartment and the penthouse elevator doors open to reveal Lena wearing a dark gray, off-the-shoulder sweater French-tucked into denim cut-offs and black thigh-high stockings, she crushes her phone to dust.

Not because of the way the stocking fabric seems to cling like spidersilk to Lena’s thighs. Not because of the sliver of skin that's visible in the gap between stocking and shorts and how it makes Kara want to run her tongue along Lena's legs and slowly peel them off.

It's none of those things, honest. She could be wearing a potato sack and Kara would still lose her mind because she’s just that devastatingly gorgeous.

“Buhhh,” Kara says, before she starts to step off the elevator, intent on pressing Lena against the nearest surface to touch her lovely thighs—and maybe some other things too—but Lena stops her with a hand on her chest.

She tuts, then says, “I know that look, Kara, and you are not getting off this elevator. Movie, remember? At the theater you love because it’s got reclining seats and actual food you can order?”

Kara frowns because Lena’s thighs are right there and the couch and kitchen counter are also right there, and they've got a half hour of previews before the movie starts so they might manage to not be (too) late… but then she sighs because, damn it, she does love that theater. And she actually enjoys watching previews.

Lena smiles when she sees the result of her internal debate settle on her face.

“That’s what I thought," she says, stepping into the elevator. “Come on, you horndog, take me to the movies.”

And before Kara can even open her mouth to let out an affronted noise at being called a horndog, Lena leans up to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth and Kara forgets why she was feeling affronted in the first place.

“We also need to get you a new phone, I see,” Lena says, staring at the phone guts on the floor.

Kara flushes and wipes the remnants of shattered phone dust off her hand before reaching out to intertwine their fingers.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, squeezing her hand and nodding at Lena's socks. “I wasn’t expecting those.”

"My legs?"

"Wh— No. Your, uh. Those, thigh... sock… things," Kara finishes weakly before noticing the twinkle of laughter in Lena's eyes. "Oh. You're pulling my leg."

"Just a bit, sorry," Lena says, sounding absolutely not-sorry.

"You!" Kara pivots and wraps her arms around Lena's waist to pull her close, blowing a raspberry into her neck just as she digs her fingers into her sides and starts tickling her.

Lena shrieks with laughter and attempts to squirm away but Kara holds her fast, keeping her revenge-tickle up for a little longer before granting her reprieve. She drops her hands to mold them to Lena's hips and nuzzles affectionately at her neck with a contented hum.

"Love you," she says, muffled by the way she's got her nose and mouth squished against Lena's skin.

"Love you," Lena returns softly, reaching up to scratch lightly at her scalp.

Kara leans into her hand, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in her hair, but then Lena's shoulders start shaking with laughter.

"What?" Kara asks, pulling her head back to look at Lena. "What's so funny?"

"We didn't push the button," she says, gently rapping her knuckles against Kara's head and reaching out to press the button for the lobby. "We've been standing in a stationary elevator."

Kara barks out a short laugh as the elevator finally starts its descent. "Okay, well I was distracted. What's your excuse?"

"I was distracted by you being distracted!"

"You can't play that card, that's the one I played. You're just copying my answer!"

Lena sticks her tongue out at her and the swell of affection Kara feels is so strong that she has no choice but to dip forward to kiss her cheek, grinning so hard that the kiss is more teeth than lip. She pulls away after and throws an arm around her shoulders.

"You excited for the movie? I've heard good things. Lots of arm, which I'm sure you'll enjoy," Kara says, bumping her hip against Lena's.

Lena doesn't rise to the bait, however, and leans into her harder, wrapping her arms around Kara's waist.

"I'm just happy we get to go out together today," she says after a moment in one of her softest, sweetest voices. "It feels like we've both been so busy lately and I've missed you."

And that's just—

"Not fair," Kara blurts, before she can stop it from slipping out.

Lena can't just admit that while she’s wearing what she's wearing and expect Kara to not be incredibly affected by it, to not want to just say to hell with the movie and stay in and cuddle and kiss and touch a lot. Kara's only alien.

"What's not fair?" Lena asks, brow furrowed.

"It's— You can't say something that sweet, looking that good. It's not fair. I'm trying to take you on a date but you're making it hard for me to not push you up against the nearest surface," Kara pouts.

Lena hums in thought.

"Is that so… Thigh-highs, huh?” she muses quietly.

And maybe Kara should have recognized the tone of her voice. It's the one she uses when she's happened across something incredibly interesting and is secreting the knowledge away for later, the one usually accompanied by a cat-that-got-the-cream glitter in her eye, but Kara doesn't notice it because she's subtly trying to admire Lena’s legs.

In fact, she doesn't notice a lot of things.

Like how Lena adjusts her thigh-highs deliberately slowly when she gets out of the car, slipping her thumbs just under the elastic to smooth out the band, fingers splaying and brushing across soft fabric as she drags her thumbs until they meet behind her thigh and then back around again. (Which ultimately brings Kara's attention back to the way they cling, and her hands twitch involuntarily as she imagines slipping her own thumbs under the elastic to tease the skin underneath.)

Like how Lena keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs when they lean back in their reclined seat. (And it’s not even that big a deal, but her thighs keep squishing together and they look so soft.)

Like how Lena pillows her head on Kara’s shoulder and slings her stockinged legs across Kara's lap when they inevitably cuddle up together, an open invitation for Kara to touch them. (So touch she does, trailing her fingers indulgently over and over along the tempting sliver of skin that had captivated her before.)

Needless to say, Kara is distracted during the movie. Distracted to the point she doesn't even order food. Lena’s soft noises and the slightly elevated rate of her pulse as Kara touches her thighs are much more interesting to listen to than whatever’s being said on-screen, her thighs much more interesting to touch than theater food.

She does her best to keep the touching family-friendly, never veering too high and mostly keeping her fingers to the top and outside of her thighs, but can’t help but stray a little towards the end of the movie. She slips her hand between Lena’s legs—still at a publicly appropriate height—and gently draws an aimless pattern along the inside of her thigh.

The hitch of Lena’s breath sounds like a thunderclap to Kara and she stiffens, fingers stilling as her ears heat up.

She thinks maybe she shouldn’t keep touching her while they’re in a room full of other people.

But then Lena shuffles and squeezes her thighs together, effectively trapping Kara’s hand where it is, with the added bonus of providing a little pressure between her legs. At least, that’s what Kara presumes since she lets out a quiet whine and leans into her harder. And she’s not about to be inappropriate with Lena in a movie theater, but… there’s nothing wrong with a little teasing, right?

Clearly not, as Lena squirms again and reaches out to stroke at the skin of Kara’s forearm, relaxing her thighs so Kara can move her hand again.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, voice quiet even though the loud movie theater audio makes her inaudible to anyone else.

Kara hears her loud and clear.

She starts tracing little swirls along Lena's inner thigh again, hyperfocused on the way each stroke coaxes out a slightly different noise. After a while, she grows bold, slipping her fingers just under the elastic of Lena's thigh-highs then dragging them up until she can slide them beneath the hem of her shorts.

Lena makes a sound low in her throat and her fingers press into Kara's forearm, not painfully, but with enough pressure to spur her on.

And, here’s the thing: Kara really isn’t touching Lena with sexual intent. She’s just a tactile person and loves the feel of Lena’s skin under her fingertips, and Lena has stated on more than one occasion how she doesn’t mind it, that she actually finds it incredibly comforting when Kara touches her absent-mindedly. So this isn’t— Kara isn’t running her fingers all over Lena’s thighs because she’s trying to turn either of them on.

(Especially not in a movie theater.)

But she can’t deny that that’s exactly what’s happening to her right now. She feels restless. Tingly, sparking heat lances through her body as Lena squirms and sighs against her, all because she's lightly trailing her fingers over the skin of her thighs.

Lena squeezes her legs together again briefly, and bites at her lower lip.

“Is the movie over yet?” she mutters, before subtly rolling her hips up as much as she can with the way her legs are angled over Kara’s thighs, causing Kara’s fingers to slip the slightest bit higher.

"Yeah," Kara says, not even looking at the movie screen. She hasn't paid attention to the movie at all, really, not since Lena put her legs in Kara's lap and let her touch them.

"It totally isn't," Lena says breathily, mouth quirking up. She shifts again, sitting up slightly so she can comfortably nuzzle into Kara's neck, and the press of Lena's soft lips against the skin of her neck has her jerking her hips up with a stifled groan.

"It isn't," she agrees, voice strained as she grips at Lena's thigh and struggles to keep from bucking again. "But it should be. Are movies usually this long? They shouldn't be this long. The movie should be over. It's illegal to keep us here like this."

And apparently that's funny, because Lena muffles her laugh into her neck, sort of. That's what Kara thinks she does? It's like she was gonna lick up her neck but got sidetracked when Kara said something amazingly witty, because what she does instead is open her mouth and press her tongue against her, slippery wet, and laugh just like that. Her breath gusts out in warm little puffs around her tongue and a shiver runs up Kara's back. An insistent throb starts up between her legs, and Lena knows that her neck is a weak spot, so the fact that she's doing that is very illegal.

Lena takes pity on her when she whines unhappily and pulls her tongue back into her mouth before rubbing her smile against her neck apologetically.

"There's… nothing actually keeping us here, you know," Lena says. "We can go anytime we want, if we so choose."

Kara’s hand twitches where she’s resting it against Lena’s thigh.

“We could, couldn’t we?” she says, but then she shakes her head because, Nope, no. She refuses to be the couple that walks out of what's probably a really good movie because they couldn't go two hours without touching each other.

Lena tilts her head up to kiss just under her jaw, sensing her resolve.

“But we’re not going to,” she supplies.

“Nah,” Kara says, turning to press her lips gently to Lena’s forehead. “This is a date, and I’m a gentleman."

The irony of that statement is not lost on them, what with the hand she still has between Lena's thighs, but Kara keeps her hand still and they manage to behave for the rest of the movie.

—

"Wow, what a movie!" Kara says, swinging Lena's hand exuberantly as they exit the theater half an hour later.

"I have absolutely no clue what happened," Lena admits.

"Neither do I!" Kara says happily, taking the opportunity granted by the upswing of their joined hands to press a kiss to Lena’s thumb. “I’m starving, let’s get something to eat.”

Lena rolls her eyes good-naturedly and allows herself to be led back to the car.

—

"I thought- I thought we were going to stop somewhere to eat?" Lena asks breathlessly, back arching.

"Mm, yeah," Kara says, popping her head up from where she'd been sucking a hickey to the side of Lena's breast. She continues plucking at the hard nipple of her other breast, tugging lightly at her piercing as she admires how attractive Lena looks with her bra and sweater rucked high on her chest, ribs expanding with every gasping breath she takes, dark red hickeys splotching across her flushed skin. Beautiful.

She dips her head to lick out against one of the purpling bruises, almost forgetting herself in the taste and feel of Lena's skin again before she tears herself away and pats her on the nipple.

"Chop chop!" she says lightly, patting the other nipple for symmetry's sake. "Put your clothes on, baby. I'm hungry."

"Oh my god…" Lena says, wrestling her bra and sweater back down as she sits up and nudges Kara upright. "Did you just pat my nipples?"

"Sure did! They’re my favorite. The absolute loveliest."

Lena sighs a long-suffering sigh and puts her hands on the shoulders of the front seats to haul herself into the passenger seat. Kara lets out a pleased noise, enjoying the way Lena’s thighs look flexing against her stockings as she moves back into the front of the car, then follows suit, giving Lena a quick peck on the lips before relocating her car keys and starting the ignition.

“Okay, food for realsies this time,” she says brightly, placing her hand high on Lena’s thigh.

Lena’s breath hitches and Kara decides that they’re getting fast food.

—

Lena smacks Kara’s hands away and Kara whines unhappily.

“No,” Lena says. "You’re not touching me with burger hands. Wash those first.”

Kara frowns bigly. She can feel how big and frowny it is, the corners of her mouth dragging down towards the ground like they’re physically weighed down by her disappointment and sadness, and she hopes Lena feels at least a little sorry for putting such a big frown on her face.

“But Lenaaa,” she tries.

“No ‘buts’, Kara,” Lena retorts, batting Kara’s wandering hands away again.

“I would've behaved,” Kara grumbles, pouting as she gets up off the couch to go wash her hands and throw their wrappers away. “Just wanted to kiss you a little.”

She can hear Lena snort from the living room, even over the sound of running water and her furious hand-scrubbing.

“It’s never just ‘kissing a little’, baby. We both know that.”

Kara grins. It’s not her fault Lena is so sensitive and makes the absolute sweetest noises for her.

She dries her hands and zips back out, plopping down on the couch with her hands out for Lena to inspect.

“I’m clean, I’m clean I’m clean I’m clean, can I please kiss you now?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

Lena pretends to consider, but Kara can see the twinkle in her eye that means she’s already won. Even still, she turns Kara’s hands this way and that, taking her fingers between her own and stroking up and down their length with an appreciative sound, rubbing at the delicate webbing between them, trying and failing to bite back a smile as Kara goes quiet quiet at her indulgent ministrations.

“Okay, yeah,” she eventually breathes, when Kara swears Lena must be able to feel her pulse in her fingertips. “You can kiss me.”

Kara surges forward, linking their fingers together and pulling Lena’s arms above her head as she pushes her back into the couch cushions.

Lena lets out a surprised squeak, but Kara can see her pupils dilating as she licks wet wet wet at her red lips.

Kara leans in, stopping just before they touch. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” she whispers, feeling the phantom brush of Lena’s lips against hers.

“Mhm,” Lena breathes, thighs squeezing together. "Yes, please."

Kara smiles and closes the last bit of distance between them, sighing happily when she finally feels Lena's lips under hers, feels the tiny, shuddering breath she lets out as she sweetly parts her lips for Kara to lick in.

It always makes Kara feel like a million fireflies are lighting up inside her when she kisses Lena, like all the love she's got amalgamates and brightens her up from the inside out, until she feels like all that giddy, loving light is escaping from her pores. Even sitting out in the sun for a couple hours doesn’t make her feel as brilliant as one kiss from Lena does.

Kara slides her tongue slowly, wetly, against Lena's and her answering throaty moan makes Kara's head spin so hard her hips shudder helplessly downwards. But that only makes Lena jerk against the way Kara’s hands are keeping hers pinned to the cushions and roll her hips up and suck at Kara’s tongue like a lollipop.

Kara groans and humps into her again, and again, trying to keep her head from flying off, trying to not be really, embarrassingly close already even though they’re both still fully dressed and all Lena’s doing is sucking on her tongue.

But the pressure and wet suction of Lena’s mouth; the slick slide of her tongue; the little, hungry noises she makes as she tugs and tugs and tugs like she’s trying to take Kara as deep as she can to show how devoted she is, how ready she is, how good she is—

It all drives Kara absolutely wild because she's just so perfect.

Kara pulls away with a gasp, pressing their foreheads together, breath mingling hot and damp in the space between them, hips still mindlessly rocking down to meet Lena’s as she pants.

“H- hold on, sorry,” she says, flushing when it comes out way more breathless than she intends.

Lena nods patiently, turning her head and nuzzling at Kara’s cheek while she waits for her to calm down.

“You’re not even the one who got felt up at the theater, baby,” she muses quietly.

Kara nods, because, yeah, she’s not wrong about that. But, god.

She breathes in through her nose and holds it for three beats, attempting to Calm Down even as she makes no effort to actually stop the way she's grinding into Lena.

Eventually, once she can think past the pleasure slinging low in her hips, she tilts her head to fit their lips together again in a soft brush of lip against lip. It's a chaste kiss, but Kara still sinks into it, releasing one of Lena's hands to palm at her breast.

Lena eagerly arches under her and Kara swallows the breathy sound she makes, resolving to get her act together. Lena's been so, so good—so patient even with Kara's hands all over her—and she deserves to feel good twenty minutes ago. So, she brushes her thumb across Lena's breast, feeling for her nipple through her sweater and bra and humming happily when she finds the ball bearings of her piercing.

Lena lets out a desperate little noise, legs falling open as much as the couch allows. Kara smiles against her lips, sliding her hand further down until she can press the heel of her palm up between her legs.

Lena's foot drops to the floor with a soft thump and she uses the leverage to roll her hips into Kara's hand with a quiet whimper.

"Please," she whispers and Kara feels her neck grow hot.

"Okay, baby."

She unbuttons Lena's shorts and slowly drags the zipper down, listening for the hitch in her breathing.

Lena doesn't disappoint—she never disappoints—breath stuttering out when Kara eases her hand down the front of her shorts and presses two fingers up against the damp fabric of her underwear.

"Cute," Kara murmurs, and Lena squirms beneath her, cheeks flushed, back arching to push her breast more fully into Kara's palm. It's so lovely—Lena's so lovely—that Kara has no choice but to stroke along the patch of wet for a while longer, just to draw it out, before finally pulling away to slip her hand back down past the waistband of her underwear and rub the pads of her fingers directly over Lena's swollen clit.

Lena whines, teeth sinking into a kiss-bruised lip, pleading eyes flitting over Kara's face, searching, entreating.

Kara circles Lena's clit a couple more times before pushing lower, fingertips nudging at her entrance and drenching in her excitement, lifting her other hand to cup her cheek.

Lena releases her lower lip with a shaky sigh and Kara skims her thumb over it.

"Kara," Lena says, all air, lips brushing at her thumb, hips jogging up into her other hand, and Kara just grins because she knows. Slips her thumb past parted lips, rocks in in in until she's filled Lena up with two fingers in her cunt and a thumb in her mouth, until Lena's eyes are rolling back as she shudders and clenches and sucks.

"Fuck, you're good," Kara rasps, and Lena tightens around the fingers inside her, whimpering around the thumb pressing at her tongue.

Kara leans in to pepper Lena's face with tiny kisses. "Let me know when you're ready," she mumbles, nosing at a warm cheek.

Lena immediately lifts her hips to meet her hand, tongue slicking wet and greedy against her thumb, letting Kara know she's ready ready.

The breath gusts right out of her when Kara pulls her fingers out and thrusts back in again, a shuddering gasp tearing from her throat as she eagerly takes the stretch. She's hot and eager, and the insistent tug of her cunt every time Kara presses in and bumps at her throbbing clit reveals just how close she is already, just how long she's been patiently waiting on the razor's edge for Kara to take care of her.

"You've been so good, haven't you?" Kara asks.

Lena clenches hard, teeth closing around Kara's thumb. "Please," she whimpers, although it sounds more like 'leazhe with her mouth filled as it is.

"You've been such a good girl for me, haven't you?" Kara says again, punctuating her words by thrusting with extra force.

"Kara—"

"I want to hear it from your lips, baby." Kara leans in to kiss the corner of her mouth, then speaks her next words into her flushed cheek. "I want you to tell me how good you've been while I'm filling you up."

"Fuck," Lena gasps, eyes glassy, back arching higher with every hint of pressure against her clit. "'ve been so good for you. Please, please— I've been a good girl. Been good. I—"

She chokes off with a whine when Kara curls her fingers on a particularly heavy thrust, palm mashing against her clit.

"Yeah, you have," Kara agrees. "You're always so sweet."

A sympathetic shiver ripples through her when Lena recklessly jerks her hips up again, trying to get closer, to take her fingers deeper.

“Bet you'll sound extra sweet when you come for me."

Lena lets out a desperate, hiccuping moan. Then, with her tongue dragging against the thumb in her mouth, it only takes a few more deep strokes for her to fall apart on Kara's fingers, thighs clamping tight and cunt clenching rhythmically as her teeth dig into Kara's thumb.

"There you go, baby. You did so well," Kara murmurs, leaning in and pressing her smile to Lena's sweat-damp temple when she tightens around her fingers. "You're perfect."

She waits for Lena's breathing to even out and for the clenching of her body to slow to light flutters before she frees her thumb and eases her fingers out, prompting a quiet hitching breath. She wipes them on her underwear as best she can with the awkward angle then pulls her hand out of her shorts.

Lena's cheeks are flushed, her hair's all over the place, her nose and forehead are shiny with exertion, and she's beautiful.

"I love you," Kara says, kissing the tip of Lena's sweaty nose.

"Mm," Lena hums drowsily. "Love you, too."

"Gonna fall asleep on me?" Kara asks, nudging her smile against the apple of her cheek.

"Under you, yeah."

Kara laughs and snags a blanket off the arm of the couch behind Lena's head. She throws it over them, then carefully drapes herself over Lena, smiling when she snakes her arms up to wrap low around her waist.

"Who needs a weighted blankie when you've got Supergirl," Kara says.

Lena huffs out a quiet laugh and squeezes her tight.

---

Kara sort of forgets about how much she loves seeing Lena in thigh-high stockings.

Lena looks good in anything—and in absolutely nothing, of course—so after that first time, Kara doesn't think about the thigh-highs. It's always lingering there in the back of her mind, but it's just not something she actually, truly, really stops to think about.

It isn't, until it is.

She walks into her bedroom after work on an otherwise ordinary Thursday evening and finds Lena surrounded by lit candles, lying prone in the middle of her bed. Her legs are bent at the knee with her feet up in the air and she's completely naked except for the candy apple-red of her thigh-high stockings.

Kara almost walks right out again, half-convinced she's just walked into the wrong apartment, half-convinced she's fallen asleep at the office and is now having a sex dream.

"Uh, hello?" she says around a dry throat, as good a greeting as any.

Lena smirks at her and licks her lips.

"Hello," she returns. "I've been waiting for you to get back."

"Yeah?"

Lena rolls her eyes, propping her chin up on her palm.

"Yes, baby. I'm lying in bed naked for you. Are you gonna come do something about it?"

Kara stumbles a step further into the bedroom.

"What… what's the occasion?"

Lena pauses, pretending to consider, then drops her hand down on top of the other and presses her cheek to her flat arms.

"Nothing," she says simply, a girlish giggle hiding in her voice. "Just wanted to do something fun on a— What day is it?"

Kara swallows hard and lifts her wrist to look down at her very-analog watch.

"It's…"

Her watch face only tells her it's some time after six so she racks her brain and tries to remember which day the little green marker on her calendar had been under.

"Thursday?" she mostly-guesses.

"Just wanted to do something fun on a Thursday," Lena amends, eyes sparkling with laughter.

Kara drops her messenger bag on the ground and takes another couple of steps until she's standing right next to the bed. She reaches down to tug her button-up out of its tuck. "What did you have in mind?"

"Thought maybe you could put your cock on and I could ride you," Lena says.

Kara goes stock still, fingers going limp around the handful of cotton-blend fabric bunched in her hand, shirt still mostly tucked. The sound of Lena’s voice—lilting and lovely as she says something so filthy that the tips of her ears heat up—makes her shiver with preemptive excitement.

"Okay, yeah," she breathes, redirecting her attention towards undoing her belt.

"Great," Lena says, sitting up and revealing the harness lying next to her, already fitted with a sizable dick. Kara bites the inside of her cheek to hide her smile.

Her wonderful, gorgeous, brilliant, ever-prepared girlfriend.

"C'mere, baby," Lena murmurs, and Kara realizes that her fingers have stalled out again, the extra leather length of her belt looping goofily out of her pants where it's still tucked into her belt loops.

She lets her hands drop limply to her sides, then chews at her lower lip as she watches Lena slowly undo her belt, feeling each tug and yank as Lena nimbly loosens her belt like a teasing stroke against her clit. By the time Lena's fingering the button of her pants with one hand and sliding the zipper down with the other, Kara's already breathing hard, nostrils flaring as she tries to keep her hips from swaying forward into her hands.

Lena only smiles, red lips curling dangerously.

Kara shivers, suddenly noticing just how close her mouth is to her—

"What’re you thinking about, Kara?" Lena asks suddenly, and Kara snaps her eyes up to meet hers, blinking quickly.

"Nothing!"

Lena slides a warm palm up the inside of her thigh until her thumb is nudging lightly between Kara's legs.

"So, not thinking about fucking my mouth?" she asks, voice innocent. It's a direct contrast to the way she rubs her knuckle up against her and Kara almost doubles over.

"Jesus, Lena," she wheezes, and Lena laughs and pulls her hand away.

"I'll behave," Lena says, though they both know she won't. "Now hurry up and take your pants off so I can make you feel good."

Kara stops dallying. She undoes the button on her chinos, shoves them down, and steps out of them. She's about to push her underwear down too when Lena lets out an appreciative sound. She lifts Kara's button-up and has her hold it out of the way, hands finding their way back to her hips and smoothing over her dinosaur-print boxer briefs.

"These're cute," she murmurs. "Soft."

And then she leans forward and nuzzles indulgently at the front of them, hands squeezing at Kara's ass.

Kara's hips shudder reflexively and she bites back a groan, almost certain she can feel the way Lena's rubbing her smile against the front of her boxer briefs.

"H-hey," she doesn't stutter. "Baby…"

Lena simply hums, hands squeezing one last time before sliding up so her fingers can slip just below the band of her underwear. She moves dangerously from nuzzling to hot, open-mouthed kisses and Kara whines, hips pressing forward, blinking hard.

"Hhhey," she tries again, fist clenching around her shirt.

"Hi, hello, hey," Lena says sweetly, smiling up at her. And then she yanks her boxer briefs down and dips in to take her into her mouth, tongue hot and slick against Kara's twitching clit.

"Fuck," Kara gasps, free hand twisting into Lena's soft hair. "Oh fuck."

Lena slides her hands up to cup the back of Kara's thighs and keep her close.

"You’re so hard for me," she mumbles before she goes right back to sucking at her, and Kara feels her soul trying to escape.

She lets her indulge for as long as she can handle it, but the moment the ball of heat in her belly goes from gooey and pliable to a stiff, tensing thing, she has to pull away from Lena's mouth, hips shuddering.

"Sorry," she says, sifting her fingers through the hair at Lena's temple as she tries to ignore the throbbing between her legs. "Sorry, I'm sensitive. Close."

Lena looks up at her with eyes swallowed by pupil, lips and chin and cheeks smeared with wetness. She licks her lips with a pleased noise.

"You wanna come?" she asks, and the sound of her voice, scratchy with want, sends heat dancing up Kara's spine. She barely stifles a needy whine.

"Yeah," she manages. "Yeah, I really wanna. But not like this."

Lena's pretty gray-green eyes flick up to meet hers again and she nods, backing off. She reaches for the harness and passes it to her before leaning back on her hands to watch her step out of the boxers bunched at her ankles and into the harness, eyes flashing appreciatively as she tightens the straps.

The base nudges against her ever so slightly, but more than anything, the solid weight of her cock bobbing between her legs feeling comfortable and sexy and right has Kara swallowing hard.

"All good?" Lena asks, reaching out and gently running a finger along her length.

Kara bites her lip, not quite managing to muffle her moan when she feels that light touch, a shock of pleasure sparking through her. Her hips sway forward, instinctively chasing it, but it’s almost too good fucking into the air like that and she has to suck in a sharp breath and straighten up again.

After another deep bracing breath, Kara nods and crawls onto the bed. She immediately attempts to push Lena down and straddle her, but Lena gently stops her with a hand to her shoulder.

She smiles, red lips curving up.

"I'm on top," she says, voice low as she urges Kara down instead. "I'm riding, remember?"

Kara flops back against the pillows and remembers all right.

Lena straddles her easily, doesn't give her time to breathe, or think, just wraps her fingers around her cock and guides it until the tip of it is sliding between her legs to nudge at her clit.

"Fuck," Lena breathes, and Kara nods in agreement, trying not to buck.

And then Lena drags it back, fits the head to her entrance, and slowly drops onto her.

The first few inches sink in and Kara nearly breaks from the sound of Lena's breath catching high and fluttery in her throat. She forcibly tears her eyes away from the way Lena's thighs are trembling—the way her quads are subtly tensing and relaxing against red fabric as she works to take her—and stares instead at the way her lower lip glistens as she gasps, at the way her pretty eyes go glassy as she pants and slides her hands up under Kara's shirt to brace against her abs.

"Take your time, baby," Kara mumbles. "As slow as you n—"

Lena abruptly rolls her hips down, taking Kara’s entire cock and her breath away with it. She's hot, silken, wanting, and Kara doesn't know if she's ever been more in love.

Lena whimpers, fingers spasming against Kara's abs. She rolls her hips again, slow and shuddery, clit peeking out red and already swollen and begging to be touched.

Kara muffles a groan, ignoring the tension building in her stomach to settle her thumb over it and rub.

Lena jerks with a hitching gasp, pressing down harder into her lap, and Kara almost laughs at her eagerness. She slides her other hand up over the near-sheer fabric of Lena’s stockings, thumbing encouragingly at her inner thigh.

“Good?” she asks, knowing full well what the answer is and wanting to hear it anyway.

Lena whines, flushed all down her chest, which draws Kara’s attention to how adorably hard her nipples are. She lets her gaze linger, admiring the simple beauty of the silver ball bearings nestled to either side of stiff dusky nipples.

“It’s good,” Lena chokes out, thighs flexing as she lifts up and slides back down with a sound so wet it makes Kara’s ears hot. It’s all she can do to keep her thumb working over her clit. “You feel so fucking good like this.”

And then she starts to ride, thigh-highs red as sin and clinging to her soft thighs as she bounces on Kara’s lap, fingers splayed on her stomach for balance as she arches her back and drops her hips harder and harder with every stroke, breath escaping in tiny mewling gasps. She only sounds like that when she’s close, when she feels so good the noises slip right out of her.

Kara groans, the sound of Lena enjoying herself heightening the pleasure she feels.

“Oh god,” she grunts, eyelids fluttering shut when Lena drops and swivels her hips in a figure-eight that almost makes her lose control.

Blunt nails suddenly dig into the skin of her stomach and Lena lets out a disapproving noise, slowing down. “Open your eyes,” she says, voice low but demanding.

Kara forces her eyes open.

“Watch me,” Lena says. “Watch how I take you.”

"Fuck,” Kara whispers, goosebumps rushing to cover her arms.

Lena’s lips curl up dangerously and she picks up the pace again. She doesn’t give Kara a chance to rest, to pull herself together, to back up from the edge she’s so close to tumbling over. Just settles right back into a steady groove.

So Kara watches—dangerously close to coming—as Lena circles her hips in more figure-eights, as she pulls up and leaves a slick, wet trail on her cock before pushing down, cunt lewdly spreading to accommodate her girth.

It's dizzying, mind-melting, to hear and feel and watch Lena fucking herself.

"You're so— you're so pretty, baby," Kara says hoarsely.

Lena drops into her lap with a whine and this time it's too much and too good. The pressure between her legs finally tips over the edge of manageable.

"Fuck," Kara grits out behind clenched teeth, vision blurring, hot pleasure beginning to spill from the full reservoir in her belly. "Gonna come."

Lena moans, clit twitching against Kara's thumb, which has somehow, magically, more-or-less stayed put this whole time.

"Want you to come," she gasps, rocking in Kara's lap now, keeping her fully inside as she eagerly presses her clit to Kara's thumb. "Feels so good, want you to come."

She's so sweet, so perfect as she grinds down. Kara barely manages to nod before she spasms, body shuddering, back arching so hard she lifts Lena up a few inches as she bucks.

The way she drives her hips up to chase that blissful pressure seems to be enough for Lena, too. She lets out a breathy whimper and comes shortly after Kara does, clenching so tight around her cock that she doesn't budge from her lap even as Kara's hips jerk up.

It's euphoric—addicting—and it takes several shaky moments for Kara to regain all her senses, though she keeps slowly and mindlessly fucking into her just to prolong their pleasure.

Lena's arms give out and she collapses onto Kara with a small moan, languidly rolling her hips down as the change in angle shifts the way Kara rests inside her.

"God," Lena rasps where she's tucking her sweaty face to Kara's neck. "Oh my god."

Kara manages to let out a concurring sound, stroking her fingers up and down Lena's sides and enjoying the feeling of her soft warmth permeating her shirt. Her button-up and bra will have to come off eventually, but for now she just wants to lie here, floppy and weak post-orgasm, with her beautiful girlfriend breathing hard on top of her.

"You really like me in these, huh?" Lena pants.

"Sure do. Happy fucking Thursday to me," Kara mumbles, sliding one hand down to squeeze at Lena's ass.

"Mm, god, yeah," Lena says, bringing her own hand up to scratch gently at Kara's scalp.

They lay in contented silence for several minutes, long enough for Kara to start fading into a sated half-doze even with underwire digging into her skin, before she shakes off the sleepy and kisses Lena's head.

"I should shower," she says when Lena lets out a disgruntled noise to tell her she's moving too much.

Lena huffs a sigh but pushes herself upright as Kara sits up with her, causing her dick to shift inside of her again. Lena's breath catches and she bites at her lower lip.

Suddenly, separating for a shower sounds like a very not-good idea to Kara. In a maneuver that she's proud of herself for pulling off, Kara scoots towards the end of the bed with Lena on her lap and stands up. Lena squeaks, wrapping her legs around her waist as Kara smiles gleefully.

"What are you doing?" Lena asks breathlessly, eyes glittering.

"Like I said, need to shower," Kara says, heading off to the bathroom with her cock still buried inside Lena, already thinking about how nicely her moans will echo.

"Wanna see how good these thigh-highs will look on you when they’re wet, pretty baby."

—

Turns out the thigh-highs, like Lena, look absolutely delectable when wet.

—

It doesn't come as a surprise when Lena finally, officially moves into Kara's apartment with a whole drawer full of thigh-high socks.

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[lesbianralzarek]

trying to not complain about the discrepancy between how much content fictional women and poc have vs the white dudes in every fucking fandom im in, because no one owes me fanart/fic and i can make shit myself, but holy fuck can any of you name a woman?

[amostexcellentblog]

Yup, still on my "what if movie was a Top Gun AU" brainrot, anyway...

Rooster, barging into the Hard Deck: Nat! Thank god, where is everybody? I need to talk to Bob, or Payback, or Fanboy, Coyote, anyone. I need their help!

Phoenix: Jesus Rooster, they're not here yet. What are you even doing here, weren't you visiting Admiral Kazansky for the first time since you cut him off?

Rooster: I was, he's so frail Nat, I'll always hate myself for not going sooner. But we were talking, I told him I was gay too, and he wanted to know if I had someone. He looked so hopeful, I couldn't deny him after what I did! And now he wants to meet him, so I need a fiancée quick, but none of the guys are here!

Phoenix: Well, I never said none of the guys are here...

Hangman: Alright Phoenix, here you are, fresh from the tap... Bradshaw? I thought you weren't coming, why'd you have to go and spoil a good evening like that?

Rooster: ...The worst part is I can't even pretend I don't deserve this.

(Jake agrees to do it after Bradley pulls a "I know we hate each other now, but we used to mean something to each other and if any of that was real, you'll do this for me." Mav is there when they get back, he knows it's a lie but goes with it because Ice is so happy. When Ice miraculously begins to recover, Mav is the one who forces them to keep up the ruse. He was reconciled to losing his husband and now he has him back, and he's not going to let them endanger that by upsetting him.)

[yellowocaballero]

dude psyched ur reading orv, insanely curious about ur takes

My friend @charterandbarter put it best.

ORV is pretty fascinating to me. It's really just a self-insert isekai OP webnovel, and it is nothing else. Its medium is trashy and lowbrow, and its genre is almost devoid of high art. OP isekais are 'id' stories, meant to be satisfying and fun and contain very little of substance. ORV is a very well executed OP isekai - it contains the elements of the genre that make it satisfying, it understands why people read the genre and enjoy it, it reproduces those elements very well, and it is very concerned with telling an enjoyable story. ORV really, really loves webnovels and isekais and shitty wishfuillment stories. There's a lot more to ORV than the 'fist pump' moments of kdj doing something cool or pulling a fast one on a shmuck, but those moments are the undoubtedly the point of ORV, as they are the point of all SIOC isekai OP webnovels. And that's the point of ORV.

Metanarrative stories are cheap. Neil Gaiman's written 30 and millenials love waxing philosophical about the power of narratives. These metanarratives tend to describe stories as a theoretical framework through which we understand the world and our lives. Therefore, stories are tremendously important and valuable because they contain the totality of religion, history, culture, relationships, and lives. ORV says this too. But this theory tends to land at mystifying and exalting stories on virtue of them being stories, which I think misses the point. Stories aren't special because they're stories. They're not more sacred for containing our lives. What ORV says is that stories are important, because our lives are important. I like that a lot more.

ORV says that stories are our way of ordering a disordered world. A history, culture, nation, and religion are stories. None of those stories are true or real, because histories/cultures/nations/religions are constructs - they're how we interface with reality. They're created with a purpose, told for a point, pulled together into a narrative, and are satisfying or dissatisfying based on certain factors. ORV's perspective on fiction is deeply seeped in its own nature as 'low art'. There's something very cynical and commercialized about narratives in ORV, and every narrative in ORV is being told for a quick buck or to try and spread an idea for an individual's gains. It's a very unromantic, unimpressed view of narratives and fiction. It's pretty much the only way a SIOC OP isekai webnovel like ORV can talk about it without being disingenuous. And it's remarkably raw and visceral as a result, because ORV loves SIOC OP isekai webnovels like kdj loves yjh. Fiercely, insanely, like breathing, exactly for what it is. No pretensions.

It's bizarre, because ORV is about love. It's not about love for anything that deserves it. Not for a story with a lot of literary merit, a main character who is a remotely kind or lovable person, or art itself outside of its commercial or philosophical value. kdj really, really, really fucked loved TWS - because it was there, and because it lasted 15 years, and because it was fake, and because it was what he had. He loves yjh because yjh was his only companion in a dark world. That's fiction. Fiction helped him survive, because love is a way of ordering a disordered world.

I'm still reading myself, but ORV seems to be about how we manage to live in a hard world, and how to find it within ourselves to love each other and find meaning in that hard world. I see why kdj's the protagonist: he can find merit in something for existing, and loving it for being there, and he holds onto something because he has it. He sees the value in that. He read it in a book.

TL;DR: ORV is well-executed trashy commercialized art that is so obsessed with trashy commercialized art that it's looped straight back around into being somehow the most raw and visceral depiction of love I've seen in a long time.

[holographic-mars]

Do you think when Soundwave is stressed out Cosmos leads him outside to to teach him out to dance in space?

ABSOLUTELYYYY YOURE TOTALLY COMPLETELY ANF ENTIRELY CORRECT

Soundwave’s outlier ability makes him incredibly sensitive to noise. Even though he’s mastered his ability, it’s still easy to get overwhelmed and overstimulated with the noises and thoughts of everyone around him when he’s stressed.

It took a while for Cosmos to kinda realize what’s going on (Sky-Byte just says he does this sometimes and Laserbeak and Buzzsaw say it’s none of his business), but after a while he was able to find out that Soundwave’s shutdowns and long disappearances was because of stress and sensory overload (he managed to bribe Frenzy into telling him. Apparently it happens sometimes and usually Ravage could calm him down quick, but now she’s gone and Soundwave has to manage a whole space station by himself. The avians can calm him down, it just takes longer and leaves Soundwave a lot more tired).

So, After a particularly stressful day, Cosmos finds soundwave by himself trying to manage his stress (poorly), and Cosmos has an idea. He leads Soundwave to the airlock and asks him to trust him, and take them outside of the station.

It’s better out here, soundwave could still feel the noise from the station as they stand on the edge but he can feel himself calming down now that he’s away from the noise. Cosmos quietly hums to himself and squeezes Soundwave’s hand in a calming, rhythmic squeeze-and-release.

After a minute or so, Cosmos takes both of Soundwave’s hands and again asks him to trust him, before lightly launching them off of the station. In an instinctive spike of panic, Soundwave activates his trusters and clings tighter (closer) to cosmos but cosmos just laughs and leads them into a short spin before angling his own thrusters to a stop. Confused, but willing to trust Cosmos (and he is willing. He’ll trust cosmos with his spark if cosmos asked) soundwave cuts his own thrusters off. With just cosmos’ weight and the occasional quick jet of thrusters to steady themselves, they’re floating aimlessly.

No longer touching the station, everything is totally quiet. The noise is gone completely—only the gentle sound of the mechanisms in Cosmos’ frame and the bouncy loop of music in Cosmos’ processor remains.

Soundwave is not used to the total silence of space the way cosmos is (no fighting, no shooting, no chattering) so he’s nearly in awe of the peace of it all.

Cosmos laughs again. Soundwave can feel it reverberating through his frame from where they’re connected. The music Cosmos is repeating in his mind switches to a more subtle tune. He adjusts his grip on Soundwave’s arms and leads them into another light spin, moving and dipping with the music in his processor.

Soundwave follows along as best he can but ultimately lets Cosmos lead. Cosmos is happy to do so, Soundwave seems to have calmed down and his EM field is light with warm amusement and poorly hidden adoration.

They stay out there for as long as they can before the cassettes get sick of watching the gooey gross lovey dovey stuff and make them come back inside.

AIFJF THIS TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER IM SORRY IM SORRY 💔💔 I was so busy and tired I just. Didn’t get around to it until now thank you for your patience :33 also sorry this became an almost-fic bc I am sick and ill THANK YOU FOR THE ASKK HEEHEHE❤️❤️❤️🛸🛸🛸🎵🎵🎵

[mourntheantagonist]

“Note to self: Don’t be Gay in Indiana”

[montypng]

out here in the desert, your shadow lives on without you (otherwise known as grief, in five acts)

[ID: a digital drawing of the girl from a high angle —her head is tilted, eyes tearing up angrily. large, shadow-like figures of the fabulous four stretch out behind her, each of them faceless and pictured in the position of their death. party poison’s chin is tilted upwards, jet star is outstretched, limbs askew, fun ghoul raises his arm, aiming their ray gun, and kobra kid falls backward, arm limply falling to his side and head turned away./end ID] 

inspired by @graffitibible / @omegalomania’s incredible fic i’m not a messiah (just a mess)

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

Just a lil Royai fic rec.

I'm new to the FMA fandom, but these two now live in my head rent-free. And so do these fics. Enjoy!

Catharsis by kekkubean

Rating: M

Word count: 5K

Summary: She knew better. And now a little girl was dead because she wanted to believe that her father’s behavior existed in a vacuum.

Or,

When Riza learns of the Tucker incident, she doesn't handle it well.

Excerpt: At her feet, Hayate whined, she imagined disapprovingly. It was definitely too early to be drinking, although thankfully she skipped training him on understanding the appropriate hours for alcohol consumption. Riza met his gaze and they regarded each other for a moment as the burning subsided slowly. Hayate cocked his head to the side, curious, and whined again softly, as if he could read her wretched mind.

She briefly, morbidly wondered if Alexander and Nina shared thoughts, or if one of their minds dominated the other in that body, or if it were an entirely new—

Riza slammed her palms on the table, instantly suppressing the thought, and abruptly pushed herself up to standing. Hayate jumped and slinked off into her bedroom. She stood swaying for a moment, trying to gain her balance and some semblance of her sanity.

My thoughts: This one is canon to me. I can offer no higher praise for a fic. Before reading this, I never considered how Nina's fate might affect Riza, but it just makes so much damn sense. The way kekkubean writes trauma is blade-sharp. And the pacing, the dialogue, the characterization - exquisite.

Anytime by myrhymesarepurer

Rating: G

Word count: 838

Summary: It was not his Captain standing there in front of him. It was his master's daughter, so brutally burdened with ink, secrets so cruelly exposed to the world by one blasted broken zipper. 

Excerpt: She lifted her head and blinked, feeling a great bit foolish that she stood in front of her superior, tortured over an issue  he managed to solve in,  oh,  less than one second.

How very Roy Mustang.

My thoughts: I've read this so many times. It's one of the first I read in this fandom, and I keep coming back to it. It's short, poetically formatted, and utterly perfect in it's simplicity.

Beautiful People by That Hoopy Frood

Rating: T

Word count: 6.4K

Summary: Soon after the conclusion of the Ishvalan Civil War, Captain Maes Hughes receives a phone call in the middle of the night. The message is short, concise... and perhaps the most terrifying thing Hughes has ever heard.

Hawkeye's apartment. Now. Come alone. Someone has been hurt.

A promise was once made amidst the sands of a distant desert land: oaths will be upheld, and secrets will be scorched away. The sinful had waited too long; Roy Mustang was indebted to his promise, and Riza Hawkeye had come to collect.

Shut the door; it's starting to rain.

Excerpt: "You asked her to follow you… she would have walked over burning coals for you…" Hughes felt hot, angry tears running down his face. His glasses fogged. His voice cracked. "You were supposed to fall in love with her, Roy! You were supposed to marry her and have kids and be just be happy for once in your goddamned miserable life… now look what you've done. Look at what you've done."

My thoughts: Riza's back-burning is one of the most starkly absent scenes from the FMA canon. The scene has been written and rewritten in fanfiction many times, but this particular fic fills the gap in a way that is just perfectly brutal and raw. The addition of Hughes' presence makes the whole thing cut like a knife. Like Catharsis, this one is canon in my mind.

And now, a shameless plug:

The Counteroffer by theblueeyedfirebender

Rating: T

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: On the eve of Mustang’s inauguration as Fuhrer, Riza Hawkeye submits her resignation.

Excerpt: He pulls a manila envelope from the drawer and stands, sliding it across the surface of the desk in her direction. Her gaze falls to the hand he’s extended, long fingers and pale skin, the lingering scar of a transmutation circle still faintly visible, crosswise marred by another, thicker scar, twin to one on his other hand.  

Something snags in her throat, but she swallows it down and picks up the envelope. It’s thin, like it contains nothing at all. “What is this, sir?” 

For a moment, he doesn’t answer, as if the routine honorific has stuck him somewhere unexpected. When he speaks again, his voice is thick. “A counteroffer.” 

My thoughts: My first-ever FMA fic, complete with an ACOMAF Chapter 54-inspired confession (iykyk).

[musicalmoritz]

I will never let ya’ll live down that era where Terukaneaoi shippers were beefing with each other through fucking ao3 tags

[zareleonis]

Masterlist of Transmasc Furina Fanworks

Last Updated: March 4th 2024

Fanfiction

Dancin’ Closer To The Edge by sillylittlebard [Furina x Neuvillette, explicit sexual content]

The Truth, and Nothing But by ThatWindingPath [gen]

"Untold Hidden Depths: A Behind-the-Scenes Look at Fontaine's Archon" by neeku [Furina x Neuvillette]

The Power of Water by neeku [Furina x Neuvillette, explicit sexual content]

Tea, Water, and Cakes by neeku [Wriothesley x Furina x Neuvillette]

Your Scent, Like Water, Envigorates by Neeku [Furina x Neuvillette, explicit sexual content]

Water Comes in Many Forms by Neeku [Furina x Neuvillette, explicit sexual content]

Maybe a support system isn’t bad after all by ARandomScorpio [gen feat. Furina x Navia, Furina x Lyney]

Fresh New Start by ARandomScorpio [Furina x Neuvillette x Murata]

gender is but a performance by greenwithirony [Furina x Neuvillette, Part 1 in a series]

My dear Neuvillette by greenwithirony [Furina x Neuvillette, Part 2 in a series]

lunch and revelations by greenwithirony [Furina x Neuvillette, Part 3 in a series]

give an interview by chirpy [Childe x Althaitham, explicit sexual content, featuring trans Furina]

algolagnia by chance2pounce [Furina x Neuvillette, explicit sexual content]

this won't wash off by chirpy [Furina x Arlecchino, Furina x Neuvillette]

a vacation for two by greenwithirony [Furina x Neuvillette]

Pebble in the Water by neeku [Furina x Arlecchino, Furina x Neuvillette]

Chanson de la forêt by LydsTherinNotaMon [Furina x Collei]

A Lesson for the Dragon Sovereign of Water by neeku [Furina x Neuvillette x Focalors] 【NEW】

accidents happen by satansgay [Furina x Diluc] 【NEW】

in the in-betweens by greenwithirony [Furina x Neuvillette] 【NEW】

Stage Kissing by greenwithirony [Furina x Neuvillette] 【NEW】

Fanart

Furina x Childe by cosmic_chemist [explicit sexual content]

Furina x Neuvillette by cosmic_chemist [explicit sexual content]

Furina x Scaramouche by cosmic_chemist [explicit sexual content]

Furina doodles by cosmic_chemist

Transfem Neuvillette feat. Transmasc Furina by veev_314

Transmasc Furina feat. Furina x Neuvillette by Chiro69Neko

Furina "Guilty Challenge" by Chiro69Neko

Furina and Aether by Chiro69Neko

Transmasc Furina feat. Neuvillette by Anya_artnerd

Transmasc Furina by y4ntaoist

old men yaoi by @catboydiiluc [Furina x Neuvillette, please like and reblog the original post <3]

a dream by @mlmfocalette [Furina x Neuvillette, please like and reblog the original post <3]

nothing in life matters by @dailyneuvillette [please like and reblog the original post <3]

stepladded by dailyneuvillette [Furina x Neuvillette, please like and reblog the original post <3]

chew toy by dailyneuvillette [feat. Neuvillette, please like and reblog the original post <3]

third wheel by dailyneuvillette [Furina x Neuvillette feat Diluc, please like and reblog the original post <3]

a snack by dailyneuvillette [feat. Neuvillette, please like and reblog the original post <3]

the silly little guy ever!!! by @deranged-diluc [please like and reblog the original post <3]

Furina my transmasc king by cerealwumps

trans bfs on a date by dovelix_ [Furina x Arlecchino]

king of the itty bitty titty committee by roseofthewind

trans masc furina pookie by scaravencanon

T(ea) Party by Chiro69Neko [feat. Scaramouche and Albedo] 【NEW】

(sincere apologies to the artists above for the bland, descriptive "titles" I've given your art xD. please follow the links and support them all!)

[everything-is-as-it-was]

Hey all!

I just wanna do a little bitty promo for a fic @nobodynobodyno and I are writing, called Two Birds on a Wire!

It's a VERY slow burn, figuring-out-you're-gay-by-figuring-out-you've-been-in-love-with-your-best-friend-this-whole-time, angsty, right person but the wrong time, little kid!Dan and Phil, girldad!Dan, and also loooooooong term pining kind of fic :)

I just wanted to put it out there since I'm super super proud of it and I know my partner in crime is too! (She writes Dan's POV, I write Phil's. It's a great little arrangement.)

anyways if any of this piques your interest here's the link !!