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abbotjack · 1 month ago

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(18+ only) nsfw alphabet– michael robinavitch .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚

pairing : michael "robby" robinavitch x afab!reader

18+ MDNI—warning : explicit sexual content, use of cunt, rough sex, praise kink, post-sex intimacy, body worship, possessive language. this is just pure filth start to finish like oh my god...

a/n : no plot, just robby being hot, obsessed, and way too good at ruining your cunt. you're welcome. roughly 4,000 words... needless to say I was very passionate about this one as well. I also did one for dr. abbot!. anyways, happy pitt thursday & ty for 100 followers !

♡ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He treats aftercare like it’s an extension of the act itself—just as intimate, just as necessary. He pulls you against his chest immediately after, and murmurs, “You alright?” His voice is low and hoarse, lips ghosting your temple. He doesn’t rush. You’ll feel his fingers smoothing across your skin, touching every place he left red or trembling.

He wipes you down gently with a warm cloth—he never makes you do it yourself—and then pulls the blanket up over both of you. There’s a certain reverence in the way he laces your fingers together afterward. He might not always say the words, but it’s there: You’re mine. I’ve got you.

♡ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite on himself : His hands because they get to touch you. He’s obsessed with how much he can make you feel with just his fingertips. “Tell me where you want me,” he’ll whisper against your throat while teasing a finger down your thigh.

On you : Your mouth. Not just for what it does, but how it moves. The curve when you smile, the little intake of breath when you’re trying not to moan, the way it parts when he slides a finger into you and whispers something filthy against your ear.

He’s obsessed with the way you whimper against his kiss. Sometimes he’ll press his thumb into your bottom lip and say, “Let me see how much you want it.” And then watch—ruthlessly—as you fall apart

♡ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Robby finishes deep, every time. It’s instinctive. You clenching around him when he starts to lose control? That’s what does it. He’ll bury his face in your shoulder with a groan that sounds almost pained, holding you in place while he spills inside you. And afterward? He stays inside just a little too long. “Just… let me have this for a second.”

He loves watching it drip out of you after. Fingers gentle but greedy as he brushes it back in, eyes dark with a possessiveness he never voices out loud.

♡ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a thing for catching you in the middle of it.

Not touching yourself for him—not some showy, performed thing. No. He wants to catch you when you think he’s not there. When it’s real. Quiet. Desperate. Private.

That’s his secret.

He’s walked in on you once—half-asleep, legs spread, hand between your thighs, whispering his name under your breath without even realizing it. You didn’t notice him right away.

But he noticed everything.

The way your hips stuttered. The little gasp you made when your fingers brushed just right. The slick sound of you trying to get yourself off like it wasn’t already too much. The blush that crept up your chest when you finally looked over and saw him standing there, hard in his jeans, eyes dark, watching.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

And sometimes—he doesn’t mean to—but he lingers outside the bedroom door when you don’t know he’s home. Just listening. Breathing slow. Letting his cock throb in his hand while you whimper his name with your fingers buried inside you.

He won’t ask you to stop. He won’t interrupt.

♡ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Robby is the guy who doesn’t look like a heartbreaker, but you find out after that he could be. He’s had lovers—but he doesn’t throw it around casually. When he touches you, it’s obvious : he knows what he’s doing. His rhythm, his pressure, the way he reads your breath and adjusts in real time. Precision with heat.

And when you moan his name? His lips part, slow, like he’s drinking you in. “That’s it. Just like that. Good girl. Let me hear you.”

♡ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

In the privacy of the bedroom, Robby's preferred position is classic missionary. He loves to have you lying beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, allowing for deep penetration and full-body contact. This position enables him to maintain eye contact, reading every nuance of your expressions, and to kiss you deeply, muffling shared moans.

What elevates this position for him is the intimacy it fosters. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, synchronize his breathing with yours, and whisper sweet or filthy nothings directly into your ear. The ability to have his hands free to explore your body, caress your sides, or intertwine fingers adds layers to the connection. It's not just about the physical pleasure but the profound emotional bond it reinforces each time.

♡ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not really goofy—more warm. He’s serious when it counts, but he has this soft, crooked smirk when you laugh mid-kiss. He’ll say something under his breath like “You’re trouble, you know that?” while flipping you over. The humor is subtle—intimate. Like you’re in on something private.

♡ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s got a full bush, thick and dark, not out of neglect but because he doesn’t see the point in shaving something that feels natural. The hair down there is soft but dense, and when he’s hard? It frames his cock like it’s meant to be worshipped.

There’s a trail leading up from his pelvis—dark and straight. It’s the kind of thing you see once and can’t stop staring at, especially when his shirt rides up after a long shift and your eyes catch that line of hair leading down. He notices when you look. He always notices.

And let’s not skip the beard.

He loves burying his mouth between your thighs like it’s the only place he wants to be. His tongue is slow, deep, deliberate. His stubble drags across every tender inch, rough enough to leave you raw, just the way he knows you like it.

He shaved once.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel slung low, jaw bare, clean, pink in places where the razor caught. He looked at you—wet hair, smug expression, a glint in his eye like he thought he’d done something special.

Your eyes dragged over his face, down to the curve of his throat. Blank. Quiet. Then :

“You shaved.”

He nodded, a little too proud. “Figured I’d try something different.”

You didn’t answer. Just got under the covers, and faced the wall.

You didn’t fuck him for a week.

You still let him pull you close. Still let him kiss your neck. But your cunt stayed untouched, aching and slick in silence, because you chose to starve him with it. To remind him that this—you—has rules.

You waited until the stubble came back.

That night, you let him between your legs.

You didn’t speak. Just pulled him down and pressed your cunt to his mouth like something owed. He took it like an apology.

Now, he doesn’t forget. When he fucks you with his mouth, he does it slow. Thorough. Until you shake. Until you cry out. Until it’s more than just pleasure—it’s possession. His jaw works like he’s starving. Like he remembers every second of those nights you wouldn't let him have it.

When he pulls back—chin wet, lips parted—his breath ghosts over your skin. You’re flushed and trembling, still pulsing from the friction.

He looks up, voice wrecked, reverent.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

You exhale, heavy, jaw slack.

“You won’t.”

♡ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When he’s in your bed, it’s not about sex—it’s about claiming space in your life. Every touch is intentional. Every glance lingers a second too long. Every thrust carries the weight of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

He gives his full attention, eyes locked on yours while his hands hold you still, and his voice drops in your ear :

“I want you to feel me tomorrow. I want you to remember this.”

And afterward? When your legs are still shaking and your mind’s gone foggy? He pulls you into his chest because you’re his. It's the kind of closeness that tells you—no one else gets this version of him.

♡ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Robby jerks off only when it’s necessary—when he’s so hard it aches, or when he’s had a day that pressed every damn button and he needs you to take the edge off… but you’re not there.

He always does it the same way : Back against the headboard, hand braced on his thigh, one slow stroke at a time while his eyes are shut and you’re the only thing in his head. Sometimes it’s your voice. Sometimes it’s the way your body looked the last time you collapsed under him.

He finishes hard, jaw clenched, chest rising. And every time? He mutters your name under his breath, like a confession he’s still trying to outrun.

♡ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to manage you. Override your thoughts. Rewire what you associate with pleasure until the only thing you crave is his voice, his rules, his cock.

And he does it slow. He makes you ask. Not because he’s into power trips—but because he wants to hear you break.

“You want something, you say it. Use your words.”

“That tone won’t get you what you need, sweetheart.”

And when you finally say it—broken, desperate, voice shaking—he rewards you by giving all of himself, rough hands, heavy weight, deliberate thrusts that make you sob.

He’s into positional control—knees spread wide, hands behind your back, chin tilted up with one thick hand under your jaw. Not to scare you. To focus you.

You don’t look away. You don’t squirm.

You listen. You obey.

And when you don’t? He’ll stop mid-thrust, press his body flush to yours, and growl :

“Try that again. See what it gets you.”

When he puts you where he wants you and says, “Stay still while I fuck you,” —you do. Every time.

That’s the kink : You, undone. And him, fully in control of everything.

♡ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a bed man, 100%. Not because he’s boring—because he wants time, room, and access. Sheets pushed down. One knee between your thighs. He wants to make a mess.

But he does have a soft spot for the couch especially after a long day, when you curl into his side while watching something on TV, kiss his neck, and he doesn’t even bother pulling your pants all the way off before tugging you into his lap and sliding in from underneath.

♡ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What gets Robby going?

You. Wanting him.

It’s the way you shift closer when you speak—like your body can’t help but chase him. The brush of your leg against his under the table, slow and unthinking, but your breath always catches after. The way your eyes dilate when he says your name low.

It’s instinct. Want in its rawest form. Not loud. Not deliberate. Just something in you pulling toward something in him.

And he notices.

Feels it in the silence. In the way your thighs tense when he stands too close. In the heat radiating off you when you pretend you’re not thinking about his hands on your skin. But you are. And he knows it.

And when you do ask?

That’s what does it.

Just a soft little please—barely above a whisper. His cock’s already hard in his pants, jaw tight, breath low and steady, because if he moves too fast, he��ll lose it.

And if you’re already wet when he checks?

He groans—low, rough, wrecked.

“Yeah. That’s all I fuckin’ need.”

Because that’s what gets him. Not performance. Not noise. Just need. Honest, helpless, soaked-through need.

The kind that has your cunt dripping just from the thought of him.

That kind of power? That kind of want?

He’ll fuck you senseless for it. Every time.

♡ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t turn sex into something cold and punishing.

You can tease him. Push him. You can mouth off just to see how long it takes for him to press you into the mattress and make you sorry you started it. He likes that. He likes the challenge.

But he doesn’t want cruelty. Not from you, not toward you.

The first time it comes up, it’s not even in bed.

You say it offhandedly—half a joke, half testing the waters. Something you read in a post, or a thread, or some comment section that said men like him—older, quiet, in control—like it mean. That they get off on making you cry. That pain is the point. That it’s not real unless it hurts.

And his reaction is immediate. Not angry—just quiet. Controlled. Serious in that way he gets when he needs you to listen.

He touches your chin, gently, turns your face toward him. Thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes on yours.

“No, honey. We don’t do that here.”

His voice is low, even.

“You want to be taken apart? Fine. You want to be mine? Good. But not like that.”

Then he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes.

He doesn’t care what you’ve read or what men like him are supposed to want—he’s not here to watch you cry just to feel powerful, not interested in pain that leaves you numb or pushing past what you can take just because you think that’s what gets him off.

He wants you honest, wanting, undone by pleasure. He’ll ruin you. Wreck you. Push you to the edge of something so intense it leaves you shaking.

But pain for pain’s sake? Anything that feels hollow, detached, or cruel?

That’s where he stops.

♡ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving?

Devotional. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t tease. He feasts. Like your thighs are the only place he wants to die.

One arm looped under your leg, the other gripping your hip. He’ll drag his tongue in deep, slow strokes until you’re begging. Not because he wants praise—because he wants you undone. Wants your thighs trembling, your voice high and ruined, your fingers scrabbling through his hair with desperate little gasps.

Receiving?

He loves it—but more because he likes watching you want it. The heat in your eyes, the way you look up while you suck him slow, spit slicking your lips. If you grip his thighs and choke a little, he’ll groan and push your hair back :

“Easy, sweetheart… take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

♡ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Controlled.

Not fast, not rough—measured. Like every thrust is calculated to make you feel exactly what he wants you to.

He’ll keep it slow until you’re practically begging, then snap his hips once—just once—and smirk when you whimper.

“That’s what you needed, huh?”

He’ll go harder when you ask. But his rhythm never loses that precision.

♡ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Robby doesn’t like quickies. Not really.

He wants time—wants to press his mouth to every inch of your skin, listen to the way your breath shifts, draw your orgasm out like he’s conducting it. Quickies cut corners, and Robby? Doesn’t like cutting corners.

But you? You’re standing just a little too close during a quiet stretch in the ER—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, voice barely above a whisper: “Please. I need you. Right now.”

And when you reach for his hand, tug him gently by the wrist toward the back hallway— He knows where you’re going. And he doesn’t stop you.

You slip into the empty on-call room. He’s two steps behind you, shutting the door with a quiet click and turning the lock.

His voice is low, sharp, already strained:

“You really want this here?”

You nod, out of breath.

“Please, Robby… I need it. I don’t care if it’s quick. I just—fuck—I need you inside me.”

That’s all it takes.

He’s on you in a second—one hand at your throat, the other already pushing you back against the wall. His mouth crashes into yours—filthy, impatient—and he grabs your scrub pants, yanking them down just enough to expose your thighs.

Your underwear stays on.

He hooks a finger under the elastic, pulls it to the side, and groans when he sees you—slick, swollen, already soaked for him.

“You came in here like this?” His voice is gravel now. “Fucking desperate for it?”

You nod again. Barely.

“Robby—please. I need you—need to feel you—”

He growls low in his throat and presses two fingers into you hard and fast, feeling you stretch around him, already pulsing.

“God, you’re fucking dripping.”

He pulls his cock out fast—thick, flushed, angry—and lines himself up without another word. Then, still holding your underwear to the side, he drives into you in one brutal thrust.

You gasp—loud—and his hand’s at your mouth now, pinning you to the wall with his weight.

“Shhh. Be quiet for me. You wanted this so bad, now take it.”

The rhythm is relentless. Fast. Deep. Ruined in five minutes flat. Your hands scramble at his back. Your forehead presses to his collarbone. You’re so full, so fucked, all you can do is sob into his palm as your orgasm crashes over you way too soon.

He fucks you through it. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. Just grits out,

“That’s it. Just like that. Come around me. God, you feel fucking perfect—”

When he spills inside you, it’s with a broken moan into your shoulder, hips jerking, fingers gripping your waist like he’s trying to hold himself together.

After? He pulls out slow. Gently tucks himself away. Adjusts your underwear back into place and helps you with your pants. Then brushes his thumb along your lower lip where you bit down too hard.

“Next time? You wait until we’re off shift. So I can do that right.”

But you know—The next time you beg?

He’s going to cave again.

He doesn’t like quickies. But for you? He’ll fuck you like it’s the last five minutes of his life.

♡ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Robby’s not reckless. But behind closed doors? He’ll try anything once—as long as it comes with trust.

You want to be tied up? He’ll get a rope. You want to try temperature play? He’s already warming the oil. But he needs to know you’re there with him, not playing a part.

♡ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two to three rounds, easily—if not more, depending on the day.

And in between rounds? He doesn’t check out. He kisses you. Runs his fingers through your hair. Stays in it.

You won’t even realize he’s hard again until he’s flipping you over, saying, “We're not done yet.”

♡ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Selective. But curious. He keeps a viberator in the nightstand drawer—not for you to use alone, but for him to hold against you while he’s buried inside you.

“Let go. Come on. Let me feel it.”

He’s also into remote-control toys. The idea of having you wear one while you sit across the table at dinner? Knowing he could ruin you the second you tease him?

Yeah. He’s thought about it. A lot.

♡ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He lives to tease. Not cruelly—strategically. He’ll keep you on the edge for hours. Pull away right before you come. Make you ride him slow until your voice breaks.

And the whole time? He’ll say shit like:

“You want to come? Say it. Say it like you mean it.”

And when you finally do? He’ll give it to you. Hard. Without hesitation. But only once he’s dragged every drop of want out of you first.

♡ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts. Groans. Low curses whispered into your neck. The sound he makes when he comes is rough.

And when you ride him, slow and deep? He’ll let out this low, desperate moan into your chest that sounds like he’s trying to hold himself back and failing.

That sound? It’s all because of you.

♡ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He kept the first pair of underwear you left at his place. Not to be creepy. Not to sniff or jerk off to. Just… because.

They’re in the back of his drawer, folded neatly like he might give them back, but he won’t. It’s a memento. A reminder of the first night you stayed. The first night you were his.

♡ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick. Heavy. Veined. He’s not porn-star long, but he doesn’t need to be—the girth alone is enough to make you gasp every time.

You feel him with your whole body. Even when he’s just rubbing the tip through your slick folds, your hips buck involuntarily, desperate for him to fill you. Stretch you. Keep you full until your thighs shake.

And he knows it. Smirks when he catches the way you hesitate right before he pushes in.

“Too much?” he’ll murmur, nudging at your entrance with slow, deliberate pressure.

“You can take it. You always do.”

He presses all the way in, holds there while your body adjusts. He doesn’t fuck like he’s showing off. He fucks like he’s memorizing you with it. Like he’s been thinking about it all day.

And when he pulls out, slow and slick and aching, you’re already sore. Already wanting it again.

♡ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Robby can hold off for days. Weeks, even. But when he finally has you?

He’s starving.

He doesn’t just want your body. He wants you wrecked. Tearing up. Shaking. Pressing your mouth to his neck so no one hears how hard you come for him.

He wants you craving him just as badly. Not for show. Not for ego. Because that’s the part he hides from everyone else—how badly he needs you when he doesn’t have you.

And when he’s buried in you, deep and slow, holding your wrists down above your head, mouth at your throat, voice shaking from restraint?

That’s when you hear it : “I’ve needed this. You have no idea how fucking much.”

♡ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You fall asleep on your side, facing him. One arm draped over his chest, leg tangled between his, skin still hot from where your bodies were pressed tight.

You’re bare.

Still flushed.

Still soft all over, your thighs sticky, your cunt sore and slick from how deep he took you.

And Robby’s still wide awake. Lying flat on his back, one hand resting on the dip of your waist—but his eyes?

They’re on you.

He watches the way your breath slows, the way your mouth parts slightly, the way your fingers twitch against his ribs while you sleep. You’re loose now. Limp and warm and completely undone—and he still feels you, everywhere.

Your stomach rises and falls against him in slow, perfect rhythm. There’s a faint line on your hip—stretch mark, scar, something you used to try and hide.

He sees it.

He loves it.

He traces it lightly with his thumb, barely a touch.

He wants to move.

Wants to roll you onto your back, lick into your cunt until you're whimpering again, make you take him slow all over.

Wants to feel you twitch when he whispers things he never says out loud—like how badly he wants to keep you like this forever he literally has a ring hidden in his nightstand but that’s besides the point.

But he doesn’t. You’re asleep. Spent. Trusting him with your whole body.

So he shifts in a little closer. Presses a kiss to your shoulder. Lets his palm settle over your hip, wide and warm and claiming. Because for now, that’s enough.

Eventually, his eyes will close.

But not yet.

Not when you’re still glowing from what he did to you.

#can you guys tell I am a beard supporter #the pitt #michael robinavitch x reader #noah wyle #dr robby #michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo #smut

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hxzbinwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I just saw that requests are open, yeah!! I'd like to request an Alastor x fem!Reader where Vox has a crush on her so he sends her a set of different tea flavor as a gift. The problem is that these contain a drug that inhibits the person (thanks, Valentino). Basically, his plan was to wait for her to drink the tea and then show up at the hotel and seduce her so he could have her for himself (my boy thinks she loves him, lol). The problem is that she had graciously offered the tea to Alastor, who drinks it. Vox asks her if she enjoyed the tea she lies saying it was delicious so he immediately shows up at the hotel but ends up finding Alastor who is being super affectionate with her, revealing his true feelings for her. Eventually Alastor attacks Vox as soon as he sees him forcing the other to flee. Fluff and comedy, basically. xD

Alastor x Fem! Reader x Vox | Tea Time Troubles

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, drugs, controlling and manipulative Vox, out of character Alastor.

"I dunno 'bout this Voxxy" Valentino said, handing him a baggie of the drug, a weak aphrodisiac lining the walls of the bag.

"Don't worry about me Valentino, I'll be fine" Vox reassured him, holding the bag up to his screened face. He smirked deviously as he put his hands behind his back.

"But you tell me all the time 'bout 'public image' and all that shit." Valentino retorted, crossing his lower arms against his stomach.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about it Honey" Vox sneered, rubbing his cheek in a falsely affectionate way. "Vox is a big boy and can handle himself. I just gotta put this into some tea bags. (Y/n) WILL be MINE."

"Ugh" The moth groaned, taking a puff of his cigar,"She's not even worth it. She hangs out with radio, fossil trash. If she was good shed know who to choose. Besides, I'm better than she is, right?"

"You're wrong." Vox said, his left eye radiating hypnotizing waves out of anger,"(Y/n) is perfect. She's everything, and she will be mine."

Vox's demonic laughter could be heard across the building, sending chills down anyone who heard it's spine.

--------

"Honey!!" (Y/n) exclaimed, holding up the box of tea that arrived at their house,"Your tea shipment came!"

Alastor, who was reading the paper at the kitchen table, looked over to see his dear (Y/n) carrying two large cardboard boxes.

He teleported over, making his shadows place them atop of the counter. His keen eyes narrowed at the second box, seemingly almost identical to the first one.

"How peculiar!" Alastor said, tapping his cane on the second box, almost poking it as if it was a foreign object.

"What's peculiar about it?" The fellow deer demon asked, peering over at the box her partner was so intrigued by.

"I did not order two shipments of tea from the catalogue this month!" He replied, his smile tightening in irritation. Could someone be trying to plant something in this hotel? Trying to hurt any of his friends, his beloved, or him?

"Maybe it's a promo box?" (Y/n) suggested,"I mean, you are a loyal customer of theirs. Maybe they want you to try a new product, I hear that's the new rage."

"Ah" Alastor replied, walking closer to the counter to rip open the second box to be met with a letter and a large box of tea.

"Thank you for your loyalty Mr. Alastor. We're reaching out to our most loyal customers to give this Promo box to! We're asking that you try our newest flavor, a (your favorite flavor) but with a twist! Despite the erratic sounds at night in Hell, this tea should help you fall right asleep! If you enjoy it, please promote so on your beloved Radio Show!"

"I was right!" The doe said, looking up at her partner,"They must've given it to you because they know you're famous and can promote their tea! Very smart people, I wanna try one tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? Why not today my doe?" Alastor said, looking down at his partner.

"My stomach isn't feeling the best. Charlie's cake wasn't fully cooked through, but I didn't want to be rude and not eat it. Especially because no one else was!"

Alastor chuckled, petting her sensitive ears. "Now now (Y/n), you should've listened to me! I know all!"

"Al..." She said, batting her eyes up at him,"Do you mind trying it for me? I wanna know if it's good, but I don't want to throw up in my sleep!"

"Why should I?" He inquired, smirking down at (Y/n). "It seems like this predicament could've been easily avoided my little doe! Hahaha!"

"Please" She softly asked, smiling at him back.

"I suppose I can try one cup of it." He said, sitting down at the table, fully expecting (Y/n) to make him the cup as he finished reading his paper.

She giggled at him and began to start the kettle. Moments like these can't be replaced, a docile and homey moment between the two of them. (Y/n) loved seeing this side of him. The Alastor side of him, not the Radio Demon.

(Y/n) opened the smaller box that was enclosed in the large one, picking out the first tea bag. She smelled the bag, the fumes of blended herbs wafting in her nostrils. It smelled lovely, she would've to drink one alongside Alastor.

But she held back on picking up another bag, knowing its sleeping effects. (Y/n) really didn't want to throw up while in her sleep, and potentially on Alastor, who would be as knocked out as her.

Sighing, she finished preparing the tea, pouring it in Alastor's favorite teacups, the one (Y/n) gifted him on their second anniversary many years ago.

She walked back over to him, placing the teacup on his saucer, putting the sugar cube in as well.

"Thank you dearest" Alastor said, his eyes skimming over the newspaper,"I shall be in our room in a moment, why don't you go ahead and get in your nightwear?"

"Alrighty" (Y/n) replied, patting the back of Alastor's chair. That was something the two of them did, (Y/n) knew when to touch Alastor and when to not. Still wanting to show him affection, she'll pat an object close to him.

Alastor gave her a soft smile before returning his focus to the newspaper.

The doe walked up the stairs in the hotel to their shared room. She got in her fluffy pajamas, completed each and every step to her skincare routine, and crawled into bed with a book.

The silence was only broken by the occasional turn of a page, this was (Y/n)‘s daily quiet time, as Alastor liked to read the paper before turning in for the night.

This normally is for about an hour, but tonight it was a mere 30 minutes as the door busted open.

The doe yelped, her skittish nature causing her to flinch at the sudden jolt of noise. Her partner flittered into the room before crawling on top of her, his eyes droopy from the affect.

“Hi sugar” He said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His ears were pressed against his head as he affectionately nuzzled (Y/n). Alastor grabbed her waist and flipped her on top of him, allowing him to bring her closer to his body, her chest atop of his.

“Al-Alastor?!” (Y/n) exclaimed, tensing up. What has gotten into him!? He’s not one to ever make such…bold advances.

“Oh my love” He said, a dreamy lilt in his voice,”you’re just perfection incarnate. Such a lovely little fawn you are.”

Blushing heavily, she let him rest himself on her, snuggling contently. It was rather peaceful, she did not know where this sudden chance of behavior came from, but it certainly wasn’t the worst by far.

(Y/n)’s ears perked up hearing a notification sound ding from her phone. She slowly grabbed it to check what it was.

Alastor was not very keen on allowing this sort of technology in the house, especially knowing Vox is over all of it. So they made a compromise, he’d take out the camera and microphone and she could have the phone.

Seeing it was a message from Vox, she opened it.

Vox: “Hey sweetheart, I pulled a few strings and got a shipment of some new tea of (your favorite flavor) that was being tested. How did you like it baby?”

(Y/n): Oh, it was good, thanks!

Vox: Just good? You sure sweet stuff? Wasn’t it so good you could just kiss the lips off of the person who got it for you?

(Y/n) sighed, shutting her phone off and curling up with her lover.

“I think that’s a yes!” Vox said, throwing his hands in the air ceremoniously. He quickly put on his best bow tie, in hopes it would get taken off by fingers other than his, and made his way towards the Hazbin Hotel.

————

Vox searched through each room until he found the one you and Alastor shared.

He scowled at the door, seeing a heart with the initials scribed on it “(Y/i) + A”

Pathetic. He could give you so much more than that. He could give you the most advanced technological sign known to mankind just for some silly initials, not some shitty hard with nearly illegible handwriting.

He opened the door, his signature smirk dropping as he saw Alastor, his arch nemesis (in Vox’s eyes) peppering small little kisses all over (Y/n)‘s face, making her giggle.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vox yelled, his face was blue-screening.

Alastor took one look at the fellow Overlord and let out a long string of laughter, sitting up as he pulled (Y/n) into his lap.

“Vox?! What are you doing here?!”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO DRINK THE TEA!! AND THEN YOU’D BE MINE!!”

Alastor hooked a arm around (Y/n)‘s waist, looking at his opponent across the room.

“This is my doe, my love, and we all know if she would’ve drank the tea, she would’ve always chosen me.”

Lets just say, the power around the Pride Ring went out after that comment.

————

Word Count 1,524

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miniscapes333 · 3 months ago

Text

your FS fantasizes about you like what at night ? (18+)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 3]

👆 [PILE - 2]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE - 1

I see them lying awake, long after the world has quieted, after responsibilities have been tucked away for the night. But they can’t rest—not yet, not when their mind is full of you. They turn onto their side, exhaling sharply, one hand resting on their chest, the other gripping the sheets like they’re trying to steady themselves. But there’s no steadying this—no controlling what happens when they close their eyes and let themselves fall into you. They see you there, in the private corners of their mind, bathed in a soft glow, looking at them with that knowing gaze—the one that tells them you know exactly what you do to them. And oh, how they ache for you.

Their fantasies aren’t just about the act of having you; it’s so much deeper than that. They picture the lead-up, the slow burn of it all—how your fingers would skim over their skin, teasing, promising, never rushing. They imagine your lips ghosting over their pulse, how you’d linger just long enough to make them shiver, to make them want. It’s the way you’d push them to the edge, not just with touch, but with presence—the way you’d own the moment, make them feel like there was no one else in the world but the two of you. They crave that—the intimacy, the way your body would mold against theirs so perfectly, like you were meant to fit together. And when they let go, when they finally surrender to the thought of having you, it’s devastating. The kind of desire that leaves them breathless, heart hammering, hands flexing against the mattress like they can feel you there.

And when it’s over, when the fantasy has run its course and they’re left in the quiet aftermath, they don’t feel relief—they feel restless. Because it’s not enough. A dream of you will never be enough. They want the real thing. They want to turn over in bed and find you there, warm and waiting, your body tangled in the sheets with theirs. They want to hear your voice, your laughter, the whispered teasing that makes their pulse spike all over again. They want to wake up in the morning with you still beside them, the evidence of the night before lingering on your skin. And until that day comes? Until they can finally have you in their arms, their bed, their life? They’ll keep fantasizing, keep reaching for you in the dark, letting the thought of you pull them under, over and over again.

PILE - 2

It starts the same way every night. Restless hands, a heavy sigh, the dim glow of the night teasing the edges of their sleepless thoughts. They toss, they turn, but it’s you that keeps them up—you who lingers behind their eyelids the second they shut them. There’s something feverish about the way they crave you, something raw, untamed. It's not just about wanting you; it’s about needing you. Like a fire licking at their skin, like something that refuses to be contained. They imagine you standing in the doorway, a smirk playing at your lips, something teasing in your eyes—like you know how much you unravel them, and you enjoy every second of it.

Their fantasies don’t start slow; they don’t have the patience for slow. No, the second they let their mind slip, they’re already deep in it—your body against theirs, heat rolling between you like a storm about to break. They imagine the way you’d grab at them, the way your fingers would press into their skin with just the right amount of desperation, like you need them just as much as they need you. And gods, they would devour you. No hesitation, no second-guessing, just hands gripping, lips crashing, bodies colliding in a way that leaves no space between you. They burn for you, and in their mind, you let them consume you. Every sound you make, every shiver, every breathless plea—it pushes them further, makes them reckless. They want to ruin you, leave their mark on you so that no one—no one—could ever question who you belong to.

But then comes the part they hate. The comedown. The moment when reality settles back in, when they open their eyes and realize that the bed is still empty, that you aren’t there. The rush fades, but the ache lingers, deep and insatiable. They run a hand through their hair, stare at the ceiling, jaw tight with frustration. Because it’s not enough. It’s never enough. No matter how vivid the fantasy, no matter how hard they chase the high of you, it always ends the same way—with them wanting more. With them lying awake, restless, desperate, waiting for the day when they don’t have to imagine anymore. When they can finally reach out—and find you waiting for them in the dark.

PILE - 3

It creeps in like a whisper—soft at first, almost bearable. The thought of you. The way you tilt your head when you’re amused, the curve of your lips when you say their name just right. They try to shake it off, bury it under exhaustion, but it never works. No matter how many nights pass, how many times they try to push you away, you return like a ghost, haunting them in the most delicious, torturous way.

Tonight is no different. Their mind sways between the hunger and the ache, between the need for you and the pain of not having you. They imagine how it would be if you were there—if they could reach out and find your body against theirs, warm and real, not just some fading mirage in the dark. Their hands twitch at the thought of you beneath them, your skin soft under their touch, your breath hitching when they claim you like they’ve wanted to for so long. It’s not just about passion; it’s deeper than that. They want to erase the space between you, to take and take until there’s nothing left separating the two of you. Every kiss, every drag of their lips along your skin, would be a promise—a silent, desperate vow that this time, they won’t let you slip away.

But reality always hits like a cold rush of air. When they open their eyes, the bed is empty, their hands still searching, their body still burning with a craving that has no satisfaction. And gods, it hurts. It’s the kind of hunger that lingers in the bones, the kind that no amount of dreaming can sate. They roll onto their back, exhaling sharply, frustration thrumming in their chest. Because they know—no fantasy, no restless night, no imagined touch will ever be enough. They need you—not just in the shadows of their mind, not just in the spaces between wake and sleep, but in their arms, in their life. And until that moment comes, they will keep wanting, keep reaching, keep aching for you in the dark.

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thinkinonsense · 7 months ago

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ON YOUR COLLAR

old man!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: smut, logan has a bit of a pain kink, slightly jealous/possesive reader

masterlist

every time –without fail– you manage to leave a lipstick print on the collar of logan's white button down as he heads out the door for work. painted in all shades of pinks, reds, and brown; logan couldn't escape your lips even if he tried.

"can't have any of those customers thinking that a handsome man like you is single." you tell him, before pressing the white material to your lips.

logan never would've picture you being the more possessive one in the relationship but he sure enjoyed it. he can't stare at the lipstick stain for too long while working or else he will get unbearably hard and have to relieve himself in the back of the limo once everyone's gone.

"they don't want an old man like me." logan jokes as you place an extra kiss mark on his pulse point.

"good." you whisper into his ear, pushing him down on the bed. "because you're my old man. not theirs."

logan had to go soon but he couldn't resist your touch. fingers popping open buttons and snaking their way down his toned stomach. your eyes were darker than usual; clouded with lust. logan wasn't one to be take orders in bed but there was something about your dominating attitude that made his pants tighter.

"you're mine. isn't that right, baby?" you smile up at him.

"y-you already know that answer." logan huffs, not wanting to cave.

"c'mon, lo..." the sound of your giggles also cause a moan to slip from his lips. "entertain me."

your hand slips under his black trousers. logan sucks in sharp breath, letting his head fall back against the silk sheets. you free him from the tight restraints of his pants, slowly stroking him. in a rush of need, he chases after your lips.

"i'm waiting..."

logan always gave into your antics. sometimes it took him longer to come around but he would never leave you hanging.

your lips press kisses to his throat and down his chest. the lower your head went, the closer logan was to telling you exactly what you wanted to hear.

"i-i'm yours, honey." he stutters, hips thrusting softly for your touch.

you smile up at him, placing a kiss on the head before sitting up to straddle him and lifting up your dress. carefully, sliding him through your slit a couple time and letting the tip bump your clit.

"c'mon, sweets." logan whines, thrusting his hips up until he's able to slip inside. "gotta leave soon."

"s-shit, can feel you everywhere, lo." you purr, grabbing his left hand and placing it on your lower tummy. "especially, right here."

logan could cum from just feeling the bulge of himself inside of you. the urge became even harder when you started swirling your hips, bouncing lightly at first. not nearly going fast enough for his liking. too busy leaving a trail of red kisses behind; marking your territory.

answering his prayers, you finally pick up the pace.

"fuck," he curses under his breath as your teeth sink into his shoulder. you can feel him twitch inside of you at the pain.

"when were you gonna tell me that you gotta thing for pain, baby?" you ask, pulling back to tease him.

not even hesitating, logan wraps a fist in your hair, pulling it just the way you liked. you gasp at the action and he can feel you clench down on him, sucking him in deliciously. your nails dig into his bicep, leaving behind small crescent-moon shapes.

"hush," logan hisses, gaining back control.

the closer you teetered towards the edge, the more willingly you complied with him. you didn't have much of a choice as he repeatedly hit the sweet spot inside of you.

"c-close." you whimper.

logan nods, bringing his thumb up to your lips for you to suck on before lowering it to rub your button. it didn't take long for your orgasm to wash over your body, trigger logan's release as well.

within seconds, you collapse onto his chest, panting and sore. logan holds you closer as he checks the time.

"i gotta go, sweetheart." he says, carefully slipping out of you and rolling you over.

"wish you could stay." you pout as he covers you.

"i do too, but ill be back tonight."

you watch him get redressed, happy with your lips on his collar still. always with him.

"get some rest, you'll need it later." he smirks, walking out the door and listening to your heartbeat increase with excitement.

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thesweetestofdreams · 2 months ago

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Homesick

poly!marauders roommate au! kinda shy reader and very caring boys

I said I would post and I did! what an absolutely crazy feat.

Your roommates were, well, interesting. They were nice, that you were sure of. They were nothing but helpful when you moved in, but there were just a few things you couldn't quite figure out. The biggest of them being where you fit in.

Sirius, Remus, and James seemed to be waiting for your next move. Would your routine match theirs? Would you keep your shoes by the front door? What day did you do laundry? They never got any clues to answer this question because frankly you were trying to make yourself as scarce as possible.

It felt like trying to wedge another book in a too full shelf. This was not for lack of trying on their end. They threw you a welcome party which consisted of James and Sirius getting a bit too tipsy while you sipped a drink in the corner of the couch. Their friends were nice too, of course they were. It was all just so, new and new often felt just like scary.

So now, as laughter drifted from the living room, it sharpened the solemn silence of your own room. Before you could second guess yourself you threw on your shoes and creaked the door open slowly.

"Sirius you can't do that, it's cheating," you heard Remus yell down the hall. The sound stood out in your right ear poking through the door. You'd never heard Remus yell before. Did he do that?

"What now?" James said with a shake of his head, he was walking down the hall past your room, that is he was walking until he saw you. "Hi," he said, smile wide, a warm invite already shining through his features. "Were we being too loud?" he asked brows quickly drawn together.

You felt frozen like a kid caught sneaking out past bedtime, which was an annoying feeling. "I was just heading out," you said, brave enough to open the door fully, joining him in the hall.

"Oh, well you're welcome to join if you'd like," James said, making his way towards the boisterous living room. You were slow to follow but upon seeing the full room a pit fell in your stomach.

It was an odd feeling to be a block of ice in a room with such warmth, an underlying buzz of happiness. You'd never felt so lonely surrounded by friends that were just out of arms reach. The odd one out, the grape that fell from the vine.

Before you could drown in your feelings the snap of a beer can brought you back. Sirius snapping his fingers in a matching sound urging James to share. That was another thing, your roommates didn't feel like any friends you'd had before. They were closer, more comfortable, sharing soft words in the kitchen and slow nights piling into the same room.

The red haired girl, Lily, if you remembered right, was the first to notice you. "Hi," she said face cracking into a smile with sharp corners and soft eyes.

Remus who was still arguing with Sirius quickly fizzled out and turned to you. "Was I being too loud?" he said with a slightly pained face. Why were they so worried about that. This was their home often times you felt like a mouse that hid in the walls only venturing out when it was quiet.

"No, just heading out." You shoved your hands in your pockets.

"You'll want a coat." Remus said looking out the window.

"Oh," you said, the sound hanging in the air. A coat. Had you unpacked that yet? Did you still have one?

"Borrow mine," James said pointing at the overflowing coat rack.

"Are you- you're sure?"

James was busy downing his drink. "He's sure," Sirius said for him. "If you must leave doll, I'd recommend now because I," he threw small colored bills onto the table, "am buying Park Place."

At this, Remus erupted again. "What? Alright, who said he could be banker because you are clearly cheating!"

Despite yourself, you laughed as you left the apartment. You were outside when it hit you that you had no reason to actually be out. You absolutely did not want your roommates to know you had no friends in the city, or that their ad online while it saved you financially left you stranded on a deserted island of your own making. It just always seemed easier that way to never really settle in.

To know people they had to know you back. That meant leaving pieces of yourself like glass in the ocean you never knew where it would end up, when it would come back to cut you.

You walked until James' coat felt made of mesh, until your hands were numb and your feet hurt. You weren't sure quite how long it had been but upon your return the apartment was much quieter, even the lights softer.

"There you are," Sirius said arms wide almost like a bow a garbage bag in one hand.

"Is she back?" you heard Remus call from one of the bedrooms.

"Yeah," Sirius called back.

"Did you have a nice time?" James said head peaking out from the kitchen. "Did you eat?" You noticed now he was wearing a kitchen apron.

"You all didn't have to stay up for me," you said rather confused. Were roommates supposed to be like this?

"We were cleaning," Sirius said emphasis on cleaning. He gave Remus a sharp eyed look as he came into the living room.

"We just wanted to make sure you got home safe," Remus said a hand on Sirius's shoulder soft and sliding down his arm. Sirius stuck his tongue out.

You got stuck on that word, home, it felt sticky in your mouth, somewhere between iimaginary and tangible.

"Did you eat?" James asked again. The three of them looked at you expectantly. It felt like you were see through, like they would see the lie floating up to your mouth, and for some inexplicable reason it wasn't the worst feeling.

"No," you confessed, met by a tsking sound from Sirius.

"What are you waiting for then?" James asked sounding ever like a mother.

As you hung up his coat you had the sneaking feeling that try as you might to be scarce, to not settle, the closeness the boys had, the comfortable taken care of feeling was inevitable in its spread. It seeped into your cold hands replacing them with a nice warmth that filled your chest and left you feeling more whole than you had in a long time.

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #marauders x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #x reader #marauders era #the marauders #dead gay wizards from the 70s #marauders fluff

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inthehouseoffinwe · 7 months ago

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Thingol, Luthien, and Dior’s claim to the silmaril bugs the living daylights outta me and I’m gonna break down why. This goes a bit beyond ownership laws.

Starting with basics. What are the silmarils? Gems created by Fëanor that hold the light of the Two Trees. Who in Beleriand saw the light of the trees and no doubt misses it like a limb? Are here in part to avenge their destruction? The Noldor.

The Sindar never went to Valinor. They might find the gems beautiful but that’s it. There’s no cultural or emotional connection to them beyond ‘pretty stone, look how awesome our princess was.’ There’s no appreciation for what they hold. No understanding that this stone is one of the *last* things that holds the ancient light of the Trees.

The Noldor meanwhile not only saw the Light, they had entire festivals surrounding it. Grew their entire culture, their lives, under and around it. Now the trees are destroyed, their king killed defending these jewels. And this last beacon of hope, a piece of the home they can never return to, a piece of light that will never come back, is being kept by people who can’t even begin to understand the significance of what they keep.

Now imagine being the sons of the one who made this jewel from a culture of people who value craft above all else.

Not only is it light, it’s the result of years of toil and experimentation of your father, the one who managed to do what no one had ever even thought of. Fëanor’s sons would have been the first to see these jewels, probably saw him make prototypes, work equations whilst they worked on their own crafts. Provided what relief they could to his ever working mind and inadvertently gave him ideas that helped solve problems he encountered along the way. Suddenly it’s not only a key part of their culture, it’s something core to their family.

Then Fëanor is killed and in many ways it’s the most important thing they have left of their father. Now it’s a source of memory too, for someone doomed to the Halls for eternity. Who they’ll likely never see again unless they’re killed.

Now from what I’ve heard, Tolkien says the Fëanorions lost their right to the Silmarils when they killed for them. Which makes no sense considering the Silmarils were *created* by Fëanor. Yes the light was created by the Valar, but what, you’re gonna say ‘I created electricity so that lightbulb you made is actually mine.’ That’s not how it works. Fëanor made the casing for the stones and figured out how to hold the light, without aid from the Valar. It doesn’t matter what actions they take, the right to the Silmarils remain theirs and theirs alone. The jewels hold no power of their own, they’re literally objects. Healing objects at most. Morals do not dictate their ownership, hallowed or not.

Tolkien going on to say the right of Doriath’s Silmaril actually goes to Beren and Luthien for taking it from Morgoth gives me frankly coloniser vibes.

‘Oh this thing I stole was originally stolen from you? Too bad. I took it so it’s mine now. Don’t care how important it is to you, your entire culture, and your people.’

Get where I’m coming from?

All in all the whole situation gives me Bad Vibes and I really don’t like the attitude the Sindar have to the Silmaril. In terms of Elwing, I can partly forgive her purely based on trauma response. Fine. Doesn’t make it right, but I understand. But that never would’ve been a problem if her father, grandmother, or great grandfather had the sense to acknowledge the silmaril was never theirs to keep. Don’t like the Fëanorions, (too bad) at least give it back to the Noldor.

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imtryingbuck · 5 months ago

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Unwanted.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!fem!Reader

Summary: having a mate but you not being theirs is rare, very rare. Y/n is that unfortunate omega. Could she still find love and happiness?

Word count: 5,791

Warnings: angst. unrequited love. Omegaverse. swearing. homeless reader. money issues. fluff. angst. attempt sa / hinted past sa (not detailed or happens) mentions of having diseases but it’s not true.

Part 2

Masterlist

Lining up with the rest of the fifteen year old omegas she smiled at her mom as she got closer to the moon Goddess, waiting patiently for her turn to be told who her mate was going to be.

“This. This isn’t right” she heard her mother’s panic cry.

“It is the truth my dear, I am sorry” the moon Goddess replied solemnly. Finding it hard to believe herself, she had only heard tales of this happening. Her heart ached for the young omega standing in front of her.

Y/n couldn’t move, her father’s word’s circling around her head painfully. Never before did she take his words to heart as he was just a nasty drunk but now that it was confirmed by the moon Goddess in front of her mother and all omegas of their community, she knew. She knew her father was always right when he told her that she was an unlovable runt.

Taking the hand of the moon Goddess she bowed her head and placed a kiss to the wrinkly hand before walking away, trying to keep the tears at bay at hearing the murmurs around her.

The words that were spoken out loud were that she did indeed have a mate, a mate that didn’t have her as his.

She was unlovable to her own mate.

By her father.

And soon by her community.

The day of her sixteenth birthday she was kicked out of the home by her father who told her she was a disgrace to his family. Her mother tried to stop it from happening but fell victim to the harsh smack of her husband’s hand.

Her sisters watched from the doorway as she moved around her room packing her things, they watched with pity lacing their eyes. Not only was she being exiled from their home and their community but she had no mate to turn to.

Her mother gave her some money that she had been saving up, it was originally going to be used to pay the moon Goddess to break the bond between herself and her husband but her daughter needed it more than she did. Paying for a bond to be severed wasn’t cheap, most women who were married to horrible alphas would spent years saving pennies, some were lucky if their husbands died before they had enough saved but that was rare.

“I-I can’t take this momma”

“You can and you will my love, there’s a shelter for omegas go there and ask them for shelter and protection. I love you dear, I’m sorry this has happened”

“It’s not your fault momma, it’s mine-“

“No it isn’t! Don’t say that please. I’m sorry my sweet Y/n but you must go before he comes back downstairs” with one final long hug from her mother she walked over to the two alphas that had been ordered to make sure she left their community, looking over her shoulder at her mother as she stood at the door with tears falling down her cheeks Y/n smiled softly at her and waved goodbye, catching the kiss her mother blew at her she held her hand to her chest.

Coming to the gate where the moon Goddess stood along with Luca - the communities leader and alpha - she reached out to the sixteen year old, she tried to get Luca to change his mind of kicking out an innocent teenager out but he wouldn’t budge, he wasn’t going to have an omega with no alpha in his community.

“I’m sorry my child, I tried I really did” the old woman croaked out.

“It’s okay”

Turning to the Alpha she bowed her out of respect and mainly muscle memory “Y/n L/n you are hereby banished from this community. Good luck out there” his voice was loud and strong.

The large gates closed behind her with a deafening bang.

Following the directions her mother had told her she went to the shelter but they turned her away as there was no rooms left. The woman in charge gave her directions for another shelter but they too were full.

With nowhere to go she found an empty alleyway to try and find sleep.

Not that it came.

The next morning she tried more shelters after the sixth try she found one, sadly she could only stay for a few days but she took what she could get.

Weeks turned in to months, months turned into years and she was living on the streets. She had gotten use to the cold weather, she had come accustomed to omegas, betas and alphas trying to steal her belongings, she had gotten use to the fear that came with living on the streets.

Working odd jobs that kept her occupied, she knew she didn’t have enough money to pay for even a room to live in let alone an apartment. It didn’t stop her from dreaming though. The thought of having a place to call home, to call hers always brought a smile to her face, it made her work twice as hard, taking on any job she could. She was determined to make it work for herself, determined to have her own sanctuary.

“Miss, Miss you’ve dropped this” chasing after tall blonde woman the woman’s wallet gripped tightly in her hand. “Miss!”

“Yes?”

“You-you dropped this” Y/n huffed out as she tried to catch her breath.

“Oh my Gods thank you, thank you so much” the blonde smiled.

“You’re welcome Miss. Have a good day”

Walking back up to where she dropped her backpack she picked the heavy sack up and carried it by the little handle, as she walked to her fourth job of that day the smell of the woman’s perfume stuck in her nostrils. She wondered how much the woman had paid for the perfume, wondered if maybe she could ever afford it when she had her own place to call home. Shaking her head with a soft laugh leaving her lips, probably not she thought to herself.

Her fourth job was in a hotel, she cleaned the rooms and hallways. If Jenny was on shift she was allowed to shower and sometimes if she was really lucky she was allowed to have a nap in a warm cosy bed. Jenny was a beta who was just the sweetest, she gave Y/n a chance when no one else did and she gave the omega her trust.

“Hey Y/n, how are we on this fine evening?”

“It’s raining Jen”

“I know, sooo how are you?”

“I’m okay, probably won’t find any shelter tonight if this rain keeps up the way it’s going” she shrugged already making her way to the cleaners office to drop her bag off and get her supplies.

“You can stay with me tonight if you want? Opal’s gone to her parents.” Opal was Jenny’s mate, Y/n had met her a few times and she was just as sweet as Jenny was. She too was a beta.

“I don’t want to impose Jen, I’ll be fine I promise”

“You won’t be imposing Y/n/n I’ve told you this before, so has Op”

“It’s okay I promise, hey guess what?”

“What?”

“You know the library down town? I went in again tonight and the manager said I could work there for ten hours a week, I know it’s not much and the pay is next to nothing but it’s better than anything, you know?”

“Y/n/n…how many jobs is this now?”

“Six, Ms and Mr King have moved to Florida so I lost the dog walking gig” they had five Yorkshire Terriers and at first Y/n was terrified of them but after a few hours of them getting to know her she had fallen in love with them.

“Six? Jesus Y/n, you’re going to run yourself into the ground”

“No I won’t-“

“You will-“

“I won’t, I promise. You know how much apartments are in New York Jen, I looked at that room that was going for rent that was in the newspaper, do you remember?” Watching Jenny nod “it was an alpha that was renting it out and he-um-he kind of freaked me out so I left promising I would get back in touch but I’m not going to”

“What do you mean he freaked you out?”

“He scented me and was asking me if I would have his pups”

“What! Y/n…”

“I know, I know. That’s why I left. Anyways I’ve got to get cleaning these rooms, see you in a bit”

Waving bye to Jenny she headed to the first room scrunching her nose up at the scent of sex lingering in the air, it wasn’t uncommon for alphas to bring omegas to this hotel. Nine out of ten times the alphas were married and would bring their mistresses or sex workers there, one time she found a ring in one of the rooms and she tried to do the nice thing by finding the owner so she could give it back but in doing that she had outed the alphas affair, with their children’s nanny. Y/n stood there awkwardly as she watched the wife attack her husband and then the nanny who wasn’t that much older than Y/n, she tried not to laugh when the nannies face dropped when the married man she had been working for and was having an affair with admitted she wasn’t the only mistress he had.

From that day on whenever she found something in one of the rooms she took it to the reception. No more good deeds where being done by her, especially not ones that had ties to the hotel.

After cleaning the first floor she headed up to the second, hearing moans that was definitely fake and grunts she turned her music up from the iPod Jenny had lent her. As she got further down the hallway her insides started to flutter, her nose started to sniffle. A warmth overtook her senses. It felt like home. It was all consuming. Not knowing what she was feeling or why she was feeling the way she did she headed into one of the rooms she knew was empty.

The flutter of her stomach calmed down as she cleaned, it was only when she opened the door it came back full force. Became worse when a door across the hallway came open and a woman stepped out soon followed by a man with blonde messy hair. Stepping back into the room she was in she slammed the door shut and leaned her forehead against it.

Mate.

The one word she had tried to avoid for seven years now bounced loudly around in her mind. For the six years she has been living on the streets she never caught a sniff of the mate she had, the mate that was hers but she wasn’t his.

Seven years after finding out she wasn’t anyone’s mate, six years of coming to finally accepting it, seven years had gone by without her finding the other half to her soul, but tonight she had caught a glimpse of him. She caught his scent. Her heart, mind and soul ached for the alpha that didn’t truly belong to her. And he was coming out of a hotel room with a woman. A woman that was probably his mate or his mistress. A woman who was giggling like a schoolgirl.

And they were coming out of a hotel room she had no other choice to clean.

Finding the strength she didn’t know she had she went over to the room her mate had come out of and with a shaky breath she went in, instantly turning and running to the first room she came out of and running into the bathroom to be sick. The air was thick of the smell of sex.

Cleaning her mess up she avoided that room, going straight downstairs to ask Jenny if someone else could clean said room. She knew Jen would be understanding, she was a good friend like that.

“Hi Jen-“

“Holy shit Y/n are you alright?”

“Um no not really, could you get someone else to clean room 120”

“Of course sweetie, but what’s wrong?”

“I-I…I found my mate”

“Oh. Oh Y/n I’m so sorry” Jenny knew of Y/n’s fate, her heart broke for the young omega. She was lucky that she had a mate and she was hers, Y/n deserved to know what that bond felt like. Jenny had questioned why the Gods had given someone as strong, beautiful, sweetest person like Y/n such a lonesome fate.

“It’s okay-no honestly Jen it is. It’s just I tried to go into the room after they left bu-but the smell-you know…I was sick”

“Go to room 11 it’s empty, get a shower and some sleep-“

“I can’t-“

“You can and you will. I promise you you’ll be paid for today’s shift so don’t worry about that sweetie”

“I-I-“

“Don’t argue with me missy, go on, please for me”

Sighing in defeat and nodding Y/n went to room 11 she collapsed on the bed as soon as she laid eyes on it. For the first time in the past few years she cried. For the first time since finding out she wasn’t anybodies mate she hated how unfair it was that she was unlovable, she was a good omega she never did anything wrong or did anything to hurt anyone, she would help anyone who needed it, hell she even put money in charity boxes even though she needed it herself. It hurt her even more now that she had caught a glimpse of knowing how it felt of having a mate even if it was for a few minutes, she had a taste of what two mates felt when they met but she was never going to have that. It wasn’t fair.

She cried herself to sleep that night, waking up when she felt a pair of arms around her. Jenny climbed in to the bed behind her and soothed her back to sleep when she woke.

For months after that night every time she had a shift at the hotel she would get a fluttering feeling in her stomach and every time she ran to a different floor as she knew that her mate was there. Luckily for her she hadn’t seen him again. Though it still did hurt knowing he was there with someone else.

Y/n was walking down the street keeping her head down as she did, she sensed eyes on her but passed it off as it wasn’t uncommon for Alphas to stare at unmarked Omegas. She was about to cross the street to head down the alleyway where she planned to settle down for the night when a figure stepped in front of her, looking up she saw the blonde woman she had seen leaving the hotel room with the mate that was hers.

“Move”

“S-s-sorry”

“S-s-sorry” the woman mocked.

Even though she stepped aside the blonde still knocked her shoulder into Y/n’s, choosing to keep her head down she carried on walking. Finding the perfect spot to catch a few hours of sleep that night she put her things down, the feeling of eyes on her as she did so.

Y/n was startled awake when a hand clasped around her throat, eyes wide and fearful she saw a man smiling at her, one hand around her throat the other trying to pull her trousers down. One of her hands wrapping around his arm and the other trying to grab the knife in her back pocket.

“Stop moving bitch, just want some fun”

“S-some-someone help!”

It wasn’t the first time since she has been living on the streets where she’s found herself in this position, she ached for days after the last attack. When Jenny found out she had taken Y/n to the police who didn’t take her claims serious as she was homeless and an omega. With the beta getting her trousers down she thought about just letting it happen, the sooner he was finished the sooner she could get away.

Closing her eyes tightly she stopped struggling when the weight of the beta was ripped off her. When the cold air reached her lungs they ached painfully.

“It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you I promise” Opening her eyes Y/n breathed slowly when she saw the blonde woman who had dropped her purse a few months ago and Y/n gave it her back. “I’m Pepper, you’re okay I promise”

“T-t-thank you”

“My husband is dealing with that wretched man”

“I-I-“

“Pep is she okay?” a male voice cut her off.

“Yes, we should take her home. Come on love lets get you home alright”

“I d-don’t have one. I’m homeless��

“Oh right. Okay hold on” Y/n watched as Pepper got up and moved to speak to a man, pulling her trousers back up she started to grab her things. Her mind working overtime to think of a different place to set up not like she’d be able to find any more sleep that night.

“Darling where are you going?” the male spoke noticing Y/n backing up.

“To find somewhere else to sleep, thank you for helping me you didn’t have to so thank you”

“No, you’ll come home with us, please” Pepper stressed moving closer.

“I-I-I’ll be fine now Miss-“

“Please come with us, even it is just for one night.”

Debating on whether or not she should let two strangers help her again it seemed like the Gods had chosen for her when it started to rain. Nodding slowly Pepper took her hand in hers, introduced her husband to her, which was kind of pointless as she already knew who he was. Everyone knew of the self-made billionaire Tony Stark.

During the car ride Pepper asked her how old she was, how see became homeless – both shocked when she said she was sixteen when she was kicked out of her community. Tony was amazed when she told them how many jobs she had. Pepper though her heart ached at the young Omegas story she found it admirable of how even when she had nothing she didn’t let it bring her down. Matter of fact they both watched her talk with a smile on her face when she talked about her jobs.

Tony pulls the car to a stop and that’s when Y/n realised that they had arrived at The Avengers Tower, she had only ever seen it from afar and always thought it was magnificent, seeing it up and close she couldn’t take her eyes away from it. She baffled Tony and Pepper when she took her shoes off before walking into the lobby, dirty is all she said holding her shoes up to them.

She couldn’t believe it herself that she was standing in the middle of the lobby waiting for the elevator to come down to go up to where the Avengers lived, Jenny was going to call her a liar when she told her friend. She just knew it.

Tony boosted unashamedly telling her all about the cool things that made the tower what it was, not that she paid any attention to any of what he was talking about as her eyes bounced around taking in her surroundings. Even the fake plants caught her attention.

Pepper showed her around when they got to their floor, told her she could have a shower or bath if she would like, showed her to the room that she would be occupying for the night, leaving her with telling her that she could help herself to what ever food and drink she would like. Closing the door to the spare bedroom Y/n thanked them again for the tenth time within fifteen minutes, for the first time in a really long time she had a nice hot bath. Not leaving until the water had gone from boiling to freezing.

Finally settling in to bed she sighed in content as her body relaxed itself on the memory foam mattress. For the first time in a very long time she slept peacefully.

From living on the streets her body had its own alarm clock that would wake her up at five in the morning, yawning and stretching it took her a few minutes to remember where she was. And when those memories came back it had her jumping out of the bed, making the bed she ran into the bathroom to make sure it was all clean from her bath only a few hours earlier.

Gathering her things she opened the secret compartment in her backpack where her money was kept, sighing deeply knowing it was going to take her years to build back up what she had again, she crept in the living area she placed the small stack of money on the kitchen counter, taking the magnetic notepad that was attached to the fridge she wrote down ‘this is all I have please have it to make up for helping me, letting me use your bath and letting me sleep here. It’s not much I’m sorry. Thank you for everything’. Placing the note next to the money she walked with timid steps to the front door. Going the same way as she came hours before she kept her head down even though nobody was around.

That was until her stomach started to flutter, mate, then she heard a boisterous laugh a voice and a growl, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“-I’m telling you ma-oh hi, who are you?” the alpha on the left asked.

Taking a glance up she saw him. Her alpha. Well not hers but her alpha. Dark blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, a soft smile on his plumb lips. His lips where moving then his eyes went to the two alphas on either side of him.

“Are you alright Miss?”

His voice was smooth and made him more attractive.

“Miss?” The alpha on the left spoke but her eyes never left the blondes.

“Omega?” The alpha on the right spoke next.

That had her eyes finally moving away and snapping to the one on the right.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“She speaks. I’m Bucky, Steve and that one’s Sam, what’s your name?”

“Y/n”

Weird. She heard her name but she didn’t speak it. But that what her alpha was called. Steve. Steve's a nice name. Suits him.

“Y/n, you’re still here” a female voice panted from behind her.

Steve. Steve. What’s your last name Steve? What’s your favourite colour Steve? Why are you mine Steve but I’m not yours Steve? Your mistress isn’t nice Steve, did you know that Steve? Why can’t I be yours Ste-

“Y/n? Sweetheart are you okay?”

“Yes. Sorry”

“It’s alright sweetie, you left this behind.” Looking away from the brunette alpha who was staring at her with his head tilted, she looked at Pepper who was holding the money in her hand.

“I-it’s yours. I-I have to go I’m going to be late. Thank you for last night Pepper really. Bye”

“You said this was all of the money you had, I’m not taking it”

“Please. I really need to leave.” Making a beeline to the elevators her hand grazed the brunettes thigh, she nearly tripped not expecting the tingly feeling to shoot through her body at the small contact. Running into the elevator nearly knocking over the blonde woman who was stepping out of it. Ignoring the low growl she gave her. It was the mean mistress of her alpha.

Over the next few days she kept her head down not wanting to bump into Pepper or Tony or any of the three alphas she had met.

Over those days she had forgotten completely what the blonde one was called. All she had in her mind was the name Bucky but that wasn’t right, was it? Was the blonde guy called Bucky? It didn’t suit him, Andy? Chris? Ari? Maybe she didn’t know.

But Bucky, she couldn’t get that name out of her head. And to be truthful when she thought of that name it made her calm, giddy, hopeful.

Three things that she was not use to.

And that confused her.

“I’m telling you Jen the place is incredible”

“You are such a liar” see I told you she wouldn’t believe it.

“Which part?”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Wait what?”

“I-what?”

“Don’t do that, you know I hate being confused.”

Smiling in triumph she continued putting her things away in the storage room. “But I haven’t told you the most confusing part”

“Which is that you bumped your head and dreamed about being saved by thee Tony Stark and taken to the Avengers tower”

“No, no because that really happened. But I met him, my mate he was there! But I accidently touched the brunette that was standing there and he made me tingly”

“You are the biggest liar ever-wait what do you mean tingly?”

“I’m not lying I swear. And I don’t know, my whole body went tingly” she shrugged.

“Okay, okay I’ll play along. What’s your mate called?”

Bucky “Chris? No, um I can’t remember”

“You can’t remember?”

“No…that’s bad isn’t it?”

“Yep. Anyway so this brunette-“

“Shit is that the time? I’ve gotta run, love you”

Not giving Jenny a chance to say bye back she ran out of the hotel. Unknowingly running past Bucky who had heard the whole conversation.

And unbeknownst to her Bucky had felt that tingly feeling shooting through his whole body when they accidently touched, his whole body screaming mate the moment he laid eyes on her. But that couldn’t be as his mate had died a year prior to him shipping out to fight in the second world war. Steve didn’t have a new mate after he lost Peggy so why would he? He knew that Steve was hooking up with Sharon, leading the beta on by thinking they were mates when he was really doing it to feel closer to Peggy, weird I know, even he knows that, Steve even knew that, hell everyone knew that apart from Sharon. And sometimes Bucky would feel bad at the blonde being a complete fool and unknowingly being the punch line to their jokes, sometimes he would find himself wanting to let her know the truth but then he would remember all those times Sharon would put him down or say some of the Winter Soliders trigger words just to watch him cry out in pain. And when he remembers those times he sits back and keeps his mouth shut.

In the past couple of days since he saw his mate, that couldn’t possibly his mate, he had searched for her but kept coming up empty until today when he caught her scent, he didn’t have the courage to go up to her so he just stood by and watched her.

Sam and Steve mocked him for calling her Omega, only alphas that were mated or dating omegas could call them that. He didn’t even know why the word came out but he remembers how her eyes went from the blonde to him, how he was the only thing she was focusing on even when Pepper came up behind her to talk to her.

Y/n. That’s her name. Pretty. Pretty just like her-oh she just ran past him. Of course not noticing him.

Following behind making sure to keep a distance he followed her to the library, instead of going in he waited outside for three hours before she reappeared. Following her again she stopped off at the post office, coming out with a shopping trolley that had the bag taken out, it was full of newspapers. His eyebrows raised in confusion.

For roughly thirty minutes into following behind her on her paper rounds he noticed her steps slowing. “You going to stop following me yet?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “I’m not following you”

“Yes you are. Look I don’t have money and I’m riddled with deadly diseases so try your luck with someone else”

“What diseases do you have?”

“Nasty ones”

“Like?”

“I don’t know the names of them”

“Fair enough” Y/n stops and turns to face him, his lips instantly goes from a straight line to a smile.

“Why are you following me?”

“I-I don’t know really.”

“Oh. Look as long as you’re not going to try anything stupid you can walk with me instead of looking like a creep, plus I know how to fight so I wouldn’t try anything if I was you”

“Plus you have deadly diseases”

“That’s true”

“So…hi again, I’m-“

“Bucky. Y/n”

“You remember my name?”

“Of course, also by the way I noticed you following me since I left the hotel”

“Shit, really?”

“Yep.”

“Do you live at the hotel?”

“Nope, I work there.”

“What books did you get from the library?”

“Nothing, I work there”

“Y-you have three jobs?”

“Nope, six- here hold this just gotta take this to Ms Kol”

Watching her skip up the steps to knock on the door she bounced a little on her toes waiting patiently for the door to come open, when it does an old woman answers, smiling and taking the paper out of Y/n’s hand. Y/n waves goodbye and tells the woman to make sure she locks her doors before skipping back up to him and the trolley.

“She struggles getting down the steps to get to her letterbox so I take it directly to her” Y/n explains, Bucky nods in understanding.

“So you have six jobs?”

“I do, trying to find another one but it’s extremely hard. Nobody really wants to take on the homeless omega who doesn’t have any grades to their name.”

“Y-you-your homeless?”

“Yep. Thought Pepper would have told you and your friends”

“No, but they are looking for you, Pepper and Tony that is”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really talk to either one of them”

“Oh?”

“Long story, how come your homeless?”

“Long story”

“So you have six jobs yet you’re living on the streets?”

Sighing before bending down into the trolley to pick up a newspaper placing it in to the letterbox on the end of the driveway. “I don’t get paid much as they all pay me under the table, you know? So yeah”

“Where do you have to go after this?”

“Take the trolley back and go to my fourth job and then I’m done for the day”

“What’s your fourth job?”

“Cleaner in a fancy office, takes me about thirty five minutes to get there on foot, why?”

“I’ll come with you if you don’t mind?”

“Alright I guess. But you have to behave.”

Twenty minutes later taking it in turns to push the trolley and put the newspapers in letterbox they walked towards the shop to drop the trolley off before making their way to the office she was a cleaner at. The whole way there Bucky glared at the other Alphas that stared at the unmarked Omega by his side. He offered to help her whilst she cleaned the offices but she waved him off, telling him that he’s already done enough.

On the way back to where Y/n had hidden her very few items Bucky looked up at the sky frowning when he didn’t see any sign of rain or thunder and lighting. “Are- was that you?”

“Yeah sorry, I didn’t get to the centre in time this morning so I haven’t eaten anything today”

“What?”

“The centre gives out food for the homeless and I didn’t get to the doors fast enough but it’s okay I have a tin of beans in my pack”

“Come on, I’ll take you somewhere to eat”

“No it’s okay”

“You need to have something more than a tin of beans Y/n”

“I’m fine hones-hey what are you doing?”

“Taking you for a nice hot meal, come- did you just growl at me? Rude” Bucky ignores the way his heart tingles when he felt her fingers close around his hand as he walks them into the nearest diner.

“Bucky I don’t have any money”

“I’m paying.” Greeting the hostess with a soft smile they sit down in the booth. “Y/n-“

“I can’t pay you back”

“I’m not asking you too”

“You’re an Alpha.”

“So? Look I’m not like the rest of them, I’ll never expect you to do anything in return. Now, what do you want?”

Ordering their food Bucky watched as she tried to make herself look smaller after noticing the glances of disgust thrown at her by the other customers, one glance from him their eyes quickly shifted from her to their food.

As the circular pieces of meat sizzled on the flat top grill in the kitchen Bucky sat watching with a puzzled yet amused expression on his face as he watched Y/n sneakily take napkin after napkin out of the dispenser before rushing to put them into her coat pocket.

Their waitress came over and placed their plates in front of them walking off before either one could thank her, Bucky gestured at the food and nodded before digging into his own meal.

“Do you want another drink?” He asked noticing her glass now empty.

“D-do you mind?”

“No of course not, would you like the same as before or?”

“Can I have a bottle of water please?”

Bucky paid the bill whilst Y/n looked away sheepishly, she wasn’t use to this she wasn’t use to someone other than Jenny and Opal being nice to her, since turning sixteen she’s been on her own, she’s been alone for so long that she doesn’t know how to respond to someone doing something so kind like buying her some food.

“I’ll walk you back to your things and then-“

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know but I want too”

“But why? Y-you’ve already done more than enough”

“Because I want to, I can be nice you know?”

“Can you?”

“Only to certain people” she laughs and the sound makes his heart tingle once again.

“Look Bucky I will pay you back I swear I-I just need a few weeks I prom-shit-shit it’s going to rain, I have to go sorry, thank you, bye”

Before Bucky could even get a syllable to roll off the tip of his tongue she was already halfway down the street slipping in between the sea of bodies moving along with their day. He frowned at hearing her words, he didn’t want her to pay him back but also at the fact she seemed to know it was going to rain.

Looking up his eyebrow raised at seeing the sky starting to turn darker. Blinking when a raindrop fell on his forehead.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

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