#i thought of this like a month ago and just remembered it

[astrologydray]

The Lubby-dubby side of the Venus signs 🥰😍😘😫

😈Aries Venus:

They love teasing, playful banter, and a little bit of competitive flirting. If they’re wrestling with you for fun, they’re into you😭.

Aries Venus shows love through big, impulsive acts—surprise dates, random “I love you” texts, or whisking you away on an adventure.

Hugs? More like bone-crushing embraces. Kisses? Always fiery and full of urgency.

Aries Venus won’t sugarcoat things, but their honesty means you’ll always know where you stand with them.

They need excitement in relationships—think spontaneous road trips, fun challenges, or chasing each other around the house just for fun🥰.

😈Taurus Venus:

Taurus Venus loves physical touch—expect long hugs, hand-holding, and falling asleep tangled together. They show love through warmth and closeness.

Expect candlelit dinners, cozy nights in, soft blankets, and music that sets the mood. Taurus Venus loves creating ambiance😫.

They prove their love through consistency, loyalty, and little everyday gestures—cooking for you, remembering your favorite things, and making sure you feel secure.

They want to be yours and yours alone—they’re protective, a little jealous, and love when you’re just as obsessed with them😚.

They express love through gifts, delicious food, and making sure you’re comfortable—they want you to be pampered and adored🤩.

😈Gemini Venus:

Expect clever comebacks, inside jokes, and playful sarcasm—it’s their way of keeping things exciting.

Gemini Venus bonds through talking, debating, and exchanging ideas. Deep late-night talks, sending memes, and random fun facts? That’s their love language🧠.

They’re the type to randomly text you “wyd” every hour and expect a full conversation about nothing. If they overshare, they’re hooked on you❤️‍🔥.

Love should feel like a never-ending sleepover—laughing, talking about anything and everything, and never running out of things to do together.

Compliments, sweet texts, and witty one-liners are their way of saying “I love you.” They’ll always make you feel mentally stimulated and adored🥰.

😈Cancer Venus:

snuggling, forehead kisses, and wrapping you up in a warm embrace make them feel safe and connected❤️.

Cooking for you, making sure you’re eating well, checking in on your feelings—they show love by taking care of you in little, thoughtful ways.

They form deep emotional bonds and need reassurance that you feel the same way. They be emotionally attached af😫🥰.

Cancer Venus wants to build a cozy, intimate world with their person—expect sweet traditions, a shared playlist, or a comfy home full of love.

If they love you, they will be protective. They may get jealous easily, but it’s just because they feel so deeply😤.

😈Leo Venus:

Expect big hugs, dramatic kisses, and constant compliments. Leo Venus isn’t shy about showing their love loud and proud.

Posting you on social media, bragging about you to friends, wanting to match outfits—they love making their love public and undeniable. Showing you off as they should😫.

When they love you, they’re all in. They’ll defend your honor, hype you up, and make sure you know you’re theirs.

Think romantic surprises, heartfelt love letters, and planning unforgettable dates. Love with them feels like a movie moment🤩.

Once they commit, they’re ride or die. They want a love that feels powerful, unbreakable, and meant to be🤞🏾.

😈Virgo Venus:

They show love by helping, fixing, and making your life easier—whether it’s remembering your schedule, bringing you food, or handling the little things you forget. Very thoughtful 🤔.

They notice everything—your likes, dislikes, habits, and moods. If they love you, they’ll adjust themselves to fit your needs effortlessly.

When a Virgo Venus commits, they’re all in. They don’t fall in love easily, but once they do, they’re steady, trustworthy, and always there for you.

They remember the little things—your favorite coffee order, what makes you anxious, or the book you said you wanted months ago❤️.

Instead of grand gestures, they show up for you daily, proving their love through consistency, effort, and devotion.

😈Libra Venus:

Even in love, they never stop flirting. Expect sweet compliments, lingering eye contact, and teasing banter that keeps the spark alive❤️‍🔥.

They adore romance and will shower you with affection, gifts, and quality time—but they also want to be adored in return.

Whether it’s holding hands, cuddling, or whispering sweet things, they love gentle, elegant forms of intimacy😫.

They’ll create romantic dates with candles and soft music, write heartfelt love notes, or plan something special just to make you smile.

Love should feel easy, fun, and full of connection—they want someone they can talk to for hours and still feel completely enchanted by.

😈Scorpio Venus:

When they love you, you become their world. They’re not interested in casual affection—they want something real and unbreakable.

If they’re in love, they’ll make sure you’re safe, defended, and completely theirs. A little jealous? Maybe. But only because they love so deeply🖤.

They won’t always say how much they love you—but you’ll feel it in the way they look at you, touch you, and fight for you😫.

They don’t do superficial romance, but expect intense, meaningful gestures, like sharing secrets they tell no one else or remembering tiny details about you forever.

they want growth, depth, and transformation. If they love you, they’ll push you to evolve into your best self🤞🏾.

😈Sagittarius Venus:

Expect random road trips, last-minute date ideas, and a relationship that feels like a never-ending adventure. They want a love that’s exciting and free🏃🏾.

They want a partner they can grow with, debate with, and experience new things with—mental stimulation is a must!

They’ll tell you exactly how they feel, and while they value independence, they’re incredibly devoted to the person who can keep up with them.

They won’t cling, but if they keep coming back to you even with all their options, that’s how you know you have their heart.

They might not always be romantic, but when they do express love, it’s bold, dramatic, and full of enthusiasm🤪.

😈Capricorn Venus:

When they’re in love, they’re all in for the long haul. They want to build something solid and lasting with their partner.

they show love through providing, taking care of you, and making sure you’re supported. If they’re taking care of the logistics of your life, that’s love 💕.

They show up for you, day in and day out. Whether it’s supporting your career goals or just being there when you need them, they’re always dependable.

They might not wear their heart on their sleeve, but they’re extremely affectionate in subtle ways—holding your hand, offering gentle touches, or showing interest in your day.

they’re drawn to partners who are ambitious, responsible, and goal-oriented. If you earn their admiration, they’ll show love through undying support😚.

😈Aquarius Venus:

They show affection by engaging in thought-provoking conversations, debates, and sharing ideas. If they’re excited to discuss something with you, it’s a sign they’re deeply connected.

They love someone who embraces their individuality. Expect unexpected surprises that reflect their quirky nature—random gifts, offbeat date ideas, or spontaneous adventures.

They’ll love you by encouraging you to follow your dreams, be your own person, and express your full potential🤞🏾.

They may not be outwardly emotional, but their love runs deep. If they open up to you emotionally, it’s a sign they truly trust you. They express love through actions, ideas, and long-term commitment🥹.

While they care deeply, they need space and independence. They show love by giving their partner room to grow and encouraging personal freedom.

😈Pisces Venus:

Pisces Venus loves through empathy and emotional depth. They want to connect on a soul level, often feeling like their love is fated or destined.

They show love through gentle acts of care, like offering comfort when you’re down, listening to your deepest thoughts, or simply being there when you need them.

Pisces Venus is very attuned to their partner’s emotional needs. They can sense when you’re feeling off or need reassurance, and they’ll go out of their way to make you feel loved and cared for😘.

They love expressing affection through art, poetry, or music—whether it’s sharing a song that reminds them of you or painting something inspired by their love for you😍.

Expect soft touches, sweet words, and an overall nurturing energy. They want to make you feel cherished in the most gentle and unhurried way🥰.

[100vern]

begging for the next | hjs

we could be lovers in the night // we could be strangers in the light.

✦ pairing: joshua x f. reader ✦ genre: strangers to fwb, secret lovers au; smut, fluff ✦ summary: no one needs to know what you and joshua get up to except the two of you. ✦ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ✦ warnings: joshua is some degree of famous but not explicitly stated to be an idol (choose your own adventure), he is also down very very horrendous, use of pet names for reader (beautiful, baby, angel, etc.), reader wears a dress, one brief mention of hair, swearing, other things i have probably forgotten. i am incapable of writing pure pwp so this got a lot softer than i intended but they're in love so fuck it we ball. ✦ smut warnings: gendered terms for genitalia, a lot of kissing, a handjob, fingers in mouths bc it's me and somehow they always end up there, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of cum play idk how that happened sorry, hair pulling, fingering, grinding, mentions of facesitting, oral sex in general, joshua spits in reader's mouth, begging and dirty talk, public sex (in a car), exhibitionism, masturbation, very slight edging, shua gets called a good boy one time, reader on top, joshua carries her and fucks her against a wall, they both get a lil possessive in the heat of the moment but nothing toxic. ✦ wordcount: 5.8k ✦ author's note: idk where this came from. i was listening to "english love affair" by 5sos months ago and was like hm yeah joshua. title is from that song; other lyrics are from "lovers in the night" by seori. thank you to bee (@imnotshua) and jess (@starlightkyeom) for looking this over for me along the way. thank u, love u both. i am far too embarrassed to read my own smut so this is unedited and any mistakes are my own.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him.

Fans, paparazzi, strangers—after a while, it all starts to blend together. Always starts feeling hazy around the edges, like there’s something there, just beyond the fog, just out of his reach.

He doesn’t remember whose idea it was to come to this club. Probably just one of those things: owned by a friend of a friend, discretion implied and assured, top-shelf shit handed out without needing to ask. He’s sequestered behind a velvet rope, feels like a king lording over his subjects, has a hawk-eye view of everything.

Everyone.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him, and he felt yours as soon as he walked in.

Cute, he thinks. He hadn’t been looking to pull, hadn’t wanted to deal with all the conversations and all the aftermath, but sometimes he’s easily persuaded. Intrigued, more like. Most people watch him like they’ve got their eyes closed—shy, hiding away, unsure of what they could possibly offer him that he can’t find in anyone else. But you watch him with eyes wide open. Confident, self-assured, know exactly what you’ve got to offer. All but daring him to find something better.

It’s raining when you drag him outside. When you smirk crooked out of the corner of your mouth, plant your hands in the center of his chest and press him to the building’s exterior, drag a groan out of him when the brick bites into his skin. Joshua kisses you like he’s a little desperate for it. Licks into your mouth and swallows all the sounds you make. Hikes your leg around his waist, digs his thumbs into your hips, presses in close enough to have you rolling your hips against his cock.

Imagines the scandal if he got caught fucking you in public—

He asks, between nips at your neck: “Where do you live, beautiful?”

You answer, with your hand halfway down the front of his jeans: “Not far.”

—and lets the thought of it wash over him, make him a little frenzied and wanting. He moans as he grows harder. Thinks about what you’re gonna feel like around his cock, all hot and tight, dripping wet. Thinks about how breathless and fucked-out you’ll sound when you pant his name into the space between your mouth and his own. Thinks about how hot you’re gonna look when you’re falling apart on his cock, when he’s pumping you full of cum.

“Shit,” he whines, “let’s go, then.”

Halfway to your car he decides he can’t wait. Doesn’t want to. Could barely stumble the couple hundred feet to the parking lot with how hard he is, how overwhelming he finds you. Finds himself making any excuse he can to press in close and inhale your perfume. Finds himself thinking that doing anything that isn’t burying himself inside of you seems absolutely pointless.

And you aren’t helping. Can’t seem to keep your hands off of him—lips on his throat, words in his ear, nails digging into his back, pulling at his belt, untucking his shirt, yanking on his hair. You smile when he hisses at the sting and the only thought that registers is he’s never wanted to ruin anyone so badly.

So he says, “Get in the backseat. I’m fucking you right here, baby,�� and follows right behind you, desire licking at his heels.

He laughs low and heated as you push him into the seat, your legs spread wide as you straddle him. He pulls his jeans down just enough for you to fish out his cock and spit on it, hips thrusting when you pump him once, twice, pulling small, breathy whines from him each time you twist your wrist, thumb over the head. Embarrassing, he thinks, how close he is to cumming in his pants like a fucking teenager, so he grabs at one of your hands, stills your motions. Moves it to your mouth, tells you to taste the pre-cum coating your fingers just to buy himself a minute, he just needs a minute, and he decides time is meaningless when he sees your tongue move between your pointer and middle, when you moan at the taste of him.

Nearly loses it entirely when you press those same fingers to his own lips, press them against his own tongue.

“Tastes so good, doesn’t it?” you murmur, and he’s struck, not for the first time tonight, by how beautiful you are. Mesmerized by the rain that still clings to your eyelashes, the droplets that run down your temple. Feels dizzy when his brain finally comes back online and he reaches for the hem of your dress, pushes it up and over your hips.

His hand moves to the space between your thighs, rubs over the thin fabric of your panties. He grins wide and sleazy at the wetness he finds there; pushes his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he slides them to the side and touches you properly. Thumbs small circles over your clit just to hear the way your breath hitches, feel the way your hips cant towards his fingers. Any other time he’d take it slow, drag it out, tell you to beg in his soft, pretty voice,, but he doesn’t have the benefit of time when he’s crammed into the backseat of your car.

Doesn’t have the benefit of much of anything when you lower your bare pussy to his cock. Already overwhelmed by your heat, he doesn’t think he can be held responsible for the guttural, instinctual sound that escapes him, the way his hands move to your hips to keep you in place. The that’s it, that’s it, baby, just like that, could fucking come from this that tumble from his lips as you start moving along his length.

Your scoff is aborted halfway as Joshua lifts his hips to meet yours. “Abso—fuck—absolutely not,” you breathe, kissing along his jawline. “Need you to fuck me.”

He groans at the thought of it. Curses the seat belt digging into his back as he readjusts to move you where he wants you, where he can bury two fingers deep in your cunt and watch, entranced, as your eyes roll back. “Mm, wa-want you to come like this first.”

“Later,” you bargain. “Gotta be quick, don’t want you to get caught.”

Joshua knows you’re right. Knows he’d thought about it earlier, let the fantasy of it dance at the edges of his vision, knows in the realm of fantasy is where that particular thought needs to stay, but he can’t say he isn’t tempted to put on a show for the entire world. Wants everyone to see both of you sweat-slick, panting hard into the thick air of your car, windows fogged. Wants everyone to hear the sounds he’s pulling from you: the breathy whimpers, your pussy squelching around his fingers, skin on skin as he can’t keep his hips against the seat.

He can tell you’re close. Knows if he angled his fingers just a little more you’d be clenching around them, and he wants to see it—god he wants to see it so bad—but he knows you’re right, knows there’ll be plenty of time to have you come undone in every way possible later, later, later, so he reluctantly removes his fingers. Doesn’t have time to consider what to do with them before you’re sucking them into your mouth and all he can do is watch, slack-jawed. Doesn’t have time to think about how it’d feel if it was his cock instead before you’re grabbing it, lining him up, almost crazed at the way your fingers don’t meet around his girth—and then you’re sinking down on him.

Good thing the two of you don’t have time to drag this out, because he’s on the precipice of a truly pathetic performance.

“God, you’re fucking tight, baby, can barely move—”

Your smile is predatory when you throw your head back. “Don’t need you to,” you say, moving your hands to his knees. “I can get myself off just fine.”

You can—that much is obvious. The way you’re rolling your hips is sinful at best and the absolute end of Joshua at worst, but he’ll accept his fate if this is how he’s destined to go out. Would consider it an honor to die like this between your legs, chasing oblivion. Can’t imagine a life where he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your tight heat every single day for the rest of his life. Feels delirious with the need for it, has to reign himself in when he either starts crying or asks for your hand in marriage, and you must see it, must be able to tell how fucked up you’ve got him, because you seem to delight in it, start moving at a pace that has him gripping white-knuckled at the seat, at the fabric of your dress, at your hips, your chest.

“You gonna cum like this?” you say, breath fanning against his skin. He nods, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Embarrassment has his cheeks burning, skin hot to the touch, but shit, it feels good, the way you’re digging at him. Pulling him up on how far gone he is for you.

He needs you to meet him at the edge. Needs more, needs it messier, faster, harder than what you’re able to do in the confines of the car, so he plants his feet, grabs so roughly at your ass he’s sure it’ll bruise. Tries desperately to thrust through the mess between your legs, but you’re so wet he nearly slips out each time, and it drives him insane. Has him nearly feral, mindlessly chasing both his orgasm and your own, and he knows it’s close, feels the lightning beneath his skin.

You’re falling apart on his cock as soon as he circles your clit. Shaking, clenching so hard your pussy feels like a vice, grabbing blindly for anything you can to anchor yourself. You find his hands and twine your fingers together—and he’ll never be able to explain it, that that’s what has him gasping, stilling as he spills inside you, but even as he cums so hard it nearly whites out his vision, he can still feel you there.

Anchoring him.

Something stupid is about to tumble out of his mouth, so he quickly presses it to yours to try and stem the bleeding.

Joshua is used to people wanting things from him.

Autographs. Selfies. His undivided attention, his time, a pull quote for an article. Someone always wants something, and it’s exhausting, you know, having to anticipate that kind of thing—having to determine what someone wants before they pluck up the courage to ask for it, having to decide if he’s in a position to give it to them, having to decide, decide, decide, always a fucking decision to be made.

So it’s no surprise he’s here, barely back in the country an hour before he’s stumbling across the threshold of your front door, hat pulled low, not for anyone else to see. Because here, he’s safe; here, all those pretenses come crashing down around him. Here, he knows what’s expected of him, doesn’t have to guess—only has to take the hand you offer him and follow you up the stairs.

But it’s just… a lot, finally being here. All he could think about while he was gone was you. Kept replaying each memory over and over: the first time he’d come here, after the scene in your car—the way you’d smiled at him, hung up his jacket by the door, asked if he wanted anything to eat or drink, maybe a hot shower. And it had felt so sleazy, the way he’d smiled and said, ‘what, all by myself?’ but it’d worked, and then that was something else to replay. That was something else to remember: the smell of you all over him. Your soap on his skin; your shampoo in his hair.

Thinks he’s replayed that—the softness of it, the care, how nice it’d felt to just exist alongside somebody—more than the rest.

Not that the rest wasn’t worth thinking about. He’d nearly cum in his pants remembering the way you’d pinned his arms above his head and sat on his face—the visual of you from below, hips rolling; the taste of you on his tongue; the way you said his name when you came, breathless and fractured. The way he’d slid into you from behind, nearly mindless from the way your pussy gripped him. The way he’d pressed you flat to the mattress and kissed all the knots in your spine. The way your skin looked after he’d pulled out and came all over the small of your back.

He’s got a similar view now. It hadn’t really been planned, his coming here—he’d been worked up on the flight, sent a Hail Mary text asking if he could come by instead of going home, and it had taken you a bit to respond, to say sure, missed you, so it was understandable that you’d greeted him at the door in a pair of flimsy sleep shorts and a cropped tank. He expected it, but it undoes him nonetheless.

You’re better than this, he chides himself. Has a tremendous amount of guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach because he can’t stop staring, takes that gentlemanly reputation he’s got and sets it ablaze, but he thinks anyone who’d dare to criticize him for it would understand.

On autopilot, he follows you up the stairs to your bedroom. Tries to look at anything other than your ass and fails in milliseconds. Swallows down another serving of guilt and cannot, for the life of him, recall another time he ever felt like this—the foothold you’ve got on him, the way you have him believing he’s capable of being a real person, but so untethered at the same time, like any second now he’ll drift away. Tempted. Desperate. Joshua cannot make a life for himself here, both in your home and within your body, but—

“Sometimes I look at you and I understand why Eve ate that apple.”

You pause, three steps from the landing, and your eyes are soft when you turn to look at him. You’ve never looked at him any other way, with any less tenderness and care. “And how am I meant to take that?” Joshua flusters, misses the next step, and when you reach out a hand to steady him, Joshua laces your fingers together. “Smooth.”

“You know me,” he says, laughing like it’s a joke, when what he really means is, not around you, not within these four walls. “I just meant—”

You grip his hand tighter, pull him closer, dizzy him when you lean in close and murmur, “I know. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

This time is different.

All that typical raw, frenzied need gives way to tenderness. Right there on the landing of your staircase, unable to go another step without you, Joshua lays you down, cradles your head in his hands, and drapes his body over yours. Cages you in like he’s trying to keep you forever, like he has any right to, and he kisses you much the same. Wants your breath to be his. Wants to find any opening you’re willing to give him and crawl inside of it. Wants to make a home out of your body more than he already has.

Presses his lips to your neck. Drags his teeth along the curve of your jaw, rolls his hips against you when your head tilts back and you sigh soft and stuttered. Nips at your skin all the way to the lobe of your ear, where he presses in close, thumbs at the exposed skin covering your hip bones. Whispers, “Is it okay right here, like this?” Skims his hands down, down, down—pulls your skimpy little shorts to the side and finds you bare and waiting. “Oh, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

You squirm. Try to get his fingers where you want them. Huff when he teases and refuses even though the need is just as apparent in him. “Shua,” you whimper.

He clicks his tongue. Feigns disappointment. “Angel.” Speaks every word into your heated skin. “You know you only have to tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You pout. “You’re being so mean to me,” you try. Joshua chuckles, pulls back so he can cock an eyebrow and say oh, really? I’m being mean to you? You nod, sink your bottom teeth into your bottom lip. Dip your hands beneath the fabric of Joshua’s t-shirt and drag your nails down his chest until he whimpers. “You were gone so long. Didn’t you miss me?”

“You know I—you know I did.”

“You did?” Your brows furrow in faux-disbelief, your pout deepens; your hands follow the same path Joshua’s had only moments earlier. You toy with the waistband of his pants and tease your fingertips underneath. “You missed me so much but you won’t even touch me?”

With his free hand, he grabs your chin, forces the pout off your face. Doesn’t miss the way your pupils blow wide before he’s kissing you hard and messy, so intense it feels like the air has been stolen from his lungs. “No,” he says, finally giving you what you want. Circles his thumb over your clit and wants to drown in all the sounds you make—the way you mewl, how you say his name on an exhale, all the words given up on halfway. “I miss you so much I thought about you every second I was gone. Thought I was going crazy with it.” Sinks two fingers into your slick heat. “Thought about the way you felt around me.” You gasp at his words and your pussy clenches, and Joshua hums. Says, “Exactly, baby, just like that.”

He can feel that you’re already close. Has a split-second to decide if he wants to let you come like this before you take the decision away from him. Your deft fingers play at the button of his pants, drag the zipper over the bulge there as he hisses, and then you tilt your head back. Something wicked gleams in your eye. “Spit in my mouth.”

Joshua falters, fucks up his rhythm, but he can’t deny you of anything, so he slips his thumb in your mouth and forces it open. Collects whatever spit he has and watches, enraptured and so close to being out of his mind, as he lets it go, as it pools on your tongue. “Fuck—”

Your smile is dazed, both of you on the verge of delirious, and then it’s gone, replaced by the visual of you licking the length of your palm. Making a show of it. You press two fingers against your tongue and Joshua watches as your eyes glass over. “Tell me what else you thought about,” are the last words you say before you wrap your slick hand around his cock.

“Shit—god, baby, you always make me feel so fucking good.” And you do—you work him over slow just to watch the way his eyes roll back, how his entire body shudders; thumb at his cockhead when he gets carried away and starts thrusting into your tight fist, brainless in the face of what you’re providing and unable to do anything except chase more of it. His hips roll again—one, two more times—and then he’s babbling, nonsense spilling out of his mouth.

Tells you that he thought about your touch and the way you taste. Tells you how he let it consume him and all the nights he spent touching himself to the thought of you. How he’d bring himself to the edge and force himself to stop just before he came and how he’d do it all over again, over and over, until he was breathless and sweat-slick—that when he was in the midst of it, so incoherent and numb from pleasure… that sometimes he’d open his eyes and swear it was you. Swear he could feel your lips ghosting across his skin, your sweet words in his ear, praising him as he came all over his own stomach and trembled with the aftershocks.

With each confession he gets more carried away. Circles his thumb faster on your clit. Slips another finger into you and presses insistently against your g-spot until you’re writhing and frenetic with need, his name sounding like a prayer as it spills from your lips repeatedly, each one blending into the next, a continuous mantra designed to drag him down with you. Joshua has never felt you this wet, soaking his hand, and he knows he isn’t faring any better. Feels how each slide of your fist along his length is easier than the last.

“Fuck, Shua, I’m gonna—”

He presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah, beautiful, give it to me. Wanna see my angel cum all over me. Fuck, just like that—so fucking beautiful, I missed you so goddamn much. Mm, shit, you’re gonna make me cum too. God, I—”

“On me,” you beg. “Please, wan’ it on me. Please, please, want it so bad—”

He swears as his hips stutter. Feels like his fucking balls are in his stomach as he takes over, uses everything he’d earned from you to jerk himself. Stops you when you move to pull your tank over your tits. “No,” he slurs. He’s so fucking close. “Wanna cum all over your clothes and fucking ruin ‘em. Wanna see you covered in it, in me.”

He sits back on his haunches. Uses his free hand to grab at the meat of your thigh as the force of his orgasm hits and he gives you exactly what you’d asked for. Forces himself to keep his eyes open and watch as his release spills across your pussy, your stomach; as it seeps through the thin fabric of your top. But it’s not—Joshua has never considered himself a greedy man, but it’s not enough, so he keeps fisting his cock. Keeps going until he’s oversensitive and spent and he’s milked himself dry. Until your top is wet and sticky with his release, your nipples just barely visible through the translucent fabric.

He’s breathing hard. Stares down at the mess he’s made of you and tells you you’re a work of art. Drags his fingers through it and can’t decide if he wants to massage it into your skin or press it into your mouth, so he does both. Groans softly when you wrap your swollen lips around his fingers and swallow down the taste of him.

Moves them back to your clit and smirks at the breath you suck in through your teeth—that you’re still so sensitive but don’t dare tell him to stop. “I’m not done with you yet,” he confesses, kissing down the length of your body until he’s eye-level with your cunt. “Is that okay?”

You nod.

His phone sits abandoned on the nightstand.

The text thread is still open and awaiting his reply, but Joshua has long since abandoned it to focus his attention on you. From where he’s parallel on the bed, he can see you in the bathroom: watches as you step out of the shower, no towel, droplets of water running down the length of your body; watches as you only grab one to wrap it around your hair, as you stand naked in front of the mirror and do your skincare. Watches as you slip all of your jewelry back on and the gold glints against your skin.

Watches as your reflection meets his eye.

He feels it immediately, the goosebumps, the way his hair stands on end. Predator watching prey, caught in your web ever since that night at the club, so he sits up straighter, anticipates your next move with bated breath—knows what it does to you to be watched. How powerful you become when you’re no longer weighed down by your inhibitions. How you smirk dirty out of the corner of your mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, pull hard enough to capture his attention. Eyes on me, you purr, but he can never look anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to even if he could. Wants you to always be the last thing he sees.

There’s that same smirk on your face now: provocative and a little roguish, like you know something he doesn’t. All he can do is hold your gaze and wait to be devoured.

“They’re starting to talk, aren’t they?”

Joshua looks for a tell, something that belies your anxiety at finally getting caught out, but if it exists you’ve got it behind lock and key. Instead, you roll your head to the side, run your fingers over the marks he’d left on your neck just this morning, the sun barely above the horizon. He feels his skin grow warm, almost embarrassed as the bright lights of the bathroom highlight all the places he’d sunk his teeth into you, but something furls in his belly that you’d let him do it. That you’d let him possess you.

Feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest as he watches you bend at the waist, as it affords him a glimpse of your pussy; as you lean down and trail your fingers from ankle to thigh, as the expanse of soft, smooth skin pebbles beneath your touch. Watches as you straighten and meet his eye in the mirror again before you raise one leg onto the counter; as you lean forward to grab your lotion and the glimpse of you he’d gotten before returns tenfold. Even from here, he can tell you’re dripping wet; can tell the insides of your thighs are glistening with it.

“That’s who you were texting, right? Your manager?”

He sucks in a harsh breath through clenched teeth. Enraptured once again, unable to look away. Watches as you massage the lotion into your skin—the one he likes the most, the one that always stains his bedsheets the longest. Musk and vanilla. Feels himself growing hard and palms at his cock, unabashed, wanting you to see what you do to him.

Swallows all the whiny little sounds he wants to make and manages to ask, “Does it bother you if they are?”

Whether it’s his question or his tone that piques your attention, you pause, turning to look at him over your shoulder, eyes darkening as you take in the sight of him touching himself. He knows how he looks. Head thrown back, eyes half-lidded, bare chest heaving. How his thick cock looks as it strains against the expensive silk of his shorts. Thinks about all the praise you’ve lavished upon him and knows he’s earned every word of it.

So he gives in. Lets the pleasure wash over him and make him bold as he touches himself with more intention, as he runs two fingers over the seam of his balls, as he tightens his grip and moans, uncaring of who might hear. He registers the dip in the mattress at the same time that familiar lightning starts making its way up his spine. He’s senseless as he chases after it, always a step behind despite wanting more, more, always more; loses himself in the gluttony of his intemperance.

It’s only when he’s on the verge of something truly mind-numbing do you lose your patience—when you straddle his waist and pin his hands at his side. A sob escapes him as his hips thrust uselessly, searching hysterically for friction. Tears prick pathetically at the corner of his eyes, and he knows he needs to look at you, knows you’re expecting it, but every inch of his skin burns with the force and the violence of the orgasm you’d denied him.

You tsk. All condescension as you say, “My poor baby.” All sharp edges when you ask, “Will you be a good boy and keep your hands where they are?”

Despite both of you knowing he’d promise you anything right now, Joshua nods, nearly feverish and rabid with the need to cum. Wants to fill you up until it’s leaking down his shaft. Wants to fuck it back into you with his fingers. Wants you on all fours, back arched so only your hips and ass are in the air, while he eats his load out of you from behind.

Of course, you have ideas of your own.

You trace over the wet spot of his shorts just to watch his cheeks ruddy. Leave bruises on his hips before your fingers move to the waistband, toying with him as you snap the elastic against his skin and relish in the way he whines, how he grasps at the sheets to keep his hands still. Pleas fill his mouth and never make it past his lips, and he’ll beg if he has to, if you make him, but you don’t. Slowly and deliberately, you work his shorts down and off; don’t waste a second before you’re sinking down onto his cock.

Every inch is agonizing, blinding heat. Joshua cries out, both unable and unwilling to censor himself. Doesn’t see the need for it when it feels like every atom in his body is being rearranged, like you’re collecting pieces of him to replace with you, embedding yourself beneath his skin. And he’ll let you—fuck, will he let you; wants to carve out a home for you within his body, wants you ingrained in him forever. Doesn’t ever want to be buried this deeply inside anyone else.

When you kiss him it tastes like devotion. He seals his mouth over yours so it can’t escape, so it has nowhere to go but down into your chest to fill the spaces between each of your ribs. And to hell with listening, he thinks, because he can’t go another second without touching you. One hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, closer, impossibly closer, keeping you where you are, with your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth; the other digs into the meat of your ass, dimples the skin there, helps guide your cunt along the length of his cock, so soaked every thrust nearly has him slipping out.

He knows every time he hits the spot that makes your vision white out, feels how you clench around him despite the sopping mess between your legs. Slows his pace. Pulls back only far enough to say, “Back and forth, angel. That’s it. Grind that pretty pussy against me and get yourself off—fuck, you feel so good.”

He groans. Feels his grip on reality begin to falter with the noises falling from your lips; all your breathy, fractured whines. “That’s it, that’s it—god, you’re close, aren’t you? Yeah, shit, I can feel it. So fucking dirty, baby, love it when you fuck me like this—”

You come with a sob, body pulling taut, panting his name into what little space exists between you. Joshua swears, tries to fuck you through the aftershocks, but you’re wrapped around him like a vice, cunt so tight he can barely move.

He’s delirious. Always gets lightheaded watching you fall apart: the way your eyes squeeze shut, how dazed they look right after you open them again—how Joshua is always, always the first thing you make sense of when everything comes back into focus. And he’s going to say something stupid, something he can’t take back even if he means it, so he situates the two of you, uses all the strength he can muster to carry you across the room.

In the midst of his self-indulgence he forgot he’d left the door to the balcony open, wanted the sticky July breeze to blow in from the lake, and the wall next to that open door is where he places you. The backs of your knees in the crooks of his elbows; his lips on your neck, tongue tracing over the bruises he’d left. You’ve barely come down from your high before he’s fucking back into you, and he can tell it’s almost too much, that he’s towing a very fine line, so he eases his pace and rolls his hips slow.

Tells you, against the space just beneath your ear, how beautiful you look, how well you take him. “I should fuck you out on that balcony. They should see this,” he murmurs, voice deceivingly soft, all those possessive tendencies flaring in his gut. “All those people out there, they should see how well I fuck you, how you only come for me, only come around this cock.” His words are accentuated with a harsh snap of his hips that has you crying out—a rasping, guttural sound that douses the last threads of his discretion in kerosine and sets them on fire. “Let them hear you,” he urges, words slurring together, “let them know who I belong to.”

It’s faint, but he hears it anyway: “Me. Me, you belong to—shit, to me.”

“That’s fucking right.”

You clench around him again, eyes rolling back, and Joshua knows he’s approaching his own end as his thrusts grow uncoordinated and sloppy. He asks if you can come again and tells you to touch yourself when you nod. Wishes he could see it, but he feels each swipe of your fingers against your clit as your walls flutter around him, and it’s enough to drag you both over the edge.

Once he catches his breath, he drops to his knees in front of you. Places one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses every inch of skin he can reach until he’s once again eye-level with your pussy, each one of his senses overwhelmed—the way your skin feels, the way you smell, the sound of your breath hitching when he flattens his tongue against your cunt and tastes himself, the disbelief and adoration in your eyes as you gaze down at him.

You finally answer the question he forgot he’d asked: “No,” you say, the word coming at the trail end of a blissful sigh, “it doesn’t bother me. Let them—let them talk. I’m not going anywhere.”

Joshua smiles. Bites at the juncture of your thigh just to watch you squirm. “Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you leave this room.”

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Sharing and reblogging my work is the best way to show you enjoyed it, but I also accept any and all feedback and screaming in my inbox. <3

[quintessenceofdust88]

Priorities

(okay, so remember this ficlet? I finished it 🤭 and it's basically 1800 words of Tommy being me and saying everything I wish I could say to Eddie Diaz about the way he treats his supposed best friend. But since I'm a relentless optimist, I gave Eddie a slight redemption at the end. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for how much love you gave the first part! I hope this part lives up to your expectations ♥)

Tommy is being weird with him.

Eddie's been back for about ten days when he finally gets an invitation to Tommy and Buck's house, that Buck moved to about a month before he arrived. And the invitation came from Buck himself, not from Tommy, so Eddie doesn't think he's being paranoid about the pilot treating him differently.

If Tommy is mad at him for some reason (though Eddie can't fathom why, they haven't even talked much since Eddie moved), it explains why the invitation took so long; frankly, part of Eddie was expecting to set foot in LA and have Buck all over him wanting to hang out, but not quite. Buck had barely shown up, mostly to say hi to Chris, and then Eddie hadn't seen much of him.

Eddie shows up anyway, casting his doubts aside, because he definitely missed hanging out with the two of them. If there's a downside to the months he passed in Texas is how lonely he was; he can't wait to be able to hang out with his friends whenever he wants again.

Chris opts out of joining him, also wanting to catch up with his LA friends, and Eddie doesn't mind. It's good that it'll be just the three of them.

At least it should be, but again, Tommy is being weird. Not to Buck, God no. With Buck he's all 'sweetheart' and kisses to the cheek and hand holding all the time. Eddie privately thinks that this is how they're behaving now, six months after their reconciliation, he's quite lucky to have been in Texas for the first few days after they got back together (he tries not to think what they could have gotten up to in his house while Buck lived there; ignorance is bliss or whatever).

But the point is: Tommy doesn't have any scrunchy smiles or 'how are you doing, man?' and talking about the latest NBA developments with Eddie. Instead he's giving him that trademark bitchy look, and barely answering when Eddie does talk to him.

Buck, bless him, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. He seems ridiculously happy, all heart eyes at his boyfriend, and for the first time, Eddie feels like a third wheel between them, and that's what makes him decide enough is enough. 

When Buck leaves to check on their appetizers, he turns to Tommy, who's quite deliberatedly staring at the TV with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

"Tommy, man, have I done something to you?" He asks, and Tommy looks at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"To me? How could you? You haven't even talked to me one-on-one since Evan and I were broken up."

Eddie sighs; he should have seen that coming, though he never thought Tommy to be the needy kind. Maybe Buck was rubbing off on him. 

"Tommy, you know Buck's my best friend, I had to..."

"Oh, is he?!" Tommy says, his voice laced with faux-surprise and mockery, and Eddie recoils. "I would never guess based on the way you treat him"

Eddie stares at Tommy, completely stunned and, if he’s being honest, not just a little offended. He and Buck have been best friends for years; who does Tommy think he is to chime in, especially after he broke Buck’s heart the way he did months ago? 

“Tommy, what the hell are you talking about?” Eddie demands, trying to keep his voice low. “Buck is my best friend, everybody knows that.”

“You know what, Eddie? My bad, you are right.” Tommy says, but Eddie doesn’t feel relieved; he seems far from done. “Evan is your best friend; he supports your decisions, he’s always there for you, worrying about you and your kid, going above and beyond to make sure you’re okay.”

The words leaving Tommy’s mouth should have been positive, but for some reason, they’re bringing a deep blush to Eddie’s cheeks and a weird feeling to his stomach. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s feeling ashamed. 

“Okay, so what are you saying?” He asks, and Tommy stares at Eddie as if he’s being particularly stupid. 

“What I’m saying, Diaz, is that Evan is your best friend, but there’s no way you can claim to be his best friend. I’m not even sure you could claim to be his friend.”

“That’s not fair”, Eddie hisses in response, but that inconvenient blush is still stuck to his cheeks. 

“No, what’s not fair is making him keep your moving to Texas a secret, then treating him as expendable, then being mad when he finally snapped, and then just ‘forgiving’ him for something you should be apologizing for when he once more proved himself useful to you by taking your house”

Eddie stares at Tommy, mouth agape. That’s certainly not how he remembers things happening. 

“I… I was doing what was best for Chris. He… He didn’t have the right to make it about himself” Eddie says, but it now sounds weak even to his ears.

“Oh no, Eddie, as far as you’re concerned, Evan never has the right to make anything about himself. It’s all you, isn’t it? He babysits your son. You two talk about your plans, your feelings, your problems. Did you ever even have a conversation with him about our break-up? Did you even once ask him how he was handling it, if he was suffering?”

Eddie tries to remember those few weeks between their break-up and his moving, and he’s ashamed  when he realizes that he doesn’t remember asking Buck how he felt. All he remembers is the incessant baking.

“I…”

“Don’t bother”, Tommy says, raising a hand. “I know you didn’t. Because you, and everyone else, want Evan to always be happy and ready to help you with your problems. And when he dares to ask for help with his own things, of letting his insecurities be known, you accuse him of making everything about him. Of being exhausting.”

The word hits hard for Eddie, and he remembers a fight from so many years ago. He frowns, looking at Tommy, whose expression is harsh, his arms crossed, not a single line of the softness Eddie is used to from him. This is Tommy in protective mode, but Eddie had never expected it to be aimed at himself. It’s not fun, to say the least. 

“Did… Did he tell you about that?” He asks, and guilt is pooling up in his chest. 

“He wasn’t going to; I got it out of him when he asked me if I had left because he was exhausting,” Tommy says, and Eddie can see some of his guilt mirrored in Tommy’s eyes before he closes them and takes a deep sigh. “Look, I wasn’t perfect with him either, but you, Eddie? You were supposed to be his best friend”

“Tommy, I… I never realized…”

“No. And you never would, because he’s so used to this treatment that he’d never say anything. It’s the normal between the two of you. Except there’s nothing normal about it” Tommy laughs a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “God, Eddie, when he told me how he had ended up living at your place… The way he told it. Putting himself down, saying you were right on calling him out for ‘making everything about me, like I always do’. Like he had been a tantrum-throwing child, like you had been so good for forgiving him after he solved a problem of yours for the millionth time. You could barely say thank you. I asked, and he said you ‘shouldn’t have to thank him anyway, cause that’s what friends do’. That’s the man you like to call selfish.”

Eddie’s heart feels frozen in his chest. He wants to fight back, and wants to give Tommy examples of times he was there for Buck as well, but, to his immense despair, he’s coming up short. He’s about to mention putting Buck on his will, but he can see Tommy saying that was more for his benefit than Buck’s, and he’d be right. Eddie also thinks of telling him about how he handled Buck’s coming out, but… Is that something he should be that proud of? It was basic human decency, nothing else. 

When was the last time their friendship was about what Buck needed? Eddie can’t remember, if there ever was one in the first place. 

As guilt and shame take over him, he runs a hand through his face, and looks back at Tommy. In a way, he’s grateful; grateful that Buck found someone who’s that willing to defend him, but it makes Eddie feel awful that he’s the one who Buck needs to be defended from. And the worst part is that he knows, absolutely knows for a fact, that Buck hasn’t asked Tommy to say any of that. 

“I… I made him feel less than, didn’t I? When… When I left like that” He says, and Tommy nods, his expression finally softening a bit. 

“Look, he gets it. I get it. Chris is your priority. But Evan is mine, and him taking me back was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’m sorry, Eddie, but I won’t let him be treated like that anymore. Not by you, not by anyone. He deserves better.”

Eddie finds himself nodding numbly. Tommy is right; Buck deserves better. From the 118, from his parents, but from him. Eddie has to step up. 

“He does. I… I’m sorry” He says pathetically, and Tommy only shrugs. 

“Don’t tell that to me, tell it to him. But let me tell you that it won’t make much of a difference. He doesn’t think you have anything to be sorry for.” Tommy says, and the worst part is that Eddie knows it’s true, which makes him feel even guiltier. “So instead of being sorry, do better”

He doesn’t have much time to mull on Tommy’s words before Buck is back, announcing the nachos are finally ready and that he had to re-do the guacamole three times before it was perfect.

And as he drops the bowls on the coffee center table, then gives Tommy a quick peck, Eddie looks at them. The way Tommy instantly smiled when Buck entered the room, as if the tension is out of him now that he told Eddie what was on his mind; the way he wraps his arm around Buck’s waist and Buck leans against his shoulder. The way he intently listens to Buck explaining what exactly went wrong with the first two guacamole batches, the way he praises Buck for finally getting it right. 

Eddie sighs and does his best to join their conversation as if nothing has happened. Watching the two of them, the way Buck smiles so easily, his eyes never leaving Tommy, and how content his best friend looks, how sure of himself, Eddie realizes that yes, he has to do better by Buck, because they’ve been friends for years and he hasn’t been very good at it. But one thing he knows for sure: Buck is not alone. 

He is finally someone’s priority. 

Ppl who were interested/asked to be tagged: @azaharinflames @laundryandtaxesworld @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @iredastead @exhaustedpirate @dum-amo-vivo9 @neverstopschanging @walkedthroughfires @aar-journey @justahumblecabbagemerchant @styxhuntress @sgprfan

[estrellami-1]

March Mating Madness

Day 4: Bitching/Studding

Pretty Damn Good

Ao3 Link

Nearly called this fic “The Bitchification of Steve Harrington” because I think I’m hilarious.

Eddie never thought his big mouth would get him into situations like this.

This being, of course, Steve Harrington asking Eddie to-

No. There’s no way.

“Please?”

Eddie’s ears ring. His vision goes wobbly. “Uh,” he says dumbly. “I, uh. Think you should come in?”

Steve does, and now Steve’s standing in Eddie’s trailer. What the fuck.

“Okay,” he says, trying to pretend like this isn’t blowing his brain. “Um. My room, come on, this way.” He waves Steve further in, then stops so suddenly Steve runs into him. “Shit, sorry, just- water? Can I get- do you-”

“I’m fine,” Steve says. His voice is small, unsure, and when Eddie looks at him, his shoulders are drawn up and tense. Eddie scents the air, but Steve must be wearing blockers because he only smells his own manic confusion and Wayne’s comforting lemon scent, lingering from a few hours ago when he left for work.

“Okay,” Eddie says uncertainly, and continues on into his room, where he flops on the bed and pats an open space next to him. “Now, I’m gonna need you to tell me everything again, because I’m pretty sure I just hallucinated my biggest fantasy.”

The corner of Steve’s lips quirks up in a smile. “Your biggest fantasy?”

“Have you seen you?” Eddie rebuts. “Yeah, man.”

Steve snickers. “Well you didn’t hallucinate. I want you to bitch me.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Steve doesn’t meet his eyes. Messes with a loose threat on the edge of Eddie’s sheet. “I originally presented as an omega,” he admits in a whisper. “I don’t remember much from my presentation heat. Just… pain. I was able to piece together the pieces later. My parents got home during my heat and… my dad is very, uh. Particular about his image. And as his son, I’m a part of that image.” He swallows, works his jaw. “They took me to a clinic. Stopped my heat, turned it into a rut somehow.” He swallows again. His eyes are distant. “It burned like fire in my veins. Just.. hurt.”

Eddie blows out a breath. “Okay, so your parents are pieces of shit, got it.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. They finally fucked off for good a few months ago. I’ve done the research, I’ve gotten everything I need. I just need someone to do the actual… bitching part of it.”

“Why me?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because half your rants are about forced conformity? Maybe because who the fuck else am I supposed to ask in Hawkins?” He shrugs miserably. “I have… one Alpha friend. And… I could ask her, and she’d probably do it, just because… because we’re us, y’know? But that’s exactly why I can’t ask her.”

“Because she’d put your comfort above her own discomfort.”

“Exactly.” He winds the thread around his finger. Unwinds it, and winds it the other way. “You don’t have to.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know. You’ve done the research, you said?”

“Mhm. I have a muzzle. I want this, and hopefully my body does too, so I shouldn’t- but if you want, I’ll wear it. I’ve got a- there’s a cream, that’s supposed to make me… more sensitive? I don’t know, uh. How much you know about this.”

“Not much, to be honest. I mostly deal with the… medical side of things.” At Steve’s confused blink, he elaborates. “Suppressants, dude.”

“Oh. Right. Um, okay. So… right now, with an Alphan body, I have a dick. And no vagina.”

“Right. I did pass biology.”

Steve’s cheeks burn. “Right. The cream goes, uh… where my vagina would be. Will be, hopefully. And then, uh. You, if you’ll help me, basically have to, uh… come. On that spot.”

“Ah,” Eddie says, brain buzzing again. “Okay. Easy enough. Explain the muzzle to me?”

“I want to be an omega, but that means violating the Alpha part of me. I could… become reactive.”

“Ah.”

“There’s also, uh.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “A cock cage? For me?”

“You’re asking me or telling me?”

“No, ‘m- I’m telling. The studding, uh… made me bigger? And the bitching is gonna make me smaller. And, y’know, omegas don’t have knots, so… if I can’t pop one…”

“Right, makes sense.”

“And I can pay you, of course.”

Eddie chuckles. “Why don’t we burn that bridge when we get to it. ‘S not like I wouldn’t be jerking off anyway. At least now it’s going somewhere useful, y’know?”

“Um,” Steve says, “sure?”

“Anything else I’ll need to do?”

Steve bites his lip. “This is also where the muzzle could come in, I guess. Basically you just… need to treat me like an omega you’re fucking. Cuddle me, scent me, things like that.”

“Ah. And while you’re more Alphan, you may react.”

“Exactly.”

“And once you’re more omegan? Anything specific I need to do or have?”

His cheeks burn again. “Um. I’m going to want to do more… omegan things. Like nesting. It’s not vital but it can help it take better. And it can prevent a drop.”

“Okay, so we’re doing it.” At Steve’s unsure look, he says, “Look, man, drops… they fucking suck, okay? And if I can make this process suck a little less for you, then hell yeah, we’re doing it.”

Steve ducks his head with a shy smile. “Okay.”

“Okay. You got the things with you?”

Steve’s head shoots up. “You want to do it now?”

“Is there a reason why you can’t?”

“I… I guess not. Okay. I’ll just, um. Go get it, then?”

“Or we could go back to your place,” Eddie offers. “More comfortable for you. More scents you know.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s also got my scent as an Alpha there, which can negatively affect it.”

Eddie shrugs. “Either way, man, just want you comfortable.” He walks him to the front door, waits while he grabs a bag from the passenger seat of his car.

They settle back in his room, Steve laying on the bed, lower half bared to the room. He tucks himself into the cock cage and rubs the cream over the area.

“Damn,” Eddie says, lower half also bared. He’s working his cock up to full hardness, adding a little lube to help with the friction. “‘S a good thing I don’t get stage fright.”

Steve giggles—fucking giggles—and Eddie already knows this is going to be hazardous for his health.

But god damn will it be worth it.

Eventually he comes, and he aims for the spot on Steve where the cream had been rubbed earlier. As soon as he pulls away, Steve’s got his hand down there, rubbing it in.

Eddie grins, only a little manic, as he lays down next to Steve. “You gonna snap at me if I cuddle you?”

“Um.” Steve blinks. “No?”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and proceeds to wrap himself around Steve like an octopus. He pulls the comforter up too, tucks his head into Steve’s neck, and rubs his nose along the edge of Steve’s mating gland. “Think it stuck?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Steve whispers, but then he immediately starts laughing, and suddenly Eddie feels a whole lot better about this.

So it goes for a few weeks. Every other day, like clockwork, Steve’s at Eddie’s trailer.

One day Eddie opens the door for Steve and notices something. “You’re not wearing a scent patch!”

Steve beams. “My scent’s turning more omegan!”

“Dude!” Eddie says, and pulls him into a hug. “That’s great!” He ushers him in, locks the front door, herds him to his room. “Come on, come on, let’s go!”

“Jesus,” Steve laughs, “eager much?”

“Excited,” Eddie corrects him. “It’s working!”

Steve nods happily. “My balls are almost gone,” he tells Eddie, unbuttoning his pants and shucking them. “And my cunt’s getting more sensitive.”

Eddie shucks his own jeans. “Lemme see? I wanna see if we can try something different today.”

Steve lays back and opens his legs, and Eddie traces a gentle finger right where his vagina will be. It’s a little puffy, and he thinks he can see the start of some lips.

“Oh, shit,” Steve whispers, tensing his legs and biting his lower lip. “Uh, Eddie-”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Eddie says. “Did that hurt?”

“Um. It actually felt good? Like… really good?” Steve doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It does make me think my idea will work, though.” He puts a gentle hand on Steve’s thigh. “How do you feel about me pretending to fuck you? Basically I’d rut against your cunt. I’d pull back when I’m about to come, so I’d get it where we need it. But if you need me to treat you like an omega…”

“Okay, yeah, yeah, let’s do it. Do you- um, do you want me to wear the muzzle?”

“Nope. I want your nose in my neck. Getting fucked and being surrounded by the scent of the Alpha fucking you? ‘S gotta kick it up a notch.”

“Worth a shot,” Steve agrees, fiddling with the cream. “Um. Would you want to do this?”

Eddie sends him a crooked grin, plucks the tube from his fingers. “Would I want to prep your pussy to take my cock? Yeah, I would.”

“Oh, shit,” Steve whispers.

Eddie freezes. “Too much?”

“No, uh. It actually. Turned me on?”

“Y’know, you say a lot of things as questions that shouldn’t be questions. Did I or did I not turn you on?”

“You did,” Steve admits, cheeks flaming.

Eddie starts rubbing, dipping in closer to nudge his nose against Steve’s scent gland. “Smell sweet,” he murmurs. “Like cherries.” Steve’s breath hitches, and he nudges his hips up into Eddie’s hand.

“Want you to fuck me,” he murmurs back, notching his nose in Eddie’s neck, breathing in his woodsmoke scent. His hips buck up again, and a whine rips its way from his throat, thin but present.

Eddie rumbles back, a calming Alpha sound, and slows his fingers. “Can’t yet,” he whispers into Steve’s neck. The brush of his lips over Steve’s gland makes him shiver. “Y’want it, though? When I can?”

“Please,” Steve whispers, fingers digging into Eddie’s hips.

“I’ve gotcha.” He pulls away for barely a second to reach the lube, slicking himself up before beginning to rut against Steve. “Think you can come this way?”

“Oh, fuck- I- I dunno. Feels- mm, like heat more than rut.”

“Yeah? You tryin’a squirt on me?”

“Oh, fuck-” Steve goes tense all over, eyes squeezed shut as he pants open-mouthed.

Eddie stops but doesn’t pull away, rubbing Steve’s hip with his hand. “Hey,” he murmurs when Steve’s eyes open. “That looked good.”

Steve hums. “‘T was.” His fingers flex on Eddie’s hips as his eyes slip shut again. “C’mon, keep going.”

Eddie tests a thrust. “You’re not too sensitive?”

“‘M sensitive, but ‘s good.”

“Think you can do that again?”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Was it- did you come?”

“Felt like it, but…” he flops a hand down in between them, feeling the cock cage. “‘S dry.” Suddenly he sniffles, and Eddie’s horrified to see tears in his eyes when he blinks them open. Eddie immediately stops, causing Steve to whine.

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay, I’m right here. Don’t wanna hurt you. You’re crying.”

“‘M happy,” Steve whispers.

Eddie cups his face, wipes a tear from the corner of Steve’s eye. “Yeah? Feel more like you?”

Steve sniffles, nods. “Keep going,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie rocks his hips once more. “Feels so good, Alpha, wanna come again.”

Eddie groans. “I’ve gotcha, ‘mega. Gonna make you feel so good.” He starts mouthing at Steve’s scent gland, and Steve whines again, little high-pitched hums that show how good it feels.

“Gonna come,” Steve whimpers, and does a second later, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s hips and pulling him in, squeezing as the pleasure runs its course.

“Shit,” Eddie groans. His cock is practically pulsing with the need to come. As soon as Steve releases him, he pulls back and strips it furiously, aiming for the spot he’d just been rutting up against.

He finally comes and gently rubs it in, watching Steve’s face for any sign of discomfort. Thankfully he doesn’t find any, so he grabs for a tissue to clean his dick with then pulls the comforter up as he wraps Steve in his arms.

They’re both silent for a few minutes, and it’s only when Eddie comes down from his high that he realizes Steve’s purring into his neck. He pulls back to look at Steve, maybe say something, when he realizes Steve’s asleep.

He sighs, smiles, and pulls Steve back in, letting his own, deeper purr rumble through him as he lets himself drop off to sleep.

He’s awakened later by his bedroom door opening. He’s warm and comfortable, and there’s a warm, comforting weight in his arms, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes. He compromises and opens one bleary eye to see Wayne looking first at him, then Steve, then back to him. He purses his lips, nods, and steps out, closing the door with a click.

Eddie lets his eye fall shut again, but he’s awake now, so he drifts for a few minutes before his bladder makes itself known. He carefully extricates himself out of Steve’s own hold, pulling the comforter up more securely around him, and silently pads out of the room, shutting the door before going to relieve himself.

He walks out to the kitchen to find Wayne cooking. There’s a pot of coffee on, and Eddie sends out a thankful scent as he grabs a mug.

“So,” Wayne says.

“Yup.”

“You bein’ careful?”

Eddie tilts his head. “As much as I can be,” he finally says.

Wayne hums. “What’s his name?”

“Steve. Harrington.” At Wayne’s raised brow, Eddie chuckles. “I know, I know. Turns out he’s maybe not such a bad dude.”

“You just hookin’ up? Or you two boyfriends?”

“No, it’s… a little more complicated than that. Not really my story to tell.”

Wayne hums. “Always thought it was weird, y’know. That big house. I’d drive by and only ever see one car in the driveway.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, nudging Wayne out of the way to reach the bread, “that’s part of it.”

Just then his bedroom door opens, and Steve stumbles out, rubbing his eye and yawning. Thankfully, he’s put his boxers back on.

Eddie smiles and gestures for Steve to join them. “Hey, Steve. Come meet my Uncle Wayne.”

“Oh,” Steve says, looking nervous. “Hello, sir.”

“Wayne,” Wayne corrects. “Steve, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Um. Wayne.”

Wayne chuckles. “Y’like eggs, Steve?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to make me anything-”

Eddie snickers and snakes an arm around Steve’s waist. “It’s no use arguing. He’s gonna end up feeding you anyhow.”

Steve’s face flames. “I like eggs. Thank you.”

Wayne nods. “There’s coffee, for if you’re human and drink the stuff.”

Steve laughs and relaxes a little, accepts the mug Eddie hands him. “Thank you.”

“Steve,” Wayne begins.

“Yes?”

“By all accounts, you two are grown and able to make your own decisions. But I’d like to know what you’re doing so I can help, if I can.”

“Oh,” Steve says, and looks uncertainly at Eddie.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s your choice. I’m fine with it, and he’s chill.”

“He won’t, um…” Steve shifts uncomfortably. “I know some people can be weird about it.”

“He’ll be fine if you want to tell him.”

“I’m a busybody,” Wayne says. “Y’don’t owe me a damn thing, alright, kid?”

Steve chuckles and nods. “Okay. Um. I presented omega. My parents got home halfway through my presentation heat, took me to a clinic, and changed it to a presentation rut.”

Wayne’s eyes narrow. “How old were you, kid?”

“Um. Fourteen?”

“Hm. Underage.”

“My parents have… a lot of money. And status.”

“So I gathered. Go on.”

“I never wanted to be an Alpha. I heard Eddie’s rants, during school, and figured if anyone would help me… it would be him. I asked, and he said yes.” He fidgets. “I, um. I did all the research, and bought everything I needed, but I couldn’t- um, outside of a clinic, I need an Alpha to help me.”

Wayne waves him off. “Y’don’t gotta explain yourself. Eddie’s a grown man who can make his own decisions. Let’s back up for a second, though. Y’know you can sue your parents and the clinic that performed that procedure on you?”

Steve blinks. “I can?”

“You were underage, son. That’s not legal. The case tells itself. ‘Specially if you’ve got documentation.”

“I might,” Steve muses. “Or, I guess my dad might, actually. I know where it would be.”

“You have to understand you might not have parents if you decide to sue them. ‘Specially if they’re cut from the cloth I think they are.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have parents already,” Steve says softly. “But if I could get money, get out of that house, maybe a place of my own… that would be really nice.”

Wayne nods. “I’ll talk to some guys I know. See what we can’t do.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, and Wayne pulls him into a hug.

Two days later he’s back in the trailer, scenting Eddie even before he steps fully inside. He seems to realize what he’s doing as soon as Eddie stiffens. Eddie does his best to relax, send a warm smile Steve’s way.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters, ducking his head. “I dunno what that was.”

“I think that was just your omega instincts kicking in.” He shuts the door. “Maybe today you try making a nest? Try and, like… activate those instincts?”

“Sure,” Steve nods, then hesitates. “Um. I have- this is part of what I have ready, actually, but… I’ve got some scents from my pack in my car?”

Eddie gestures. “Yeah, bring them in! This is for you. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable, I wanna do it.”

Steve blushes, ducks his head. “Thanks. I’ll just, um, go grab it then?”

He hurries out, and Eddie hurries to his room, does his best to make his bed. Straightens the sheets, fluffs the pillow. The sheets had all been bunched at the bottom of the bed, and maybe that’s better for Steve, Eddie doesn’t know, but he figures a blank slate might be best.

And anyways, he likes the idea of Steve including his scent in the nest. Sue him.

Steve returns quickly, walking in just as Eddie’s finishing with the bed. “Okay. You’re sure you do don’t mind me bringing my pack’s scents in here? There are some Alphas in my pack.”

Eddie smiles warmly. “I’m nowhere near my rut, Steve. I don’t mind you bringing other Alphas’ scents into my room. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, and starts on the nest.

Eddie doesn’t know what a nest is supposed to look like, so he’s fascinated. There are thicker sweaters and jackets, and in one case even a pair of jeans. These all get bunched up along the outer wall, with t-shirts and bandanas making up the base. The base is rather patchy, letting Eddie’s comforter peek through, and Eddie’s happy about it, but does his best not to let the happiness show. He’s just here to help bitch Steve, after all. They don’t mean anything to each other, though of course he wants to. God does he want to. He wants to court Steve in a way he’s never wanted to before. He wants to bring him flowers and make food for him, scour secondhand shops for the perfect jewelry for his neck and finger. He wants to show Steve he can provide for him. He knows he may not be able to provide Steve with quite the standard of living he’s used to, but he can love Steve for who he is, which is clearly more than can be said for his parents.

He’s jolted out of his reverie by a sound. He narrows in on Steve and realizes he’s purring, and a smile breaks out across his face when he sees the omega curled up in his nest, happy as a clam.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Steve whispers, broken up by purrs. He looks down at his nest, plucks at an orange t-shirt. “Will you- um. Will you join me?”

Eddie stills. “You want me to enter your nest?”

Steve looks up at him from under his eyelashes and nods. “Yes, please.”

The thing is, Eddie thinks, he doesn’t think Steve knows how dangerous those eyes of his are. Eddie’s pretty sure wars have been fought over less. Surely Helen of Troy, beautiful as she was, couldn’t hold a candle to Steve’s eyes. “I’d be honored,” he whispers back, moving forward and carefully climbing in, slotting himself behind Steve.

“I think,” Steve murmurs, “I’m almost done. I think it’s just… the really physical part left, y’know?”

Eddie hums, scents the air. He smells Steve’s pack, but above all he smells Steve, tangy cherries and something sweet like whipped cream. “You smell like an ice cream sundae.”

“Ugh,” Steve says, “the less I hear about ice cream sundaes, the better.”

Eddie blinks. “Why?”

“Did you never visit Starcourt?”

“I did, like, once. I don’t go to malls very often.”

“Yeah, I should’ve seen that coming.” Steve sighs. “I worked at the Scoops Ahoy there. The amount of cold, sticky messes I had to clean up… if I never have to do that again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Ah,” Eddie nods. “The perils of a corporate job.”

Steve snorts. “As opposed to you? Risking getting shanked for shit weed?”

“I’ll have you know I sell only the finest marijuana grown in Reefer Rick’s attic,” he tells Steve, feigning protest and pulling him closer to squeeze just a little, grinning when Steve laughs and squirms. He relaxes his hold but doesn’t let go, and Steve sighs happily, losing any remaining tension in his body. “This is nice.”

“You don’t puppy pile with your pack?”

Steve works his lip. “Not… while I’m, uh, in-between.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “Are they not okay with it?”

“No, they’re fine for the most part. There’s one pup who kind of hates me because I dated his sister for a while, and he’s also just kind of an asshole, but for the most part they’re fine.”

“So why not puppy pile?”

“I guess because… like, I know it’s okay. But it… it’s happening to me, and even though I know it’s okay, it’s still… weird, kinda. And I don’t want anyone else to feel uncomfortable.” He sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t think I explained it right.”

“I think I get it. Your brain knows it’s okay, but your heart is gonna take a little more convincing, even though your pups are fine with it.”

“Y-yeah, exactly.” He takes a stuttering breath, and Eddie sits up to lean over him.

“What’s wrong?”

Steve blushes firetruck red. “Uh. You called them my pups. And I… I love the idea of having pups of my own one day.”

“Yeah? How many little Harringtons you want runnin’ around?”

“God, like six,” Steve breathes. “A vanful. Get a Winnebago and pack everyone up and just… drive. See the Grand Canyon and the redwoods and the beaches in California and Florida and New York City. Just get the fuck out of Hawkins.”

Eddie chuckles. “Sounds pretty damn good.”

“What do you want to do?”

Eddie swallows down what he wants to say. “I dunno. I always thought I’d make it big, maybe in Indy, or somewhere in California. Me and my band against the world, y’know? But I know now that we’re pretty shit. We’ve got a good group at the Hideout, if you count five or so drunks that only occasionally heckle us.” Steve snickers. Eddie buries his smile in the back of Steve’s neck. “But… I dunno. It’d be nice to settle down. Somewhere out of Hawkins, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.”

“And just… be. Somewhere people hear the name Munson and don’t immediately think Al.”

“‘S that your dad?”

“Mhm. In name only, Wayne’s more my dad than he is. He’s currently in jail. Hopefully.”

Steve hums. Doesn’t offer meaningless platitudes, which Eddie likes, just burrows back into Eddie more. Freezes and flips over to face Eddie, who winces and shuts his eyes. “Eddie.”

“Hm?”

“Eddie.” Eddie opens his eyes to see Steve’s teasing smile. “What about this is doing it for you?”

Eddie groans. “You’re an omega who invited me into your nest, okay? And anyways we’ve been doing this for a while and this is the first time we haven’t… y’know. It’s Pavlovian at this point!”

Steve smiles, slips a thumb under Eddie’s shorts. “I think we should take care of it.”

Eddie stills his hand with a small smile. “Only if you want to,” he says softly. “I’m okay.”

“I want to,” Steve promises, just as quietly. “And even if I didn’t really we should anyways. Because I do want this. I want to be an omega. A real one.”

“You are a real one,” Eddie argues, “but I get it. We can. You still sensitive?”

Steve hums. “It feels different, but yeah.”

“Well lemme see what we’re working with. You might be opening up.”

“God, I hope so.” He shucks his shorts off and Eddie crawls down to the foot of the bed, gently moving Steve’s legs up and out of the way. Before he looks, he finds Steve’s eyes. “Do you want me to grab a towel first? So we don’t get your nest dirty?”

Steve chirps, an inadvertent sound that has a blush rising to his cheeks. “Yes, please.”

Eddie smiles, brushes a kiss to Steve’s knee on his way out of bed. He finds a towel and spreads it out under Steve. “Okay,” he murmurs. “You ready?”

“Mhm. Please.”

Another kiss, this time to the opposite knee, and he lays down, gently moving Steve’s cock out of the way. It’s noticeably smaller, and his balls are gone. He brushes a finger lightly over where Steve’s vagina will be. Steve hisses and bucks his hips, and Eddie instinctually responds with a low croon, soothing him. “Almost there,” he tells Steve. “It’s a little damp, and very thin-feeling. I think after today we might be done.”

“Oh,” Steve murmurs, cherry mixing with something sharper, like pineapple.

Eddie pops his head back up, frowning at Steve. “What? What’s wrong?”

Steve opens his mouth like he’s going to say it, then seems to change his mind with a shake of his head. “No, nothing.”

“Hey, if I’m doing something you don’t like-”

“No, it’s- it’s not you.” Steve sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “It’s me. Sorry. It’s fine.”

“Nope.” Eddie army-crawls back up to Steve’s side, huffing and puffing to get a laugh out of Steve. “You’re upset. I wanna help. I can listen if you need to vent. I can hold you if you need to cry. But we’re not moving on until you tell me whats going on.” He nudges his forehead against Steve’s. “‘S not healthy to keep it all bottled up all the time.”

Steve gusts out a breath. “Fine, it is you, okay? But it’s not, because you’re just being nice and doing me a favor and I know that, I swear I do, but my stupid heart doesn’t and it wants you, okay? I want to be your omega, I want you to be my Alpha, I want you to court me and meet my pack but you’re just helping me out. And again I know that! I know you’re just helping me out!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie soothes. “It’s okay. You’re hyperventilating, Steve, take a few deep breaths. With me, okay? Come on, you can do it, in and out with me.” He breathes for a few seconds, nodding encouragingly when Steve’s stuttering breaths start matching up with his. “There you go, good job. Steve,” he starts with a chuckle, “I think we should’ve talked about this a while ago.”

“I knew it,” Steve mutters, shuffling down the bed to reach his shorts. “‘M sorry, I can leave. I didn’t mean to- to lead you on. I’m sorry.”

“Whoa, hey, wait.” He cups Steve’s cheek with his hand, then shifts down to rub his wrist on Steve’s scent gland. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying I want the exact same thing you do.”

Steve’s eyes flutter. “You do?”

“Mhm. I wanna be your Alpha, baby. Wanna take care of you. Buy you all the pretty things and let everyone know that you’re mine. Wanna court you properly, meet your pack, speak with your pack Alpha about asking for your hand. I want to give you every good thing you deserve.” He nudges Steve’s cheek with his nose. “How’s that sound?”

“Sounds pretty damn good,” Steve manages, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“Steve.”

“Hm?” He doesn’t move, just tightens his arms a little.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Please.”

He rolls them over, bracketing Steve in a move that makes the omega whine a little. He leans in and slowly, gently brushes their lips together.

His eyes fall shut just after Steve’s, and he exhales, brushing their lips together twice more before they’ve both had enough.

Steve leans up just as he presses hard into Steve’s lips. Their noses smash together and they pull apart, giggling and blinking, before Eddie carefully, gently pushes him back down. He takes advantage of Steve’s parted lips and dips his tongue in, licking across his teeth before sealing their mouths together.

Steve exhales shakily into his mouth, fingers tightening at the nape of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to Steve’s hip, grips hard, hopefully leaving bruises.

Steve pulls away to pant, pushing his head back into the pillow. “Eddie, please.”

“I’ve gotcha, baby,” Eddie murmurs, dipping down to nip at Steve’s throat. “Tell me what you want.”

He thrusts his hips up. “Want you to fuck me,” he murmurs, gasping when Eddie nips particularly hard. “Fuck, Alpha, please.”

“Yeah baby, yeah, I’ve gotcha. I gotcha, omega, gonna fuck you. Fuck, you’re a dream. Can’t wait ‘till I can fit inside of you.”

Steve whines. “Can’t for a week,” he tells Eddie through gasping breaths. “After I open. Gotta- gotta let it, um. Shit,” he breathes. “Gotta let it heal. Want to, though, want it, please-”

“Yeah, baby, I gotcha. Y’want me to rut against you again?” He rubs the cream in, focuses on where he can feel Steve’s clit coming in. Steve kicks a leg out, whines high in his throat.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Please, Eddie- Alpha, wan’it-”

Eddie shushes him. “I know, baby, I know. I’m right there with you. Fuck, can’t wait ‘till I can go down on you. Gonna eat you out, bet you taste so sweet.”

“Fuck,” Steve moans. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Gonna get my tongue in you, deep as it’ll go, ‘till it hurts but I won’t care ‘cause it’s you, fuckin’ perfect for me. Gonna make you come just from my mouth on you, maybe even twice, then I’ll slide in easy as anything. You’ll be so loose for me, so perfect around my dick, around my knot. Gonna pump you full, get started on those six pups you want.”

Steve’s whining nonstop now, humping up into Eddie, meeting every one of his thrusts downward. “Eddie, Alpha, please-”

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs. “Come on my cock. Can’t you feel it in you? I can feel you, squeezing me. You want this, don’t you? Want me to paint your insides with my come.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve chants, squeezing Eddie’s hips with his thighs. “Gonna- gonna come, gonna-” he cuts off with a high whine, going still as he throws his head back, panting.

Eddie worms his hand in between, squeezes the base of his dick hard, gritting his teeth and panting as Steve slowly relaxes.

He sits up and wiggles back a little so he can finish, aiming for the spot that, at this point, has featured in his dreams. Rubs it in when he’s finished, then collapses half on top of and half next to Steve, tucking his nose into Steve’s neck and letting Steve do the same. “So good, baby,” he mumbles, yawning.

“So good,” Steve agrees, breathing it into the space between them. “Can’t believe you want me back.”

Eddie pulls back, swipes a gentle thumb over Steve’s forehead, moving his hair out of his face. “Baby,” he whispers, “I’ve wanted you since I saw you. Pre-presentation, even. You walked into school one day, laughing with Tommy about God-knows-what, and the light was coming in behind you like you were a fuckin’ angel, and I couldn’t breathe I thought you were so pretty.”

Steve huffs something like a laugh. “And then I ruin it by being a douchebag.”

“Nah,” Eddie tells him. “Cause I saw you. That wasn’t ever you, baby. That was your fuckin’ clown of a friend trying to get his king’s approval. It was Tommy knocking books out of hands and shoving heads in toilets. And you just looked on, and I saw you, baby. Your face said try harder but your eyes said how do I stop this?”

“I tried,” Steve whispers. “I tried to stop it, didn’t know how. Couldn’t find the words that worked.”

Eddie presses a quick, sweet kiss to his lips. “I know.” His lips quirk up. “Y’know I overcharged him for weed?”

Steve starts laughing. “That was my money, you dickhead!”

Eddie shoots up as his jaw drops. “It was?” Steve turns into Eddie’s shoulder, giggling almost hysterically, and nods. “Shit,” Eddie whispers. “Uh. I mean, I can pay you back? But it’s gonna take a while, I didn’t overcharge him much but you bought a lot, so…”

Steve shakes his head, finally calming down. “I don’t care. That’s just- shit, Rob’s gonna have a field day. I can’t wait.”

“You… want to tell him?”

“Her. Robin. Buckley? From band?”

“Oh, yeah, I know her. How do you know her?”

“We worked at Scoops together. I think we’re both traumatized from that job, honestly.”

“I’d expect nothing less from a corporate job.”

“Anyways. She’s the Alpha I was talking about? The one who would help me, but I couldn’t ask her?”

“Okay, yeah. She’s not gonna, like, come after me, is she?”

Steve waves him off. “Nah, you’re fine. She’s just gonna tease me about it.”

“M’kay.” He lays back down, kisses Steve’s shoulder. “Can I meet her?”

“You want to?”

“I mean, not to overstep, but… that’s kinda the next step, right?”

Steve giggles happily, pumps out sweet cherries and cream. “Mhm. Come see me at work tomorrow? Family Video. Robin works there too, her shift starts at one.”

“When does yours start?”

“Nine. I get off at three, with a half-hour break for lunch.”

“What if I bring you lunch at one?”

Steve smiles broadly. “That sounds perfect.”

“M’kay. What do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t care. Whatever you wanna get is fine, I’m really not picky.”

“Baby.” Eddie looks into his eyes, serious. “I’d drive to Indy if there’s something there you want. I promise you, whatever you want, you can have.”

“Even if it’s really out of the way?”

“It could be past Indy and I’d get it.”

“Benny’s?”

Eddie chuckles. “Baby, Benny’s is nothing. Course I can pick that up.”

“M’kay. Thank you.”

He picks up Benny’s the next day, also buying a brownie for Robin. He doesn’t know what she likes, but it’s hard to go wrong with brownies. Especially from Benny’s.

He walks in and grins at Steve, who’s manning the counter. “Hey, Stevie.”

“Eddie!” Steve perks up, runs around the counter, and jumps into his arms. Eddie laughs and catches him, turning in a circle and burying his nose in Steve’s neck.

“Well you’re certainly happy.”

“Mhm, I am.” He releases Eddie, bounces on the balls of his feet. “Guess what.”

Eddie hums, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him back over to the counter so he can put the food down. “Uh… you get off early today and can come see me even earlier.”

Steve pouts. “No, but I wish.”

“I can just stay, baby, I don’t have anything to do.”

“But it’s boring here!”

Eddie gasps. “Are you saying I’m boring? Are you saying it’s even possible to be bored when I’m here?”

Steve giggles. “I guess not.”

“‘Sides, I can never be bored when I’m with you.”

“Flirt,” Steve mutters, but his cheeks pinken anyways.

Before Eddie can guess again, Robin walks in. “Hey, Steve. Munson.”

“Buckley,” Eddie nods. “Got you a brownie if you want it.”

Robin blinks at him for a minute. “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Keep him.”

Steve laughs. “That’s the plan. Oh, you’re both here! Great! Okay, guess what!”

Robin and Eddie exchange a look. “What?” Robin asks.

Steve leans closer to them. “It opened.”

It takes a second, but Eddie gets it just a split second before Robin does, yelling in excitement and gathering Steve up in another hug to swing him in another circle. “Baby! That’s so great! I’m so happy it worked!”

“Thanks to you,” Steve murmurs.

“Nah, I had the easy bit,” Eddie winks. “You did the hard part. And all the research, Christ, I woulda failed that immediately.”

Robin bats at Eddie’s arm, hard enough he finally lets go of Steve to swat at her. She zips in while she has the chance and tackles Steve in her own hug. “How do you feel?”

Steve chuckles. “Honestly? Not that different. I’ve already been acting more omegan with the two of you, and you treat me more like an omega too, so it’s really just the final physical part slotting into place.”

“Still,” she mumbles, tightening her hold on him. “That’s really great. I’m really happy for you.”

“I am too,” he says honestly.

“Stevie,” Eddie starts. “How would you feel if I left a little early? You’ve got your nest stuff in my room, but now that you’re, like, officially an omega, and not making Alpha hormones, and not influenced by the scent… what if we air out your room and move your nest there? Would you want that?”

Steve pulls away from Robin. “Oh, right, of course you don’t want it in your room. That’s fine, we can move it.”

Eddie furrows his brows. “Hang on, sweetness, that’s not what I said. I love having your nest in my room. I just want it where you want it. I’d be overjoyed to keep it in my room. I’d also be more than happy to help you transfer it.”

Steve looks up at him with fucking dangerous eyes. “It can stay?”

Eddie pulls him into a hug. “Of course it can, baby. I’m so sorry I made you think it couldn’t.” He runs a hand over Steve’s hair, smiles at him. “Hey.”

Steve immediately turns pink. “Hi.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

He does, thoroughly, only pulling away when Robin clears her throat. “Steve, if you’re gonna bone, at least clock out for it. And please go into the break room. At the very least.”

Steve turns firetruck red. “Uh. No. Sorry.”

“Can’t anyways,” Eddie adds. “Not for a week now, right?”

Steve pouts. “Dammit.”

Eddie snickers. “What, cuddling with me isn’t enough?”

Steve just rolls his eyes.

Eddie starts courting Steve that day. By the time he’s given Steve his last present, it’s in the trailer, which they both call home now. That night, Wayne gets home and tells Steve his contacts came through, and Steve will be getting compensation for being forced into an underage studding.

It’s more than enough, especially with the sale of the house in Loch Nora, to pay for a modest house on the edge of town.

Steve goes through a few heats while his body remembers how to be an omega, but after his third heat, he and Eddie stand in the bathroom, looking down at the stick in a little purple cup.

Two blue lines stare back up at them.

[sillyteecup]

Licking The Bloodstains from your alter

Terry Richmond x black!o.c

Warnings:

18+

Obsessive behavior

Violence

Mentions of murder

Very questionable decision making

Exhibitionism if you squint

Smut

Word count: 6954🧍🏾

A.N: remember how I was supposed to have this up 4 days ago? Fucking hilarious business I tell you, like I'm even slapping my knee and stuff🧍🏾. Anyway, here's my first Aaron Pierre/Terry Richmond fic to keep yall busy while I work on the series I've been yapping about. Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoy it❤️

~Tee❤️

"7 months?"

"Yes Indi."

"7 months since someone else gave you an ass clenching, toe curling orgasm, head spinning, heart stopping orgasm?"

"Yes Indi."

"And that bum hasn't called you yet?"

"Yes Indi."

Mila watched boredly as her best friend's hands searched frantically for something to grab while her jaw hung open in disgust and disbelief. They had come back from a night out with Indi asking Mila why she didn't take anyone home with her. Mila's answer left Indi essentially crashing out in the driver's seat of her Mini Cooper right outside of Mila's house.

Although she was over it now, the first month of being ghosted by Terrence James Richmond had left her equally flabbergasted. The mystery American man she had met at Sumo last year gave her one of the best nights of her life when she took him home. It was actually the first time she had experienced an orgasm that wasn't self induced, and it was an out of body experience.

Luckily for Mila, Terry became a gift that kept on giving. Sucking her into an all consuming vortex of stormy eyes, expensive dates, late night phone calls and mind-blowing sex, Mila grew addicted to the enigma. Mind always occupied by the memories of him turning her every which way, the heart always yearning for his presence. Every moment, even non-sexual, felt incredibly intimate with him.

Yes, there were many glaring red flags like the fact that she knew nothing about him aside from his (South African) phone number and the fact he was from Louisiana USA. But in the same breath, he knew virtually nothing about her aside from her name, phone number and address. It was a mutual agreement that they would remain mysteries for each other to uncover. There was also his possessive streak. Despite his naturally calm and stoic demeanor, he always made sure to his claim on her when he fucked her; hand prints, hickeys and literal bite marks all over her for the world around her to see. And God forbid another man even thought of breathing in her direction in public: let's just say that Terry had no qualms with gratuitous PDA.

Mila wouldn't say she loved him, no, scratch that she did love him, but she also loved what he brought with him. The excitement, the passion and obviously, the dick. Even while riddled with commitment issues, Terry had hypnotized her into envisioning a future with him in it. She actually liked him and being around him. Mila actually wanted to keep him around.

Until one night when his usual 10 pm call didn't come. Until he never called, or knocked on her door again. She didn't even know any of his friends or whoever it was he stayed with so she couldn't reach him. For 2 weeks she blew his phone up, worried that something may have happened to him. One day she even caved and googled him, hoping to find a social media account or anything to alert her of his whereabouts. The only thing she managed to find was the fact that he served as a Marine for about 6 years before being honorably discharged a year ago. Everything else was a dead end.

Distraught at the sudden loss of someone who had etched himself into the life of a woman who never made space for lovers, Mila eventually grew to accept his disappearance. If anything, he solidified her lack of trust in romantic partners, pushing her back into the realm of strictly causal sex. The only problem was that he had ruined her for the rest of the world. She shuffled through hook-up after hook-up, chasing the high he had fed her during their 2 months together, to no avail. She began to suspect his dick was laced with something because there was no way it was impossible to replicate that feeling. Either way, she would never hear from any of those hook-ups again.

I wonder what that's about.

Maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places, she told herself. But alas, she eventually gave up on that as well, swearing celibacy for the next 2 years. She thought of it as a reset of her mind, body and soul. Maybe after enough time, she would be free from the now blood boiling memories and sex would become fun.

This mini-debrief session was the first time that Mila had spoken to anyone about Terry outside of a throwaway line like, "Gotta go, godly dick is waiting on my doorstep," and "This fuck-ass nigga is ghosting me." No one in her life even knew his name until now.

"No Mila, we need to find this gent and jump him. There's no way-" Indi yelled, smacking her dashboard in frustration.

Mila shrugged nonchalantly. Sure, the topic still stung a little, but she was at a point where she didn't wanna think or care about it anymore. Terrence James Richmond was gone and probably never coming back.

"I'm not doing that; broer probably always has a gun on him," Mila replied coolly. The last thing she needed was having a gun in the hands of a military man in her face because she overestimated her odds.

"It's fine, you just get your father to find him, then I'll organize the firepower for me, you and Sandy," Indi said, suggesting Mila convince her dad who had connections in the US military and the marines from the time of his Marine service.

Mila's eyes went cold at the suggestion. The last thing she wanted was to involve her hot-tempered and trigger happy father in the affairs of her sex life.

"Absolutely not," she stated firmly.

"But Mila-"

"Indiphile I said no. Ebile, let's drop this topic before I get PTSD flashbacks," Mila interjected, knowing that Indi wasn't going to drop it unless she firmly put her foot down.

Indi held her hands up in surrender, acknowledging that there was no room for argument. "Let's go inside then, I'd like to eat something decent before I go back to that baren land I call my apartment," Indi suggested while adjusting her jacket and grabbing her purse.

"Why don't you just sleep over?" Mila asked. Her dad's insistence on getting her a house instead of an apartment was one that Mila never opposed. At least that way she had more space and got to stick the whole apartment hunting and saving for a house process.

The joys of a bald rich dad with a guilty conscience.

"Neh? It's late and I've got toiletries and enough clothes here," Indi said in agreement, never passing up an invite to spend the night with her best friend.

The friends gathered their stuff and exited the car. They reached the front door, Mila sticking her key in the keyhole to unlock it.

It was already unlocked.

Mila and Indi froze, blood running cold at the possibility of an intruder. The worst part was that if they were in the living room, they already heard them try to unlock the door. Quickly, Mila grabbed her phone from her jean pocket and logged onto the app connected to the security system and cameras in the house.

My dad's paranoia is finally doing something for me.

No notification indicating entry and nothing in today's footage. Although it seemed that no one was inside, Mila was her father's daughter, so she grabbed the gun from her purse, cocking it and making Indi gasp.

"I'm over here talking about pulling strings for glocks, kanti you already have one?" she hissed in disbelief.

Mila just rolled her eyes and shushed her. "I don't know why you're so surprised when you've literally known my dad for this long," she replied calmly, hand reaching to carefully open the door.

Indi shrugged, conceding to Mila's point before slowly following her into the house with a teaser in hand.

Mila stepped into the living room, taking slow and quiet steps with the hope that no one was in the living room. Gun aimed at nowhere, her eyes scanned the dark area finding nothing until-

A lighter flickered. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound, finger instinctively pulling the trigger. Mila frowned. She had expected a grunt or a thud, but all she got was a startled scream from Indi, and probably a hole in the wall.

Maybe I'm hearing thi-

Suddenly Mila felt a hand roughly grip her wrist, catching her off guard and effectively disarming her. She tried kicking at the assailant but it was no use, because they either dodged or flat out blocked all her attacks. Indi had huddled in a corner screaming having dropped the taser in the shock of the gunshot, while a now anxious Mila did her best to fight the assailant off in the dark.

The scuffle however, was put to an end when Mila found herself roughly pinned against the wall right next to the switch for the living room lights. Coupled with the hand holding hers above her head, was the cold metallic barrel of her own gun pushing her chin up launching her into a further panic.

"Whatever it is you want: money, jewelry, what-just please-" she had begun to plead before being shushed.

"Shhhh. I'm only here for you sweetheart."

Ain't no way.

Right as the assailant spoke, Mila's eyes finally adapted to the dark. Although his face was covered in a ski mask, those eyes were unmistakable. Factoring in the voice and his scent-oh that rich, woody, spicy saffron mixed with vanilla and cloves...

"Terrence?"

"Sorry!?" Indi yelled from her corner, Mila realizing that she pondered a little too loudly.

The corners of the man's eyes crinkled. If this was Terry, he was cockily smirking under the mask.

He removed the gun from her skin, causing her to release a breath she didn't know she was holding, and reached for the switch behind her. Once the lights were on, he used the same hand to take the mask off, revealing his identity.

And there's that fuck-ass smirk.

Terry leaned in, dipping his nose into the crook of her neck and deeply inhaling her vanilla-peach and cocoa scent.

"So fucking good, just like I remember," he whispered, lifting his head to meet her rather blank looking eyes.

Mila's mouth was slightly agape as she searched her brain for something to say and how to feel. Too many responses flooded her mind all at once, leaving her blank loss of words.

Indi on the other hand had made up her mind. "Rhaaa, isbindi onaso, kaka ndini yendoda! Hayi uyabenza ubunqundu shem. Kwaye ufluent kubo. Hayi-hayi shem ndiyakuvuma! Wena? Eyakho ibrand yobuBitch ass nigga, ndiyaqala ukuyibona. U-Innovative wena ngamasimba-" she ranted in disgust as she walked towards them. Mila was actually scared that Indi would snap and put her hands on Terry. And that was not something Mila felt like dealing with.

As if reading her mind, Terry slowly backed away from Mila with his hands up while she gathered herself. Her uncertainty of her feelings would have to wait as the situation needed to be de-escalated.

"Indi, I need you to please calm down and wait for me upstairs," Mila requested calmly. "Terry and I have a lot to talk about."

Indi frowned before nodding and stomping up the stairs to the guest room she usually slept in, leaving Mila and Terrence alone in the living room.

The latter's gaze was on Mila, longing, and terrifyingly primal. His lips were still stretched in a smirk as he walked over to her. "I never stopped thinking about you," he unconsciously reassured her.

She sucked her teeth in before saying, "Yet you never came back. You never even fucking called," she spat as she took a step back.

Bitter. Mila was bitter, and angry at this man's audacity to disappear for as long as he did, then break into her house and sing her hymns of sweet nothings.

"Sweetheart I never left," his tone was light and sweet, an unnerving contrast to his physical demeanor..

Mila's eyebrows furrowed, face scrunching up in confusion. "Yes you did. You ghosted me for 7 months while you were who-knows-where, ignoring all of my calls and texts," she argued as she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"That doesn't mean I was gone," Terry insisted, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

"What do you even mean by that?" Mila asked incredulously, getting progressively baffled and impatient.

He hooked a finger under her chin, raising it for her eyes to meet his.

"I mean exactly that. I've been here the whole time watching you, keeping you safe," he whispered. Although he sounded sincere, his irises twinkled with something sinister. Like there was a darker edge to his revelation.

"Well, except I did leave for about a week, but I was always gonna come back to you. Then my pops called about getting me a job down here, and I couldn't believe my luck when he told me who was offering and what it was," he explained, with a light chuckle.

Mila arched an eyebrow, "You gonna tell me or-" she was interrupted by Terry placing his index finger against her lips.

"So impatient. You really are daddy's little girl," he mused, confusing Mila even more. How the hell would Terry know that when she had never even spoken about him to her?

"But let me cut to the chase. Your pops basically hired me to be your...long distance bodyguard to put it simply," he shrugged. "So like I said, I've been here the whole time, watching you."

Something about the way he said "watching you," made Mila's blood run cold. She doubted he meant it as strictly professional.

"Watching me?" she choked out, terror seeping in at what he could mean.

"Yeah...watching you eat. Watching you sleep. Watching you shower. Watching you go about your routines and shit."

Then he leaned in, head dipping to plant kisses up her neck, and jaw until his lips softly grazed her earlobe. "Watching you let some random niggas touch what's mine," he said before planting more soft kisses on her jaw, eliciting a moan.

However, it didn't take long for her to register his words, and her body stiffened. "Terry..."

"Mmm?" he hummed against her skin.

"Don't tell me you-"

"Got rid of 'em? Tuh, each and every last one...gone!" he laughed menacingly before stepping back to look into her now teary eyes.

"N-no, no, no, NO! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Mila cried as she stared at him in horror.

"Nah, don't get it twisted sweetheart, this is all on you. I did it all for you!" Terry tried to grab a hold of her hand but she fought him off, disgusted by him using her as a scapegoat.

"You killing innocent people because you're a jealous, possessive, psychotic creep was for me? Try again Terrence," Mila spat venomously.

Terry ran a hand over his frustrated face, doing his best to quell his rising temper as a result of her tone. He desperately dug through the corners of his mind for a way to reason with her, not wanting things to come to a head. Even though they had only argued once before this, Terrence knows that with their combined tempers, a fiery explosion was afoot.

"They couldn't make you cum-"

"Wow-"

"They couldn't satisfy that precious little pussy the way I could. Never had your eyes rolled back, your toes curling, your legs shaking...nothing. And that shit tore you up from the inside out," he said, reminding her of the frustrating aftermath of her sexcapades.

"I watched you, every Saturday , crying and throwing shit around because you hated me for ruining you. You screamed and cried about being broken and that you hated them for not being able to fix you. You were spiraling-It wasn't just them," Terry rambled, making Mila's scowl even deeper.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait...Terry...who else did you kill?" Mila asked, prompting Terry to retrieve a backpack from underneath her coffee table. She watched as he took out a binder and placed it on the table and sat next to it, gesturing for her to come closer.

She complied, albeit hesitantly, taking small apprehensive steps towards the man she once felt safe around enough to be vulnerable with, taking a seat on the edge of the table. Terry opened the binder, the contents of its folders and pages eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Pictures by the dozen, of people Mila had not only slept with, but also had interactions that she vaguely remembered with. Negative interactions being the common theme.

Her ex coworker, Sean, whom she had reported to HR for harassment when he wouldn't stop threatening to tamper with her work if she didn't go out with him. Last she had heard, he had resigned before committing-

Terry.

Her creepy tutor, Simon who tried to solicit her into giving him head for a good word with her professor regarding her latest assignment. Apparently he had left the University 2 weeks before being found dead in Centurion.

Also Terry.

That one aggressive Jehova's witness lady that had tried to accuse her and Indi of shoplifting at Dischem after Indi cursed her out for following them around the store. Mila never really expected to see her again to be fair. In fact she had forgotten all about her.

But Terry had killed her too.

Tons of people, dead from what seemed like mysterious or natural causes. Their biggest sin was being a random stranger that had upset Mila, no matter how minute the situation. He had all their pictures, personal details and reasons for their deaths documented. Also in the binder, we're pictures of Mila herself. Sleeping, eating, showering, reading, talking to her friends, at work, at school, with her family-

And for some sick reason, all of this was endearing to her. What should have scared the ever living crap out of Mila, and had her running to the nearest police station, actually relieved her.

Terry loved her. He didn't even have to say it. This was all the proof she needed that he hadn't just discarded her after everything. He really had been around the entire time, watching over her and trying to keep her happy.

She glanced up at him, a small smile forming as gratitude coated her features.

"Terry you actually did this? For me?"

Terry scooted closer to her, moving the binder to the side and cupping her face. "All for you sweetheart. All for you. You're everything to me, and I'll be damned if anyone fucks with what's mine," he whispered, fingers gently tracing up her back before reaching the nape of her neck. Gentleness was then thrown out of the window when he snatched at the roots of her braids, eliciting a surprised yelp, to push her face closer to his. His eyes had gone from green to hazel, the flecks in his irises darkening as his eyes took her in like she were but his prey.

“But don't think any of this means I forgot that you let some bum-ass niggas touch my shit,” he said darkly, making Mila bite back a moan at the sharp sting in her scalp and the dark promise behind his words. Her thong had already begun to dampen.

Feeling brave, she smirked. “Yeah? And what exactly are you gonna do about it Terrence?” she taunted. If the defiant question wasn't enough, she was certain that using his government name would definitely trigger him.

Terry let out a menacing chuckle accompanied by a slow no. His reaction to Mila's dare had her rubbing her thighs together (something she naively prayed he wouldn't see). His piercing gaze had already been enough to get her wet; at this point she was damn near a dripping faucet.

“First,” he began, punctuating the word with another yank at her roots. “You're gonna tell your little friend to either put on some noise canceling headphones and bump something on full blast, or put in some earplugs, or whatever the fuck else, because tonight I plan to have you screaming at the top of your fucking lungs until your little slut throat gives out,” he explained eerily calmly.

“Then, you're gonna go to your room, and you're gonna wait for me on your bed, in nothing but that little red thong you put on tonight, on all fours like the pretty, smart, and above all…” he trailed off as his lips claimed hers in a soft, but also raw and hungry kiss that took her breath away all the while gnawing at his self-control.

It was like a dance. Terry was the lead and every step he took, Mila followed in line. His tongue glided across her teeth, her jaw made way for entry. He nipped at her bottom lip, she let out a needy moan and slid her tongue over his. Every movement was in sync. An outsider would say rehearsed.

But Terry's resolve was waning. If he didn't pull away when he did, he would have taken her on the coffee table like a rabid animal. He still had a point to prove, and he planned to draw it out for as long as he could. Mila’s eyes remained half closed in a love drunk state, prompting Terry to pat her cheek firmly

“Like the obedient little slut I know you can be.”

Mila had never done a single hard drug in her life. The only high she had experienced was Terry induced, and if she was being honest, solely from what she had heard and read, it was all the same.

Hands planted into the gray satin sheet to support her trembling knees, her skin vibrated in anticipation as he stared at her from the doorway. The awe in his hazel eyes was seasoned with unfiltered lust. His ability to remain restrained for this long surprised Mila. 7 months ago he would've had her against the dresser, holding her immobile body up while he fucked her into another consciousness by now. But that was 7 months ago. Since then he had watched 5 too many people fail her. He had watched from a distance while they left with her that knot he could untie with one touch.

A slight tinge of resentment returned, and from the way Terry's eyes darkened even more than before, Mila knew he had sniffed out. She also knew that the next plan of action would be to snuff it out. As much as she owed him a plate of penitence for letting those lesser beings even breathe near what he held so sacred, he had prepared it with his absence.

At least they had paid for their crimes. It didn't matter that they were unaware of them.

“Fucking beautiful,” Terry mused. He began to walk towards Mila, his piercing gaze, and slow, purposeful steps growing that little knot in her belly.

He squatted at the foot of the bed, meeting her at eye level. “You wanna know what my favorite thing about you is?” he asked gently, completely contrasting his foreboding demeanor.

Mila, breath caught in her throat, nodded eliciting a disappointed sigh from Terry. His hand shot up to grab at her jaw. “What happened to all that mouth from downstairs huh? You ain't have nann issues acting bold and calling me by my government name,” he said condescendingly as he shook her face roughly.

Mila mentally face-palmed at her past self. If that dumb bitch just knew how to shut up.

The shaking stopped when the pads of his fingers dug into her skin, holding her jaw in place. “You know what? I'll just tell you when I get tweaking off this dick,” he promised with a wild grin.

Mila watched Terry undress: each bracelet unclipped, watch discarded, rings slipped off the fingers that would be knuckle deep inside her and around her throat soon, shirt tossed to the side and pants, socks and shoes left in a pool on the ground. Only one thing remained on his (extremely well endowed) body, and that was the usual silver chain he wore. He always left it on during sex because Mila had told him that she lived for how it hung over her face while he dug her guts out during missionary.

Having waited for what felt like an eternity, Mila watched Terry move around and felt the bed dip behind her as he settled in. His calloused hands ran over her thighs, feeling them as he was making sure this was real. Her breath hitched when they planted themselves sharply on the sides of her ass. Her back arched instinctively when his fingers split her cheeks open for a clearer view of her his moist pussy. The tip of his nose grazing her opening with a ghost of a touch as he inhaled her scent elicited a moan. If she hadn't already been internally shaking impatiently, his thumb rubbing light-almost nonexistent circles on her clit definitely brought her to the brink of begging territory.

Like an addict feigning for a hit while somebody else sets a line of coke onto a counter.

But he had barely touched her, and like he said earlier, she still had a long night ahead of her. So she inhaled deeply and bit her tongue while his fingers played her like dough.

“You'll forgive me baby, but tonight I wanna take my sweet time with you and this sweet little pussy. Need to make sure you both know that you're mine, and that you're always gonna be mine by the time I'm done. And fortunately or unfortunately depending on how much you can take, that might take us all night,” he said softly from behind her. Suddenly his fingers plunged into her entrance, curling against her inner walls making her cry out. He tsked as he added another finger, “Unfortunately it is then,” he sighed.

His fingers continued to curl and scissor, putting pressure on her inner wall, causing her to let out choked moans. His other hand toyed with her clit pushing her towards the tides of an early orgasm. Her mind spun as he reminded her of how well he knew her body. It had been too long since a familiar face had shown itself around these parts and that was evident in the way her stomach and pussy had begun to clench. Her knees vibrated in a slight tremble, telling her that if she took any more she'd find herself flat on the bed in a muddy pile.

“Fuck, baby I knew you missed me but I ain't know it was this bad,” Terry chuckled having felt and read the warning signs of Mila’s pending crash.

“Yeah bab-fuck! Missed you so fucking much,” Mila moaned, the pleasure making her confident enough to speak again.

Before she could sputter out her need to cum, Terry beat her to the cut. “Give it to me sweetheart. Make a mess on my fingers for me,” he said, coaxing her into an orgasm with one last curl.

Mila’s knees parted slightly as she sat up. The hand that Terry had previously used to play with her clit, held her up by the small of her back while he readjusted his body and wrist. Comfortable, she began to ride her orgasm out on his fingers, head thrown back in delirium, albeit minimal at the moment. Terry left a trail of wet kisses from the back of her ear down to her shoulder blade as she finally came down.

“D’you like that,” he whispered in her ear.

“Mhmm,” she hummed with a slow head. Her eyes were lidded, head growing heavier from the intoxicating orgasm and growing arousal.

“Good, good. Because there is plenty more where that came from,” he promised as he slowly removed his fingers that were now coated in her essence. He brought them up to her lip, brushing his fingers against them as if asking for entry. Her lips parted, making way for him to drag his fingers across her tongue while she sucked the contents off nearly clean.

“My beautiful little princess,” he cooed as he felt her tongue clean his fingers off before removing them from her mouth.

Mila felt his body shift as he maneuvered his way off the bed, once again standing at its food. Through her eyelashes she could see him eyeing her, taking her body in while he fought the unholy thoughts that threatened to throw all his restraint away. Her dark skin remained iridescent under the dim lights, every curve and their sister line, stretching as she laid back completely and parted her legs for him to see his handy work.

A cunt seeping of pleasure and begging for more.

Terry licked his lips and shook his head in appreciation. “I don't think I'll ever stop gushing about how beautiful you are sweetheart,” he whispered as his hands roughly yanked her ankles and dragged her body closer to him. His hands then ran up and down her calves while he watched her face strain with excitement and wanton.

“My gorgeous, needy little slut. So needy that she just had to get her fix elsewhere. Pathetic, unworthy, bitch ass niggas coming in here and barely scratching the surface of what makes her snap and come undone. And thank God for audio cameras, because I could hear the fake moans too. That shit drove me over the edge, had me wanting to bust in and show them how it's really done. Have you creaming, shaking and drooling, high off the pure shit,” he said as he kissed up and down her inner thighs.

“Made me wanna end their shit right there and then so you knew what would happen if you kept letting these niggas fuck with you. Oh, I bet you'd have liked that huh? Watching me catch bodies for this shit? That shit alone probably would have made you cum, my crazy, beautiful little slut,” he chuckled, deep voice vibrating against the skin right next to her pussy making her moan.

While. Mila never cared to say it out loud, he was right. Terry's possessive streak was one of her favorite things about him. Especially coupled with the knowledge of the threat he posed to the general population. The idea that a man who was strong enough to snap someone's neck in a split second, was willing to go so above and beyond for her, cared for and coveted her, made her feel safer than any of her dad's extra security measures. And now with the information that he had gone as far as killing people for merely breathing wrong in her direction…the mere thought of it added to the arousal pooling between her legs.

Terry kneeled before her, his laser-focused eyes never once breaking away from her half-opened ones. The first press of his lips against her sent a shiver through her system. Her mind reeled at the light swipes of his tongue across her clit. It had been too long, and she was already on a trip so the increasing pressure coupled with his digits drawing her soul out of body with the traces on the backs of her thighs only sent her into a higher orbit. A light graze of his teeth against her bud drew a sharp gasp from her. Her hands flew to tug at his curls which had grown longer than the last time she had seen him.

“Fuck, Terry don't stop,” she begged, her voice ragged from her heavy breaths, her back arching slightly from the bed. Never one to turn down his precious Mila's wishes, Terry unrelented, feasting on her like a man possessed and employing his hands to keep her pinned to the bed.

Sinful pleas for more sprinkled with the occasional famished grunt filled the room. The air was thick with sex and Mila found herself chasing her breath and another hit all at once as Terry quelled any past doubts she'd had of his desire for her. The tremble in her legs had grown more violent at Terry's onslaught. It was like speeding up the highway to heaven, the way her mind fogged up with every swipe of his tongue. Her breaths grew shorter as her desperate mewls and pleas grew louder.

“Baby I-I need to…fuck, I'm about to-” she sputtered, struggling to form a coherent sentence over the mind numbing spell he had breathed into her pussy.

Refusing to separate from his meal, Terry simply nodded for her to let go and give in to the crashing wave of pleasure. Her body's fluent understanding of him registered the silent beckoning and with that she found herself light headed as she floated into her second orgasm of the night. Terry remained attached to her mound, lapping and sucking the fruits of his labour. He had yet to be satiated, his hunger driving her into another, and another, and yet another head splitting orgasm, despite her loud cries for mercy.

By the time Terry deemed himself fulfilled, Mila's mind had numbed. She felt separated from herself, like her soul had merged into the atoms around her. Nothing but dazed pleasure behind her usually cynical yet curious chocolate colored eyes. Terry's touch sent shocks through her has his climbed onto the bed over her. Although barely present, his hands on her now hypersensitive skin and that damn chain over her face grounded whatever was left of her. He pressed his lips onto hers, the kiss desperate and needing. On autopilot, her lips moved in sync to his, giving into his every whim. Her soft groans as he nipped and licked her lips spurred him on, sending him into what felt like a drunken haze; a sudden extra spike in his need for her.

The kisses traveled down her jaw, where he gently sucked at her skin before trailing down. His head buried into the crook of her neck, the pressure of his lips and tongue on her skin increasing as he left dark patches all over her for all to see.

Feeling like Mila's body was beginning to consume him, Terry raised his head to admire the absolute work of art that laid before him. The miniscule conscious part of her found herself drowning in Terry's lovingly hungry gaze. His features were focused as his index and middle fingers worked her sensitive nipples, kneading and twisting at them to melt Mila into a pile of nothing.

“Damn, my little slut’s already greened out huh? I ain't even give you the main yet and you're already full. Can't think, can't speak, nothing,” he commented with a light chuckle. “I can't lie, I almost feel bad. After all this is all my fault. But I'd actually be lying if I said I didn't like how you look right now. Completely and utterly undone, and I ain't even stick the tip in yet.” The lightness in his tone was deceptive. This man's intentions with her were anything but. Mila’s undone state aside there was still a point to be made. “Now I'm gonna you remind you of how it's supposed to feel to have someone take care of you,” he growled in her ear, his fingers tightening around her nipples, eliciting an incoherent curse from her.

He moved to line himself up at her entrance, gently tapping her with his thick tip. He gently pushed into her, the pressure pulling her body up in a light arch while it drew the unholiest cry to leave her lips. Terry inhaled deeply, the feel of her tight walls around him slightly intoxicating. Driving him to do something unusual for them: bottoming out. She had always said she felt he would be too big to have all of him inside of her, but tonight was different. Clearly he needed to remind her exactly who this pussy belonged to, and what better way than to go all the way and ruin her even further.

“Ah-fuck baby. Too much-” she managed to cry out.

But her words fell on uncaring ears as Terry flashed his signature, sinister grin before pulling out slightly and slamming right back into her, staying there for a moment. She erupted into what sounded like a moan blended with a tortured cry, back once again arching from the bed. Her hands desperately reached for his hips as if trying to push him away, only for him to grab them and pin them above her head and hover over her.

“Feel that baby?” he asked as his hips twisted against hers, drawing a choked groan. “Yeah, that's me digging you out. Tonight you're gonna be an exceptional little slut, and you're gonna take it all; I don't care if it's too much or if you feel it in your chest or whatever the fuck excuses you've got loading in that pretty little lump of mush you used to call a brain, I'm giving you all of me, and you're gonna take it,” he growled menacingly before he once again pulled out and snapped his hips against hers, driving himself fully into her.

As Terry continued his unforgiving pace, pressure, and tempo, Mila's cries grew louder and increasingly incoherent. Her previously slurred cries for mercy turned to a symphony of sweet nothing that was punctuated by the brutal force of his hips and low hung balls slapping against her body. His dick pounded in and out of her, arranging and rearranging her insides. Every sense of coherence had been fucked out of her with every brutal stroke.

“Whose fucking pussy is this?” he growled, gently kissing her jaw as he continued to fuck her like he hated her.

Mila, however, was too far gone to form a cohesive thought let alone a sentence. Unsatisfied with her incoherent babble, Terry his hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed hard enough to blur her vision. “I know you're too cock-drunk to think right now baby, but I need you to answer me when I ask you a question. I know my polite little princess is still in there somewhere,” he said softly as he purposefully constricted her breathing before letting go for an answer.

“It's-it's…yours, baby. All yours,” she choked out between gasps for her air and lustful moans to Terry's satisfaction. He rewarded her with an even more unforgiving stroke, which she swore drove her soul out from her body, before returning to his original pace.

Fists wrapped around the ruined satin sheets, Mila found herself nearing her third orgasm of the night. Her vision had begun to blur and her legs had begun to numb.

“Terry, I-”

“Go ahead sweetheart,” he grunted, not faltering even once.

Once again Mila found herself washed under an abyss of pleasure and nothingness. Her head spun as a sinful cry tore from her lips, her pussy clenching around Terry making him close his eyes and growl before regaining his composure.

Terry's pace slowed as she came down, allowing her a brief moment to stew in her third wind. Her erratic breathing grew calmer and calmer as her loud moans quietened into whimpers. Terry peppered a few more wet kisses across her chest, up her neck and to her ear.

“God I missed this shit. I missed fucking this pussy numb. I missed hearing you scream when I'm inside you. I missed the way you look when you're drunk on this dick. Kinda like right now, my sweet, beautiful, dick-dumb princess,” he said as he continued to kiss all over her, soft strokes lulling her into a false sense of security.

“...missed you too baby,” she muttered, barely above a whisper while she tried to collect herself.

Mila felt Terry pull out, assuming they had reached the aftercare segment of their little show. She hummed as he gently began to massage her left calf, relieving it of any tension while kissing it softly.

“You know, you've been such a good girl for me tonight; being obedient and taking me so well like the sweet little slut I know you are. Made me think about ending it here, running you a bath and making something nice for you and your friend before you fall asleep,” he said as he put her calf over his shoulder, repeating his actions with the right one.

“I mean just by looking into your eyes, I can tell there's nothing left in there. You look like you'd pass out if I gave you anymore,” he pointed out, making Mila nod in agreement. Honestly, she could use a hot bath and a good meal. As much as it was only the first round, it was also the third orgasm and it had been brutal. All of that for the first time in 7 months had taken her out pretty early.

“But then I thought, ‘nah, fuck that’.”

His words made her eyes snap open as he gently placed the next calf over his shoulder. He began to lean in, effectively folding her body in half. “We've both waited too damn long for this shit. You cried for this, I killed for it. And I don't know about you, but I feel it would be a waste if all of that was just for you to tap out after one round,” he said, his tone darkening with promise in the last sentence.

Without warning, he pushed into her, fully driving his huge dick back into the depths of her guts. The pained yet lustful cry that tore from her throat made him chuckle darkly.

“I did tell you this was gonna be a long fucking night for you.”

[shiorihyugawrites]

Red Regrets

Twelve years ago, Levi Ackerman made the hardest decision of his life—he left behind the only woman he ever loved, believing it was for her own good. But fate is cruel, and when a fiery redheaded boy with a familiar scowl crosses his path, Levi is forced to confront the past he abandoned. The truth he never knew. And the woman whose heart he shattered. (Levi x OC)

Chapter Two

Levi stood there as if carved from stone, his gaze lingering on the empty space where Penelope and her son had vanished. He barely noticed the chatter and bustle of the courtyard returning to its normal hum. A dozen emotions twisted inside him, far too many to make sense of at once. The sting on his cheek from her slap was a dull ache compared to the storm in his chest.

Nearby, Erwin and Hange watched him closely, exchanging concerned looks. Neither of them said anything immediately, as if sensing Levi was teetering on some unseen precipice. Finally, Hange let out a low whistle and approached with tentative steps, each footfall echoing against the cobblestones.

“Levi,” she ventured, placing a light hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright? I mean, obviously you’re not alright. But… who was that woman?” She paused, exhaling sharply. “And that kid—he gave you one hell of a time.”

Levi kept his eyes fixed on the corner of the alley where Penelope had disappeared. In his mind, he could still see her furious gaze, the torment in those gold irises, the way she refused to show him a single shred of softness. Part of him wanted to chase after her, to demand an explanation, but another part of him was paralyzed by guilt. Slowly, he closed his eyes and breathed.

Erwin stepped forward, glancing at Hange. “Let’s give him a moment,” he said in a low voice.

But Hange shook her head. “He’s in shock, Commander. If we don’t ask now, he might just bury it like everything else.” She turned her attention back to Levi, her expression gentler than usual. “Levi, talk to us.”

Levi’s throat felt tight. Though he was never one for emotional confessions, the weight in his chest threatened to suffocate him if he kept silent. “Her name’s Penelope,” he said at last, voice distant. “We… knew each other before I joined the Scouts.”

Hange glanced at Erwin, then pressed gently, “You two looked like you had some… unresolved history.”

“Yeah,” Levi answered, jaw clenched. “Something like that.”

His thoughts drifted to the Underground, to the scrawny girl with rose-red hair he’d once protected. He remembered the day they first met, how she’d been cornered by thugs in a dark alley. He remembered teaching her how to throw a punch, the nights spent sharing scraps of food. He remembered the first time he told her he loved her—and the last time he saw her, face streaked with tears, while he threw her aside with words that still haunted him.

Hange glanced after the vanished mother and son. “And this child—Preston?” she asked. “He called her Mom. The two of them look a lot alike, but also… I mean, you saw it too, right? The scowl. The posture. The way he fought. That’s no ordinary schoolboy.”

Erwin nodded gravely. “He reminds me of you, Levi. Even down to the haircut. Seems a bit too coincidental.” When Levi didn’t immediately respond, Erwin placed a hand at his chin in thought. “The boy looks to be around ten or eleven…if he’s that age, it would be around the same time we had arranged her citizenship above ground.”

Levi stiffened, the implications behind Erwin’s words settling in. Ten or eleven years old… He struggled to form a coherent answer, but the question was obvious: had Penelope gotten pregnant after Levi left? His mind raced back, counting months and days, recalling the final moments they spent together as teenagers.

“I… left her,” Levi said, voice low. “I told her it was for her own good, that I didn’t want her getting caught up waiting around to see if I returned from the expeditions dead or alive. I didn’t want to put her through that. She hated me for it. Rightfully so.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I never knew she had a kid.”

Hange’s eyes went wide. “So, you think that child might be—”

Levi’s silence was answer enough.

Erwin looked at him, sympathy in his steely gaze. “In all the time I’ve known you, I never imagined this was a possibility,” he said quietly. “But the boy’s resemblance is uncanny. And if the timeline matches up… Levi, you may well have a son.”

The words sank in like stones thrown into a deep well, each syllable echoing. Levi remembered the boy’s face—angry, fierce, and a bit frightened. He recalled how swiftly the kid moved, how unafraid he was to take on bigger opponents, how he even tried to swing at Levi himself. That brash courage, or stupidity, was something Levi recognized from his own childhood in the Underground.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, as if trying to steady himself. “Why wouldn’t she tell me?” he muttered, though deep down, he knew the answer. He had left her. Not with kindness or an explanation, but with harsh words meant to drive her away. Perhaps, in her mind, he’d made his choice. And she, furious and wounded, had gone on to carve out her own life without him.

Hange rocked on her heels, eyebrows knitting together. “Well, that’s something you’re going to have to ask her yourself.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “If the kid is yours, then he deserves to know. You both do.”

Levi let out a breath through his nose, a mixture of frustration and regret. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered. “She looked ready to kill me. Did you see the hate in her eyes?”

“I did,” Erwin admitted. “But I also saw how shaken she was. One can’t easily hide that kind of reaction.”

The silence that fell between them was heavy with unspoken possibilities. Hange, restless by nature, began pacing in a small circle. “So what are we going to do?” she asked, looking from Erwin to Levi. “Are we just going to let them walk away?”

Levi’s shoulders tensed. A huge part of him wanted to chase after Penelope and demand answers. Another part of him feared what facing her wrath would entail. “I need… time,” he said, though the words came out sounding hollow. “And I doubt she wants to talk to me right now. She slammed her palm into my face with more force than a punch.”

He lifted a tentative hand to his still-sore cheek. It was likely to bruise, a visual reminder of her fury. But that was nothing compared to the roiling inside his chest. There was the heartbreak of betrayal she’d felt when he walked away. The knowledge that he might have a son he’d never known about, one who was now an angry, defiant kid that looked ready to take on the world.

Erwin surveyed their surroundings. Onlookers had mostly moved on, but a few curious stragglers still cast glances at the trio of high ranking Scouts. “This isn’t the place to discuss something so delicate,” he said, adjusting his posture. “Let’s head back. We’ll figure out a plan. If you decide to approach her… we can try to broker a calmer setting.”

Hange watched Levi’s expression, noticing how stiff and unyielding he was. “We might also want to check records,” she added thoughtfully. “If Penelope is a registered doctor in Wall Sina, there’d be official documents. Possibly even birth records.”

Levi’s gaze snapped to her, a flash of worry crossing his features. “I’m not about to go digging through government archives behind her back,” he said. “If I want to know the truth, I should hear it from her directly.”

Hange nodded, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just stating the options, Levi. This is uncharted territory for you.”

Erwin cleared his throat. “For now, let’s return to headquarters. Levi, get your bearings. We still have a mission ahead. The political climate is already precarious, and we can’t allow personal matters to derail our main objectives.” Yet despite his pragmatic tone, the Commander’s eyes held genuine concern.

Levi exhaled and nodded curtly. “Understood.” Though inside, the notion of focusing on anything else right now felt nearly impossible. The memory of Penelope’s furious face refused to leave his mind, along with the sight of that red-haired boy clinging to her.

They started walking, leaving the courtyard behind. For a while, none of them spoke, but Levi could feel Erwin and Hange casting glances at him. He allowed it, too preoccupied with the swirl of thoughts in his head.

Eventually, Hange broke the silence. “Levi,” she began softly, “I’ve known you for years now. You’ve never mentioned Penelope. Was she from the Underground as well?”

Levi nodded, eyes fixed on the path ahead. “We grew up there,” he said. “She was… everything to me at one point. I just never talked about it. Didn’t see the need.”

Hange’s gaze drifted to the sky. “And now, it looks like she’s carved out quite a life for herself—successful, well-dressed, living in Wall Sina. You did say you wanted her safe. Maybe that part worked out.”

Levi’s jaw tightened. “Safe, maybe. But she hates me for what I did. And if that kid is mine, then she’s raised him alone all this time.” The weight of that realization pressed onto him, heavier than any burden he’d carried into Titan battles. “I abandoned them both.”

Erwin intervened, voice low but firm. “Don’t assume her choices on your behalf. Penelope is a strong woman. She might have decided it was better this way. But you won’t know until you speak with her.”

A short, bitter laugh escaped Levi. “Speak to her, huh? That didn’t go so well just now.”

“She was upset,” Hange pointed out. “Anyone would be, in her shoes. Emotions are running high. I’m sure if you approach her with sincerity, she might at least hear you out. Especially if you’re willing to take responsibility for Preston’s situation, whatever that might entail.”

Levi looked at her sharply. “You make it sound so simple.”

Hange shook her head. “It’s not. But ignoring it won’t make the situation go away.”

The trio exited the narrower alley into the larger streets of Wall Rose. The sun had reached its zenith, casting strong shadows beneath their feet. Townspeople milled about, some pausing to nod a polite greeting at Erwin’s recognizable figure, others hurrying by with baskets of goods. The normalcy of the day contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside Levi’s mind.

“I’ll figure something out,” Levi finally muttered, though he had no real plan. “She doesn’t owe me anything. I should be the one… apologizing.” He paused, letting those words sink in. When was the last time he’d apologized for anything in his life?

Hange offered a small, tentative smile. “That’s a start, Levi. You’ve always been a man of action, not words. But maybe action, in this case, can mean actually sitting down and talking with her.”

They walked on in silence for a few more moments, the tension easing slightly now that the immediate confrontation had passed. But Levi’s shoulders remained rigid. He couldn’t stop replaying Penelope’s face in his head, the way her hair shone in the sunlight, the tears she fought so hard to hide. He remembered how she used to rest her head against his shoulder when they were just kids, promising each other that no matter what, they’d find a better life above the surface. And now here they were—both in that better life he’d imagined, but torn apart by misunderstandings and unspoken truths.

Erwin led them down a final stretch of cobblestone that opened onto a gate leading out of the district. “We’ll be back at headquarters before sundown if we keep this pace,” he said. “Levi, take the time you need to think. But remember, the Scouts might be on the move again soon.”

Levi gave a brief nod. His duty to the Scouts remained a priority, yet the personal bombshell that had dropped into his life threatened to overshadow it. He inhaled, trying to steady himself. “I won’t let it interfere with the mission,” he said quietly, though a flicker of doubt crossed his features.

As they pressed onward, Hange and Erwin refrained from further probing. They recognized that Levi was near his limit, for he rarely showed this level of emotional upheaval. Still, the question lingered in the air, unspoken but powerful: if that child was indeed Levi’s, what came next?

The final stretch leading out of Wall Rose’s district was busy, soldiers coming and going with wagons of supplies. Levi watched them pass by, each about their tasks, while his mind remained stuck on a pair of gold eyes filled with betrayal. He felt Erwin’s hand come to rest on his shoulder again, a silent reminder that he wasn’t alone in this. For once, Levi didn’t brush it off.

They continued onward, three silhouettes against the bustling backdrop of the city, each lost in their own thoughts about what had happened—and what it would mean for the future. If Levi Ackerman, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, had a son he never knew, how would that change him? And would Penelope, so hurt and angry, ever allow him back into her life?

Those questions circled like ravens in the recesses of Levi’s mind, refusing to settle. Yet one thing was certain: the safe distance he’d maintained for over a decade had been shattered in a single, unexpected encounter, leaving behind the promise of answers he both dreaded and yearned for.

…

Penelope’s footsteps thundered against the cobblestone as she dragged Preston along by his arm. Her grip was like iron, and she radiated such an intense aura of anger that people on the street instinctively moved out of her way. Every step felt like it unleashed another wave of emotion churning within her: betrayal, rage, disbelief. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so utterly rattled.

When she’d first spotted Levi—of all people—manhandling Preston, her heart had nearly stopped. He looked older, but still possessed that maddening, stoic demeanor. The sight of him brought up memories she had tried so hard to bury: the cramped corners of the Underground, the warmth of his arms around her in the dead of night, and finally, the cruelty of his words the day he walked away. She thought she had steeled herself against every memory of Levi, but apparently, she was wrong.

How dare he show up again after all these years. How dare he lay a hand on my son, she seethed. Well, our son, technically. But she pushed that thought aside quickly. Levi might share Preston’s blood, but he had no right to know that. Not after what he did—leaving her with no warning, no explanation beyond a handful of harsh statements meant to shove her aside.

She glanced at Preston, who was now sporting a fearful look on his face. He tried to twist away from her punishing grip, but she refused to ease up. She was so furious that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hunt Levi down and choke him, or… do something much more complicated. She hated to admit it, but that fleeting moment when she locked eyes with him had stirred a thousand old feelings in her chest. She shoved them away. Her priority was Preston and nothing else.

Preston, meanwhile, was still in the dark about the real reason behind her intense reaction. All he knew was that his usually composed mother had reached a breaking point.

“Ow, Mom!” he yelped, trying to pry her fingers off his arm. “You’re hurting me!”

Penelope hissed through clenched teeth, but she loosened her grip just enough so she wasn’t crushing his circulation. “You deserve worse,” she snapped, voice low and trembling with anger. “Skipping school. Fighting in the street. Buying a weapon behind my back. Do you have any idea how reckless that is?”

Preston scowled, though the fear hadn’t left his eyes. “It’s not my fault. Those bullies tried to steal my knife!”

She came to a sudden stop and turned to face him, red curls bouncing with the movement. “Why do you need a knife, Preston? You’re not some petty thug from the Underground.” There was a bite in her tone, a stark reminder that she knew all too well what it was like to navigate that world, and she wanted better for him. “I work hard everyday to send you to school in Wall Sina so you can have every opportunity. And this is what you do? Do you know how many children wish they could attend school?”

Preston scuffed his shoe against the ground, dropping his gaze. “I just… I wanted to protect myself.”

Penelope’s frown deepened. Her anger was still there, but concern began to creep in, tangling with her indignation. “Protect yourself from who, exactly?” she demanded. “Is there someone threatening you that you felt the need to do this?”

Preston hesitated, uncertain. “No… not exactly,” he admitted. “But… you’re always telling me I need to be careful. And you’re always busy at the clinic. I just thought… I could handle my own problems if—”

She held up a hand to silence him, her frustration simmering. “Handle your own problems by skipping school and buying a knife?” She rubbed her temple, exhaling. “You’re eleven years old, Preston. You’re not a soldier, and you’re certainly not a vigilante. You’re going to get yourself—or someone else—hurt.”

He swallowed hard, his red eyebrows furrowing. “Well, you didn’t have to drag me in front of everyone,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I didn’t, did I?” She shot him an incredulous glare. “You were fighting in the street, and you expect me to have a calm, private conversation while you’re out there throwing punches?”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the murmur of passersby who hurried past, pretending not to hear the family argument playing out in public.

Suddenly, the memory of Levi’s face intruded in Penelope’s thoughts again. She recalled how he’d looked at Preston, the shock in his eyes. He hadn’t recognized the boy as his son—at least, she was fairly certain. The fact that Levi seemed rattled was… strange. Levi never showed emotion. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, she sensed a certain tumult in him. Maybe he’d put two and two together. Maybe not. Either way, she refused to let him worm his way into her son’s life. He’d abandoned her. There was no coming back from that.

Preston, picking up on her distraction, tried to soften his tone. “Mom… you know that short soldier? Captain Levi. You looked… you seemed like you knew him. And Commander Erwin was talking about paying for your medical schooling? I… I heard you say something like that.”

Penelope’s jaw tightened. She shook her head decisively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s none of your concern.” She didn’t want to open that can of worms right now. Maybe never.

“But—” he began.

She cut him off swiftly. “If I want to discuss it, I will. In the meantime, you need to focus on why you’re in trouble.” She pointed a finger in his face, her gold eyes blazing. “As of right now, you are not allowed any more free time gallivanting around. You go to school, then you come straight to the clinic, and then straight home. If I even catch wind of you sneaking out, skipping school, or fighting again, so help me, I will skin you alive.” Her voice rose slightly, attracting a curious glance from a woman nearby, but Penelope didn’t care.

Preston’s cheeks reddened. “Mom, you can’t be serious. I hate working in the clinic. It’s boring, and I’m no good at—”

She reached over and twisted his ear with a practiced flick of her fingers, eliciting a sharp yelp. “Don’t argue with me!” she snapped. “You think I got to where I am by slacking off? By running around stabbing people with knives? Absolutely not. If you want to earn your freedom, you need to prove you’re responsible. End of discussion.”

Preston let out a small, pained noise, eyes brimming with both anger and reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” he mumbled, rubbing his ear when she finally released it. “But this is messed up. You can’t just lock me up and take away all my freedom.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s rich. If I’m not strict, you’ll wind up dead in a ditch somewhere.” She pulled him in the direction of a small side street that led toward the clinic. “You have no idea how good you have it, Preston. If you’d grown up in the Underground, you’d understand how dangerous this world can be.”

Preston fell silent, trudging along beside her. His lower lip jutted out in a slight pout, but he couldn’t bring himself to protest further. They walked in silence for a few moments, weaving through twisting alleys that gradually gave way to cleaner, broader avenues. The buildings grew larger, displaying the relative wealth and comfort of life in Wall Sina. Penelope’s clinic was located near the border of Wall Sina and Wall Rose—an area accessible to a wide range of patients, many of whom came from less affluent backgrounds but still needed quality medical care.

As they continued, Penelope’s mind swung back to Levi like a pendulum she couldn’t control. She remembered that shock in his eyes when he realized who she was. He’d looked so haunted, as if something deep inside him had broken loose. She clenched her jaw, telling herself that it didn’t matter. She was done letting that man have any power over her heart. Still, a tiny voice in her head whispered: You lied to him. You kept his son a secret.

She shut that voice down. He left me. She repeated the words like a mantra. He left me. With those heartless, arrogant remarks. He made it clear I was an afterthought.

Preston tugged at her sleeve, pulling her out of her swirling memories. “Mom,” he said quietly. “You really knew that guy, didn’t you?”

She forced a neutral expression onto her face. “A long time ago, yes. Before you were born.”

Preston tilted his head, curiosity brimming in his bright eyes. “Was he from the Underground, like you?”

Penelope hesitated. “Yes,” she answered, her tone clipped. “And that’s all I’m going to say.”

It was clearly not the answer Preston wanted, but he didn’t push further this time. He recognized his mother’s tone; when she closed a door on a subject, she meant it.

Soon, the familiar sight of her clinic loomed ahead, a modest two-story building with whitewashed walls and a small placard bearing her name. The front windows revealed a waiting area where a few patients were seated. Even from across the street, Penelope could see one of her nurses at the reception desk, checking in a weary-looking man.

Penelope inhaled, pushing aside the chaos in her mind and reaching for her professional composure. Whatever turmoil Levi’s sudden reappearance had caused, she still had patients to care for. Preston, meanwhile, was about to face more lecture once they were safely behind the clinic walls.

Before they crossed the threshold, she stopped and knelt down slightly to look Preston in the eye—though she was still taller than him, she tried to meet him at his level. “Listen,” she said softly, her voice losing some of its earlier edge. “I’m not trying to ruin your life. I’m trying to protect you. I’ve seen what this world can do to people who aren’t careful. And you mean everything to me. I love you more than anything. Do you understand that?”

Preston’s cheeks reddened, and he glanced away. “Yeah… I know,” he admitted grudgingly. “I’m sorry. I just… I hate feeling powerless. And those idiots thought I was an easy target.”

Penelope pressed a hand to his shoulder. “You’re not powerless. You’re just young. And that’s okay. There’s a time and place to learn self-defense properly. Maybe one day, if you show me you can handle it, I can see that you have some kind of formal training. But for now, no more running off on your own.”

He nodded reluctantly, and she allowed a faint smile to cross her features. “Good. Now let’s get inside.”

They walked into the clinic. The nurse looked up, greeting Penelope with a polite nod and then frowning at Preston’s bruised knuckles. “Doctor Iverson,” she said, concern coloring her tone, “is everything alright?”

Penelope mustered a reassuring smile. “Just a minor scuffle.”

The nurse nodded, and Penelope guided Preston into a small back room where she kept spare medical supplies. Before she attended to her waiting patients, she wanted to check his hands for sprains or cuts. “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to a stool. “Show me your hands.”

Preston complied, grimacing as she poked at a tender spot near his wrist. She applied a disinfectant to a scrape, then wrapped a small bandage around it. Despite her lingering anger, Penelope’s touches were gentle. She had become a doctor for a reason—she excelled in caring for others, even if at times her temper overshadowed her compassion.

As she worked, her mind drifted once more to Levi. The ache of seeing him again wouldn’t vanish, and she cursed herself for letting him in, even if just in her thoughts. She remembered the moment he turned his back on her, the cold finality in his words. Even so, the flicker of longing she felt earlier galled her. She refused to show weakness. She refused to let him upend the life she had painstakingly built for herself and Preston.

With Preston’s knuckles patched, she offered him a stern nod. “Go to the waiting area. I have patients to attend to, and you’re going to stay put until I decide what to do with you next.”

He shuffled out the door, shoulders slumped, and Penelope exhaled. Alone, if only for a moment, she pressed a hand to her forehead. Levi was back, and not just in memory. It felt as though everything she’d locked away was suddenly thrown wide open.

Yet she steeled herself, her thoughts turning to the best defense she had: he cannot know about Preston. She repeated it silently, as if it were a vow. He gave up that right when he left.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the swirling chaos in her mind to the side—at least for now. She had patients waiting, and the one thing Penelope Iverson knew how to do better than anyone was to maintain her composure under pressure. She would continue her day as the competent, brilliant doctor that all of Wall Sina revered.

But she couldn’t erase the lingering tremor in her hands. Nor could she escape the realization that Levi’s presence, after all these years, threatened to change everything she thought she had put behind her.

…

The next day, Preston woke to the first dim glow of sunrise filtering through his bedroom curtains. His limbs still ached from the scuffle the day before—the stinging reminder of both the fight in the street and the subsequent ear-twisting from his mother. He glanced warily at the clock on the side table and sighed. Normally, he would spend another few minutes lazing about, but his mother had all but threatened to kill him if he dared to be late for school. He figured he might as well get moving before she had any reason to unleash more wrath.

He dragged himself out of bed and fumbled into his neatly pressed uniform: a dark jacket and trousers that marked him as a Wall Sina student, one of the privileged few with access to higher education. He scowled as he tucked in his shirt, remembering how his mother insisted he keep his appearance immaculate. Though he was thankful for her care, her strictness often chafed. To top it off, she had demanded he come straight to the clinic after classes. No more wandering around or forging questionable “errands.”

Downstairs, he found his mother already in the kitchen, finishing her tea. Her red hair was pinned back from her face, and her doctor’s coat hung over a chair. She shot him a sharp glance as he passed.

“Don’t forget what I said,” she snapped. “Go to school, then come straight to the clinic.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. He snatched a piece of bread from the table, purposely avoiding her glare.

“Preston,” she warned, placing her teacup down with a soft clink. “I mean it.”

He paused, shifting uneasily. “I know, Mom. I get it.”

She seemed satisfied—at least enough to let him walk out the door without another lecture. As soon as the door closed behind him, Preston took a sharp turn away from the main road. His heart pounded with anticipation for what he was about to do. The events of yesterday had stoked a burning question in his mind.

Captain Levi. 

The short, stoic soldier from the Underground. The man who had pinned him down in the street. The one who, somehow, managed to scramble his mother’s usually unshakable composure with a single look. Preston had watched them lock eyes, seen the tension radiate between them. There was no denying it: his mother knew this man, and she knew him well.

Now, with bits and pieces of overheard conversation swirling in his head—something about Commander Erwin paying for her education—Preston suspected there was more to his mother’s past than she’d let on. And the way Levi looked at him… Preston couldn’t place it precisely, but he’d felt an odd, jittery sensation in his gut. It had left him restless through the night, forming a single burning question: could Captain Levi be his father?

He knew the notion might be crazy. But deep inside, it made a terrible kind of sense. So, rather than trudging to school, Preston had resolved to find Levi. He had no idea what he’d say if the man really was his father, but he knew he needed answers.

He ducked behind a row of stacked crates near the edge of the district, scanning for the carriage he’d seen earlier delivering produce to a local merchant. Sure enough, the driver was preparing to leave. Preston crept up, moved quickly while the man busied himself adjusting straps, and hopped onto the back where sacks of grain and vegetables were piled. He crouched low and held his breath as the driver flicked the reins. The carriage jolted forward, rolling along the main route that led out of Wall Sina toward Wall Rose.

Through the ride, Preston’s pulse hammered in his ears. He kept a watchful eye for soldiers and gendarmes. No one seemed to notice him huddled there. As the carriage passed through the gates and into Wall Rose territory, he let out a silent sigh of relief. Eventually, when the carriage slowed near a bustling checkpoint, he made his move—slipping off the back and merging into the crowds.

What next? He’d never been to the Scout Regiment’s headquarters, but he’d heard enough rumors to piece together its general location: an old estate they’d repurposed. He began to wander, peppering passersby with innocent-sounding questions like, “Which way to the Scout base?” and “I heard the Scout Regiment sometimes helps with Wall Rose Titan defenses—where are they stationed?” People eyed him curiously, but his uniform lent him a certain credibility. Eventually, he found himself on a hill overlooking a broad compound with high walls and a main gate, beyond which lay rows of buildings. From the banners fluttering, he guessed he had found the right place.

Two guards flanked the entrance, both wearing Survey Corps cloaks, their hands resting casually on their gear belts. As Preston approached, he forced an air of confidence, hoping he could talk his way through.

“Stop right there,” the guard on the left said. “This is Scout Regiment headquarters. State your business.”

Preston cleared his throat. “I’m here to see Captain Levi.” He tried to sound commanding, even though his voice quivered a bit.

The guard on the right snorted. “Captain Levi doesn’t have time for schoolchildren.”

“I’m not just any schoolkid,” Preston bluffed, lifting his chin. “I have urgent business with him. If you don’t let me through, he’ll be furious.”

The guards exchanged smirking glances. One folded his arms. “Yeah, sure. Look, brat, go run along before you get yourself into trouble.”

Preston’s heart hammered with frustration. Without thinking, he lunged forward, ducking low as if to slip past them. The guard on the left reached out to grab him, but Preston pivoted nimbly on one foot, spinning away from the outstretched arms. The boy had practiced enough street brawling and quick movement to surprise the unsuspecting soldier. The guard stumbled, cursing as Preston slid past his side.

“What the—? Get back here!” the soldier snapped, fumbling to catch him.

Preston darted into the courtyard, ignoring shouts from the second guard. He had no idea which building Levi might be in, but he sprinted toward the largest structure he could see, weaving between supply crates and tethered horses. Alarmed voices rang out around him.

“Stop that kid!”

“Hey! You’re not authorized!”

He glimpsed a handful of Scouts emerging from a side door, likely alerted by the commotion. Panic gripped him, but adrenaline surged higher. If he could just find Levi, everything might make sense. Or so he told himself. He ducked around a corner, only to come face-to-face with another pair of Scouts. They lunged at him, arms outstretched, but he dropped low and slid beneath the gap in their stance. One of them nearly grabbed his collar, but he twisted free and took off again.

His lungs burned from the effort. This compound was bigger than he’d expected, and there were soldiers everywhere. He found himself dashing down a corridor, then bursting into an open training yard. He spied a group of men and women in uniform milling about, startled by his sudden appearance.

“There he is!” a voice shouted behind him.

He whirled around. Two Scouts were barreling toward him, and more followed. Realizing he was trapped, he tried to dart back the way he came, but it was too late. Hands grabbed his arms and legs. He struggled, kicking and squirming, hurling curses his mother would have fainted to hear. Despite his thrashing, he couldn’t overpower them all. Within moments, they had him pinned to the ground.

“Get off me!” Preston snarled, attempting to bite at one soldier’s hand. “I need to see Captain Levi!”

A hush fell as a new group approached. Erwin Smith, tall and imposing, strode forward with measured steps. Beside him walked Captain Levi, his expression as unreadable as ever, and Section Commander Hange, eyes flicking with curiosity. Trailing behind them were several young faces—members of Levi’s newly formed Special Operations Squad. Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, and Historia gaped at the sight of a red-haired kid pinned by half a dozen Scouts.

Eren, brow knitted, said, “Did he say he’s looking for Captain Levi?”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. “Who is he?”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Some kid skipping school, by the look of it.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged wide-eyed glances, while Historia stood quietly, expression unreadable.

Levi stepped forward with Erwin, Hange close behind. The sight of the small boy pinned to the ground instantly brought back memories of the previous day’s chaos. He recognized the fiery red hair at once. “Oi, brat,” he muttered under his breath. “Tch. Are you serious?”

Erwin signaled the soldiers to step back, and they grudgingly released the boy. Preston stumbled to his feet, cheeks flushed, clothes disheveled. He let out a ragged breath, glaring around as though daring anyone to grab him again. Then his gaze locked on Levi, and something uncertain flickered in the boy’s eyes.

Levi crossed his arms. “You’ve got some nerve. Breaking into a military facility? Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

Preston clenched his fists, staring up at Levi’s stony face. “I need to talk to you,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “Alone.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd of Scouts. Eren and the others exchanged puzzled looks. Hange, pushing her glasses up her nose, stepped closer, studying Preston like a particularly fascinating specimen. “Should we maybe find a more private spot for this conversation?” she suggested, glancing at Levi and Erwin.

Erwin nodded. “Yes. Let’s clear the area. Levi, you and Preston can talk in the western wing. I’ll have the others stand down.”

Levi hesitated, glancing at Preston with a mixture of annoyance and… something else. The memory of Penelope’s furious face simmered in the back of his mind. “Fine,” he said curtly. “But if this is another one of your stunts, I’ll personally throw you out.”

Preston scowled but said nothing. Erwin gestured for the surrounding Scouts to disperse, and the younger recruits looked disappointed they wouldn’t get to witness the drama firsthand. Eren, Armin, and Jean shot curious glances at the boy, while Mikasa’s eyes lingered on him with quiet skepticism. Historia, Connie, and Sasha whispered among themselves, but soon enough, they followed orders, returning to the meeting room with Hange and Erwin. That left Levi and Preston alone in the now-empty corridor.

Levi jerked his head, indicating for Preston to follow. They walked through a set of heavy wooden doors into a dim hallway lit by sparse candles. Dust motes floated in the narrow beams of light. Levi stopped near a small office that looked unused, beckoning Preston inside. The boy followed, heart hammering so loudly he felt sure Levi could hear it.

Levi leaned against a wooden table, arms still crossed. “Talk,” he said bluntly. “But make it quick. You’ve already caused enough trouble for one morning.”

Preston took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves. “Yesterday,” he began, “when we… when my mom showed up. You and her—”

Levi’s expression tightened. “What about it?”

“Are you my father?”

The words tumbled out, echoing in the small room. Preston’s cheeks burned as soon as he said them. His voice shook with a mix of anger, fear, and a sliver of hope. Levi stiffened, gray eyes widening ever so slightly.

An oppressive silence filled the space. Even Levi’s guarded expression cracked around the edges. He didn’t flinch at Titan roars or mortal threats, yet this question struck him like a blow to the gut. He released a slow breath, unable to form a response. Could he deny it? Could he confirm it? The truth was, he didn’t know for certain.

Preston’s eyes flickered with emotion. “Mom’s never talked about my dad. Whenever I ask, she changes the subject. And yesterday, seeing how she freaked out when she saw you… and how you looked at me… I just… I had to know.”

Levi closed his eyes briefly, the memory of Penelope’s pain flashing through his mind. He recalled the possibility swirling in his thoughts, the timeline that lined up all too perfectly. “I…” he started, voice faltering. “I honestly don’t know. Not for sure.”

Preston’s shoulders sagged as confusion twisted his features. “How can you not know?”

Levi ran a hand through his hair, choosing his words carefully. “When I last saw your mother, it wasn’t on good terms. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. I found out nothing—didn’t hear from her for years. If you are my kid, Penelope never told me.”

Preston chewed on his lower lip, frustration evident. “Why? Why would she keep it from you?”

Levi stared at him, seeing shades of himself in the boy’s stubborn stare. “Maybe because I left her,” he admitted. “She must have had her reasons.”

Preston inhaled shakily. “Well… are you going to talk to her? Find out? Because I need to know if I—if I actually have a—”

He cut himself off, eyes darting away. A swirl of emotions played across his face: anger at his mother’s secrecy, hurt at the idea he might have been abandoned by his father, and guilt for seeking Levi out behind Penelope’s back.

Levi’s stoicism wavered. The boy’s trembling voice tugged at something in him. He remembered how it felt to grow up in the Underground without parents, how he’d clung to any kind of belonging he could find. The possibility that this child faced a similar lonely confusion made Levi’s chest tighten.

“I’ll try,” Levi said after a moment, voice hoarse. “But your mother—she has every right to be furious at me. We didn’t… part well.”

Preston’s gaze returned, searching Levi’s eyes. “Then I’ll convince her,” he said, as though it were simple. “I—I’ll force her to talk if I have to.”

A half-bitter smile crossed Levi’s lips. “You’re as stubborn as she is,” he muttered.

Preston frowned, stepping closer, face earnest. “If I really am your kid… then you’d stay, right?”

Levi opened his mouth, then shut it. Guilt gnawed at him. He had joined the Scouts to protect humanity, fully prepared to sacrifice his life if necessary. This was not a world of guarantees. Still, he saw the flicker of hope in Preston’s eyes and felt the weight of what he should say. “I’ll try my best,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy.”

Preston nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “Okay. Then… I’ll give you time to figure it out.”

Levi let out a breath. “First things first, though,” he said, reverting to a more familiar stern tone. “You’re supposed to be in school. And your mother is going to lose her mind if she finds out you came here. Which, given how loud you were, she’ll probably hear about sooner or later.”

A flicker of defiance crossed Preston’s features again. “I’ll deal with my Mom. I had to do this. I couldn’t just sit at school, wondering—”

Levi raised a hand to stop him. “I get it. But you need to leave, now. Go back, try not to get caught by any of the patrols. I’ll handle the guards at the gate.”

The boy hesitated, as if unsure he wanted to go. “What about your Commander… Erwin? He looked like he knew something, too.”

Levi sighed. “He’s aware of some of the past, but not everything. Don’t worry about him.”

Preston lingered a moment, chewing on his lip before turning toward the door. “If you find out something… if you talk to her… promise you’ll tell me?”

Levi gave a short nod. “Yeah. I promise.”

With that, Preston slipped out, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Levi waited until the sound vanished before he exhaled, letting the tension roll off his shoulders. The conversation had left him strangely shaken, though he fought to keep his composure.

Outside, the scouts would still be reeling from the chase, but Levi would smooth things over with a few words. He had that authority, after all. Yet the real challenge was looming beyond these walls—figuring out how to confront Penelope, how to reconcile the guilt and anger that lingered between them. And if the truth was what he suspected, how to become a father to a boy who had grown up without him.

With one last glance at the door, Levi pushed off the table and started toward the hallway, bracing himself for the next collision with fate. The past had never truly let him go, and now it had returned in the form of a determined, red-haired brat who might just be his son. And despite the weight of his duty to the Scouts, despite the walls of hostility Penelope had built around her heart, Levi felt something stirring inside him—a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, he could mend what he had shattered so long ago.

~

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[wyervan]

I have been ABSOLUTELY FERAL /pos about your slasher bois for a good few months now, but I've been too shy to ask any questions... I'm finally working up the courage, and I gotta know.

Are the boys cat or dog people? Or do they like animals at all? I'm a cat person, but I feel like Sun would either absolutely LOVE cats, or would see animals as just another thing to make more mess, and no in-between. I think Moon would be similar, but he'd either say that cats are like "massive jerks" or he'd secretly love cats, but refuses to admit it.

For some reason I can't really see them as dog people, dogs are just a bit too messy, and in my head they're both just two long, lanky cats. They have such feline attitudes, that it just feels accurate :P

But these are just personal headcanons. I wanna know YOUR thoughts on this! Being the author of these little gremlins after all.

(I love your art, I get super excited every time I see it pop up in my notifs, I hope you have a good day frand 💙)

I did answer here a while ago what their general attitude towards animals is (btw I am NOT expecting you to have seen this or anything 😂 I have written FAR too much on them at this point to expect even myself to remember it all).

But yeah, like you already said, Sun does regard animals as messy and uncivilized beings. But IF Sunny is going to willingly interact with an animal, it would probably be a cat 🙂‍↕️. Lotta dogs would probably overwhelm him.

Moon thinks most animals are awesome, kinda a fascination of his, but does in fact love dogs, especially mutts. Likes that he can play rough with the bigger ones.

You are not the first person to point out their feline aspects though. Myself, I actually think of a lotta Slasher Moon’s tendencies as fairly wolfish, but I’ve had a friend call him panther-like. In all three of my Moons, (slasher, krampus, and canon-adjacent) I like highlighting his animal nature 😜.

But I love hearing your impressions of them! I really appreciate you writing in with your thoughts 🖤 you’re always free to project your own headcannons on to them. Discussing the characters with you guys is what I look forward to in my days.

[misfortunelady69]

I'm over you

Law X Oc

Angst

Pt1

I should have known better.

Trafalgar Law isn't the type to comfort people.

He isn’t the type to let anyone close.

So why—why—did I think I’d be different?

For a long time, I tried to convince myself that maybe he wasn’t ignoring me. Maybe I was overthinking it.

But I wasn’t.

It was obvious.

He spoke to everyone except me. He acknowledged everyone except me.

Even in battle, if we fought side by side, he gave out orders without once looking me in the eye.

At first, I told myself I’d get used to it.

But it never got easier.

Because unlike Sanji, unlike Zoro, unlike anyone else—Law and I were actually close.

At least, I thought we were.

We trained together. We fought together.

We trusted each other.

But the moment I let my guard down—

The moment I let my feelings slip—

He shut me out.

And I had to pretend it didn’t hurt like hell.

It wasn’t just the avoidance.

It was the way he made it a point to be distant.

No casual conversation. No comfortable silences.

No more staying up late after the others went to sleep, talking about things that didn’t matter.

It was like he erased me.

Like I never mattered at all.

The silence was suffocating, like a thick fog that refused to lift. And the worst part?

I let it happen.

I refused to be the pathetic fool who chased after him, who begged him to talk to me, who humiliated myself again.

So I moved on.

The last person I expected to get along with was Kid.

We’d fought before. We’d insulted each other countless times.

But for some reason, he stuck around.

At first, I thought he was just looking for a fight, the way he always did.

But then, one day, he said something that caught me off guard.

"You're stronger than you act, y'know."

I frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You act like shit doesn’t get to you, as not to worry the rest of the crew. " He smirked, crossing his arms. "Guess I kinda respect that."

I blinked.

Eustass Kid. The man who never shut up about how much better he was than everyone else. The man who never respected anyone but himself.

And yet, somehow, he saw through me like no one else had.

So we started talking.

It was easy. Natural.

Unlike Law, Kid never made me feel like a burden.

I didn’t feel invisible.

Didn’t feel pathetic.

With Kid, I could be myself.

And for the first time in a long time—I was happy.

At least, until I realized that Law was watching.

I wasn’t stupid.

Law didn’t get jealous the way other people did.

There were no glares. No snide remarks. No dramatic outbursts.

Instead, he acted like nothing had changed.

Like I wasn’t there.

But I saw the little things.

The way his jaw clenched whenever Kid threw an arm around my shoulders.

The way his fingers curled into fists when he saw us laughing together.

The way his stare would linger—just for a second—before he turned away like he couldn’t care less.

It was pathetic.

I was done chasing after him.

So I ignored him.

And I moved on.

Or at least, I thought I did—

Until he finally broke his silence.

"I need your help."

I didn’t even look up.

"Ask someone else."

Law exhaled sharply. "I would if I could."

Liar.

He had plenty of people he could ask.

I focused on sharpening my sword. "What do you want?"

A pause.

"Come to the medical bay. I need an extra set of hands."

I scoffed, finally looking up. "Oh, now you remember I exist?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Don’t be childish."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Childish? Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Law."

He didn’t answer.

Of course, he didn’t.

Law never argued when he knew I was right.

I set my sword down, staring at him for a long moment.

"Tell me something."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Why now?" I asked. "After all this time, why talk to me now?"

Another silence.

Then—

"I miss you."

My breath caught in my throat.

He said it so simply. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he didn’t completely destroy me months ago.

I clenched my jaw. "That’s funny. You sure as hell didn’t miss me when you were pretending I didn’t exist."

He exhaled through his nose. Frustrated.

"It wasn’t like that."

I slammed my hand onto the table. "Then what the hell was it like, Law?"

He didn’t flinch. He just stared at me, unreadable as ever.

"I didn’t know how to handle it."

I laughed humorlessly. "Wow. What an amazing excuse."

His expression darkened. "You think this was easy for me?"

"Oh, I’m so sorry this was difficult for you." My voice dripped with sarcasm. "You were the one who ignored me. You were the one who acted like I didn’t matter. And now, now, when you see me actually happy, you suddenly remember I exist?"

He didn’t answer.

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Let me guess. It’s not jealousy, right? Because Trafalgar Law doesn’t get jealous."

His jaw tightened.

"It’s not jealousy," he muttered.

"Bullshit."

For the first time, I saw his composure crack.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue—but then he stopped.

His fingers twitched at his sides. Like he wanted to reach for me.

"You meant something to me," he said, quieter this time.

Something in my chest twisted.

Too little, too late.

I swallowed hard, my voice cold and sharp.

"We’re just part of the same alliance, Law. Nothing more than that."

He didn’t move.

Didn’t argue.

And this time—I was the one who walked away.

[mithrilhearts]

Yes, I'm alive, and I have a lot to say.

It's been a while (for me anyway), and currently I am taking a different approach to my life—what makes me happy? The start of this year has been hard for me mentally, and had it not been for a select few, I probably wouldn't be here right now. January was a very scary time in my life, to put it simply...

That said, it's given me a lot of time to sit and reflect on what I want in my life and who I want in my life, with many things to consider.

I'm engaging with new hobbies to help keep my mind at bay and to venture into new business opportunities and expand what I already do. I'm getting into creating things like soap, body scrubs, candles, etc., which has been a lot of research and fun planning. I'm very excited to keep doing these things and see where it takes me—I plan to open an online shop very soon for this!

I'm keeping myself busy—I'm playing games, I'm still writing fanfic (albeit a lot slower and more infrequently), and I'm focusing on my job(s) as best as I can. I'm taking life day by day and trying to find things to look forward to, even when things seem very bleak.

Now, what does 2025 bring?

I'm going to the Shinedown concert this summer, which has me over the moon excited! I've planned a week off from work in July as well to recharge and hopefully get myself out there even more with other little local events (festivals, farmer's markets, anything to get me out and about). I'm also scheduled to get a new tattoo next month, one that has a lot of meaning and can join my otherwise "Tolkien Arm" to kind of break up the theme a bit—some Amaryllis flowers!

Fanfic has ultimately been tossed to the backseat of my life, and I am not sure how it will play out in the future. I love writing, and I love the source materials from which I've written and participated in, but a lot of that enjoyment for actual "FANDOM" kind of went down the drain a long time ago with drama and whatnot that simply didn't need to happen.

I am going to take an indefinite hiatus from Tumblr and other socials of a similar vein. I have made some incredible friendships along the way through my fandom journey, even if some of them have fizzled out due to changes in interest or other fandom-related nonsense as mentioned above. It doesn't really need a second thought from me anymore. I can't regret the friendships or the morals I stood behind, but I also can't sit and linger on the "what if" or "why" something is or isn't happening. It's been a lot of thinking on my side, but I want to focus on my life outside of the internet (I want a positive mental health space, and unfortunately, fandom just doesn't give me that luxury).

Taking a step back from online life and focusing on myself has made an astronomical difference in my mood, so I’m going to keep up with that for now. I appreciate those of you who have been super supportive during this time when I've been struggling to figure out how to live. Thank you so much for reaching out, especially early on; I apologize for that concerning post I had dropped in January, talking about self-harm. I'm still alive, and I'm doing SO MUCH BETTER already.

For now, this is goodbye, but keep your eyes peeled on AO3 because I'm still posting fic, though as stated above, much slower than before.

I won't be checking Tumblr too much from here on out, but I'll give it a peek just in case now and again. 💖

Thank you for the support over the years, and remember, it will be sunny one day.

-- Mithrilhearts (aka Maeve, aka Razzy - lordoftherazzles)

[matrixbearer2024]

Modernity Ford and academic burnout is something I keep messing with cuz imma be fr this dude does not take a break until he collapses— anyway, have this art piece and fic cuz I like making him suffer.

The room felt unbearably small, the very walls pressing in as if they, too, were part of some grand, elaborate joke at my expense. My breath came shallow, uneven, as I glared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me— an empty expanse, white as bone beneath the sterile glow of my desk lamp.

Mocking.

Taunting.

Laughing at me.

A week ago, a month ago, I would have filled this page in minutes. My hands would have trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer rush of my thoughts spilling out faster than I could write. But now? Now my hands remained still, stiff atop the desk, fingers twitching uselessly against the polished wood.

I knew I had to write. I knew what needed to be done.

So why the hell couldn’t I do it?

The knock at the door barely registered. The voice that followed did, though, soft and uncertain— hesitant in a way that made my skin prickle with irritation, shame, and something deeper I couldn’t name.

"Hey."

I should answer. I don’t.

I feel the weight of expectation pressing down on me like a vice, suffocating, squeezing, demanding I do something— anything. The longer I sit here, motionless, the heavier the burden grows.

I don’t remember when this room became a cage. When my desk, once a place of comfort, of escape, of endless curiosity, became a prison cell instead. A monument to everything I can’t seem to accomplish.

I should have just kept quiet. Should have let the silence stretch long enough for him to give up and walk away.

But he never does, does he?

"Poindexter, Ma’s calling us for dinner."

Stan’s voice is cautious, but firm, like he already knows I’ll refuse. Because of course I will. The idea of eating feels foreign, distant, irrelevant. I don’t even remember the last time I ate, not really. I’ve lost hours, maybe days, to this desk—to the endless loop of pressure and failure cycling through my mind.

"M’ not hungry."

The words taste bitter, acrid in my mouth. I feel his presence still lingering just outside the doorway. He doesn’t buy it. Of course, he doesn’t.

I can picture him standing there, shifting his weight, chewing at his lip like he always does when he’s worried but doesn’t want to say it outright.

I feel worse knowing that I’m making him feel this way.

"Stanford."

I freeze.

I barely suppress the flinch, but it’s there, a sharp and involuntary reaction that betrays me instantly. He almost never calls me that. He knows I don’t like it.

My name in his voice carries weight— a warning, a plea, a tether I don’t know if I can hold onto. I glance over, meeting his gaze, and God, he looks disappointed.

It hits me like a gut punch.

He shouldn’t be. I should be the one disappointed in him, in everyone— for not understanding, for not seeing the stakes, for not feeling the way I feel. But I can’t even muster the anger, not really, because beneath the frustration, beneath the exhaustion, there’s something much worse gnawing at my insides.

I think it might be guilt.

"Aren’t ya tired?"

The question rips through me like a bullet, clean and merciless.

Tired?

I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but not that. Not something so simple, so obvious, so brutally accurate that it leaves me scrambling for a rebuttal.

But I can’t be tired. I can’t afford to be tired.

There’s too much to do. Too much at stake.

I won’t be tired.

"Of what, Stanley?"

I can hear the sharpness in my own voice, the defensiveness, the way it cuts through the room like a blade. A warning. A demand to let this go.

He doesn’t.

I watch his expression shift— hesitation, concern, frustration— his body caught between the instinct to comfort me and the impulse to shake me out of whatever this is.

I don’t look that bad, do I?

I don’t, right?

I try to sit up straighter, to force some semblance of control into my posture, but it doesn’t matter. His eyes are already swimming with unease, already seeing straight through the flimsy performance.

"All… this. You’re gonna run yourself into the ground at this rate, Sixer."

I want to scoff.

I want to argue.

I want to tell him he doesn’t understand.

But I can’t.

Because suddenly, my stomach is twisting in knots, my vision tilting at the edges. The nausea surges without warning, and for a terrifying moment, I think I might actually throw up right here, right now.

But nothing comes.

Of course it doesn’t.

What would there even be to expel?

I hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t slept.

Hadn’t stopped.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the sensation away, willing myself back to my work, back to the desperate pursuit of productivity.

I have to do this. I have to keep moving. I have to—

But I can’t.

The nausea won’t go away. My hands are shaking, whether from exhaustion or hunger or something worse, I don’t know. My head is swimming, drowning in the weight of expectations— real, imagined, self-inflicted.

I should be fine.

I’m not.

I feel the chair beneath me tilt slightly as I try to move, my balance slipping for just a second too long. The realization hits me like ice down my spine— if I stand, I might collapse.

I hate this.

I hate this.

I can’t even force myself to work.

I can’t even pretend anymore.

I hear myself let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, a long, slow exhale, my chest caving slightly with the effort. My fingers unclench from the desk. My pulse still pounds, but the fight— the resistance— is unraveling, thread by thread.

Maybe Stan's right.

Maybe I am tired.

I don't know.

[w1shfullthink1ng]

Waiting for the sports car x nika fic 😛😛😛

“NO YOU AIN’T GOT NO MRS, OH BUT YOU GOT A SPORTS CAR”

nika mühl x fem!reader

DESCRIPTION/ after a messy breakup you where off in the night, when someone caught your eye..and was giving you just the right amount of attention. They did say the only person who knows how to treat a woman is a woman so…guess that’s how you got into a car with The Nika Mühl…

WARNINGS/ cursing, drinking, talks of sexuality & relationship status, talks of cheating & toxic men, suggestive, cocky nika, illegal car sex, f!ngering (reader receiving), p eating (nika receiving), minor choking, switch dynamics? (kinda)

THINK THATS IT…buckle up. (see what i did there)

VIBES UP, LIGHTS LOW…you had just gotten out of a toxic relationship with your ex boyfriend. It was a messy breakup & it was hard on you but you knew it was the right decision.

You didn’t miss no ex & you didn’t text him cuz you’re better than that. duh. Even though you weren’t wrong to end things, he wasn’t all bad, however you missed the good memories. Definitely not him.

Your friends decided they’ve had enough of this back & forth feeling, they allowed you to be like this for a little & let you process but now it was time to live it up. You were a free woman now, you needed to get up & remember who the fuck you where.

So that’s exactly what you did, you got up, got dressed & went out with your girls. After living in Seattle for 3 years now you’ve become familiar with the hot spots. The club you where at now was pretty popular. You danced around with your friends & let the night take you away.

You went to the bar to get another drink, sitting on a stool when you felt a presence. You turned and that’s when you saw her…Nika Mühl. Seattle takes pride in their teams especially “Seattle Storms”. “This isn’t real..” you thought to yourself. You’ve always been a pretty big basketball fan, your ex boyfriend was REALLY into basketball, he was even a fan of the storms so when you laid your eyes on seattle storms point guard you could only imagine the look on his face.

You were trying your hardest not to stare but i mean come on. it’s Nika Mühl, she was even more beautiful in person. “Need something pretty girl?” she said with a soft smile teasing you a little about the staring. “Just admiring the view” you said with a smile trying to remain casual but you where lowkey weak in the knees. “Big fan…sorry about your knee miss secretary of defense” she laughs “ah thank you i really appreciate it” she takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving yours

“You from seattle?” she tilts her head a little, looking you up & down, taking you in like her pretty brown eyes could see your soul “Moved here 3 years ago for college” she nods her gaze still intense “You always been a storms fan?” “honestly? I’ve always been more of a liberty girl i mean sabrina ionescu? straight shooter” she shakes her head unable to argue with your statement “I don’t blame you she’s a beast” “I’ve always been a uconn fan tho, so when i saw you got drafted that’s when i got into the whole seattle spirit”

she smiles nudging your shoulder “Became a fan just for me? I must say i’m honored” she winks, she was a menace on & off court. You roll your eyes playfully. She buys you drinks, yall talk, get acquainted “You gotta boyfriend? girlfriend?” you laugh softly at her bluntness “I could ask you the same thing” “I asked first” “I uh….just broke up with my boyfriend about a month ago, he cheated & just wasn’t a great guy so yeah..”

she scoffed “men suck i’m sorry bebo you’re gorgeous he’s an absolute idiot for cheating on you” you smile softly “So whats up with you cuz come on…i know you’re fruity.” you state trying to lighten the mood she laughs shaking her head “yeah so what” she shrugs “i knew it!” “It’s not public information or anything cuz yk how people are but yeah…swing both ways, what can I say if you fine you fine” you nod in agreement “I know that’s right”

after some more light hearted conversation, talking comes to touching when y’all dance together. This was the most alive you’ve felt in awhile, being with nika was so easy. conversation flowed it wasn’t awkward she was just so real & genuine it was a breath of fresh air. Her hands found their way to your hips pulling you closer, your hands drape behind her neck.

She started to get a little handsy her natural confidence mixed with the alcohol made her feel unstoppable. “Aw come on now nika whats this?” you tease her about how handsy she’s getting “I think you know what this is, i think you want me” she whispers in your ear making your breathing get a little uneven “What makes you so sure? you seem awfully confident” you shot back “You think i don’t notice how you’ve eye fucking since you saw me?…tsk tsk tsk come on lijepa djevojka you’re a smart girl yeah? I know you’ve noticed I want you too” her voice was low her croatian accent a little heavier she moved some hair out of your face as she spoke, her hand on your chin making you look at her

“I don’t think I fully believe you” you run your hands through her hair tugging it slightly face to face with her making her bring her tongue to her cheek “you don’t believe me?” you shake your head, her grip on your waist get tighter as she brings you closer to her, chest to chest “I can show you better than i can tell you bebo…I can show you in the alley in the back, the center of this room…in my car with the window rolled down, it’s all up to you”

So that’s how you ended up here, in Nikas car sharing one seat, straddling her, her arms gripping your thighs making y’all as close as humanly possible. You smashed your lips onto hers, it was messy, the taste of cherry, alcohol & greed on her lips. Your hands in her hair as she her hands felt up on your body. “Need you so bad” you whispered in her ear kissing behind it where her tattoo is

Her hands gripped your ass moving up to your hips pushing your back against her steering wheel making you whine, she scrunched your dress up making it pool at your waist, her hands caressing your thighs aching closer to where you need her most “fuck nika please” it came out more whiny then you intended but you where desperate & didn’t care at that point, she smirked laughing a little “so fucking needy, who got you this needy hm?” she asks taking one of her hands to move your panties to the side

“you nika” you whimper out, she plunges two of her fingers in you making you moan, a low chuckle leaves her lips at how easily they slipped in from how soaked you where “it’s too easy you’re so wet, who got you like this?” she asked you, her free hand coming to snake around your neck as her fingers went deeper thrusting in & out making you lose any other thought besides her “you!” you whined answering her question.

her mouth was nasty, just dirty talk, cursing in croatian you couldn’t understand but anything coming out her mouth was so insanely hot it was unreal. Her pace quickens she finds that spot that made you dumb she kept hitting it over & over & over again making you moan out, back arching off the steering wheel as her lips latched onto your neck & chest

“so pretty, taking it so well” she praised she was so gentle yet rough at the same time, perfectly mixing praise & bullying. You where gone no thoughts just how good her fingers felt as she destroyed you so beautifully. She was making you go stupid , you clenched around her fingers you where so close & she wasn’t stopping

you kept moaning her name unable to think of anything else “fuck nika i can’t-“ “yes you can. come on slatka djevojko give it to me, let go” the knot in your stomach busting, you crash into her, head on her shoulder, breathing heavy as she rode you out of it giving your neck, shoulders & cheek sweet kisses as she praised you “there we go that’s it, so good for me yeah…you did so good”

She smiled moving some hair out of your face “you okay pretty girl?” her tone half concerned half teasing, you nod. She gives you a few minutes to collect yourself while she strokes your hair & scratches your back gently. You pull her back in it started off soft & sweet then got hungry & sloppy. You slip your tongue in her mouth a little fight for dominance

You move your mouth down her jaw, neck, & chest, hands moving up & down her body “Gonna show me how good your mouth is or you gonna keep teasing me?” you shake your head smiling against her chest “depends…you gonna beg a little?” “I don’t beg” she rolls her eyes playfully, you took this as a challenge “we’ll see about that” you smirked, she moved the seat back as you maneuvered yourself to your knees on the car floor (knee deep in the passenger seat & you’re eating me out is it causal now?🗣️)

You move her dress up, she lifts her hips helping you, you kiss up on her thighs building up a little tension & savoring her “Come on bebo, you don’t wanna waste my time.” you giggle against her thigh leave a little mark before slipping her panties off, keeping eye contact with the gorgeous girl in front of you

You bring her thighs to rest on your shoulders as you finally give her what she wanted, her hands in your hair tugging & pulling, pushing your head exactly where she wanted you. “fuck yeah just like that”, she squirmed just a little making you pin her to the car seat picking up your pace, she moan & laughs breathlessly “oh okay. yes ma’am.” she teases pulling your hair a little

You didn’t stop or slow down once. You ate her like she was your last meal, starved. Nika was letting go letting out whimpers & moans, you felt her getting close so you slowed down smiling against her making her whine “oh come on.” “told you i wanted you to beg” you mumble looking up at her. She shook her head gripping your chin “you serious?” you nod she had a bit of an ego but the ache between her legs was bigger than her ego right now

“please…” she whined a little, you put your mouth back working on her again “shit….please please please” you smirked, *I don’t beg.* my ass, picked up your pace bringing her back to that edge “keep going for me bebo” filthy croatian words leaving her mouth, the car feeling thick & foggy, her grip on your hair getting tighter as she finished, you slow down bringing her out of it, pulling your mouth away & fixing her dress, licking your lips as she wipes your chin, bringing her fingers to your mouth as you clean them

She pulls you back up into her lap, slapping your ass with a breathless laugh “ah shit…guess your more than a pretty face hmm?” she teased “oh fuck you” “I’m sure you’d like too” she winks, you shrug “already did but…we could go again like 3, 4..times” you smirk “Backseat. Now”

A/N

SPORTS CAR FIC FINALLY ARRIVEDDDD hope it was worth the wait

I have no idea what took me so long to finish this fic (yes i do i was lazy) but tates album “so close to what” is SO fire love love love, might write some more fics based on more songs from her album, i already have some cooking in the drafts😈🙏

hopefully i’m getting better with writing cuz as we know when i write smth suggestive i CANNOT take it seriously or look at again but i just have so many fic ideas where it’s fitting so bare with me PLEASE 😭

thanks for reading, love you always

wish signing off🪽

[space-mermaid-writing]

Of monsters and men [IronStrange]

Summary: Some kidnappers fucked up big time and now Tony is bonded to this strange demon he continues to summon by accident.

Tags:demon!Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Whump, body horror, protective Stephen Strange, Stephen Strange needs a hug

Author's note: Just a short interlude chapter that gives you some clues about Stephen. Beta by @harpywritesfic and @kvjjjjjj

Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 0.5 k | Previous | Next (soon)

Chapter 5: Sir, I found a match

“Sir, I found a match,” Jarvis chimed in.

Tony frowned. “A match for what?” He didn’t remember doing any specific research.

His eyes fell on the file Jarvis had put on the screen and the title caught his attention: Doctor Stephen Strange, MD, PhD. His current project was forgotten in an instant.

There were several photos attached to the file, all of them dated from years ago. Tony stared at them. The resemblance was there, but this person was human – a good looking one. Tony dived right into reading.

The thing was, Tony had Jarvis analyzing the video feed of the demon before, but the images had been glitching, like there was some kind of interference. The engineer wasn’t sure what caused that and had blamed it on the fact that the demon was from a whole other dimension.

Jarvis had apparently been concerned enough that he had continued to search based on the data he got – with success.

Tony read about the neurosurgeon; about his rise, the accident and the fall. His trail was lost in Nepal, somewhere in the Himalayas. The last photo showed him in the background of a selfie from a tourist. The doctor’s hair was shaggy, his beard long and unkempt. He wore a blue parka.

No one had seen him since.

That had been three years ago.

Tony looked closely at the photo, as if it would tell him the answers to his questions.

“What happened to you, Stephen Strange?”

He was tempted to call the demon to get his answers. But Tony was currently trying not to spill blood in any way in order to not bother Stephen.

He had meant what he said: the system was awfully unbalanced. It didn’t seem fair to him that Stephen had to come every time, no matter if he wanted to or not.

As a person in the public eye, Tony valued privacy. He knew how it was to deal with demanding people. For him it started with events he had to attend, put on a nice front and smile even if he didn’t feel it. And it didn’t just end with people getting into his personal space uninvited, or people expecting him to be their friend because they thought they knew him or they had stalked him on social media.

No, Tony tried to keep his accidental summonings to a minimum.

So far he had managed a few weeks – which felt like a new record looking back at how often he had called Stephen in the first month.

Tony saved Stephen’s file onto a private hard drive.

“I know you already did a great job, but keep digging, Jarvis,” he asked his A.I.

People didn’t vanish overnight and became jaw-unhinging tentacle demons. There had to be more to the story.

[ragnarockz]

Room 4, Part 2- Red Room

Poem in italics is Self-Pity by D.H. Lawrence

Pic mood board for Red Room

Music while writing: James Dean - The Eagles

ha h ah ah ahaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh WELL!

Vidal had let her get close; close enough where Agnes felt daring to try and put her hand down her pants. Agnes felt Vidal's nails cut into her wrist, holding her hand still. Agnes moaned as she tried to reach with her fingers; so desperate and pathetic Vidal laughed in her face and threw her hand away before scooting off of the bed. She grabbed the knife and left Agnes behind.

"Get dressed and get in the car, we have somewhere we need to be."

Agnes made no attempt to move; still shocked in all that had unfolded in such a short span of time. Her mind was still reeling from the knife and the packer and Vidal's words. Her fucking words were eating through her own skull and she didn't know how to address them.

They moved around the room in a heavy silence as Agnes threw on the jeans she traveled in and a fresh white tee shirt. Who are you trying to be? James Dean? Vidal's words crept back into her head from months ago; always hitting that good itch in her brain. She didn't feel like him now anyways, not with whatever was looming between them.

"Where are we going?"

Vidal had her back to Agnes, ignoring her question as she slipped out of her clothes. She stood there in the darkening motel room in just her bra and underwear, the toy still bulged behind the fabric proudly. She made her way over to her suitcase and unzipped it once more as it lay on the floor. She was crouching now to reach inside, giving Agnes a show. She pulled out a black dress, her usual underwear and stockings. Exchanged Agnes' underwear for her own and fixed the toy back to where it belonged; stocking slipped up and over to hold it all in place. She took her dress, slipped her legs into it and shimmied it up her body. Vidal could feel Agnes' eyes like daggers on her back.

"You brought a dress like that out here? Vidal, where are you taking us?"

It felt like Agnes' brain was lagging behind, dying to catch up. Vidal brought a dress number one. Number two, she brought and was wearing the dress with her fucking packer underneath.

"I'll wait in the car...you should wear yours too. I thought you would have had it on already...knowing how you are."

Slipping into her heels, Vidal grabbed her purse and crossed the room, passing Agnes on her way out. She slammed the door behind her and left the detective stunned and alone.

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.

They were back on the road with the dead of night creeping in all around them. No streetlights this deep into such a little town on the cusp of nowhere special. Vidal was pretty much speeding and Agnes kept her gaze down in her lap, burning a hole with her eyes at the sight of her own bulge between her legs. She couldn't remember the last time Vidal acted this way; had she ever?

"What..."

Agnes voice started out small before she cleared her throat and lifted her head so that Vidal could hear her clearly. She tried again,

"What did you mean...about...me not stepping into your life?"

Vidal poked the inside of her cheek in annoyance and gave a hard, short shake of her head. Her vision set on the road before them, following the signs into town or, well, near the outside of it on the opposite end. She wanted to laugh; laugh and laugh until she cried. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, pressed down harder on the gas pedal. She watched Agnes shift uncomfortably in her seat as she let the conversation die between them.

Vidal drove a little bit longer until she pulled up in front of a place that looked half abandoned. However, the neon lights burning outside were a tell-tale giveaway that it was, in fact, open for business. Agnes shot a look over at her partner for some explanation, some fucking sense of understanding. Vidal turned off the car and got out; leaving Agnes to her own devices to catch up at her heels.

There was some sort of atmosphere in the building that Agnes couldn't put her finger on as she followed Vidal inside. Definitely strange; a little off putting. She didn't feel safe or welcomed or wanted. She could feel eyes on her; all over her. She was being surveyed; up and down with eyes of unknown men because the women in there didn't care at all who entered or left this place. This place, was for men. Agnes caught up right behind Vidal, her hand reaching forward to take Vidal's wrist. Vidal let her; falling side by side with each other now as they moved deeper into the building.

"What the fuck is this, Vidal? What the fuck are you doing?"

"Me? What are we doing? You're here too."

Agnes closed her mouth and let a long, deep breath pass through her nostrils.

They came to an empty booth area that was covered in red. Everything was red in here, Agnes came to realize. The carpet, the couches, the seats. The fucking poles and the goddamn table tops and everyone; everything was bathed in red. Vidal's hair was a pitch darker than black and her dress blended in so much it made Agnes' eyes hurt.

"Take a seat, James..."

Vidal's words dripped out of her mouth like venom as she stood there and waited for Agnes to slide into the booth. She did; what else could she have done? There was no way she was going to turn back the way she came with her tail between her legs and walk by all those men again. She took her seat and scooted a little inwards so that Vidal could take hers too.

She did, Agnes watched, but not beside her. She watched as Vidal walked away and sat opposite of her; took her seat and spread her legs so that her dress rose from her knees pushed to the side; spreading.

"What the fuck is this?"

"You're so angry...but I know why you are. It's because you're confused, for once. Usually I guide you through things, isn't that right? Maybe I should leave you in the dark more often."

"Vidal."

"We've been at this for how long now? You and I? You go about like you're some mystery; like your life before me is so secretive. Everyone knows you, Agnes. You're so closed off that you're an open fucking book. Your mother, your son...Alice. Me. All your fucking fears and all your goddamn fantasies are so plain face and you're the only one who doesn't see it. I see it. Everyone sees it."

The music changed; another song taking its place over the stereos above them. Vidal grabbed the fabric of her dress at her knees and pulled it up towards her, exposing herself to Agnes.

"You never thought to ask me. You just take what I give you and never poke or pry. Maybe that's because of how you were raised; maybe you thought it was rude to be nosy. Fine. That's fair. In all honesty, there's nothing to fucking tell. I went to school and I came home from school. I was a good student, good daughter, good friend. I did what I was told and didn't think anything of it until I graduated and realized I had missed everything."

"Vidal, I-"

"You think your life was so fucking hard. Maybe it was, maybe it still is. You lived, Agnes. You did things maybe you regretted. What did I do that made me regret? Nothing. Nothing happened for me to stop and think of how stupid I was at nineteen or, how much I hated myself at twenty five for over something so horrible. Now I'm playing catch up. You and I..."

She caught herself then and let her dress fall from her grasp. Agnes' eyes went wide and then her brow knitted in close together. She felt a wave in her stomach; a sinking feeling.

"You and I...what...Vidal?"

A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough

without ever having felt sorry for itself.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

graph

bonus:

[phantomrev]

Morro is an old fart

For funnies

[svtskneecaps]

lukewarm take of the evening: y'all care too much about being ""outdated"". fellas this smp moves inhumanly fast. it is ok to CHILL holy shit CHILL. y'all are like "(posts BANGER ART) super late guys sorry" friend i am hitting you with a blanket i am snapping you with my metaphorical towel WHAT DO YOU MEAN SORRY. "(posts BANGER FIC) rip this is outdated now" WHO CARES???? I LOVE YOU, OK. ohhhh woe is us as the fandom at large for having MORE HAPPY PILLS ARC CONTENT oh no how outdated!! how could you be writing speculative fiction about how forever felt during happy pills :( slash SARCASM!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BANGER ARCS, WHAT, YOU THINK WE'RE COMPLAINING????? FOR GETTING MORE OF THE CONTENT WE LOVED????? oh no we're past the period where everyone thought green gay ninjas were like Dead Dead, my work is now outdated and noncanon :( WDYM. GIMME. A BANGER IS A BANGER IDC IF IT TAKES THREE MONTHS. you think rome was built in a day?? fuck you, baltimore, GIMME. my ass has been cooking a goddamn backflipo family fic since july when it was ALREADY outdated do you think i fear god??? "oh no, you're making an edit of slime's (attempted) egg murdering spree?? how could you, that was months ago it's irrelevant" SAID NO ONE EVER.

save your wrists kidlings ok carpal tunnel is no joke. CHILL!!!!! CHILL!!!!!!!! TAKE YOUR TIME SHEEEEEESH OK LOVE YOU <3