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daisynik7 · 6 months

Text

Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 1: The First Time

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), nipple play, clitoral stimulation, sex without a condom, creampie, pet names

Summary: Nanami invites you to his place for the first time, where he offers to cook you dinner, which leads to a night of many other firsts.

Author's Notes: I originally wrote these spicy side stories for A Bento For Kento last year and I'm just now getting around to editing/rewriting some of it to match more of my current style! I hope you like it, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Being inside Nanami’s apartment for the first time makes you nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the feeling of being in somebody’s personal space that makes you uneasy. You like this man, of course, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. It’s only been two weeks since you started dating. Two weeks since your first and second kiss at the street food festival. With Ren still living with you at home, it’s been difficult to find time to be alone with Nanami.

Until tonight.

He offers to make dinner, which is already such a huge turn on for you. The smell coming from the kitchen is intoxicating. You can’t recall the last time that someone cooked a meal from scratch to serve to you. There’s yearning in the pit of your stomach. Is it hunger caused by the aroma of the food? Or desire for the man currently preparing the food? It’s both, definitely both.

You’re currently sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in hand, classical music playing on his stereo in the background. You don’t expect anything less from him, already so smitten by the classy Kento Nanami. You sneak a glance at him in the kitchen, admiring the black apron he’s wearing over a blue dress shirt and his usual spotted tie. He looks extremely attractive right now. In fact, he is extremely attractive. Feeling increasingly nervous each passing minute, you chug your liquor before standing up to walk into the kitchen. He takes his focus away from the pan to look at you, asking, “Need anything?”

“I was actually coming here to ask you the same question,” you respond with a small smile.

“I’m almost done. Just want the sauce to thicken up a bit more.” He eyes your empty glass. “Need a refill?”

You hold it out to him, nodding. “Yes, please.”

He pours the bottle, filling it halfway. Without a word, you tip it into your mouth, taking three large gulps to swallow it down. From your peripheral, you catch Nanami watching you curiously.

Why are you freaking out right now? You’re with your boyfriend, who has been nothing but kind, gentle, and sweet to you. But tonight, you are hyper aware that it’s just the two of you, alone inside his swanky apartment, the bedroom just a few feet away.

It’s just dinner, you remind yourself. This doesn’t guarantee that the two of you will have sex tonight. Besides, why are you thinking about sex to begin with? Get your mind out of the gutter. He invited you here for dinner, nothing more. However, there’s no denying that it’s been on your mind. You nearly pounced on him at the street food festival. Every night, you replay the memory of his touch; his gentle hand on your cheek, his warm mouth on yours. How his lips feel against the skin of your wrist. The way his jaw clenches when he’s trying to hold back. You want to feel that again. You want more.

You’ve seen each other a couple more times after that night, either out in public or at your house with Ren. And with your protective younger brother always keeping an eye out, your goodnight kisses have been tame, a little too tame, if you’re being honest. To say you’ve been eager for this alone time with him is an understatement. Despite this, you can’t help being a tad nervous. Will you two be compatible in the bedroom? Are there any weird kinks he’s into? Is he okay with the kinks that you’re into? These questions won’t be answered all in one night, so there’s no use in stressing about it when sex isn’t even on the table yet. You’re only focus tonight should be to enjoy this delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of your super hot boyfriend and let everything play out the way it should.

“Go ahead and sit. I’ll serve you.” You snap out of your reverie at the sound of his voice and take a seat at the dining table, taking the bottle of wine with you. Soon, he appears with two steaming plates in hand, setting one in front of you and the other at his spot next to you. “Carbonara and garlic bread. This is my favorite meal to cook,” he says, sitting down and filling his glass.

“This smells and looks incredible. I’m so impressed!” you beam at him, eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a huge compliment, coming from you,” he responds, smiling.

“Pasta is not a specialty of mine. You’ll have to teach me one day.”

“Sounds like a good date idea. Let’s plan that soon.”

You twirl your fork around the noodles for the perfect bite. It’s still piping hot off the plate. When it hits your tongue, your taste buds sing. The sauce is perfectly creamy with just the right amount of cheese and pepper flavor. The salt from the crisp bits of pancetta adds enough flavor without being too overpowering. The noodles are al-dente, just the way you like it. Everything together creates a luxurious, well-balanced dish. Even the garlic bread is delicious; he roasted the garlic beforehand, surrounding the apartment with one of your favorite scents. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. It tastes even better than it looks, and it looks incredible.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating,” he says, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“No, Nanami. It’s seriously amazing. Thank you for cooking this for me.” You take another big forkful, closing your eyes and making small noises of satisfaction. He doesn’t speak, a small smile on his face smile as he eats his own food, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still enjoying the meal. The silence isn’t awkward; it feels comfortable. Both of you indulging in delicious food and great company.

When you’ve scraped your plate clean with your last piece of garlic bread, you finish the rest of your wine, letting out happy sigh as you rub your belly. Nanami finishes soon after and stands up to take the plates into the kitchen. You follow, offering, “Let me wash the dishes! It’s the least I could do after you’ve fed me.”

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher, don’t worry.”

You lean against the countertop, helping him load the dishwasher. After the cycle stars, he steps towards you, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for dinner. Seriously. That was so delicious,” you say, peering up at him.

“You know that I already like you, right?” he chuckles, planting another smooch on you. “You don’t have to keep flattering me.”

“I’m just being honest! That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! But I’m obviously biased because I already like you too,” you tease, winking. From behind him, you suddenly notice something on his fridge. Curious, you walk up to it. It’s the bento box notes you wrote him, hung up by magnets, each one wrinkled from wear and tear. Smiling, you ask, “You hung them up on your fridge?

He stands beside you, arm brushing yours. “Of course. They keep me going throughout the week.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming at him. “You are the sweetest man, you know that?” You kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you in closer. The fact that he still has those notes, now hung up on his fridge like artwork, makes your heart swell. How is this man even real? And how are you lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend?

He pulls away from the kiss, voice wavering just the slightest. “Should we move to the couch?”

Heat creeps into your face as he leads you into the living room. Is the wine getting to you? Or is it your nerves? You’re the one who initiated the kiss, so why are you surprised that he wants to move it to the couch?! There’s no way he wants to get it on right now; you just ate. Isn’t there a rule about waiting thirty minutes after you eat, or does that only apply to swimming?

You both sit on the catch, knees touching, holding hands. He gazes at you lovingly, even as you try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, his touch giving you the flutters below your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you lie, totally flustered now.

“Are you sure?” He brings your hand up to his lips, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. Oh no, your absolute weakness.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you admit.

“What are you nervous about?”

You let out a timid laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just being weird.”

He stops kissing to study you. “You can be honest with me. Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

Taking a deep breath, you explain, “I want to get some things out in the open. Make sure we’re both on the same page.”

There’s a worried glint in his eyes. “Okay.”

Another deep breath. “So, um. Sex. I want to have sex. With you. Do you…I mean, would you like that, too? Is that, um, something you want to do with me?”

You can see a small grin forming on his lips, but he immediately goes back to a neutral expression to answer, “Yes. Very much so.”

Cheeks burning, you reply, “Okay. That’s…good to know.” You clear your throat before posing the next question. “Have…have you been tested recently? I’m sorry to ask this, I just want to make sure we’re practicing safe sex.”

Calmly, he says, “I got tested two weeks ago as soon as we started dating. Everything is good.” Before you can continue, he adds, “And don’t apologize for asking that. That’s a very valid question.”

You nod, easing up a bit. “I got tested a few months ago when I last saw my gynecologist. And I’m also good. I haven’t had sex since then, so yeah. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence as you properly process this conversation. Why were you so anxious? You should have known that talking to Nanami like this would be easy, considering how mature he is.

“Oh! Also, I’m on birth control. Just FYI. In case you were wondering,” you blurt out.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says, a kind expression on his face. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the way he looks at you.

Finally relaxed, you say, “Okay, I think that’s all I wanted to talk about. Thank you.”

“Thank you for opening up to me.” He places his hand on yours, caressing you with his thumb.

You ask, “Do you have any questions for me?” He shakes his head no. You continue. “I’m sorry if this is awkward. I just want to make sure we go about this the right way.” The fluster on your face is definitely noticeable; there’s no hiding it now.

His smile brightens as he scoots closer to you. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

At that, you let out another giggle, glancing down at your lap, shy for an entirely different reason now.

“I really like you. You have no idea,” he whispers, breath warm on your ear. When did he get so close? Your heart pounds like crazy, enough that he can probably hear it.

Attempting to lighten the mood, you joke, “You still like me after all that interrogation?”

“I think I like you even more now.” There’s lust dripping in his voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Without saying another word, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow and gentle. His hand cups your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, reminding you vividly of your first kiss. How the sounds of the festival were drowned out by the thumping of your heartbeat. Now, the classical music playing in the background is muted by the wet noises your lips make against Nanami’s mouth. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers dangerously close to the arousal between your legs. The first time, he was holding back. This time, he’s not. He wants you.

He pulls your head back gently, lips trailing down your neck, sucking on your skin where it’s most sensitive. As if he knows exactly where to touch you to stimulate every nerve in your body. He slides under your blouse, fingers grazing the bulge of your belly. Feeling insecure, you grab his wrist and push his hand away. He stops to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…I just ate, so I’m a bit bloated,” you confess. “Feeling a little self-conscious.”

With another kind expression, he says, “I understand. I won’t touch you there.” He returns to your thigh, kissing your neck once more, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “You are beautiful. I hope one day you’ll let me worship every part of your gorgeous body.”

Your insecurity is quickly overtaken by the need to feel him on every inch of your bare skin. Without thinking, you take his hand and slip it beneath your blouse, allowing him to touch you there now. Why did you even bother trying to resist him?

He laughs softly. “Good girl.”

Hearing him utter those words as he touches has your pussy throbbing. There’s nothing else on your mind except feeling him all over you. Feeling him inside you. He squeezes your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple over the fabric of your bra.

“Want to move into the bedroom?”

Without a second thought, you answer, “Yes.”

~~~

Fingers entwined with hers, he takes her into his room, watching as she lies on his king-sized bed. He straddles her, hands at the hem of her shirt. “Can I undress you?”

She nods, sitting up to help him strip her, her upper body exposed except for the bra covering her breasts. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable; he can tell she’s a bit nervous, despite the obvious desire in her eyes. Most importantly, he wants this to be an enjoyable experience. “Is it okay if I take your bra off?”

She gulps loudly before breathing out, “Yes.”

He wraps his arms around her, fingers grasping for the clasp. She kisses him hastily, lightly nipping at his lower lip, his dick growing stiffer inside his pants. She reaches for him, palming his strained cock until he’s uncomfortable hard against the fabric. When her bra finally comes lose, he tugs it off her body, tossing it to the floor, admiring her bare bosom.

“Can I suck on your nipples?” he huffs, his patience wearing thin. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, I really like that.”

She really likes it, she says. Good to know. He squeezes her breast, sucking on her nipple. His free hand massages the other, pinching it lightly until he it’s perky against his fingertips. He circles his thumb around it as he continues to work her tits, making lewd noises as he releases her with a wet pop, only to latch onto her again, sucking harder. She moans, his cock twitching with every erotic sound that comes out of her salacious mouth.

Nipple plump on his tongue, he moves to the other one, sucking until she squirms beneath him, whimpering in pleasure. Still completely clothed, he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, stripping until he’s naked from the waist up. Her fingers trail his abs, then down to the skin right above the hem of his pants. Once she unbuckles his belt, he slides out of his pants until he is clad only in his briefs, her focus on the obvious bulge protruding from his underwear. She undresses, keeping just her panties on. He leans over to kiss her passionately, letting his hands explore her body freely, cherishing every soft curve of her glorious figure.

He’s been dreaming about this. Ever since their first kiss, he’s thought about her every night. The way she tastes on his lips. How soft her skin is on his rough hands. He would fantasize about the different positions they would try, the sounds she would make if he ever got the chance to pleasure her. Every second they spend together, his feelings for her grow stronger and stronger. He’s never felt like this with anyone else. That’s why he doesn’t want to screw it up. He wants nothing more than to pleasure her, make her feel comfortable and safe with him.

He breaks away to catch his breath. “Is this okay?”

She smiles, cupping his cheek. “Yes. This is more than okay.”

“We don’t have to go any further, we can stop here,” he suggests. He really doesn’t want to, but he will if she does.

“Do you want to stop?” There’s a naughty look in her eyes, as if she’s teasing him.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

Electricity surges through his body, ready to burst. His fingers reach for her panties, rubbing her clit through the cloth. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes, Nanami. Fuck.”

His cock twitches at the sound of her cursing. This is one his fantasies, hearing filthy words come out her sweet, innocent mouth. He slips his middle finger past the fabric, sliding it up and down her wet folds, circling her clit, cock rigid underneath his briefs. Feeling her like this is better than he ever imagined. A dream come true.

“Show me. I want to see how big you are for me,” she purrs into his ear.

His eyes widen at her suggestion. Fuck. He won’t be able to last if she keeps saying things like this in her sexy voice. He shoves his briefs down his thighs, letting his hard cock flop against his abdomen.

“Fuck, Nanami. You’re so big. Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Losing his composure, he mutters, “Fuck, baby. Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

He lets out a huff. “Okay. I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” He reaches for his nightstand, grabbing a condom and lube from the drawer. When she sees him opening the packet, she grabs his wrist. “You don’t have to put that on. I’m on birth control, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“Fuck.” He pours lube onto his palm, stroking his erection. She watches hungrily as he positions himself at her wet slit, guiding it in smoothly, her pussy clenching him every inch he slides in. When he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for her body to adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He thrusts slowly, savoring how incredible she feels around him. It takes everything in his willpower not to come yet. She wraps her legs around his waist, arms linked behind his neck. That beautiful smile flashes across her face, making him tingly all over his body. He really likes her.

His pace picks up, drawing out small moans from her sweet lips. He’s close, but he wants to make her orgasm first. He reaches down to rub her puffy clit with his thumb, the sudden sensation causing her to buck up towards him. Her reaction encourages him to thrust into her faster, moving his thumb relentlessly over the sensitive spot.

“Fuck, Nanami. I’m going to come,” she whimpers.

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my cock.”

She tightens, her body squeezing him until she climaxes. After her high, she relaxes her grip on him, eyes glazed over, grinning. When he tries to pull out, she stops him. “Don’t. Keep going until you come. Please.”

It doesn’t take long; he thrusts into her a few more times until he releases inside her, filling her up. As he pulls out, cum drips out of her slit, an erotic sight he’ll never tire of seeing. He collapses beside her, steadying his breath. She turns to him, sliding her arm over his chest, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Cuddling closer to her, he whispers, “Thank you.”

She laughs. “Thank you, too.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, the silence comfortable, their bodies cozy snuggled together. Before they end up falling asleep, Nanami sits up and announces, “I’ll be back.” He disappears into the bathroom, rummaging his cupboard for the unscented baby wipes he bought a few days ago. When he returns, he crawls back in bed next to his girlfriend and takes out a few wipes.

“Wow, you’re so prepared!” she exclaims, taking the wipes from him to clean herself.

“I figured these would be good to have, just in case. If you want, we can take a shower together before we sleep. You can wear my clothes.”

“I can’t sleep over. Ren is going to freak out if I don’t come home.”

Slightly disappointed, he responds, “Oh, okay.”

Sensing this, she kisses him on the cheek. “I promise. Next time, I will sleep over. Just gotta get Ren’s approval first.”

“You’re such a good sister,” he smirks.

“And when Ren moves into the dorms in a couple of weeks, we can do whatever we want, wherever we want.”

“I’d like that.”

After she’s cleaned up, she changes back into her clothes. Nanami puts on a new pair of clean briefs to walk her to the door. “Call me when you’re home, okay?”

“I will.”

They hug each other tightly before saying goodbye. Exhausted from his orgasm, Nanami goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for sleep. As he lies in bed, under the very blanket they just had sex on, he moves his head to the pillow. The one she was sprawled out on as he made her come. He takes a deep breath with his nose pressed against it, inhaling her sweet scent. He feels his arousal growing beneath his briefs, thinking about the way his cum trickled out of her.

He smiles to himself, reaching down to stroke his hard cock, realizing he doesn’t have to go off fantasies anymore.

Taglist: @chiyoso

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sweet like honey #a bento for kento

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ellecdc · 5 days

Note

hello! would you maybe be willing to consider writing a kind of follow-up to the poly moonwater fics where reader is pregnant? maybe when she has the babies and everyone’s reactions?? ty for reading my request🙏

I love this little family so damn much 😭🫶

poly!moonwater x afab!reader who gives birth to their twins

CW: pregnancy, hormonal fits, brief discussion of Regulus' childhood, brief discussion of Remus' childhood, going into labour, portrayal of breastfeeding though nothing is described, Barty losing his fucking mind, Uncle Sirius for Best Uncle 2024, also the babies look like their daddies to avoid describing/labelling the mother's features

Remus felt for you. He really, really did.

But also, he was a little afraid of you.

Scratch that, he was very afraid of you.

But his sympathy for you ran deeper than his fear, which is how he found himself sitting in one of the (many) gliders Regulus has purchased for every room in your shared home as you fought to find a comfortable position in your bed.

And yes, your bed.

Because you had since kicked Remus and Regulus out of your shared bed.

And though they didn’t feel particularly bad about it, you claimed it was their fault.

You see, after a particularly worrisome fall - that took place at six and a half months pregnant (with twins, no less) as you missed a step on your way up the stairs of your townhouse - unfortunately for you, and fortunately for Remus and Regulus, it happened in front of all of your friends one night when they were over for dinner, which resulted in a lot of fussing by James and Sirius, and caused Barty to go marching upstairs and begin moving all of your furniture and belongings into the spare room on the main floor.

“Like fuck my Treasure is navigating these stairs in her condition. The two of you are sodding useless; this should have been done months ago.” He spat venomously as Evan shouted at him that it was “not polite to reconfigure someone else's house without permission.”

You vehemently protested the move.

Regulus and Remus didn’t think it was such a bad idea.

Because of their ‘betrayal’ (read: their lack of support in your arguments against your most capricious friend devotee), the boys were not allowed in ‘your room’.

So, perhaps Remus was already pushing the limits by taking up residence in the glider as you tried and failed to find a comfortable position to read in, determined to take a nap.

“The babes giving you grief, dove?” He asked softly, earning him a derisive scoff from you.

“What do you think?” You spat.

Remus grimaced but decided to soldier on. “They may be ready to come any day now.”

That was the wrong thing to say if your quick glare was anything to go by.

“No they are not.”

“Dove,” he started, closing his own book and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered you. “Anywhere from 34 to 38 weeks is full term for twins. The fact you’ve made it to 35 is incredible, baby.”

Your lips pinched as your brows dipped, and Remus was sure you were close to tears. “No, I’m not ready, I-” you let out a breath as you cut yourself off, alerting Remus to the fact that you were about to give away the sex of (one of) the babies. “Baby B, they need more time.” You admitted, voice quieter as if you were afraid saying it any louder would somehow jinx it and trigger your own labour.

“They’re going to come when they’re ready.” He repeated.

He left the room after you threw your book at him.

He followed the sounds coming from the kitchen where he found Regulus on his hands and knees underneath the cabinets, of which he’d emptied of all their contents.

The second Regulus found out that the three of you were expecting twins, and due to the nature of the superfetation and thus the risks involved, he quit his job and strong-armed (read: lightly encouraged) Remus to do the same.

And while Remus focused on catering to you and ensuring you were comfortable (or…as comfortable as humanly possible when you had two little freaks using your organs as trampolines) and well fed, Regulus focused on…whatever this was.

“Reggie?”

“Mhm?” He responded quickly, voice muffled from where his head was still shoved deep within the lower cabinets.

“What are you doing?”

Regulus shifted and his head made a painful thump sound when it connected with the top of the cabinet before he pulled himself out of it.

“Cleaning.”

One of Remus' brows arched at that. “The lower cabinets?”

“Right.”

“Why?”

Regulus rubbed the back of his head as he looked between Remus and the mess he was currently surrounded by in the name of ‘cleaning’.

“Well…the babies-”

“Won’t be concerned with the lower cabinets.” Remus cut him off, looking down at his boyfriend lovingly.

Remus watched as Regulus took a deep breath and deflated significantly.

Remus pushed aside some large pots and various cleaning products as he joined Regulus on the floor and pulled him closer by the ankle.

“What’s going on inside that head of yours, love?” He asked him quietly, rubbing his thumb along his Achilles tendon as Regulus seemed to organise his thoughts.

“I don’t think I’m going to go back to work.” Regulus blurted finally.

Remus fought to school his expression as he tilted his head in consideration. “Ever?”

Regulus shook his head and rested his chin on his knees. “I don’t know. Maybe just part time or something…I just- I don’t…I don’t want to be like him.”

“Like who, sweetheart?”

“Like my father.” Regulus bit out, bitterness colouring his tone. “Avoiding my family and responsibilities by hiding at work. Coming home to find out the babies have done something wonderful and I missed it. I…I want to be here, and I’m afraid; I’m afraid I’ll be more like him than I mean to be.”

Remus smiled sadly at Regulus as he squeezed his ankle twice. “I already know you’ll be nothing like him, my star. Considering you’re so worried about it, I know you’ll be 100 times the father he was. But, I’ll be here to make sure that stays true, okay?”

Regulus’ eyes met Remus’, and he felt his heart squeeze at the redness rimming Regulus’ eyes as they turned glassy.

“I’ll take care of you - both of you; all of you. You’ll never have to want for anything, you know that right?” Regulus stated urgently.

Remus smiled softly at him as he nodded. “I know, love.”

“You could stay home indefinitely too, you know.” Regulus offered shyly.

Remus chuckled. “You just don’t want to have to face our little mama bear all by yourself.” He teased.

Regulus chuckled in response but his eyes morphed into a lovesick gaze as he stared unseeingly out the archway of the kitchen. “She’s just uncomfortable and stressed right now.”

“She’s gonna be such a good mum.” Remus agreed quickly.

“The best.”

“We’re so lucky.”

“Rem? Reg?” Your voice sounded from the hall before your form hobbled into the archway as you used the door frame for support.

“What’s the matter?” Regulus asked quickly, kicking his feet out and sending various pots toppling over on the tile floor.

Whatever you had been on your way to say seemed to be placed on the back burner as your brows pinched and your eyes darted across the chaos that was currently your kitchen.

“What were you doing in here?” You asked slightly breathlessly. Both Remus and Regulus stood sheepishly.

“Erm, uh….cleaning?” Regulus answered in the form of a question.

One of your brows raised as you continued scanning the mess. “You’re not very good at it.”

“What did you need, dove?” Remus asked gently.

Your face softened as you looked up at him worriedly.

“I think my water broke.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the messy kitchen as Remus and Regulus stood staring at you dumbfoundedly.

“You…” Regulus started before clearing his throat. “You think?”

You grimaced as you looked down to your stomach sheepishly. “No I…I’m quite sure. I think-” You paused to suck in a breath through your teeth. “I think it’s time.”

The breath that followed the end of your sentence bordered on a groan and the boys jumped to action.

“Okay, come here amour.” Regulus said gently as he supported you with one hand on your elbow and the other on your lower back and he guided you to a chair in the dining room. “Rem, can you grab the babies’ bags?”

“On it.” He answered quickly and went running to the nursery to grab two matching nappy bags. Merlin, babies come with a lot of stuff.

“Are you grabbing our bag?” Remus called to Regulus who was then running up the stairs to the ensuite bedroom.

“Oui! Amour’s bag is in her closet.”

“Got it!”

Regulus and Remus reconvened in the living room with four bags, two baby carriers, and enough panic to fill an olympic swimming pool.

“Okay, baby bags have nappies?” Regulus asked, reading off a list in his hands.

“Check.” Remus responded.

“Snappies?”

“Check.”

“Blankets?”

“Check.”

“Hats and booties?”

“Got it.”

“Okay. And who packed mama’s bag?”

“She did.”

Regulus let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, no need to check that one then.”

Remus offered him an unimpressed look as he re-zipped the babies’ bags and threw them over his shoulder.

“Okay, you grab the carriers and our bag, I’ll grab the rest.” Remus instructed, which Regulus complied as they stepped up to the floo.

“Alright, St. Mungo’s.” Remus said clearly as the flames surged green and the two men stepped through to the intake room of the magical hospital.

Both men were breathless as they nearly collided with the desk where an unimpressed mediwix looked them both up and down.

“We’re checking into the maternity ward; our partner has gone into labour.” Remus explained in an exhale.

The mediwix moved his gaze between both men, their stomachs, and the various belongings they were carrying.

“Right,” he drawled before his eyes returned to Remus’. “And, your partner?”

“Y/N L/N.” Regulus added quickly, causing the mediwix to move his judgmental stare to him.

“Right….and where is she?”

Both men spun to face each other in a mixture of horror and embarrassment.

Remus rounded the corner of the kitchen to find you sitting where Regulus had left you, one hand massaging a point of your stomach as you considered him with a look full of judgement and mirth.

“Where’s Reg?” You goaded as Remus helped you up from your chair and started making the slow trek back towards the floo flames; his face burning hot with shame that he was sure was spreading to the tips of his ears and well down his chest.

“He was too embarrassed.” He admitted quietly.

You sounded like you were getting ready to laugh when you doubled over and a pained whimper escaped your lips.

Remus quickly bent down so he had one hand on each of your arms, trying to help keep you upright.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry. We’re going to get you in a bed and feeling better, okay?”

You whimpered again and looked up at Remus sadly. “I’m sorry.” You cried quietly.

“Dove.” He admonished sadly. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

You took in two large breaths as you tried to breathe around the pain. “You have to do this every month.”

Remus wanted to cry. For you, or for himself, he wasn’t sure. He loved you so sodding much he couldn’t even tell what exactly it was about what you said that touched him so much.

“You’re so much stronger and braver than I am though, dovey. So if I can get through it, I know you can too, yeah?” He offered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m only brave because I learned it from you.” You gritted out through a sob.

“We can argue about this later, okay? Let’s get you checked in; I’m sure the mediwix is glaring daggers at Regulus for having abandoned his pregnant partner.”

He managed to coerce a small laugh out of you which he considered a win before you both stepped through the flames.

Remus didn’t grow up expecting much out of life.

Bitten at only four years old, he was certain something would go wrong with his little body during one of his transformations and he’d be dead long before he ever hit Hogwarts age.

He couldn’t attend muggle school growing up due to his affliction and the risk of performing accidental magic in front of muggles.

Though he was certain he was going to die before age 11, he was even more certain that should he make it to 11, he’d never be accepted into Hogwarts.

When he was accepted into Hogwarts, he was certain he’d never make any friends.

When he made friends, he was certain they’d hate him if they found out about his lycanthropy.

When his friends accepted him for his lycanthropy, well….he never imagined he’d be so lucky as to find a partner who was just as accepting.

Let alone two.

For as long as Remus Lupin could remember, he never imagined ever feeling as much love or as loved as he currently felt in this exact moment.

Not only did he have two people who he loved beyond measure, but those two people gifted him two of the most perfect, tiny little beings he could have never imagined possible.

And suddenly - sitting here in a hospital room with you resting in a bed with your eyes closed as Regulus wiped lovingly at your face with a damp cloth, with a tiny little black-haired baby swaddled to perfection fast asleep in a see-through bassinet on your other side, and with an even tinier fawn-haired baby snuggled perfectly into Remus’ bare chest - every single full moon was worth it.

Every broken bone, every scar, every ache and pain and sleepless night that brought him here was absolutely, without a doubt, worth it.

“Knock knock!” Remus could hear Lily murmur quietly yet brightly from behind the closed hospital door.

“That is so cringey, Red. Why wouldn’t you just knock?” Sirius muttered.

“Because!” She hissed back and he could hear what sounded like Sirius being swatted with her purse. “They could be sleeping! I don’t want to startle them with a loud knock.”

“Oh yeah, Rem and Reg are definitely gonna piss their pants at the sound of you knocking on the door. Shouldn’t mama be all drugged up right now anyway?”

You chuckled under your breath as you peeled open one of your eyes to look over at Remus who was looking at you with a matching smile as you listened to Sirius being walloped three more times.

“Okay, well, you guys settle this out here then.” James decided as he pushed the door open.

He smiled at you and Regulus before his eyes met Remus’ form in a glider as he was currently doing skin-to-skin with his miniature doppelganger.

James made a very embarrassing cooing sound (if you asked Remus) as he made his way into the room, tiptoeing like he was avoiding invisible trip wires.

Lily and Sirius stopped their scuffle as they followed James in, beaming widely at Remus.

“Oh my Godric, Moony.” Lily cooed, looking awfully close to tears as the nickname so unusual out of Lily’s mouth caused Remus’ eyes to well up similarly. “It’s you as a baby!”

“Who was right? Girl or boy?” Sirius asked quickly, daring to reach forward and lovingly stroke a finger along the downy soft skin on the baby’s cheek.

Remus snorted and Regulus groaned.

“Girl, Pads.”

“Yes!” Lily and Sirius cheered quietly as they gave each other double high fives, clearly over whatever tiff they were having in the hallway mere moments ago.

“Better luck next time, Reggie.” James called towards him, causing you to narrow your eyes dangerously at your friend.

“Wait.” James said as he caught sight of a little something in a bassinet behind Regulus. “WAIT.”

“What?” Sirius asked, craning his neck to see what James was looking at.

“No…” Lily breathed out disbelievingly.

“Twins?!” Sirius shrieked.

“What?” Regulus asked derisively, and Remus had to work really hard to keep his face neutral at that.

“Wha-” James started, violently whipping his head back and forth between the two infants in the room. “What do you mean, what!?”

“There’s two!” Sirius exclaimed.

Your mouth dropped open in ‘shock’ as you looked at Sirius aghast. “You see the other one too?”

The room fell painfully silent as James, Lily, and Sirius all looked bemusedly between the family of five before Remus couldn’t take it anymore and started giggling.

His daughter began to stir from the rumbling of his chest causing Regulus to scoff in faux admonishment.

“Would you knock that off, Remus; you’re going to give her shaken baby syndrome.” He muttered before he was gently prying the tiny infant from Remus’ chest and wrapping her up in a blanket before holding her close to his chest.

“Mama.” Lily breathed out. “Two!?”

“Two.” You confirmed. Remus delighted at the shy yet proud smile you adorned as you tucked your chin to your chest.

Throwing his jumper back on, he moved over to perch on the opposite side of your bed and pulled the little bassinet closer to the two of you.

“Are they both girls?” Lily asked.

“Yes.” Remus laughed, causing Sirius to cackle from where he stood looking over Regulus’ shoulder at one of his nieces.

“You were wrong twice little brother!”

“Sod off, Sirius.”

Sirius smacked Regulus up the back of the head. “You watch your mouth around my nieces, hellion.”

“Isn’t hellion a swear word?” James queried.

“It’s not a swear, it’s a noun.” Sirius explained.

“But then wouldn’t fuck be a verb?” Remus asked, causing the room to fall silent as everyone pondered that for a moment.

The silence didn’t last long as the sound of two heavy footfalls grew in volume before they stopped abruptly in front of the hospital room.

“Am I too late!?” Barty screeched (albeit quietly) into the room as he and Evan stood in the doorway catching their breaths.

“Too late for…what, Junior? What did you think was happening here?” James asked.

“Shut up.” Barty spat as he moved into the room, shoving past everyone to press kisses against your forehead.

“My beautiful, sweet Treasure. All this work for two tossers. We could still run away, yeah? You, me and the baby; just say the word.”

“Try babies, Junior.” Sirius taunted, causing Barty to straighten up so quickly he nearly collided with Lily as he turned to look at Sirius incredulously.

“What!?”

Sirius smirked as he pointed to the baby in Regulus’ arms as Barty moved to inspect the tawny-haired babe.

“A Lupin. That’s too bad.” Barty muttered quietly, causing Regulus to kick at his shin and you to shout a reproachful ‘Bartemus!”.

“And there.” Sirius continued, pointing to where Remus was picking up a black-haired babe from a clear bassinet to pass into your waiting arms.

“A Black!? Even worse!” Barty shrilled.

“Barty!” You chided again, though the smile playing at your lips severely diminished the severity of your tone.

“Oh, oh gods, oh my. I-”

Barty didn’t seem to know where to look; pained puffs of air leaving his lungs as he spun comedically on the spot, dividing his attention between you and the two baby girls.

“Rosier, your boyfriend’s about to combust.” Lily teased as she leaned back into James who quickly wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

“Barty.” Evan tried, causing Barty to look at him in horror.

“There’s two!”

Even Evan seemed to find some humour in the state of his boyfriend as his lips quirked up into a smirk. “Yes, babe. I counted that many as well.”

“Two!?” He shouted again as he turned his sights on you.

“How’d….How’d you have two in there!?” He barked as he pointed accusatively at your stomach.

“Magic?” You asked shyly, looking down at your daughter who was beginning to fuss.

“Way to go, Junior. You’ve upset her.” Sirius grumbled.

“She’s hungry.” Remus corrected, stroking her dark hair before moving his hand to stroke yours in much the same way.

“Her?” Barty asked quietly, watching as you helped the infant latch.

“Two girls, Uncle Barty.” You offered quietly, smiling softly up at your fiercest friend.

“I’m a girl uncle.” He said in awe, moving his smile towards the baby in Regulus’ arms.

“What are their names?” James asked eagerly.

You looked shyly up at Remus who in turn fielded the question to Regulus.

“This here,” Regulus started, pausing to clear his throat as he looked down at his daughter. “Is Rome Valeria Lupin.”

Lily let out a breathy ‘awe’ as she touched her hand to her chest, and Remus pretended he didn’t notice Sirius wiping a tear from under his eye.

“Named after the Empire, just like her daddy.” James commented with a soft yet proud smirk.

“And that one there is Soleil Pax Lupin.”

Sirius’ gaze moved to the little head he could see nuzzling at her mother’s chest. “A Sunny little girl.” He whispered quietly.

“Pax, that means peace in Latin, yeah?” Evan commented, smirking as Barty scoffed at him.

“Of course it does, Evan. Everyone knows that.”

James’ eyebrows furrowed as he looked towards Remus. “I didn’t know that…” He admitted quietly.

“And Valeria means strength; Rome was a little younger than her sister, but she was a powerful little fighter.” Remus explained, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“They’re perfect, you guys. Just perfect.” Lily commented emphatically, earning nods in agreement from James, Sirius, and Evan.

“With no help from these wankers, surely. You did a great job, Treasure. They may have lost the lottery in terms of fathers but these girls couldn’t have asked for a better mum.”

And though Regulus rolled his eyes with an annoyed shake of his head, no one bothered to argue.

These two girls really lucked out when it came to their mummy.

“Oh gods.” Barty whispered as he stood hastily.

“What?” Regulus asked cautiously.

“Oh gods.” He shrieked, turning a withering glare towards his friend. “You sods should have told me!”

Remus helped you right your robe as you pulled Soleil away from you and began patting gently at her back. “We thought it would be a funny surprise.” He explained.

Barty scoffed derisively and turned his ire onto him.

“Well ha ha, very funny.” He deadpanned. “I’ve only bought one of everything!”

Regulus waved him off after he passed Rome to his brother’s eagerly awaiting arms. “That’s fine, Barty.”

“No! It's not fine, Barty!” Barty volleyed back. “Evan, let’s go.” He ordered as he bent to press another kiss to your head, kissed his hand and gently pressed it to Soleil’s shoulder and did the same to Rome (much to Sirius’ chagrin).

“Where?”

“Shopping! I need to go back and buy another of everything that we’ve bought!”

“Over the past seven months!?” Evan asked incredulously.

“Yes!”

Remus could hear them arguing all the way to the floo flames.

Lily offered to take Soleil from you to finish burping the baby as the room fell into a comfortable silence.

“So, when can we start trying again?” Regulus asked, causing Remus to grimace and you to level him with a look that would send a lesser man straight to his grave.

“Okay,” Regulus acquiesced. “We’ll talk more next week.”

Sirius laughed as he looked down at the babe in his arms.

“Sounds like your papa’s going to be sleeping on Uncle Siri’s couch, Roro.” He cooed.

From the look on your face, Remus was sure Sirius was quite right.

A/N: thanks to some of the ideas that were sent to me from anon's, like the idea that they rushed to the hospital and forgot reader at the house 🤣

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iheartyouyou · 2 years

Text

OUT LOUD | Eddie Munson

Summary: When you and Robin pass notes in class about Eddie Munson, the teacher calls you both out for it, confiscating the notes. To make matters worse, she reads the notes out loud catching the attention of the very special freak.

Part 2

Author’s Note: Not proofread, sorry lmao ��

You felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to be met by a very annoyed classmate with a neatly folded up note gripped in between their two fingers. They looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to grab it.

You take it, looking around to see who could have given it to you. You locked eyes with Robin, her nodding to you to open the note.

“When are you going to tell him?” The note read in sloppy hand-writing. Robin’s hand writing wasn’t the very best, you were surprised that you were even able to read it.

“Who?” You wrote underneath her sentence. You knew who she was talking about, you just decided to play dumb. What if— whoever the person’s name behind you— read it and told Eddie that the two of you were passing notes about the dungeon master? Ever since Robin found out about your crush on Eddie, she has been nonstop trying to convince you to tell him.

You turned around in your seat, a tight-lipped smile on your lips as you gave it to the person behind you. They frown, snatching the note before giving it to Robin.

You watch as she opens it, her eyes scanning the paper before looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow. She scribbled something on the paper before giving it back to the annoyed person who was now a note messenger for the two of you.

You take the note, opening it up. “Eddie? Who else would I be talking about. You really need to tell him, I’m telling you, he likes you back! I swear I saw him staring at you earlier in the hallway, his eyes were like heart-shaped!”

A faint blush painted your cheeks. Was he actually staring at you earlier? The two of you only talked a few times, only knowing each other because of Robin and Steve. You guys have probably talked three times the whole school year. The first time was when Steve introduced you two, the second was when you accidentally bumped into him during lunch and the third time… was when you bumped into him, again.

“Chrissy was near me. He was probably staring at her.” You quickly scribbled onto the paper.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Your teacher started, her witch hand snatching the piece of paper out your hands. You gasped.

“Are your notes more important than this class?” She asked, squinting her eyes to read the words written on the paper.

“N-no, ma’am.” You mumbled. You prayed that she would just throw it away, confiscate it and tell you, you can get it after class. But, no. With your luck, she decided to humiliate you, her screechy voice reading everything out-loud enough for the whole school to hear.

She mimicked the words, trying her best to read Robin’s sloppy handwriting. “When are you going to tell him? Who? Ed…” You slouched into your seat, covering your face with your hands to hide your red, embarrassed face. You prayed that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

You didn’t dare look up, even when she lectured you about how you should be worrying more about school than boys. How boys were going to get you nowhere in life. She then threw the note in the trash, her face grimacing.

You could hear a few snickers from students in the classroom, some whispering and judging you for having a crush on the infamous freak. You could already imagine the rumors that would be spreading around by the end of the day.

What did Eddie think of you now? Was he snickering along with the rest or the class? Was he going to take apart of those rumors? Was he disgusted? Embarrassed for you?

You hesitantly removed your face from your hands, looking back at Robin to send her a glare. She just gave you a apologetic look before mouthing the word “sorry”.

In your peripheral vision you could see someone staring at you. You already knew who it was. You remembered where he sat, it was the one area of the room you tried your best to avoid— to avoid any obvious signs of your crush on him.

You turned back in your seat, crossing your arms as you went back to slouching. You prayed and begged that you would be able to escape the classroom before Eddie could have the chance to confront you. You could just avoid him for the rest of your life.

A few minutes went by of you trying to find a way to disappear when you felt a all-too-familiar tap on your shoulder. Was Robin trying to embarrass you, again?

You turned around, the note messenger holding up another note for you to take. You look back quickly at the teacher to make sure she wasn’t looking before snatching it, turning back around to open it up under your desk.

“I was actually staring at you, not Chrissy. Cheerleaders aren’t my type. - Eddie”

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4

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moonstruckme · 5 months

Text

Busybody

summary: when Steve notices your anxiety spiraling out of control, he finds his own way to help

cw: anxiety

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’d woken up with some busybody in your chest that you can’t get rid of.

It feels like you’ve had three cups of coffee despite your four hours of sleep. You’d all but jolted awake, pre-panicked about something that you haven’t identified yet. Something you have to be forgetting, or not assigning enough importance to, surely. And the way you figure it, if your body’s going to freak out at you about being idle, you may as well appease it and hop to.

By the time Steve cracks an eyelid, you’re thinking about what to make for lunch. Heart never having left your throat, you’ve cleaned the kitchen, baked a blackberry cobbler, tried to read a few pages of your book before giving up for fidgetiness, reorganized your portion of the bathroom cabinet, and begun a grocery list for the week.

“Morning,” he yawns, leaning against the counter. He’s looking endearingly rumpled, a faint red line on his face from a crease in his pillowcase and his hair pressed flat on the one side. You smile at him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Smells like fire in here.”

“Morning! I made a cobbler,” you explain, not mentioning the burnt first attempt that’s smelled up his kitchen despite you opening all the windows. “Do you want some bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast?”

Steve blinks, eyebrows rising slightly. “Uh, sure. You gonna make me some?”

“Mhm.” You’re already taking the eggs out of the fridge. “Scrambled?”

“Yeah. Thanks, babe.”

“No problem.” You grin, happy to be of use as you whisk his eggs with a fork, turning on two burners of the stove to preheat as you do. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he yawns. “Well, pretty good. Woke up a couple times this morning, but you were already gone. Been up for a while?”

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

Steve nods, frowning. “Sorry, honey. You didn’t get much chance to sleep the night before, either, right?”

You hum, bacon sizzling when it hits the pan. You put the toast down in the toaster, hoping you’ve timed it right so it’ll still be warm when everything else is done. “Oh, do you want orange juice?”

“Sure, but I can grab it.” He moves for the cabinet, but you nudge in front of him, too restless to stop moving while everything heats on the stove.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You shoot him a smile as you grab a cup. Steve returns it, but muddled.

“So between last night and the one before, how many hours have you gotten?”��

You shrug. “Not sure.” Nine, give or take. “But I don’t feel tired.”

“Well, that’s good,” he says slowly, watching as you fill the cup with orange juice before hustling back to the stove, flitting between tasks at something approaching light speed.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” you go on, flipping the bacon, “do you want to do some Christmas shopping today? I mean, I know you said you’re not thinking about it yet, but it can’t hurt to get a jump on things.”

Steve yawns again, stretching his back. “Yeah, that sounds okay. Not sure I’d know what to get anyone.”

You nod a few times. “Maybe you’ll know it when you see it.” Flip the bacon onto a plate, add more pepper to the eggs, put the bacon’s pan in the sink, turn off that burner on the stove—the toaster goes off, and you nearly hit your head on the ceiling. You jump straight up.

“Oh.” You press a hand to your chest, laughter tripping off your tongue. Your blood thrums excitedly, like it’s finally found the outlet it's been looking for all morning. “God, that scared me.”

“I could tell,” Steve says, eyebrows at his hairline and smiling faintly. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah, good.” Your heartbeat has become more noticeable all of a sudden, a hollow ache behind your breastbone. “I’m almost done, just a sec.”

“No rush, honey. Thanks for making me breakfast. It looks great.”

“Of course, no problem.” You plate up the rest and spin to find Steve already there, his hand the only thing stopping you from nearly flinging the dish into the wall surprisedly.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, taking the plate from you and setting it on the counter. He brings his arms around your shoulders, and you wrap yours around him too, an automatic response. Steve sighs, his ribs expanding and contracting with the force of it, and you copy him mockingly.

“Still tired, baby?”

“A little,” he admits. “Though I can’t really complain, considering how little sleep you’ve gotten.”

You make to pull out of the hug, but Steve tightens his grip on you, palm pressing into the midpoint of your upper back. You give in, a willing captive.

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “I’m sorry you’re tired.”

Steve hums, taking another big breath. “I’m good.” A pause. “Okay, you can tell me if I’m crazy, but it does smell like something’s burning in here, right?”

“Burnt,” you admit. “I left a blackberry cobbler in the oven a bit too long. The one in the fridge is a re-do.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I think the smell’s clearing out anyway. Right?”

You sniff experimentally at the air. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Yeah?” he sniffs too.

You inhale more fully, only detecting the faint remains of smokiness under the newer scent of bacon grease.

“I’ve never had blackberry cobbler,” he says, palm beginning to coast slowly between your shoulder blades while his other arm stays firmly around your waist. “What’s it taste like?”

You perk up. “Wanna try some now?”

“No—I wouldn’t want to ruin this breakfast you’ve made me. Describe it to me.”

It’s an odd request, but nothing you can’t manage for him. You think back, letting your tongue conjure up the memory of the last time you had it. “Well, the blackberries aren’t tangy by the time they’ve been cooked,” you tell him. Steve hums, hand solid and steady on your upper back. “And this recipe is really sweet. The dough is kind of like sugar cookie dough.”

“Sounds good,” he says appreciatively. “Hey, do you think you can smell it?”

“From inside the fridge?” You take your head from his shoulder to give Steve an odd look.

“Sure, just give it a try.” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. You wrinkle your brow, sniffing tentatively. Steve opens his eyes as if to check you’re doing it, and it’s the worry in his look that gives him away. Your bemusement gives way to fondness as you take a long breath in, filling your lungs and holding the air inside you for a few moments before emptying them. You know what he’s doing, but you’re letting him anyway.

“Mmm, don’t think I can,” you tell him wryly.

“No?” Steve’s smile is sheepish, well aware you’re onto him. “Do you think we should find three things you can touch, just for fun?”

You roll your eyes at him, but inhale again as you hug him tightly. Some of the pain in your chest eases. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“What for?” he asks, hand resuming its route between your shoulder blades. “Hey listen, I’m all about your Christmas shopping idea, but do you wanna try taking a hot shower first? It might help you relax.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit, peeling away from him. He lets you this time, albeit reluctantly. “Your breakfast is going to get cold.”

Steve looks at it as though just remembering it’s there. “Right, thanks. Sit with me while I eat? You could have some of that tea you like.”

You smile at him, taking a mug and your herbal tea down from the cabinet. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”

“You’ve got to stop thanking me, I haven’t done a thing all morning.”

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astroboots · 10 months

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #9

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You get a new mysterious co-worker.

Word count: 8,100

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

August 1st

Nearly pancaked by grand piano falling from the 8th floor outside of favorite cafe. No casualties (except the piano).

August 5th

Freak blizzard out of nowhere during lunch. Nearly crushed by large icicle dropping directly outside the exit of the Chrysler building. No other known casualty.

August 6th

An escaped hippopotamus from the Bronx zoo ran 11.3 miles, nearly got stampeded when exiting hotel for work. No casualties.

August 12th

Tornado appeared inside the Guggenheim museum, nearly squashed by large falling statue. Nobody nearby was seriously injured.

It's already mid-August now. You've used up more than a month of your allotted three. It means you don't have much more time to waste, but that knowledge does nothing to help you in figuring things out.

You’ve compiled a comprehensive list of the Universe's ongoing murder attempts, determined to keep track of them all. All in all, there are 37 incidents and counting that you’re aware of… and they’re all different.

They differ in severity. They differ in scale and they differ in frequency. Sometimes it can take weeks, sometimes days, sometimes within hours of each other. If there’s any sort of pattern to them—anything that might help you predict what will happen next or how to stop it—you can’t see it. There’s nothing that gives you any hint or clue as to where you can start to make progress with solving this mystery.

The one thing you have been able to observe from cataloging these incidents is that Miguel was right about what he told you that day at Starbucks: the universe is ramping up. Each attempt is becoming more and more bizarre, defying the very laws of physics and nature in its attempts to snuff you out. Before this, in all of your years in New York, you’ve never heard of a blizzard in July or a tornado indoors.

With the escalating dangers, Miguel is more on guard than ever. Sticking close to you at all times like a particularly insistent herding dog that’s always a few inches from nipping at your heels. Even when he’s seemingly preoccupied by something else—reading a book, folding clothes, eating a crate of kit kats in one sitting—you can always tell that he’s keenly aware of and attuned to your every minute move.

Practically, the only time he lets you out of his sight is for bathroom visits.

Work is still a point of contention between you two. He hates that he can't enter the building to monitor you at work and make sure you're safe, and after that incident when you caught a co-worker trying to take a surreptitious selfie with Spiderman while Miguel was loitering around in the windows, you’d banned him from climbing and scuttering around the exterior of the building like some deranged squirrel.

It’s made him even less pleased about your whole work situation, something he’s not shy about sharing with you. Every morning when you are about to leave for work, Miguel will stand by the door with that ever present frown and ask you:

“Why are you still going into a job you hate when there’s only two months left?”

This morning, you sigh as you reach for your jacket and messenger bag.

Part of you completely understands and even agrees with his logic. If the end of the world is only two months away, why go back to that shithole everyday? You could go to Disneyland. Eat fancy croissants in Paris for breakfast. Have Lyla fake a reservation at an all-inclusive yoga retreat in Bali. You could be living your life like every moment is your last.

The thing is though, as delusional as it may be, you’re not ready to bet on the world ending just yet.

“Miguel, I fully intend for the universe to still be around in two months. And I don’t want to be unemployed when that day comes. I’m not some trust fund baby. Once we figure this thing out, you’re gonna be free to go, and if you take Lyla with you, then what am I supposed to do? Live on the streets? Rent in the city is ridiculous, and my rent-controlled apartment got blown into a million pieces.”

For once Miguel doesn’t seem to have anything smart to say back. He tilts his head, quietly studying your face. Then after a long pause, he gives you a curt nod, as if something clicked into place.

"Fine."

You stop mid-way through zipping up one of your boots to eye him suspiciously.

Okay, that’s… different.

In all the mornings you’ve repeated this argument, this is the first time he’s simply accepted your explanation without sassing you back. He just gazes right back, apparently unperturbed, and holds the door of your hotel room open for you, ready to walk you to work.

There is definitely something going on inside his head, because this stubborn dummy never lets anything go without a fight. You just don’t know what it is yet.

By mid-morning, you've forgotten all about your suspicions, too busy dealing with the aftermath of your coworker's incompetence. You're not entirely sure how they managed to corrupt the Excel formula you’d painstakingly inserted to make sure all the numbers add up correctly, but two hours later, you're still trying to get the data to compute properly.

It’s the kind of mind numbing task that lets your mind wander, and you spend most of that morning wondering what Miguel is up to. He’s probably lingering near the building, eating mini donuts by the dozens from that food truck that is always parked around the corner.

There’s a pointed series of knocks on your cubicle wall. The noise is grating, and it makes the whole of your back seize up because you recognize that signature knock from sound alone. It’s your boss, probably here to ask if you have capacity to take on more case evaluations.

And sure enough, as you reluctantly turn to look, you see her, toothy smile and all, looking down at you in that hammy and strained way of hers.

“Are you busy?” she asks. “I just wanted to introduce you to the newest member of the team.”

She gestures to the person standing beside her. Your gaze goes up over their insanely long legs, up and over the narrow and tapered waist and torso, up over the wide chest and broad, broad shoulders, and even before you get to the familiar face, you already know who you are looking at, because no one else is that tall.

Your mouth gapes open wide in shock.

This stupid motherf-

“This is Mickey O’Hara,” your boss introduces, simpering up at him. (You didn’t even know she knew how to simper.)

Has Miguel gone insane?

What is he playing at?!

He didn’t even bother to change his name properly!

And the man looks unfairly good in office casual! He’s dressed in a white, well-fitted button down shirt and dress pants. Wearing ridiculous thick-rimmed glasses that would belong on Gregory Peck. Riotous curls are as messy and wild as ever, not having even bothered to comb it back. You don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, the subdued get-up only makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

“Mickey is our newest hire,” your boss continues, batting her eyes at him. “He's interning with our team as a junior insurance claims adjuster and will be shadowing you for the next two months.”

After that, Miguel truly is with you everywhere you go.

He spends most of each workday sitting on a spare chair in your small cubicle, the two of you squeezed into 6'x6', shoulder touching shoulder in that tiny, cramped space.

A superhero he may be, but Miguel is a terrible office worker. He seems completely bamboozled by the copier, and you quickly learn not to ask him to do any copying or scanning or even pick your printouts from the printer, because he always manages to mangle the process, coming back with crumpled up prints or half-shredded paper that looks like budget confetti.

Before the week is over, he’s gained a reputation with the rest of the team as the handsome-but-useless junior that can’t even make coffee for shit.

Most of the time, he doesn't even make an effort to look like he’s doing any actual work, just sits right next to you, and reads books all day long. When you scold him and ask him to at least pretend like he's doing busy work, or he'll get fired, Miguel will just shrug and quietly hum back at you, engrossed in whatever latest sci-fi book his nose is buried in.

"If they fire me, I'll just have Lyla hack into their HR system and rehire me."

Then there’s the way his sleeves are always rolled up halfway up his arm, hugging tight around the firm muscles of his forearm. The peep show of gorgeously tanned skin that is always on display for all to see. It's obscene.

He’s maddening and distracting.

Still, you can’t be too mad about his presence. The office is a much more treacherous place than you’d initially thought. It’s a danger zone of death traps.

One morning when you’re in the supply room, getting a new pad of post-its from one of the massive industrial shelves—the ones that are supposed to be bolted to the wall for safety—suddenly crumpled, taking half the wall with it and nearly flattening you. That was almost game over for you. Squashed like a bug and entombed under a pile of archived TPS reports.

Then there’s that time with the runaway elevator when the supposedly secure and unbreakable industrial cables snaps, with you in it, falling through 40 floors. And you still shudder everytime you walk past the copy machine because of that time it tried to electrocute you. If Miguel hadn’t been there for all of these incidents, you’d be a goner.

Another upside is that it’s also nice to have a cubicle buddy. On slow days, the two of you kill time watching YouTube origami tutorials and practicing with post-its stolen from the temporarily-relocated office supplies.

Despite having hands the size of a giant, Miguel is surprisingly good at it. Delicately folding paper cranes, butterflies and flowers that sit in the place of pride atop of your computer screen, compared to your questionable attempts that usually wind up in a crumpled ball in the trash.

With Miguel there, your days at the office are never boring or predictable in the way they used to be. It no longer feels like you are just going through motions. It's almost… fun.

If there wasn’t a cosmic executioner’s ax looming over your neck, you don’t think you would mind spending every day with him like this.

You take it back. You do mind spending days with him like this. Miguel is the worst.

You've been doing data entry all morning, and the man will not shut up about how primitive Excel is.

“Malo! I don’t understand how your company relies on this software. There are so many data consistency issues! It completely lacks data validation and integrity checks, and it’s too prone to human error when entering crucial data, which results in–”

You take deep calming breaths as you continue to type, trying to pretend his rant is white noise.

The previous day's near death experience—an electrical surge from the printer, trying to finish what the copy machine started—also wiped out one of the file servers, and now you and half your department are stuck manually re-entering three years worth of data.

Two hours in, your fingers are aching, and you're about ready to start banging your head on the keyboard out of frustration. (Or banging the keyboard on Miguel’s head if he doesn’t shut up.)

Like he can hear your thoughts, the man in question obligingly stops talking, and there’s a moment of blessed silence before your chair glides smoothly and suddenly to the left as Miguel rolls you out from in front of your computer. Your first instinct is to wonder what new danger he’s saving you from, but no… He’s just moving you out of the way to make space for him to drag his own chair in front of the screen. “Enough,” he says firmly, already typing out some unintelligibly complex code at a speed that far outstrips your own personal best of 67 words per minute, “I can’t watch you keep doing this when it’s so simple to automate.”

You sometimes forget just how smart Miguel is.

True, he can’t seem to work the office printer, but he’s a genius scientist who single-handedly built an A.I. sophisticated enough to hack into financial institutions and topple governments. He successfully invented a machine that travels between dimensions. Every other sentence coming out of his mouth sounds like something that would confound Stephen Hawking. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s able to automate Excel spreadsheets.

It doesn’t take him very long at all.

Within minutes, he’s finished, hitting enter one final time, and then you can see all of the cells rectify themselves one by one. Errors disappear and new corrected information appears, data populating blank cells and aligning itself in tidy rows.

You lean in closer to get a better look. Your elbow snags the edge of your coffee cup and the cup topples over, splashing runaway hot coffee across your hand.

Before you have a chance to react, there’s a strong pull backwards. Miguel is already grabbing you and pulling you sideways into his lap and out of the firing range.

The cup clatters off the edge of the desk and onto the floor. The rest of the burning liquid never had the time to land on you.

Then you’re sitting on top of him, confined in the much too small seat of the office chair that can barely fit him and his broad backside, and much less the both of you. But if it’s uncomfortable, Miguel doesn’t show it. He takes your hand in his to inspect it carefully.

The patch of skin burns and stings, but you can’t tell if it’s from the coffee or his burning touch that makes you feel like there’s liquid fire simmering in your veins.

“You okay?” he says, his voice right in your ear.

He is so close. Surrounding you. Broad arms locked around your waist and the firm muscles of his thick thighs under yours.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding slowly. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth.

He quietly drags your hand closer to his face, then blows on the back of your burnt knuckles to soothe the sting.

“Better?”

Those stunning eyes are staring into yours from inches away, cut cheeks right there, nose barely brushing against yours, and – god, is he close. Too close.

Miguel is always in close proximity to you these days. Never more than a couple yards away, but save for life or death situations, the two of you do not find yourself like this. He only ever holds you when you’re crashing through the skies or about to collide with a runaway vehicle. This is different somehow.

Your heart feels like a trapped bird in your chest, fluttering so fast and panicky it might burst from inside out at the proximity.

“I– um– ah…” You’re not saying any words, just making strange noises in your throat like a squawking bird.

Your eyes flicker away from his face avoidantly and from the corner of your eye, you spot Matt from accounting spying on you from the cubicle across.

Oh god. This probably doesn’t look great, does it?

You’re sitting on a co-worker’s lap in the middle of an open plan office. Compromising does not even begin to describe the position you two are in.

Jumping off his lap, you quickly stand up and turn away, trying to ignore the flustered heat in your cheeks.

You walk back over to your chair, about to sit yourself back down, but there’s spilled coffee everywhere. The dark brown liquid quickly sinking into the already stained fabric of the seat. You need to clean this up or else your chair is going to smell like expired coffee for the rest of time. Grabbing for your bag, you start digging for some tissues so you don't have to walk up to the supply closet.

You pull out item after item. Tampons. Sunglasses. A half-eaten chocolate bar. More tampons. New wallet with new ID, (expedited, all courtesy of Lyla). A handful of pennies. A random pamphlet. Still no tissues though, so you upend your bag onto your desk, wincing at the clatter.

How on Earth have you accumulated this much stuff in the few short weeks since your apartment was destroyed? And how on Earth do you not have any kleenex or napkins or anything in your handbag??

You paw through the mess, hoping for something useful, then swear as some of it spills over onto the floor. Ducking down, you crawl half under your desk, collecting wayward tampons and receipts, until your eyes pause on the pamphlet.

Not just any pamphlet. It’s yellow and bright with Whoopie Goldberg's face in the corner. It's the map you received from the fortune teller lady. One of your many misfires.

Now that you look closely at it, there are faint lines that seem to glow faintly in the dimness under your desk that weren't there when you were looking at it in plain daylight.

You pick it up and unfold it, laying it out on the floor. It looks like it’s been written on with some kind of a glow-in-the-dark marker, but it’s not dark enough for you to see clearly. You need to get somewhere darker to test your theory.

Backing out from under your desk, you get to your feet and head briskly off down the hall. You barely make it three steps before Miguel’s on your tail, his towering height blocking out the bright LED lamps above as he follows after you like the world’s biggest duckling.

“Cielo, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you murmur curtly under your breath. The heat from before is still riding persistently on your face, and you quicken your steps, hoping it doesn’t show.

You half run to the end of the hall until you reach the small supply closet. When you open the door to step inside, Miguel is right behind you, apparently trying to squeeze himself in after you.

"We won't both fit in here!" you scold as you close the door after you. His unhappy expression is the last thing you see as darkness envelops you in the pitch black.

There’s a niggling feeling of guilt that wiggles down into your skin. But you remind yourself that you can always steal cupcakes meant for clients from the conference room to make it up to him. All will be forgiven if you appease his sweet tooth.

Ducking your head to stare down at the map clutched in your hands, you squint your eyes in the dark to study it closely. There's a small star glowing bright in the middle of the map.

It's a literal star map.

She gave you a location.

You're standing in front of an old stone building at 177A Bleecker Street, smack in the middle of Greenwich village with its picturesque ivy covered old brownstone houses.

Then there's this monstrosity: Sanctum Sanctorum. The infamous residence of Dr. Strange.

The mansion is built in a mix of a Victorian and Gothic style as if the architect couldn't make up their mind and just decided 'why not both?' Throughout the rooftop, there are ornate carvings and intricate stonework that you suspect was meant to lend it a mysterious air, but instead the place reminds you of Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride attraction.

You bring up your hand to the old knocker, gripping it firmly. Your lungs tighten, breath constricting in your chest as you hesitate, unable to bring yourself to pull the brass down to make contact with the wooden front door. Instead you’re holding it still in the air.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. How are you going to explain this?

‘The universe is out to get me, please send Avengers to help.’

Isn’t he just going to think you’re nuts? One of those delusional Supes-fan with munchausen syndrome?

"We can still leave," Miguel says.

The man's been protesting every step of the way here, buzzing in your head about how much of a bad idea this is.

You frown, turning around to him. "I want to do this,” you answer.

His continued opposition is the final push you need. You bring down the knocker against the front door and tap it repeatedly.

There's no answer.

Part of you has to fight the urge to turn your feet and flee, saving yourself the embarrassment. But before you do, there’s a loud creak and a heavy scraping noise against the entrance as the double door swings inwards and slowly opens.

No one greets you by the door. The entryway before you is empty, revealing a grand imperial staircase leading to the second floor, curving upward into a majestic spiral on each side of the room.

It looks deserted. It’d be impolite to just step inside without someone to greet you and explicitly invite you in. But the doors did open to let you in.

You look at Miguel, unsure of what to do, but the man does not have the same compunction for politeness that you do, he’s already walked in, shoes and all, straight into the main hall.

“Can we just get this over with without you making your usual stupid grand dramatic entrance?” Miguel says into the empty room seemingly to no one in particular and you don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to.

A ring of ember and fire sparks into existence out of nothingness in the center of the room. The ring grows wider, and you can see hints of another room inside of the circle: one decorated in a different decoration style than the current room you’re in: moroccan seats and plush cushions with oriental wooden carved furniture.

A man steps out from within that room to stand in front of you both. The ring of light closes behind him once he’s made it through. Clad in a rich purple tunic and dark robes that is monk-like in appearance. Miguel steps in front of you, tucking you safely behind him.

"You're not Strange," Miguel sneers, and you want to smack him. Why does he always have to be this rude?

"Oh, I'm quite strange. But I am not the Doctor. I am Wong. I’m the Sorcerer Supreme and guardian of this place." The man’s voice is calm and formal, and he holds himself with a stately manner as he speaks.

You pop out your head from behind Miguel’s side. "We’re here to see Doctor Strange."

At the repeated mention of Strange, the man’s formality seems to fall away, an expression of irritation bleeding into his features.

"Let me know when you find him. Because he is not here."

"Where is he?" Miguel asks, and there’s that contempt rumbling in his voice again.

"I do not know. Probably playing hooky again. The man comes and goes as he likes." Wong makes a muttering noise under his breath as he continues. "Treats this sacred place like a summer gig at McDonalds."

Your chest deflates. How are you supposed to get Dr. Strange to help you if he’s not even here?

"I need help,” you plead with Mr. Wong. Maybe he can help you if Dr Strange can’t, he is the Sorcerer Supreme after all, supreme is the highest level, right? This might even be an upgrade from Strange. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think the universe is out to get me."

Wong just looks at you, expression unchanging, and okay, yeah, that was maybe not the best place to start. You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to make yourself sound less paranoid.

"I've almost died 40 times since the beginning of the summer. I just want to know why this keeps happening and how to make it stop."

You dig into your bag, pulling out the folded map.

"We talked to a fortune teller in Chinatown, and she gave me this map. It led us here, and I'm really, really hoping you can help me."

Wong dips his head down to the map, "This is a celebrity home star map," he says, with a straight face and a neutral voice that only slightly betrays that he thinks you're batshit crazy.

“I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“Sanctum Sanctorum opened its doors for you, which means it wanted me to meet with you. I believe what you’re telling me.”

Oh thank god.

You tell him everything, rambling on as you try to explain what’s been happening and what little you know about it as best you can. The near death experiences, Miguel being a Spiderman from another dimension, the destruction of your apartment, the unnatural phenomena and the universe’s escalating attempts on your life.

Wong is quiet throughout, studying your face with grave concentration as you speak.

When you’re finally done, he sighs with deep weariness that emanates from the core of his soul. He looks down on his feet, tapping them in deep consideration.

"I have an idea,” Wong says cautiously, “I could perform a Multiversal Divination on you, that might give us a clearer idea of what we’re dealing with,”

“What does that mean?” Miguel asks, anger vibrating off his skin and boiling in his tone.

This man needs to calm down. You clearly need to take him to anger management, because since the moment he’s stepped into this place he’s been on the edge (even more so than usual).

“What does a ‘Multiversal Divination’ entail?” he continues, “Is that some magical mumbo jumbo that’s going to hurt her? Because if so we’re not–”

“I’ll do it,” you say, interrupting his objections, and you sidestep Miguel who is scowling, mouth already parted in yet another protest, to stand in front of Wong.

Wong looks to you and then Miguel, then back at you again, caught in the awkward stalemate, before you interrupt.

“Please, I need answers. Whatever it is, if it might help, I want to do it.”

Wong nods, stepping closer to you. "This will feel a little bit strange," he warns with the bedside manner of a patient doctor.

His hand comes to your collarbone and he places his palm there with a gentle push. There is barely any effort put into it, but you feel the force of it as if you had been slammed with the full force of a six ton truck. Your body wants to leap out of its skin. It is the sensation of being dumped in cold water from head to toe. A shock runs through your entire nervous system.

Images flash before your eyes, flickering by too fast for you to process. They’re vivid and bright. Glimpses of a scene: your apartment, your work, your commute home. Each of them expiring in a fraction of a moment before you have a chance to latch on and make sense of any of them individually.

You see yourself in picture after picture. Except slightly different in each. Short hair. Long locks. Curly.

In some you're wearing glasses instead of the contact lenses that you usually use. In others, you’re sporting the piercing you wanted to get at 16 but never did. Sometimes you have tattoos, sometimes not; occasionally you’re covered in them. Dyed hair, in every color of the spectrum: pink, blue, purple. A myriad of versions of you, of every variation of the decisions you could have possibly taken in your life.

There are pictures of memories you have had and not had. They rush in and flee before you're able to grab hold of one.

Captured moments of lifetimes you have never lived.

It's overwhelming. You don't understand what you're seeing. There’s pandemonium inside your head.

Then everything slows to a crawl.

The scene unfolding before you is one that you immediately recognize. An image that you'll never forget.

Window after window after window flashing you by. You know this view. Have seen it twice before. The same view of the Chrysler building as you were falling. But it's different this time.

The sky isn’t blue, nor is it gray. It’s a pink and an abnormal purple, a color you’ve never seen on it before and it looks both beautiful and completely wrong. There’s an angry tear in the sky, cracking at the edges with static. The whole of the sky looks like it is going to cleave in two and bring the whole world with it. Is this the future? Is it the past?

There's no pain, but somehow tears run down your cheeks uncontrollably.

In the distance you hear Miguel's voice, muted even though you know from that tone that he's furious and must be bellowing loud enough that it echoes through the walls. It sounds like you are underwater, and you have to strain to make out what he is saying.

"Why is she crying?" He's definitely shouting, voice raw and growling. Is this part of your memory or is it happening in the now? "You're hurting her."

The ground approaches.

"Stop! Stop!" Miguel's voice is shouting, but there's no way to stop this. Everything is going too fast this time around.

Miguel is here, tearing through the sky towards you. But you know it's too late. He's too far away. He can't save you this time.

Then everything does stop.

No images in your head. No noise in your ears.

Everything goes black, like the ending of a movie.

Then you hear a thud.

It's loud and close and real.

You snap yourself out of your fugue state, to see Miguel towering over Wong's body where the Sorcerer Supreme lies, limp and lifeless on the ground.

“What did you do!? Are you out of your mind?" you shout, running up to them.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Wong isn’t moving, not even blinking!

"He was hurting you!" Miguel roars.

"He wasn't hurting me, you big doofus!" you shout back, and it’s only then that the fury in Miguel’s eyes seem to abate.

"What's wrong with him?” you ask, bending down Wong’s limp body on the ground. “Is he dead!? Did you kill him?” There's a rising panic pushing inside your throat.

"He's just paralyzed."

"He’s para– What do you mean paralyzed? What did you do to him?"

"I just... I bit him," he uses a finger to part his lips slightly, pushing the upper one up just enough to reveal the sharp edges of his fangs. "There's toxins in them that can have a paralyzing effect."

You glance back at Wong. He’s still worryingly still.

“Is there some kind of way to un-paralyze him!?"

"It was just a small bite," Miguel says, ducking his head down sheepishly to stare at the floor, like a scolded boy. "I didn’t use that much venom... It’ll wear off. He shouldn't be out long. Maybe half an hour or so."

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” you tell Wong fervently, hovering over him. You can see his eyes tracking yours and the rise and fall of his chest, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the proof that he’s still alive. “Do you, um… Do you want me to help you up?”

“He’s not gonna want to move for a few more minutes,” Miguel interjects from behind you. “Moving will be incredibly painful until the venom wears off the rest of the way”.

What the actual fuck!?

You throw a glare at Miguel, as you loop an arm under Wong’s waist, “Well help me move him so he can be more comfortable.”

At your command, Miguel helps you prop the man up against the wall in what is (hopefully) a more comfortable position, and then you sit next to each other and wait.

"I can't believe you bit the Sorcerer Supreme," you mutter under your breath. “Miguel, you can’t just–” you cut yourself off, too frustrated to find the proper words.

"I'm sorry,” he says, grimacing at your scolding, looking regretful for once as he ducks down his gaze. “You looked like you were in pain".

Your anger subsides, if only slightly at his repentance.

“It still doesn’t make it okay. You can’t just attack someone like that! He was trying to help us.”

He doesn’t say anything more to that, just stares down at his feet in contrition.

The two of you sit in the silence.

Your mind goes back to the surreal experience you just had. The myriad of thousands if not millions of images that were flashing through your mind at the speed of light.

The warped shape of your world, the jarring images of it distorted and wrong, as it started to collapse.

Miguel had said that didn’t he? That the universe was going to ramp up its game and if it didn’t succeed, it would eventually self-destruct in its mission to get you.

It takes 26 minutes. The first sign that the toxins are wearing off is that Wong is able to wiggle his toes. His recovery accelerates after that, he's able to move his fingers, then the muscles in his face until he's able to form a grimace. He doesn't look happy, and you don't blame him.

After another five minutes or so, he's able to speak again.

"Strange way of expressing gratitude, literally biting the hand that helps you."

You get up on your feet to help Wong, and Miguel moves next to you.

“No, you stay there! Don’t move,” you order, and even though he scowls, Miguel complies.

You hunch over next to Wong, and help him sit fully upright. He stays seated, but dusts his robe off from the caked soot and fine layers of dirt.

“This has happened in other dimensions,” Wong tells you. “And if we don’t stop it, our universe will be destroyed.”

“How do we stop it?” you ask.

“The universe wants you dead. It won’t stop until it achieves its goal.”

Your stomach drops.

“So in order for this to stop… I need to die?”

There’s a look of barely contained fury burning in Miguel’s red eyes that seems to vibrate out of his skin and pounce. But he doesn't, this time he remains in place, visibly restraining himself, still following your orders.

“There is that option, or you will need to find the reason for why it wants to kill you. And you need to find it soon, because you don’t have a lot of time left. You will have even less time once the people of this world realize the threat you present to the continued integrity of this universe.”

“Are you threatening her!?” Miguel demands, and somehow even though you didn’t hear him move, he’s right behind you, red eyes glowing, shoulders rising, looming over Wong, ready to cut him down at any further hints that the man might be a threat to your safety.

Wong doesn't seem deterred in the slightest.

You have to give it to the Sorcerer Supreme. He's a brave one. It took you weeks before you stopped being intimidated by the man, and Miguel’s never bitten you.

“I am only telling you what the universe tells me. And it tells me that you do not belong here at all. The universe thinks neither of you belong here.”

You think back on fortune teller's drawing of the poorly drawn circle and stickfigure of you that’s speared with arrows.

"What if we went… somewhere else?" Miguel asks.

For the first time since he entered this house, his tone is no longer dripping with anger. “What if we left this universe and dimension?”

The image of white blankness enters your mind at his words. You shudder at the reminder. The cold numbness of the void and the sensation of nothingness. Dread fills your veins. A cold clammy sweat flashes hot and cold against your skin at the memory.

Wong tilts his head up in deep consideration. “That might work. This universe would slowly return to equilibrium with her gone. But… This will just start again in any new Universe. Most likely she wouldn’t be able to stay. She might have to leave every dimension she's in for the rest of her natural lifespan. A life spent always on the run.”

Wong pauses as he glances over to you with sympathy and concern in his gaze. “Is that something you would want?”

What is the alternative here? To lie down and die?

“Yes.”

“One month’s time, you need to find a way to leave this dimension before then.”

Back at your hotel that evening, you wake up to the sound of distress. Muffled whimpers and quiet moans.

By habit, your eyes roam the room, seeking out Miguel in the dark. He’s lying on the sofa from across the room and even in this distance you can make out that his body is writhing beneath the covers. But you’re groggy and too sleep-drunk to make sense of what you’re hearing or seeing.

There’s murmured noises from him, and it takes you far too long to understand what’s going on.

He’s having a nightmare.

Tugging off the blanket on top of you, you get up and scoot over to the end of the bed over to him. Miguel looks like he’s in pain. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he tosses and turns, face pinched in pain and distress. Now that you’re closer, you can make out words in the sounds he’s making.

“Quiero quedarme contigo. No te vayas, no te vayas,” he keeps murmuring.

He looks exhausted. Which, of course he is. He's been on constant alert trying to protect you. Fighting off supernatural weather phenomena, blocking hazardous furniture and fighting off charging hippos out of nowhere. Of course he's worn out.

“Shhhh, It’s alright.” you whisper to him, reaching out to gently stroke his arm, attempting to soothe him. “It’s okay.”

He groans unhappily in his sleep, burying his head into the cushion.

“Quiero quedarme conti–”

"Hey, hey, Miguel,” you tap insistently at his shoulder now. If you can’t soothe the nightmare away, then maybe you can at least wake him up out of it, “It's okay. Wake up."

This time his eyes slam open, wide with adrenaline and shock, and he shoots upright, head whipping from side to side as he scans the room. Every inch of him prepared to leap into a fight.

“What’s wrong? What’s–”

“You were having a nightmare,” you explain to him.

He stiffens at that, dropping his eyes to stare down at his lap unhappily.

“Shit, did I wake you?” he runs a hand over his face, then lays back down, “Sorry.”

Silence blankets the two of you, and you don’t know what else to say to him. Except just that you want him to be able to rest–truly rest–after the day, week and month you’ve both had. You don’t want him to have to go back to snatching moments of troubled, uncomfortable sleep on that stupid, too-small couch.

“You could come sleep on the bed with me,” you offer, “That couch is nowhere near big enough for you.”

"It's fine," he mutters, "It's been fine the last month, and it's fine now."

"It's not though. You're clearly not sleeping well. I should have asked you before. I'm surprised your back isn't already killing you—that sleeping position looked painful."

His head darts down, eyeing his own spread legs that are sticking out into the empty air from the bottom of the couch. But he doesn't concede the point.

"Please?" you try again, "It will make me feel better."

Apparently all you needed to do was ask, because Miguel immediately complies like your request was a decree. He gets up, pulling the quilt with him, his mop of curls in adorable disarray as he drags his feet over to the other side of the bed and flops down with a loud thump that makes the whole mattress bounce underneath you.

You can feel the pull of the sheets where his legs threaten to brush up against your bent knees, and you're beginning to realize you didn't think this through. Even in the big bed, there's only so much space, and he seems to be taking up most of it.

He's close, and you can't seem to peel your eyes away from the strong line of his throat. Can't help the way your body reacts. Your pulse starts to race, heart kicking up hard and fast against your ribs.

Miguel turns around to observe you with narrowed eyes. “You okay?”

Shit! Did he hear you? That timing was too on the nose. You nod at him a little bit too frantically and you sound high-pitched and skittish even to your own ears.

“Yes of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

Fuck. He could hear you. Of course he can, he has super hearing powers doesn’t he?

“I’m just tired,” you stammer out, wrapping the blanket close to your chest for layers as a shield from his super hearing.

Miguel doesn’t push it. He turns back around, letting his head drop down the pillow.

The distance between you has been growing smaller and smaller with each passing day together and you think you have been crossing an invisible line that you shouldn’t be crossing as of late.

You think of the closeness of him in the office, the weight of his arms on your waist as he held you in his lap. His eyes on you. The bare skin of his broad back casually revealed to you when he was changing. The same back that you find yourself staring up at in this moment.

“Go to sleep,” Miguel rasps from your side, and you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise.

You close your eyes, but somehow in the dark you become even more keenly aware of his presence in the bed with you. Your heart seems to skip a little bit faster as the seconds pass, each beat a little bit harder.

There's a quiet sigh, then a much louder exhale, as he turns back towards you in bed.

"What's wrong?" His voice is still gruff with sleep.

"I can’t fall asleep,” you say, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. “Can you talk? It might help me sleep."

He snorts with a laugh. The sound of it makes something pleasant skitter up the length of your spine. He's got a nice laugh. It's a shame he doesn't laugh often.

"What's so funny?"

"No, nothing. Just... some things never change." Even in the dim of the unlit room, you can see the smile on his lips.

"What do you want me to talk to you about?" he asks.

You tilt your head, considering it. Miguel rarely gives you a carte blanche to ask him for information. Logically, you should use this moment to seize a tactical advantage and ask him for all the salacious details that you know he’s been keeping from you. But as you wrack your brain for questions, the only ones that come to mind are disappointingly ordinary. You just want to know more about him. Small, silly, personal details, the way he seems to know everything about you.

"Tell me about where you're from," you request, "Your dimension. Your hometown."

He shifts on the bed, lying flat on his back until he’s staring up at the ceiling with you as he reminisces.

"It's called Nueva York. It's significantly more technologically advanced than this dimension. Definitely cleaner. People aren't as big of assholes as they are here. Public hygiene is way better, everything doesn’t reek of piss. Oh, and there’s not a rat epidemic in the public transportation system there."

His head turns to his side to look at your face, and he gives you a small mischievous grin as he continues. "Food is healthier. You don't get junk food there."

The words should be complimentary, but from his tone of voice and what you know of his eating habits, you think it’s probably a win for your dirty, rat-infested dimension.

"Lots of skyscrapers and neon-lights everywhere. It's colorful."

He pauses, as if he's struggling to find anything more to say about the place. Then his head tips to the side, meeting your eyes, and his gaze is soft.

“I'll take you there," he promises, voice quiet and warm and it makes something sweet and honeyed trickle inside your veins pleasantly.

“How?” you wonder.

His smile drops, replaced by an unhappy frown. “Not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t we just open up a portal like last time?”

He shakes his head.

"The last time I took you through the portal, it was meant to take us back to my dimension. But I built the parallel universe traversal device to transport me—and only me—through the multiverse."

He reaches out to you, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. The contact makes your skin tingle, but you don’t pull away.

"I wasn't thinking last time. We can’t take the risk of winding up back in the void.”

He’s mumbling now, nearly asleep. His eyes half-shut as he blinks slowly, struggling to keep them open as he slowly blinks.

"Someone that disappears in the void, they'll be erased from existence and out of every timeline. No one will ever remember you or know you existed. It's as if you've never existed at all."

You eye the watch on your wrist. The slight sheen of the bed light reflecting against the shiny glass.

"Can we modify the watch?"

"Firstly, not a watch", he reminds you by rote as he fluffs up his pillow with his arm.

"And second..." he pauses, eyes drifting up to study the ceiling before he shakes his head, "I've tried. It doesn’t work. The power source isn’t powerful and your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed. It’s how we ended up in the void.”

Worry burrows into your chest, and your gaze drops down from his face. It always feels like you’re taking one step forward and ending up two steps back. Futile and hopeless but that’s what you get for trying to fight against the will of the universe.

"Go to sleep," he says again, his hand coming to rest gently on top of your head, "I'll figure it out, don't worry.”

You smile, warmed by the comforting gesture and his reassurance.

“I won't let you get hurt this time."

…‘this time.’

The promise cuts through you like glass. Sharp and jagged and clawing its way into your chest until it hurts you to breathe.

Miguel is talking to you, but you don’t think it’s you he’s thinking of when he says the words.

He attacked Wong without a second of hesitation when he thought you were hurt. He's exhausting himself half to death to protect you. But you know that he’s not really doing any of this for you.

It’s not your comfort he was thinking of when he cradled your burnt hand and gently blew on your fingers. It’s not your love of egg tarts that makes him save the flaky pastries for you when the two of you go out for dinner. It’s not you—has never been you—that he’s seeing whenever his eyes linger on your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You're riding on the emotional coattails of the other you. The unwavering loyalty that he had for her has transferred to you now that she's gone.

He must have really loved her.

There’s a sharp fissure in your chest, and you try to swallow down the thistle of needles that’s found its way into your throat, only to discover that your saliva tastes sour and bitter.

Closing your eyes, you can see an image of yourself smiling with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. Except it’s not you.

It’s her.

Other-you, with the wedding band and the happy life and– And somehow better hair too, the lucky bitch!

Except… she wasn't lucky, was she? She's dead.

She’s dead, and you still resent her for what she had with Miguel. It's such an ugly feeling.

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, but the image doesn’t go away. Nor does that acrid taste in your mouth. You can't help it. This irrational and childish madness is eating into the edges of your mind. You're envious of your other self.

God that’s fucked up.

Does someone like you even deserve to be saved at all?

~ Next Issue

Credits & Dedications: To @thirstworldproblemss for all the rubberducking we do together on this silly little story. Thank you so much for sitting with me and making this fun! I love you 234238472938492374923 x infinity and back again.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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nomazee · 6 days

Note

Um hello! Is the 1k event thingy still up?? If so I would like to request a classmate! Dr ratio x reader at 2:47 am?

it's actually sickening how much fun i had with this i was giggling at my own jokes while typing this out... this was so fun to write THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

A blaring, aggravating, shrill sound wakes you up. Your hands go to cover your ears, protecting your sanity from the noise ringing somewhere from the tangle of sheets on your bed. Hands flailing around desperately to find the source of the piercing chimes, you writhe around in agony until you finally latch onto your phone.

The brightness of the screen digs into your corneas as you lift up the device to see the caller ID of whoever had the guts to bother you on a school night.

It comes to no surprise that the caller name reads “VERITAS FUCKING RATIO” in all caps with no contact photo. Your eye twitches and the grip on your phone tightens, just a hair away from leaving finger-shaped dents in the metal.

Begrudgingly, you answer the call, tucking the phone next to your ear with nothing less than displeasure. “Veritas. Why are you calling me at—” you pull your phone back to check, “—almost three in the morning?”

“The works cited page,” Veritas Fucking Ratio informs you matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of sleepiness in his voice, nothing that could possibly chip away at his good image, of course. “You did it in the wrong format. It’s supposed to be APA. This is a science project, not a literature project.”

You might kill him. The project in question is to be presented tomorrow— today at ten in the morning. Ratio and you had been working on it for an entire two weeks, broken up into intermittent hour-long sessions because he was adamant that you split up the work instead of rushing to do it all the night before. Stupid self-righteous gorgeous beautiful academic genius-freak. Yeah, it definitely helped you in the long run, but he acted so sanctimonious about it that you refused to admit the benefits.

“Veritas,” you imbue the syllables of his name with poison, as much as you can when you’re swaying as you sit up on your bed and fighting demons to not fall back asleep. “This is such an easily-fixed thing. Do you know what time it is right now? Why are you even awake? You know, I am supposed to get a full seven hours of sleep every night, and I was already cutting it short today, and you woke me up before I could even hit REM sleep. Do you know how upsetting this is? Fix the goddamn works cited yourself!”

For once, Veritas is at a loss for words. The other end of the line is so quiet that you have to double check and make sure he hasn’t just hung up on you. Perspiration builds on your palms, thinking that this is it—this is the exact moment that you make Veritas-Fucking-Ratio snap and delete your name off the project credit slide, and you’re going to get a 0 because he will wipe off any evidence of your work from this plane of existence, and you will spend the rest of your measly life chasing after your MLA-turned-APA works cited page, too-little-too-late.

“I’m awake because the— well.” He pauses, and his voice sounds so far away and unobtrusive that you’re almost worried. Your breath stills in the middle of your diaphragm. Waiting. “The works cited is one thing. But I wanted you to look at the slides, if you can.”

If you can, he says, as if he’s giving you a choice, which he literally never has during this entire process. You had no role in choosing the topic, or the slide theme, or what days you worked on the project, or how often you worked on the project (because god forbid you procrastinate a little bit, right?!), but now, at almost three in the morning, Veritas is saying something along the lines of oh please my dearest project partner, I request that you open the Google Slides at once, but only if you would like to! I would never infringe on your free will at three in the morning, because I respect you as a partner. Or something like that. That was pretty much the gist of it.

A raspy sigh escapes you, and you claw your busted laptop off the nightstand next to you, opening it up and squinting at the LED screen as you punch in your passcode. “You know, I have done a good job at going along with all of your whims, Veritas, the least you could do is fix the works cited for me. Seriously, how did you even miss that? You’re so detail-oriented, but you didn't even realize the format was wrong until tonight? Who even cares, seriously… it’s just a slideshow…”

Your voice trails off as the slideshow presentation finally loads in. You see Veritas’ default profile picture blink in the upper right-hand corner, signaling that he’s viewing the slideshow with you. The slideshow which has apparently undergone a huge makeover.

It’s—pleasant to look at. This entire time, you and Veritas had been editing a default, white-background black-serif-font-text slideshow. He refused to change it, telling you that it’s unprofessional to do anything too embellished, to which you fruitlessly said, Veritas, we will die early deaths because of the hole in the ozone layer, would you at least make it easier on my poor soul by letting me choose a pokemon-theme slide? Veritas had pretended like he couldn't hear you (in a very quiet library room, mind you), but the twitch in his brow gave him away.

Now, though, the slides are decorated. It’s a really nice theme, complete with custom icons and graphic blobs of color—your favorite color, might you add. It’s—pretty. Dare you say, cute, but you think Veritas would vaporize your entire presentation if you called it cute.

“Did you— this— did you pay for this slide theme?”

“You— n— mn,” he trails off into an unintelligible mash of mumbling, and you hear a loud THUD that sounds awfully like the phone being thrown onto a mattress. Fabric shuffles around, before you hear Veritas’ voice again, clear and composed. “Sorry. I dropped my phone.” What a loser, and a liar, and an endearing freak. You really wish he video called you because you need to see his totally-very-ugly face.

“I thought this was unprofessional, Veritas,” you say teasingly, a smile lining your words as you try not to giggle right into the phone. “What made you have a change of heart?”

“Nothing,” the typical firmness of his voice has returned, much to your dismay. “The works cited is still wrong. You have to fix it.”

“Oh, whatever you say, honored Ratio,” you open up your trusty citation-generator, ready for a long fifteen minutes of copying and pasting information. “Hey, you must be free after class tomorrow, right? Since the project is pretty much over, right?”

“Yes,” Veritas answers after a moment of hesitation, only a hint of doubt in his voice.

“That’s great. Keep your schedule clear, then.”

(You fix the works cited slide, wish Veritas sweet dreams, and then wake up in the morning to completely ace your presentation. The minute the period ends, you drag him out of the classroom and into a coffee shop, paying for some five dollar pastry and joking that it’s payback for the cute slideshow theme that he definitely paid five dollars for. Veritas is an awful liar, and you tell him that, and he can’t even find the strength to deny it.)

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

#nora hits 1k #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dr. ratio x reader #honkai x reader #ratio x reader #i love this man he's like a wet piece of bark #like a rained-on plank of wood #this drabble is longer than my dan heng one im sick... dr ratio will not overtake my favorites leaderboard.

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andhumanslovedstories · 3 months

Text

I was in the ICU last night taking care of medsurg overflow patients—that’s when you aren’t sick enough to be in the ICU anymore but we don’t have a bed anywhere else for you yet. I don’t like floating to the ICU. It’s such a coin flip as to whether you’re gonna have a hard night or an easy one. You almost never get a full load of four patients, and that’s so nice, but the one or two or three patients you do have are all sick enough to have needed intensive care six hours ago. They’re usually still not doing amazingly. But they’re floor status now, so it’s medsurg patient ratios. But if you were a medsurg floor, the charge would probably be like “let’s not give three patients of this high an acuity to one nurse.”

Also some of them are NOT floor status. They’re just “slightly less likely to die in the next 12 hours status.” What we really need is a step down unit which is somewhere between the extreme high acuity of the ICU and the catchall category of medsurg. Instead we have a couple units that are “essentially step down units,” which means they are just medsurg units but you know your night is probably gonna be so hard.

Besides the patients, the ICU is just so spread out and lonely. Most critical care patients have a 1:1 ratio—one patient to one nurse. That’s on account of how intensive the care is, you see. But it also means whenever you’re like “I would love some help,” everyone else on the floor is like “if I step more than six feet away from my patient, he will die so badly.” It makes it really hard to casually engage in conversation, especially since I’m not qualified to do like anything in the ICU rooms, so I would clearly be going over there to expressly talk to them. And I don’t want to have a conversation! I just want to establish some rapport. I love bounding ideas off other staff! I love being about to shoot the shit a lil bit and then be like “well I have rounds” when one of us has to wander off. No one here has rounds. They are already Right There.

Anyway then the shift ends, and it’s time to pass off your patients. If you’re lucky it’s to another medsurg nurse who also looks a kid realizing too late into the lecture that this is not their class. But sometimes you give report to an ICU nurse who asks questions that are so pertinent and are so fair to ask, but they’re also like. the kind of questions you ask when you expect the person you’re getting report from is another critical care nurse who only has one patient. At a certain point, I just wanna be like “what do you want from me, dude. i’m stupid. every lab you’re asking about is in the chart and you understand them better than I do. can I go home”

That also means when they give you a real softball like “and how many IVs does he have” and you’re like “uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh let’s go count them together shall we” you feel like the biggest dipshit in the world. And then they ask you three more questions each easier than the last as you have traumatic flashbacks to nursing school, specifically the parts where you failed a quiz and also misspelled your name. It just ends the shift on a bad note. Not even a bad note. Real burp of a shift change.

I’m feeling particularly salty because I overheard a couple critical care nurses last night joking about how medsurg nurses are so nervous about the medical boarders and basically saying that we’re always freaking out over nothing while being completely oblivious to the actual symptoms that matter. And as a nurse who once called rapid response because my patient’s heart beat weird for about twelve seconds, I was like “hey. you’re correct. but also must be nice to have just one patient and all shift to read every single thing about them and to sit outside their door next to your fully stocked equipment cart, and to be able to watch them all shift.” And it’s like yeah, critical care nurses can take all the blood out of a person and then put it all back better than before. But I know to turn off lights when I leave a patient room at three in the morning, and apparently in the ICU that’s an even more illusion trick.

But anyway it’s twelve hours later and I’m on the other side of a good good sleep, so I’m less cranky, and back to being appreciative of the specific skills critical care nurses being that are so essential, and also I was like, how pressed can I really be about one group of nurses joking about another group of nurses. that’s like 25 percent of my blog at this point.

#nursing tag

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hysteria-things · 16 days

Text

BIRTHDAY BOY

also based off of this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!nate x stripper!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: for his 21st, nate goes to the strip club with his two best friends.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, drinking, semi-public, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, gagging, p in v, handsome/good boy kink, unprotected sex, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,370

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day THREE of nate week!

let’s pretend that today is yesterday🤫

shoutout to @stellarsturns for the idea <3

boston’s local strip club was the last place nate wanted to go to for his 21st, but chris and matt insisted on bringing him. for understandable reasons, nick decided to stay home and wait for them to get back to have some birthday cake.

this isn’t his scene at all, and to be honest, he’s freaked out. not because of the half-naked girls dancing on poles, but because this isn’t… him.

he wanted to stay at the triplet’s house to celebrate, but according to chris and matt; that was boring.

poor nate got left all alone, watching with wide eyes as the dancer did their thing on the stage in front of him. the other two left and said ‘we’re coming back with a surprise!’ whatever that means.

“nate, dude!” chris slurs loudly over the music, his two friends stumbling back to the table they’re sitting at. “look who we got for you.”

“this is— uh…” matt trails off.

you wave. “cherry.”

“damn straight.” matt says, sipping on his beer. “happy birthday, man. we paid her ahead of time.”

holding your hand out, nate’s silent as he grabs on with his shaky and sweaty one. you can feel that he’s squeezing tight, but he doesn’t notice. you don’t mind, though, and instead start walking to one of the many private rooms. “don’t have too much fun!” chris laughs, cheering until his voice fades.

nate didn’t realize how much his head was pounding until he got into the room, the vibration hurting like crazy. the music is muffled, voices from others outside the door. “sit.” you demand softly, and he does.

he takes a good look at your very revealing two-piece, cash that he assumes is the money chris and matt gave you sits under the strap of your bra. avoiding eye contact, he glances around the room. he’s so intimidated by you, especially when he was standing. you’re much taller than him in those tall heels.

“you’re intimidated.” you point out as if you’re reading his mind.

ain’t that the truth.

taking your acrylic thumb, you graze it over his bottom lip. without thinking, he opens his mouth the tiniest bit. he’s looking at you now, mesmerized by your beauty. “your friends told me it’s your birthday.” you say innocently. “how old are you turning, handsome?”

he clears his throat, stammering syllables before he gets the words out. “t-twenty-one.”

nodding, you hum before straddling his lap, your clothed pussy rubbing on the bulge in his pants. he wants to touch you, but he doesn’t know if he can. your hands run from the sides of his head down to his chest, grinding slowly.

he grunts, rutting his hips subconsciously. “s-sorry.” he stutters, but then does it again. his cheeks are red like a tomato. “i-i’m sorry.”

sighing, you start to leave open-mouthed soft kisses down his neck. he groans, the aching boner rubbing your clit the right way. rutting his hips once more, he whines. “i’m so—”

“it’s highly against the rules to fuck customers.” you say between kisses. “but because you’re the birthday boy… i’ll make you an exception.”

you hover on the ground, licking and biting your lips as you stare into his pleading eyes while you unbuckle his pants.

there’s already a wet spot forming through his calvin klein’s. he’s just about cumming in his underwear already. “aw, pretty boy. you’re already making a mess in your boxers.” you tease innocently.

when you start to kiss his hard-on, he jolts from the sensitivity. his hands rush to the hem, pulling down the remains of his bottoms in a whine.

so needy.

his dick is red, the hardness of it looking painful the more you stare at it. you lick the pre-cum from his slit, pumping your hand and swallowing the amount you can fit in your mouth.

lolling his head back, his mouth hangs open from the warmth. god blessed you with no gag reflex, so this is going to be a piece of cake. his eyes roll back each time you bob down.

your throat morphs into the shape of him, gulping as your saliva moistens his base. you notice his nails claw at his thigh. he wants to grip your hair, but he also doesn’t want to hurt you.

to tease him, you moan to send some vibration throughout his body. he thrusts up into your mouth from the suddenness, but you keep going.

the softness of his hips moving upward has him moaning like a mess. “oh, fuck. oh, fuck.”

his dick twitches, pelvis shuttering before shooting his load down your throat. that doesn’t stop you, though. “w-wait.” he whines, trying to push your head away. you don’t budge.

in fact, you move back to his tip, kitty-licking the rest of his cum off of it before spitting. his breath hitches, legs quivering from the feeling. your plump lips move to the side of his dick, sloppily licking the remains of his orgasm that dripped down.

angling yourself differently, you take him to the point where all of him now fits in your mouth.

“wait!” he cries again, eyes becoming watery. “it’s t-too sensitive.”

even though he’s complaining, he takes each side of your head and guides you nice and deep on his cock; nose touching his pubic bone. “it hurts.” he whimpers, forcing your head to go faster.

nate feels so pathetic because of how fast his second orgasm approaches. he’s squirming and twitching like crazy.

“i’m going to cum again.” he pants, hooded eyes looking into your doe-like ones.

a few gulps later, you stay put on his dick while his spurts of cum land on your tastebuds. it’s still coming out of his slit when you take your mouth off with a pop noise.

you get up from the floor, his eyes staring at what your hands are doing as he catches his breath. you reach for the front clip on your bra, take it off, and let it fall to the floor.

then, you remove your panties, bunching them into a ball. his mouth dangles open in complete awe with your body.

you take your time to walk over and lean over him, smirking when all he seems to look at is your breasts. “you’ve been too noisy.” you state. “i think somebody needs to be gagged.”

before he can answer, you shove your panties into his mouth. you start to sit on his dick, nate’s panting getting more intense the further down you go.

you moan lowly, lifting yourself to the tip and plopping back down. he sniffles, you continuing those actions. you run your hands through his hair, looking at his face of pleasure each time you bounce.

the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs is covering up his muffled whimpers and moans. tears stream down his cheeks, a choked sob flowing through the panties blocking his lips.

“you’re so handsome.” you coo, the eye contact turning you on even more as you wipe the tears. his blue orbs are dark, the lids fluttering closed at how your bare pussy feels.

you can’t help but moan as well from the squelching noise that portrays. the tips of your fingers run through his hair, peppering kisses on his jawline. “you want to be a good boy for me?” you ask.

he nods frantically. “uh huh.”

“be a good boy and cum for me, yeah?” you say, moving faster, causing you to squeal when your g-spot gets hit. your dominance is starting to slip. “you-you have too much of a handsome face.”

his eyes widen when he figures out what you mean by that, but he doesn’t care. he grabs your hips and starts to thrust into you, the both of you whining as you reach your highs. “that’s right, handsome. c-cum in me.”

“mhm.” he moans, following your instructions.

you keep going until you collapse on top of him, removing your underwear from his mouth. grabbing the money his friends gave you, you hold it up and get off of his lap. he’s trying to catch his breath when you put your foot next to his leg to hunch over.

“free of charge.” you smile. “happy birthday.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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neopuppy · 2 years

Text

Saturday Drip (M)

Preview: “Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.

“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”

Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”

“To film content.”

Pairing: alpha NCT Dream 00line x female omega reader

Word Count: 15k+

Genre: a/b/o AU, broke college boys, pure and utter filth, cnc(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.), pwp, dom alphas, one shot(do not ask for a pt2😾)

Smut Warning: rough sex, breeding, knotting, rough oral(m/f), double penetration(both), choking, spit, squirting, praise/degradation, big mean alphas, camera use, manhandling, mind break, wet & messy etc

Playlist: Saturday Drip/NCT Dream, Big Ole Freak/Megan The Stallion, Super Freaky Girl/Nicki Minaj, Hi, I’m A Slut/Lil Mariko, Cyber Sex/Doja Cat, Sexxx Dreams/Lady Gaga

It’s hot, it’s way too hot. Sweats already begun to pool under Jeno’s back, limbs gone heavy stuck to his bed. It’s useless trying to get off when all he can focus on is the lack of cool air blowing out of the vent. Everything feels dry and musty around him making it impossible to even breathe peacefully.

The AC unit just had to break last night, again. Only an hour after he’d just rushed home from his shift at the gym. Opting to skip showering in the locker rooms after clocking out when his phone pinged with a new notification.

‘Riding an inflatable sybian, how long can I last?’

“Fuck.” Jeno mumbles to himself, quickly grabbing his belongings. He’d just rinse off real fast once he gets home. It’s gonna be a long night anyway. Not in the way he’d imagined with his palm wrapped around his cock, edging himself for hours on end in front of a computer screen.

It’s not as if he has a paper due on Monday, prioritizing his favorite Omega fucking a sex machine over his grades without question or worry. He paid for a monthly subscription for good reason. It’s not like it’s his goal in life was to be a nutritionist anyway. Most of his time in class was spent on daydreaming of how he could just fuck his way to success and fortune instead.

Not that this had anything to do with the amount of porn acquiring his desktop, or the hours he wasted away watching obscene videos. If only his essay was about how to properly eat ass.

“Hey.” Jaemin greets him upon entering. Standing in front of the open freezer door with sweat trickling down his bobbing throat.

“Dude what the fuck? It’s disgusting in here.” Jeno can’t stand the heat. Having to psyche himself out to believe he didn’t just stand too close to multiple bodies in a hot subway cart. Ignoring hot breath reaching his neck as he stood taller than those around him making his journey home all the more uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” closing the freezer door, Jaemin lays his torso on the kitchen counter sluggishly. “Pretty sure the air conditioning broke, again. I called up Mark to let him know. He said no one can come fix it until Monday.”

“Last time he said that, no one came for three weeks!” Jeno exclaims, ripping open the fridge for a frozen water bottle to rub on his sweltering skin. “Jaem, I can’t live like this! It’s over 100 degrees outside.”

“I know, trust me. I’ll keep badgering him, alright?” Jaemin sighs. Already drained of energy he needs to get through the rest of the evening.

“I have to get going, you can use my fan for now.” Jaemin offers, using paper towels to dab away sweat before heading out. Knowing he’ll be dripping in it with a heavy bag of camera equipment on his back.

“Where are you going?” Jeno’s already removing his clothes. Jamein mumbling for him to not plaster his wet naked ass to their couch.

“I got a gig finally, I should be back late.” Hauling on his equipment he waves a ‘later’ before stepping out. Head tilting up curiously as he hears shouting.

“Answer me you fucking piece of shit!!”

“Dude what happened to you? Why are you drenched?” Jaemin pauses mid-walk. Adjusting the camera gear weighing on his shoulders as he spots Renjun on the phone outside of his apartment.

“A pipe busted above my room! There’s a huge leak in my closet!” Renjun’s frantic, arm waving around behind him as he explains. “And our fucking AC isn’t working! Again!”

“Oh my God, I’d tell you to crash at mine but ours isn’t working either!” Jaemin sighs, shaking his head. “We need to move out of this shit hole.”

“Tell me about it!” Renjun groans, slamming a thumb down on his phone to hang up. “Haechan’s gonna be so pissed off when he gets home. He’s been working overtime today cause we’re short on rent again.”

“We pay way too much to live in this crap, just because it’s a mile away from SNU.” Jaemin says with a roll of his eyes. “So much for college being the best years of our lives.”

“That’s high school,” Renjun corrects, waving him off. “I have to check on the leak. Catch you later man.”

Nodding to his friend Jaemin continues toward the exit. Passing the broken elevator that Mark claimed would get fixed 5 months ago, never once spotting a maintenance person in sight.

Out of desperation he ended up searching for freelance photographer jobs. Weddings required too much experience, editorials asking for examples of work and complete portfolios.

It felt hopeless until he landed on an ad seeking someone with less experience. Specifically stating they wouldn’t mind an intern level type who is still in the process of learning. Wishing for more ‘gritty’ and ‘real’ photography that can pass off as homemade.

‘Must be comfortable with full nudity and sex acts. You will be shooting and filming content for my xxx website. 21+ with ID proof and examples of your work. Contact me directly via email to set up a time.’

Jaemin decided to neglect mentioning that part to his roommate. It was either this or he’d be short on rent like his next door neighbors’ current struggle. Knowing Jeno he’d hear ‘pornographic content’ and ask to tag along as his assistant for the day. Casually joking about how he could fuck better than the Alphas in video links shared through their group chats.

‘I guess if I’m ever desperate enough for money I’d do it. My dicks big enough.’

Jaemin always thought his friend was too brash for saying such ridiculous things nonchalantly.

He could never have anticipated reaching that level of desperation himself mere hours later.

He’s not sure what to think as he stands in your bedroom. Struggling to process a thought while you continue explaining your field of work, tossing different sets of colorful lingerie onto a king-size bed decorated like something straight out of a home decor magazine.

“We don’t have to take the photos in my room, I’m open to whatever you’re thinking.”

“Oh, yeah yeah..” he nods, taking in the lacey sheer frilly garments splayed out before him. Glancing between the heavy sweats and hoodie you have pulled on covering any bit of scandalous flesh.

Of course you’re covered up, with cool icy air filling the room, silently blasting from a vent above. The sweat pouring off his skin immediately evaporated after being welcomed inside. “What type of theme did you want to stick with?”

“Hmm,” swinging a stringy pair of panties around your index finger, your head tilts thoughtfully. “Summer? I guess baby oil, suns out buns out type of vibe.”

Jaemin clears his throat, twisting his eyebrows up asking if he can take a look through your drawers. “Do you have ice cream by chance?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Flavor?”

“Strawberry popsicles, I think I have some Vanilla Bean too. Are you hungry?”

Turning back to face you, he holds up a two piece micro white bikini. “I have an idea, I’m thinking out on the balcony would be best.”

Jaemin’s very professional considering the lack of experience on his resume. He asks permission before touching anything, double checks that you’re comfortable with any of his suggestions. For an Alpha, he’s kept cool and collected, even as you start to disrobe. The bathing suit he handpicked doing little to nothing to subside less than pure thoughts from unraveling. He gulps, forcing himself to focus on pretending to set the camera up.

Suddenly he was beginning to understand why Jeno’s been dropping absurd amounts of money to jerk off to your content.

“Is this okay?”

His eyes drag up slowly, from your manicured white painted toenails, up the expanse of glistening oiled up skin leading to your pressed together thighs where a miniature triangle shape conceals nothing in-between.

“Uhh..” he salivates, lapping at the roof of his mouth like a thirsty dog.

“Jaemin?” Your tone changes from one of concern to amusement, continuing to spritz your hair with water for a wet summer look.

“You look great.” He nods rapidly, quickly averting his attention to your chest jiggling beneath two tied together triangles with each movement you make. “Sorry, was just a little surprised.”

“You must be mated?”

Jaemin blinks, taken aback by your forwardness, shaking his head before words can exit his dry tongue. “Not at all, why would you think that?”

“Oh, you’re well-mannered, for an Alpha.” You note, shrugging and gesturing to the deck area. “How should I pose?”

“Let’s get some close-up shots first.” Jaemin directs you to catch sunlight draping streams of golden rays across your face. Half shadowed and lit up by the natural light. Instructing you to slowly unwrap one popsicle and take your time to suck on it.

“I think you’ll really like these.” The click click of his camera continues, zooming in to capture your lips pouting around sugary red liquid dripping down under the heat of your mouth paired with hot weather. “Let it spill.”

Growing confident with his position, Jaemin motions for you to hold the popsicle above your parted lips, allowing the treat to pour down your throat. The majority of it missing, staining white lycra fabric stretched over your breasts.

“You’re getting hot right?” He switches to record, nodding to the lounge chair for you to sit on. “Cooling off with a popsicle?”

“Mhmm”

Jaemin stays silent, capturing the wet droplets of red passing down your abdomen to land between your thighs. He lets you pose lewdly, tracing the popsicle down to melt against your bikini bottoms, lighting up hot where your cores melted the fabric to you like a second skin.

“I’m so hot, Alpha.” Hazy eyes and a tempting tone mesmerize the man behind the camera, sinking down to squat and zoom in on slick gushing out onto your spread inner thighs. “Need you to cool me off.”

You rub the popsicle up and down, pushing against the crease that's melted into your dripping wet slit. The red dye used in the treat leaves a stain of sweetness on your bottoms. The white bleeding out into a pink the more it melts, left to wither down to nothing but a wooden stick with a phrase that reads “Today is your lucky day!” hidden under the frozen liquid that’s altered your swimsuit.

Jaemin clenches his teeth to contain a muffled curse. Twitching inside the confinement of his jeans as you arch up higher, pushing your chest up. Round mounds call to his tongue, sticky and wet from oils and sweat.

“Hmm, no I was thinking more like..” The Alpha seems more heated now, possibly from the sweltering heat burning down on your backs. Possibly from the close proximity or the obscene positions you’ve fallen into under his command. He scoops two digits into the tub of melted Vanilla ice cream, lifting them to your lips to lap at. Camera shutters sound as your tongue swirls, sucking some of the sweetness while the rest trickles out pouring down your chin to your exposed chest.

“That’s good,” he whispers, scooping more to dribble down your cheeks and breasts. Watery white cream creates a more lewd image, paired with heavy eyelids shielding your seductive gaze.

“Tell me what to do, Alpha.”

“Turn around.” He instructs, nodding in approval when you get onto all fours and crane your neck for more direction. You’re a natural, he thinks, propped with your ass up at a perfect angle. The sun hitting just right to define the dip in your back and heady gaze staring back at him.

Jaemin can’t believe it when his free hand reaches for the tub of ice cream, pouring the remnants down to land in globs on your buttcheeks. The indecency in front of him feels like a punch to his gut, having to snap photos of the cream trickling down the back of your thighs. The sight before him more pornographic and delicious than he can fully process.

He croaks for you to spread, losing his cool demeanor as your knees slide further apart, playing with the thin strings on your hips. The flossy material cuts between the meat adorning your hips and backside, squishing the shiny delicacy displayed.

“Alpha..” you breathe, falling to your side to give him a full visual of your body lines. Dips and curves shadowed like art with sun rays sliding across your skin.

Jaemin debates with himself, thoughts spiraling that you could just be acting, or you could actually be calling for him to do something. To make the first move, to touch you where you begin to part and show off glistening slick dripping down to the backs of your thighs.

“You’re doing really good.” He swallows, mercilessly throbbing inside of his boxers. “How far are you—..”

He drawls off, following the pathway your digits make between your covered folds. Chest rising and falling rapidly as more sweat sprinkles down from the back of his neck to pool at the dips on his lower back.

“Alpha.”

Jaemin thinks he’s imagining your saccharine vocals whining for him, each letter passing through his ears like dry cotton. Snapping out of it as the heel of your foot nudges his knee, trailing up to rest your toes just where his pants have begun to tent out.

“Uhhh..”

“Alpha, I’m so hot.” You tease, sucking sticky ice cream residue off your fingers. “Won’t you cool me down?”

He wonders what his breaking point will be, fingers shaking around his camera more and more with each photo snapped.

“We’re losing light.” He mutters to save his ass, biting at the back of his tongue to prevent himself from getting fired by unleashing the amount of impure thoughts racing through his mind.

“Do you need a ride home?” Sitting up, your demeanor swaps in an instance, returning to the relaxed mood you had prior to the shoot.

Jaemin’s breath lodges, head shaking as he swiftly adjusts his shirt to hang lower before his crotch before standing up. “All good, no worries.”

“I’m a mess.” You laugh, sporting an expression of disgust while swiping a towel up and down your arms. “Are you sure? I can call you a cab.”

Jaemin refuses to meet your gaze, too embarrassed with his cheeks lit aflame by heat and mortification. He waves breezily, beginning to pack up his belongings. “No worries, I don’t live too far.”

He’s lying, and dreading the long journey back home that will drain his the minimal energy he has left with this humid heat.

“Here, I’ll grab you some water bottles to take for the trip.”

He keeps calm, situating his fully hardened length beneath the hem of his jeans when you turn away. Covering that he’d begin editing tonight and send you the final products as soon as possible.

“Get home safe.” You smile, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “If any Omega catches you sporting wood on the subway, they’ll have you arrested for being such a pervert.”

Jaemin’s cheeks burn bright red with his hand stilling in the air to wave goodbye. A girlish laugh follows as you wave him goodbye and close your door to shower off the remnants of sweet ice cream sticking to your skin. The image of big round eyes full of lust paint the back of your mind, memorizing thick fingers smearing a treat on your chin.

“These turned out great.”

Jaemin’s back, pep talking himself up on the way over to your place to stay cool. Money’s on the line here.

“I really like your style.” You say, browsing through the photos Jaemin took of you yesterday. Too distracted to give you his full attention as he once again admires your absurdly large fully furnished penthouse.

“You even have a PS5..” he mumbles under his breath. Tugging tufts of thick black hair through his fingers trying to calculate just how small his shared apartment is in comparison.

“Oh yeah, a subscriber sent me that,” you wave off like it’s not big deal. Choosing the best shots to use for a new set only your top tier fans would be able to immediately view.

Jaemin can feel his heart drop down to his gut, nearly losing his footing. “You didn’t even have to pay for that?! There’s no way you can afford all of this from just doing Omega fans!”

Snickering, you wink at him, nodding to a stack of packages waiting to be delivered. “Of course not, merch is where the real money comes from.”

“Merch?? Wha—“

“Oh you know, worn underwear, bottles of slick, a mold of my pus—“

“WHAT?” Jaemin has to laugh, pushing hair completely away from his forehead as the skin wrinkles down the middle. In disbelief that Alphas could really be this desperate. As if his best friend isn’t one of the many dropping money every month just to ruin and discard another innocent tube sock.

“It’s a lucrative career, believe it or not.”

“Respectfully, like, ballpark..”

“$90-100k every month.” You inform him eagerly. “Already planned my early retirement.”

“A MONTH?” Jaemin sits back landing against one of the stools lined up by your kitchen island. Hearing those numbers made his head spin, shocked enough to wonder how Alphas could be this stupid. How his own best friend is one of them. “How much do your highest patreons get charged monthly?”

“Highest tier is $100, you catch more bears with honey.”

Jaemin’s eyes bulge, gripping onto the counter ledge, seething between his teeth. “Jeno.”

“Jeno?”

He grunts, gripping hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “My friend, he’s one of your subscribers.”

“Hmm..is he cute???” You ask, amused by the Alpha in front of you losing his professional composure.

“Uh,” Jaemin snaps, shaking his head, trying to calculate how much money his roommate has dropped on your website for the last two years. “God we could have a better A/C unit..”

Looking up at your lost stare, he shakes his head again, waving a hand and standing up. “Yeah, I guess he’s cute, for a freaking idiot.”

“Maybe you can bring him over next time.” You say, cocking a brow suggestively.

Jaemin pauses, reaching to pack up his camera bag. “Next time?”

“See,” moving closer, you take a hold of his wrist. “My fans, they have requests.. but it’s been hard to find attractive young Alphas I can trust.”

“What type of requests?” Jaemin sits back down, crossing his arms. The white short sleeve t-shirt he’s wearing struggles to contain his biceps. Growing stronger and thicker after hauling around heavy camera equipment everyday.

“I have a high roller, ironically a CEO of a well known heat suppressant company.” You start to explain, snorting at the job title. “He’s been begging for months to make this specific content during my heat.”

“Right, and what exactly is he asking for?”

“Just your run of the mill Alpha gangbang.” You say nonchalantly, making the Alpha sat before you splutter.

“What?!?”

“He’s offered to pay $100,000.” You nod. Jaemin has to gulp, head spinning again in disbelief that anyone could be that horny.

“That’s insane.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Sighing, Jaemin shrugs contemplating if anyone would pay for naked photos of him in obscene positions. “My roommate would probably film that with you for free.”

“I’d pay you, of course..” you say, tilting your head curiously to observe his next reaction. Met with a pair of wide shocked eyes, he babbles, laughing awkwardly.

“Me?!” Jaemin’s laugh grows in pitch, slowly losing volume the more he thinks about it. “..how much?”

“How much do you want? I’m willing to negotiate.”

“That’s..” he huffs, blinking in disbelief. “You’re joking right? Just messing around with me?”

“Not at all, Alpha,” with a sneaking grin, you click the camera next to him to turn on. Shifting closer once the red light brightens up, the lense moves around letting out sounds as it focuses on your figures. “We can start slow..”

Jaemin gulps, feeling the proximity between your lower regions grow sparse. Returning to grip onto the ledge of the island at his side where the camera sits capturing just enough of your lips and chests. Inching closer together as you straddle his lap and drape your arms over his broad shoulders.

He gulps to calm the tremor running through his throat, unused to an Omega making the first move. “Me? Y-you want to film content with me??”

“Depends,” you settle onto his lap with a smirk. Easing closer until your crotch presses directly where he’s began to grow. “How much?”

Jaemin shivers, choking on a trail of spit lodged at the back of his mouth. You had already paid him more than enough for some amateur photos taken around your place with little to no effort from himself.

But the prospect of thousands of dollars entering his bank account from only sleeping with a very attractive Omega is more than enough to entice him. Nodding, he mumbles a number without confidence. Reminding himself in the back of his mind that a few thousand dollars can’t be more than mere chump change to you.

“Sounds good.”

Jaemin grabs onto your hips when you agree to the amount. Canting upward to bounce you against the bulge pushing through the seam of his jeans.

Jeno was going to kill him.

“Jeno?” Jaemin steps inside of his boiling hot apartment, kicking off his shoes to a pile with his roommates. The low brrr from his fan sounds, coming from the other Alphas bedroom. “He seriously better not have left that on, running up the damn electric bill as if we need that.”

Jaemin doesn’t expect to find his friend hunched over at his computer, headphones hanging on his neck with wide eyes blaring at the screen before him. “Oh, you’re home.”

“Traitor!” Jeno snaps, lunging up at his roommate, toppling over his gaming chair in the process.

“Jeno! What the fuck! Get off of me!” Jaemin scrambles, his grip slipping off the other Alphas soaked skin. He grunts, pressing his knee into the others firm abdominal muscles to keep him in place.

“You fucked my favorite Omega?!”

“Oh my god! She uploaded it already??” Jaemin’s speechless, caught off guard by the news momentarily enough to receive a slap across his face.

“I can’t believe you!”

“We didn’t fuck! Get off of me!”

“No!” Jeno slaps him again, tussling back and forth on the ground until Jaemin manages to get the upper hand and lock him in place with his bicep lodged against his neck.

“If you kill me, you’ll never get to meet her.”

Jeno’s head lifts, ears perking up like a puppy hearing a can of food begin to open. “What?!”

“Are you going to calm down now, pup?” Jaemin sneers, pushing off using the back of his hand to wipe away sweat that's pouring from his forehead.

Jeno groans, pushing to stand back up, he motions to the screen where a video showing the side of his roommate’s face has been paused. “How did this happen!”

“She hired me to photograph her.” Jaemin begins to explain, rubbing at his sweaty nape. “I don’t know, okay? But..”

His gaze skirts between Jeno and the screen. “Did you watch it already?”

“I was about to! Until I saw your fucking giant teeth show up, was like a nightmare. I had to stop the video before it could get any worse.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed. “Don’t be so dramatic. Could you play it? I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I probably look so stupid..”

Jeno clicks his tongue annoyed, setting his chair back into place to get comfortable. “Unfortunately you don’t. Your dick looks huge too.”

Jaemin smirks, flicking the shell of Jeno’s ear. “Thought you didn’t watch it, liar.”

“I can’t believe this!” Jeno exclaims, clicking the video to play again.

“We didn’t even fuck.” Jaemin leans closer with elbows on his knees. “Honestly it felt so fast, I can’t believe I did that.”

Jeno continues to badger his friend with questions, ripping at his hair as the video goes on. The last thing he expected to see was a familiar face when he got the notification of a new upload featuring your Alpha neighbor assisting you through your pre-heat.

“God, she’s so hot.” Jeno groans, slamming the back of his head against the cushion, one of his hands sneaking beneath the waistband of his shorts out of Jaemin’s line of sight. Too caught up in the video playing to even notice.

It should feel weird to watch himself, to watch you touching him. To see the nervous way his throat bobs up and down the closer you lean in, bumping the tip of his nose with yours as you whisper too quietly for him to not feel nervous.

‘The Alpha next door stopped by,’ you announce for the viewers, toying with Jaemin’s shirt off screen.

“Pft..” Jeno huffs under his breath, squinting at the way you bat your eyelashes toward Jaemin. Flirting with him by giggling, tapping your nails against his jaw on the way to pinch his chin. Falling into a syrupy pretty octave the more you taunt him by repeating ‘Alpha Alpha Alpha’.

Should’ve been me, he thinks, thumbing at the precum that’s filled up his slit.

Jaemin’s undeserving, he doesn’t even know what you want, how you like it. Jeno eyes the kitchen counter, imagining how fast he would have bent you over, tugging on his length eagerly. The gasp you let out as you grind down on Jaemin repeats loudly in his thoughts.

Jaemin’s squirming, ashamed by how stunned he appears on video, too wanton and helpless for an Alpha who should have been taking more control. He let you play with him like a toy, rolling your hips back onto his lap to gain a full erection prodding into your backside.

‘So big Alpha.’

“Can’t believe she fucked you.”

Jaemin clears his throat, swiping his palm across the puffy bulge forming between his thighs. “We didn’t, yet..”

“You won’t.” Jeno says more brazenly, teeth slicing his bottom lip in an attempt to control his rage from toppling over. “You know how much I like her.”

“You and hundreds of thousands of other Alphas.”

“Whatever. Can’t fucking believe this.” Jeno groans, letting out a long dramatic sigh. “My dicks getting soft from watching this, I don’t think I can forgive you for this one.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, letting out a sound of disgust when his friend wipes off his palm on his thigh. “You’re gonna wanna hear me out, and also owe me for this.”

“I doubt it.”

“She asked about you.”

Jeno’s head snaps to attention at that, just in time to miss Jaemin’s grunts passing from his computer speakers. “What??”

“I mentioned that you’re a fan.” Jaemin cringes at the visual of himself on a big screen reaching climax. His face rolling side to side on your shoulder, panting like some teenager experiencing their first rut. The blush on his cheeks high, making its way up to his earlobes burning red. Cumming without penetration like some horny pup, the number of viewers over 60,000 already after only an hour up.

“And?!?”

Jeno’s excited bounce snaps him out of his humility— reminding him that his roommate would have paid for an opportunity like this.

“She asked if any of my friends would be interested.”

“Oh my God!!” Jeno stands up, jumping in place as if he just received the best news ever— in his case, he probably just did. “Oh my God! No! You don’t understand!!”

The dark haired Alpha begins to pace, gathering tufts of hair with blown out pupils. “I’ve dreamt about this for so long! I did this! This is happening because of me!”

Jaemin sports a bored look, listening to his roommate ramble on about how he always knew he’d end up fucking you, he just didn’t know how or when, until now.

“That’s great dude, I guess. I’ll text her, but please do not mention that you’ll be more than happy to do this for free. We need the mo—“

Knocks boom from the entrance distracting the two from continuing their conversation.

“Hey! Open up! This tub of ice is heavy!”

“It’s Haechan.” Jeno announces, unlocking the front door to the miserable expressions his neighbors dawn. “Sup?”

“Let us use your fan? We offer bags of ice.”

They end up huddled seated on the floor complaining about how badly they all need to figure out how to either make more money, or move out.

“Maybe the four of us could split a mortgage for a house.” Renjun mewls over rubbing his chin. “A house with central air ideally.”

Jaemin eyes the three Alphas surrounding him, a melancholic desperation to enjoy their short days of summer left drags their lips down, frowns paired with desperation to do anything to better their situations.

It’s almost too perfect.

Jeno’s hunched over, sharp eyebrows never loosening up, licking at the corners of his mouth annoyed.

“Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.

“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”

Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”

“To film content.”

Haechan pours another bag of ice into the bucket they’ve plotted before a fan, huddled together too close for comfort, occasionally brushing sticky skin against sticky skin. The cool breeze only enough to prevent them from overheating while still secreting sweat as they hold up personal fans to their faces and suck on half-melted Icee slushies.

“Content?” He raises a messy eyebrow, speaking into the spinning fan to alter his voice. “Doesn’t she do porn?”

“Jeno’s a big fan, must be good.” Renjun adds.

“Jeno is a horny dog,” Jaemin scoffs, ignoring the upset gasp his best friend releases. “I mean, I understand why he pays.”

“I pay and somehow you are the one getting a handjob..” Jeno mutters, more than annoyed still. Despite his anger, he still watched the video you posted with Jaemin a few more times. “She only fucks Alphas with notoriously big dicks. Should have been me.”

“Mine’s bigger than yours anyway.” Jaemin laughs, licking away sweat from his upper lip. “Listen, I know you guys are all as strapped for cash as I am.”

“Cash? Oh, I’m listening.” Haechan interrupts, tugging on the ring of his collar that’s dampened nastily with sweat.

“When you say notoriously big..” Renjun drawls, leaning back against a wall, pushing his hand-held fan beneath his shirt. “How big is big?”

“Bigger than you shrimp shit.” Jeno jeers, clicking his tongue arrogantly. “I seriously need to quit this college shit, I could make bank doing Alpha fans.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, too drained by the heat to put up a fight. “You’re a baboon.”

“Whatever.” Jeno ignores his name calling with a dreamy look in his eyes. “The first time I stumbled into one of her streams, she was testing out how fat of a knot she could take.”

Haechan’s head lifts suddenly more intrigued by this topic. “…..well?”

“I’ve never seen an Omega take a knot like her, ever.” He confirms, boasting about how your streams are always at the top of the Omega fans charts. “The coins never stop pouring in when she goes live. She’s always in the top 0.1% on Omega fans, I like to think my monthly subscription helps.”

“This is bullshit.” Jaemin cuts him off. “Look, I made enough in two days to cover 3 months of rent. If we help her out I think.. we could leave this shithole complex. I’m tired of these excuses for why maintenance can’t fix our ancient A/C units.”

“I’d do it for free.” Jeno says, earning a smack to the back of his head from Renjun.

“That’s why you are a baboon.”

“I’m in.” Haechan nods. “I can’t survive another summer like this, I can’t even do another week of this.”

“I mean..” Renjun grimaces. “Like, full nude? My whole dick out?”

Jaemin snaps his fingers for Jeno to whip out his phone, the four proceeding to watch the clip you made with the Alpha as their jaws hang to the floor.

“Oh, I’m so in.”

Jeno’s been running around like a puppy full of life, hopping into the air kicking his feet together letting out high pitched squeals.

“I even shaved my sack for this!” He exclaims, gripping onto Jaemin’s shoulders on their trek out of the subway station.

“Were we supposed to do that?” Haechan asks, taking a look at his worn down raggedy clothing. “I thought the idea was supposed to be.. we’re broke college guys.”

“That is the idea.” Jaemin answers, directing his group of friends into an upscale neighborhood decorated with lively tall trees and blooming gardens. “It’s all an act, we’re supposed to be her ‘neighbors’…and she’s this innocent sweet Omega who we take advantage of during her heat.”

Haechan bites back a smile nudging into his side, thoughts running rampant. “That’s hot.”

“No fucking way, is this seriously where she lives?” Renjun’s neck practically breaks from leaning back to take in the giant building towering before them.

“Yup, high-rise penthouse overlooking Seoul. The lifestyle horny idiot Alphas provide.” Jaemin glares at Jeno who beams with the brightest smile engulfing his eyes.

“She deserves all of it, and more.” Letting out a dreamy sigh he follows along to where Jaemin has to check-in at the front concierge to be allowed further inside. The four confirming their identification before passing along to the elevators.

“This is insane, I couldn’t even sleep last night, and when I can’t sleep, I jerk off!” Jeno complains in the lift. “But I didn’t want to waste— you know! So I ended up tossing and turning all night.”

“You’re worse than those kpop fans that follow around idols and trainees.” Renjun accuses, feeling jittery still about stripping down to nothing to hook-up with a stranger for thousands of viewers, maybe even millions. “This is my lowest low, and you’re about to cum in your pants.”

“I think you lowest low was popping your first knot in Science class when we learned about Omega anatomy.” Haechan grins. “You can’t live that down.”

“Shut up!” Renjun whines, the elevator dinging to upon reaching your floor. The three Alphas stare at the opened doors, gulping in unison before Jaemin signals for them to follow his lead.

“I would say don’t be nervous but,” he shakes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m fucking nervous right now.”

“Dude! You can’t be nervous! What about us?!” Haechan bemoans, gesturing to the three hiding behind the blond Alphas broad frame.

“Think about the money.” Renjun nods, reapplying chapstick to his lips that can’t seem to retain enough moisture. “This hallway alone has more square footing than our apartments combined.”

“Think about the pus—!” Jeno starts to holler, stopping in his tracks as the front door they stand before opens up revealing a face that’s become deeply ingrained in his mind. “Holy shit.”

Jaemin’s eyes shut, smiling and lifting a hand to greet you, internally cursing. “That would be your loyal subscriber.”

“Wow,” leaning against the door frame, you take in the new faces in front of you. The three sporting similar expressions with their jaws hung loose, wide-eyed and breathless. “You didn’t mention that they’re all so cute.”

Jaemin grins, motioning to his friends. “This is Haechan, Renjun, and Jeno, or as you know us, miserable sweaty Alphas willing to do a lot for money.”

“How much is a lot?” You ask slyly, purposely dressed down with a pair of loose sweats on and a loose top to play up a relaxed stay-at-home look for the filming.

“I’ll do anything!” Jeno blurts, slapping a palm over his mouth. “I mean.. my limits are very low.”

“Funds too.” Renjun whispers.

“Understood.” Standing straight, you hold up an index finger. “There is one thing, my funders have a common request. Come on in and we’ll see if you guys fit the criteria.”

The criteria: no one under 9 inches.

Haechan’s throat bobs reading over the contract you’ve printed four copies of. Rubbing his nape that feels cold from sitting in a room with blowing cool air. “I have to admit, I’ve never measured..”

“I have!” Jeno licks at his canines cockily, biting off the cap of a pen to spit off to the side. “11 inches long, and thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.”

“Wait wait!” You laugh, pulling out your phone to speed-dial your highest roller. “Need you guys to show me what you’re working with before we can sign off.”

Renjun’s eyes round, sticking halfway out of their sockets. “Like, right now??”

“Now or never.” Pointing the camera to face them, you nod for them to go on.

Jeno’s the first to jump to his feet, already half mass confined in a well fitted pair of black sweats. “I have nothing to lie about.”

True to his word, he pushes his boxers and sweats beneath his upper thigh in one fell swoop. His length falls free slapping onto the cotton fabric underneath , jerking mid-air, the fat pink tip darkening the longer he sits and waits to live out his wildest dreams.

“Very good.” A low deep voice emits from your phone’s speaker. “Bigger than the blond even.”

Jaemin’s head snaps up at that, squinting while sneaking a look to his side with an annoyed pout. “That’s not true!”

“The other two.” Says the voice, clearly coming from a male.

Haechan shares a pleading look with Renjun, moving to stand, waiting for the other to do the same. Huffing out a deep sigh, he hoists himself up sluggishly, tugging on the strings dangling in front of his groin.

“Well..” Haechan shrugs, smiling timidly as he unzips and draws himself out with a stroke at his soft size “I’m a grower..”

Renjun’s cheeks puff out, repeating money money money in his mind as he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls his length free.

“They can stay. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself too much.” The Alpha hiding on your phone screen chuckles. “Can’t wait to see what they do with you.”

Hanging up after hearing the approval, you hide a smile behind your hand taking in Renjun up and down. “Cute.”

“Did you just call my dick cute?!” He squawks, frazzled as he tucks himself away.

“You are really cute!” Haechan intervenes, throwing an arm around his roommate's shoulders, whispering ‘money’ with a pointed glare.

“The idea is that I’m in pre-heat,” you motion carelessly, beginning to stretch your limbs where you’re seated. “That’s the idea, but I actually am in pre-heat, so it works out great.”

“Oh, that’s..” Jaemin collects the signed contracts, gnawing on his upper lip. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Shrugging, you wave him off. “Don’t worry about it, I might get a little..”

Jeno’s practically salivating the more you continue to talk, all too familiar with how crazed and desperate for Alpha cock you get during your heats. His fingertips burn from rubbing up and down his thighs like a maniac, slurping at the drool gathering at the sides of his tongue. An overwhelming sensation of dizziness and lust replaces any semblance of sense as he sits across from you.

“Jeno?” Jaemin snaps his fingers, breaking the Alpha from his mesmerized trance. “Come on.”

“What??”

“I have to start setting up, were you not listening?”

“Uhh..” Jeno looks lost, flushed from the tip of his nose down to his pink chewed lips, causing Jaemin to grunt and grab on to the other to drag him out of the room.

“She’s gonna start with Haechan and Renjun first.” He reiterates, smiling to himself. “Because they’re smaller.”

Renjun fumed when you felt the need to mention that, pinching at Haechan’s forearm to control his temper. Humiliation that thousands of strangers would be watching him bare ass already had him regretting agreeing to this, now even more with you mocking his size for not being big enough.

“Should we step out then?” Haechan gestures toward the entrance, smoothing out the wrinkles on his t-shirt nervously. Everything becoming much more real now that he’s seconds away from hooking up with a stranger— not that this would be his first time, but on camera suddenly made things feel much more high-stress and real.

“Yeah, why don’t you guys show up saying your air conditioners not working.” You suggest, turning on the various cameras you have around your apartment for weekly live streams. “Don’t worry about acting really, it’s not that serious.”

Renjun follows after his friend, shifting about anxiously, muttering that he can’t stop the tremors running through his hands.

“We have sex all the time.” Haechan says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Okay, we have had sex. Maybe not a lot. Don’t think too hard, she’s an attractive Omega close to her heat, and I’m here..”

Renjun nods, rapping his knuckles against the door with a deep shaky breath.

“Hey?” You answer, ruffling your hair with a groggy look as if you’ve just woken up.

“Oh! Hey!” Haechan utters, waving awkwardly. “Hope we didn’t wake you! Our air stopped working a bit ago.”

“That’s terrible, it’s so hot out.” You groan, faking a yawn, tugging on the collar of your t-shirt to play up how hot you feel even inside of your chilly quarters. Renjun observes how well you fall into the ditzy cute innocent Omega you must portray on camera for your fans, pouting and whining at the end of each word like a petulant little brat.

“You think we can crash with you while the maintenance team works on it?” Renjun cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leans against your door frame.

“Ah, it’s kind of..” words stumble out alternating between whiny sounds as you attempt to think up an excuse. “I—….okay..”

Spinning on your heel, you offer them something to drink as they situate in your living room, seated on the couch they’d filled out their contracts at. “Thanks!” Haechan calls out, picking up a remote to scroll through the TV guide for something to watch.

Renjun glances back and forth suspiciously, his nose twitching, falling into character with more ease than he’d envisioned to be able to. “Hey, is it just me or she..”

“Oh, she definitely is.” Haechan says confidently, setting an arm behind his head with a grin pinching at his lips. “Why else do you think she hesitated to let us come in?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

The two share a sneaking look, settling at opposite ends of the couch to leave you with no choice but to sit between them when you show up with a tray of beverages.

“Oh..”

Neither seem interested in your presence, both lazily sprawled against the arm rests with their focus on the tv.

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Haechan asks, throwing the remote aside. “Nothing to watch.”

“You guys can play..” you sigh, eyeing the small space you’ve been left with to sit between the two Alphas. Stuffy and cramped as you adjust to seat without trying to touch either of them.

“Nah, Renjun’s a sore loser. He complains way too much because I always win.” Haechan mumbles, holding one of the controllers out for you. “I’m sure you’ll be good.”

“What if I lose?”

The browns coloring Haechan’s iris gleam, speckled by different shades of orange and gold, inching closer until his lips sit centimeters away from yours. “If you lose..”

Renjun licks at his lips behind you, trailing his eyes down your back, becoming curious as to what you have hiding beneath the oversized t-shirt you probably slept in.

Haechan straightens up, blowing out a breath across your mouth. “..if you lose—you’ll sit on my lap the next round.”

“Next round?”

“Yeah,” he leans back, falling into a confident demeanor as he chooses to play as Yoshi. “Winner takes all.”

Princess Peach failed to even end up in the top 5 after the amount of times you swerved and smacked into the race track walls. The two Alphas at your sides hiding their and amused laughter with coughs the more you struggled and grew frustrated, wanting to hurdle the controller at a wall.

Haechan doesn’t say anything as music signals for the next round, spreading open his thighs to make room for you, he nods toward his lap with a silent command.

“I don’t think I can play again.” You say, feigning exhaustion by slumping back into the couch.

Renjun leans over, pinching your chin between two fingers to force your gaze up. “That’s not really fair is it, princess?”

A lazy hand lands around his wrist, pulling his fingers down lower to land on your throat. “I’m too hot.. can’t focus..”

“Come on princess, you know the rules here. You agreed to play, now you have to follow through.”

Haechan’s nose finds the column of your throat, gripping onto your waist to pull you onto his lap. “Stupid Omega letting the big bad wolves inside when her heats about to start.”

“No— no, Haechan, don’t..”

“Shh, you knew what you were doing.” Renjun squeezes your throat, shaking your neck with a tight hold. “Dripping right through your underwear as if we couldn’t smell you from down the hall. Don’t play dumb now, Omega.”

“I c-can’t..”

“Why are you lying, huh?” Haechan asks, pushing your ass down against his crotch. “Besides, when did I ask?”

“Don’t lie pretty, the more you lie, the more this will hurt.” Renjun catches your bottom lip just as Haechan slips his fingers past the top of your sweats, lowering slowly to cup your heat, letting out a grunt on your shoulder when he’s met with slick spilling out past the seat of your panties. Inner thighs coated with a mess of sweet delicious wetness dripping out of your hole like a broken faucet.

“No—no, not there, please..” Your pleading only makes them laugh, Renjun letting out a bitter chuckle as he releases his hardening shaft. Stroking up and down right before your face to give you a clear view of how thick and long he sits at full mass.

“So cute, right?” He taunts, shifting onto his knees on the couch to set his hips near your face. “Little brats like you think you can always get your way.”

Haechan slips in past your underwear, quietly cursing into your nape at the amount of slick dribbling between his digits. In disbelief that you’re this wet already, that they haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re drenching his crotch through your sweats.

“That little act you put on crumbles the second you see Alphas cock baby.” Renjun’s fingers trail up from your throat to your chin, thumb latching onto your bottom lip to pull it down. Drool gathers at the corners, trickling it’s way out down to your jaw to meet his digits that press harder. “Tell Alphas what you need, don’t fucking lie.”

“Renjun, pl-please, don’t be mean.” You gurgle, lapping at his thumb shoving your lip back and forth.

He grins, pushing the pad of his thumb down until you give and let him in, resting against your tongue heavily until you let out a gagging sound and wrap your lips around him.

“All that useless begging, look at you right now.” He sneers, pushing three more fingers into your mouth with ease. “Just like that, so obedient and cute.”

Haechan’s panting, working his hips up in circles against your damp bottom. Relentless with his digits rubbing in a blur over your clit. Nipping and sucking on your throat to quill some of his arousal that shouts throughout his head to rip off your sweats and plant you on his length until you cry out, begging to get fucked.

“Renjun,” coughing around his fingers working in and out of your mouth, you gag again, copious amounts of drool fountaining out around his hand down to your collarbone. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

Renjun loves it, loves how easy it was to shut you up, make you grovel for his cute cock. Pleading to do anything to you, to make you feel good.

“Something, please please Alpha.”

“This what you want?” Teasing at his slit, he eyes you curiously, wrapping around the base of his length to stroke himself to full hardness. Chubbing up impressively, definitely not as cute as you’d perceived.

He teases the tip along your upper lip, layering a coat of thick precum there to blend with drool. “Show me what that pretty bratty mouth can do.”

He felt even bigger against your tongue, finally breeching past your lips after pulling back teasingly with each flick of your tongue at his slit. The playfulness rapidly diminished as he buried forward, suffocating your nose with the smooth skin beneath his navel.

Sucking and gagging became inevitable around the Alphas size stretching your lips open painfully. Letting out loud groans above you with each ragged breath blown through your nose against his skin, each sloppy slurp around his size. Vibrating out moans between struggling to breathe when Haechan’s fingers sank lower, tapping at your entrance with extra force as he pushed the elastic in your underwear to the limits to get three of his digits inside of you.

The tip of Renjun’s length brutally punching the back of your throat only spurred more wetness out, gliding Haechan’s fingers to bury deeper. Growling as he nipped at your earlobe about how nasty you are, getting turned on by sucking cock like a whore.

“Only real sluts get wet from sucking dick, you know what that makes you baby?”

Licking up the bottom of Renjun’s length, you nod, enjoying how he weighed down on your tongue. Lips swollen from each pointed movement further pushing your mouth to open wide and take his entire size, tearing up and coughing all the more even as you tried to slow him down. Hands uselessly flying to grip onto his thighs and plead with wide begging eyes for the Alpha to slow and let you breathe.

“Aww, not so cute anymore?“ he grins, pushing your hair back grabbing fistfuls with a tight lock of his fingers; commanding control by pushing you further down his shaft to take it all.

Renjun never gave your mouth a break, thrusting his hips forward with vigor to fill your throat over and over. Biting down to calm pleasured groans from exiting, not wanting you to know how much he was enjoying this. You needed to earn it.

“That’s it, that’s how slutty Omegas suck cock.” Haechan praised, licking at your earlobe. Thumb swiping your clit in rapid motion as his fingers continued to pump inside you. “Cum around my fingers, let me feel you squeeze up. Cumming from taking Alphas dick down your throat. You know who cums from that baby? Bratty little Omega whores.”

“Ah, fuck,” Renjun’s tough facade snapped, breaking into pieces when your eyes rolled back the more Haechan stroked between your walls. Hips stuttering to a halt as his upper lip trembles over his teeth letting out breathy whimpers. “G-gonna cum, ugh fuck.”

A few more weak thrusts had hot release pouring down your throat. Shots of hot cum hitting your tonsils as your thighs clenched up, jutting back against Haechan with your hands reaching to clutch his wrist, squirming and crying around Renjun’s length as your own release hit. Punching from your gut to your throat, convulsing in time with each other dragging out a long orgasm from Renjun, collapsing down to his knees leaving cum to trickle out onto your chin.

“Fuck.”

Haechan’s sucking his fingers clean, licking between each to not miss any bit of your sloppy release, his free hand working to pull off your ruined bottoms with Renjun stripping your top off. Breath knocked from their lungs upon seeing your bared skin, obscenely wet down to your knees, hazily staring at them standing above you as you try to recuperate.

Haechan’s tongue drags across his palm, gaze lit up by the fear passing over your face the longer they stand there observing you. He’s the first to move, bending over by his waist to get in your face, whispering out hotly. “Now, tell me something.”

A ruthless grip captures your mound as he distracts you, digging the heel of his palm against your tender clit. “What type of useless Omega are you? Haven’t made me cum once.”

“B-but, you said..”

Two fingers roughly crook inside inside, gliding in despite how swollen your folds have become, filled with blood pumping down between your thighs. Throbbing loud enough you swear you can hear it, emptying the parts of your brain that help you function, giving into the heat with each press he buries deeply, curling his fingers up until your back arches. Crooning between a shattered moan.

“I said?” His pretty soft eyes widen, precious like a stuffed plushie you’d cuddle through the night. Actions speaking louder than the false image he uses to taunt you more with. “What did I say? Huh? Suddenly you listen?”

“I listen!” You end up shouting, too shook up by the stinging smack landing on your inner thigh. Digits ripping free from your core, oozing out tendrils of thick slick obscenely.

“What do you think, Renjun?”

Renjun’s face gives off more purity than Haechan’s, the smile teasing at his lips so sweet and soft. Irises gleaming angrily, sleek and cold. The two of them quietly preparing to destroy you. “I think she hasn’t done shit to prove why we should fuck her again.”

“Is that right Omega?” Haechan rips your head back, spouting a line of spit inside of your parted lips, he smacks at your jaw, dragging you to move by pulling at your scalp. “Say it.”

“Wanna make you cum Alpha, wanna be good for you.”

Renjun’s throat lodges a bit from the needy way you stare between them, letting Haechan’s spit rest on your tongue, pushing it out through pursed lips. Sweat dampened hair, big wet eyes, bloated spit coated lips, and slick pouring from your hole in globs, absolutely pornographic. He considers— if he had the money, he’d pay for your content too.

“Good,” Renjun voices, sitting down to move you onto his lap. Shedding his clothes off while Haechan played with you, his cock pressed to your lower back, fully hard again. “Because I’m gonna knot your pretty little pussy.”

Suddenly he’s pulling you back onto his cock with one smooth glide. Scrambling to position yourself with feet scurrying to perch on his thighs. The sound that emits when he shoves in absolutely filthy— disgusting, choking a moan from between your lungs as you head tosses back again.

“What makes you think you deserve to cum again?” Renjun bites at the shell of your ear, thrusting up sloppily from the amount of slick pouring onto his thighs. Slapping the sides of yours until your legs completely bend, steadily planting your feet above his knees to prop you open for the other Alpha.

“I’ve been good!” You cry out, repeating a chant of ‘please please please’ like a prayer, head flopping back onto his shoulder harder when Haechan crawls forward on his knees spitting at your clit. Tongue smearing the mess lower, meeting with Renjun’s length stretching you open. Tongue curling around your clit as two fingers find way to your entrance, gathering the wetness spilling out around the other Alphas cock.

“Please!” Renjun grunts, hips slapping against your bottom, digging his nails into the backs of your knees. Straining to fuck you faster, groaning louder each time Haechan’s tongue laps slick off his length.

“You—haven’t earned it yet.” He grits, breathlessly cursing.

“Please! Let me—Alpha, please!” Eyes roll to the back of your head, shouting out, clenching your toes. “Ahh! Ah—ahh fuck!”

Haechan shoves three fingers inside of you as Renjun thrusts out, pushing in through the free space to prod at your insides. The slide of cock against his long calloused fingers setting off a stinging pain to your chest.

“So fucking tight.” The Alpha on his knees says proudly, working to match Renjun’s thrust. Not even bothering to give you time to adjust, he sets a snapping pace pummeling a path inside immediately. “Don’t think she should get to cum until she can take us both.”

“Hear that baby?” Renjun breathes, delivering a pointed thrust to emphasize what Haechan said, pistoning with more ferocity and anger. The tip of his cock catching on your painfully stretched entrance with each pull out. “Begged to get fucked like a slut, that’s what you think you deserve?”

Between Haechan’s warm breath blowing on your clit and Renjun’s unforgiving movements, endless pleads begging to cum spill from your tongue. The Alpha inside of you chasing after his climax faster while bouncing you up and down, fingers jamming in and out, cock lodged deep inside, tongue flicking your clit over and over again.

“Alpha! Please—please cum!”

“Where?” Renjun huffs, thrusting harder, blinking sweat away from his eyelashes. “Ask for it!”

He slaps at your thighs, beating the skin with wicked stings. Cracking dry whimpers from your throat as Haechan’s lips suck around your clit. “I-Inside! Please! Inside!”

Renjun’s throat locks up, chest heaving and squeezing tight making it harder to breathe, pushing deep past where Haechan’s fingers can reach inside of you. Struggling to keep up his speed as the base of his size expands, pushing through with teeth gritted, hips not slowing for even a second despite the new resistance gripping him. Cum bursts, spilling down around his length from the extra stretch inside of you, flowing down to the other Alpha’s wrist who licks it up, suckling up the nasty mess of slick and cum.

“A-alpha..please let me cum, please.” Desperation has you near the brink of insanity. Body full blown trembling in the weakened hold on your thighs.

Haechan smirks, tucking his fingers inside his mouth, pushing up with his free hand to spit the combined release on your chin and chest. “You really think you deserve to cum already? What about me?”

Haechan’s pushing one of your thighs up higher before you can even register what’s happening, weakened and overstimulated from being edged for too long. The tip of his length prods at your filled entrance, dragging over your swollen clit, dropping his forehead to yours as he begins to push in past the tight squeeze he’s met with.

The cries and whimpers you let out only encourage him, pressing in more as he holds his breath, sucking in his nostrils to restrain the need to cum. Making Renjun let out a pitiful grunt against your shoulder when he slides against the other Alphas size. Knot full grown making his brain spin from the stimulation rubbing against him.

“So fucking dirty.” Haechan says, shoulders tensed from trying to contain himself. Throbbing against the deathlock your walls wrap around him as he meets obstruction, blending with Renjun’s length beneath. “Fuck, so fucking dirty and messy.”

The ache burns painfully, worse than before, stinging the backs of your eyes with moisture that pushes out at the first thrust he gives. Gliding in and out of you easily with Renjun’s cum leaking down between his thighs. Haechan buries his size inside of you with pointed thrusts, doing it with extra force just to watch the tears pour from your eyes faster, just to hear your cries grow louder, pour from the walls like music reverberating out of speakers.

“Made to get fucked.” He mutters, licking at sweat and tears dangling from the tip of your nose. “Made to take Alpha cock like this, take it like a good Omega. Offering your holes to any Alpha, desperate for a fat knot, so fucking greedy you need two.”

“Hae-haechan—“ it’s barely a whisper, croaking from the back of your throat. Bounced down onto Renjun’s knot, getting hard again enough to compose himself and match up to Haechan’s pace even when it hurts him. Too lust ridden to stop himself when your ass bounces against his stomach. Firm strokes filling you up, rubbing against each other incessantly.

“Fuck, gonna cum.” He pants against your lips, tongue laving out like a hungry dog. Biting and sucking on whatever he can catch, leaving your mouth more swollen and bruised. “Make Alpha cum baby, wanna feel that pussy squeeze up again.”

Guiding a hand between your bodies, he thumbs at your over-sensitive clit again, sending shock waves of pleasure up your spine. Head jerked back onto Renjun’s shoulder, blabbering between your cries as you finally clenched around the two; orgasm barreling out of you sending a wave of electric shock up to your brain. The scream you let out echoing off the walls, permeating obscene wet squelches paired with the Alphas noisy grunts.

“A-ahh—“ Haechan’s head drops, knot ripping out around his base with one more thrust, locking him into place unable to move anymore as his cock weeps. Cum pouring out of him fiercely, endlessly streaming out. Only able to stay inside from the knots battling to keep you plugged up.

Renjun’s hips jump up just once, grinding upward letting out another release between a strangled groan that barely exits his lips.

“N-no no more, noo..” you hiccup, sobbing into the crook of Haechan’s neck. The ache in your legs gone numb from the overwhelming heat filling your gut, splayed out like a broken doll between the Alphas. Panting like animals stuck in humid heat that won’t allow you to catch your breath.

“Good Omega.” Haechan pecks wherever his mouth can reach, nudging his nose against your eyelid. “God, you’re so good.”

Renjun lets out a muffled sound agreeing, blowing hot air along the back of your shoulder.

“Thanks for..” Haechan grins, lip curling up wickedly. “Letting us come over.”

He’s not sure if he should kiss you, blinking up making direct eye contact with one of the various streaming cameras— he remembers that this isn’t live, opting to gently peck the tip of your nose. “You okay?”

“Mhm..” your eyes can’t seem to stay in place, as if the sockets have lost control of power, rolling back still too high off your climax. “Thank you Alphas.”

“Hey?” Jeno pokes into your bedroom, subtly ducking his chin in to hide the thrill painting his features upon seeing your set-up. Swallowing down a raspy cough, he glances around, smirking at the visual of your pink bedding. The room he’s dreamt of for months, weeks, days, restless nights awake stroking his cock to made-up fantasies of turning you around into multiple positions on this bed.

He’s calm, mostly, stealing looks around for where various cameras have been placed to capture different angles of what’s about to go down.

“Jeno?”

Your voice shivers up his spine, flaring his nostrils as he lets the scent of rose petals in your body wash lingering on your flesh circle around him. The prominent aroma of heat hits stronger than any amount of scrub and bubbles you used to cleanse your skin of Renjun and Haechan’s cum.

Honey.. sweet dripping honeycombs..

Jeno has to stop himself from sucking down a deep breath of slick gathering between your thighs. Muscles strain beneath the sweat soaked cotton material of his shirt, twitching while he tries to keep collected, turning to face you with an easy smile. “Jaemin sent me in to see if you’re ready for the photoshoot.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming too?”

Jeno shrugs, explaining his sweaty appearance by telling you the story of their broken air conditioner while you sort through a rack of scantily clad garments hung on silk hangers. He thinks it’s fitting, everything in your bedroom screams feminine, delicate and pretty, only adding more ideas in his mind of different ways he’d love to rip off your designer lingerie. His monthly fee had to contribute to your closet somehow.

“Everyone’s air conditioner’s breaking from these heatwave’s..” you mumble, shyly gripping tighter onto the towel wrapped around you.

“Do you feel uncomfortable with me being here?” Jeno questions, proceeding to carry on conversation as if red lights from the cameras couldn’t bother him in the least.

“A little,” you say, sparing him a coy look over your shoulder with a small wink. “Jaemin told me that you’re one of my subscribers. Maybe you can help me choose what to wear?”

Jeno’s mouth hangs open comically following your towel slipping off, immediately hit with a potent waft of your scent. He has to tighten his fist as his sides to stop from lunging at your bare backside. Stepping closer with thinning eyes to stand behind you, he digs at your shoulder with the tip of his nose. Hands finding the back of your waist to tickle at with light grazes.

“Why would you put something on?” He glowers, quietly speaking. “You think I won’t just rip it off of you?”

“Alpha, what are y-you..” Jeno’s instincts take over, already forgetting he’s here technically to work.

“I’ve been subscribed to you for a really long time.” He whispers for you, hoping the microphones Jaemin set up can’t pick up on his low rumble. “Is that weird?”

Jeno’s cute— kind of in the same way Renjun’s dick is cute, but even cuter. The calmest he’s been since arriving with the others just now, pheromones similar to an Alpha pup entering their first rut, even that aspect melted your chest, having to bite your tongue from over-complimenting the Alpha in the moment to keep the act going.

“Do you know how many of my subscribers wish they could fuck me?”

Jeno splutters, pinching his fingers into where your waist dips, bottom lip jutting out as he shakes his head.

“Every single one of them. Don’t let them down.. Alpha.”

He’s been waiting so long for this, even had to wait while his friends fucked you first. Chewing at his nails nervously while he sat out on the balcony with Jaemin, he thought about it, remembering each time you’d notice his messages in the chat and responded with a devilish smile.

“None of them have ever wanted you as much as me.” Jeno steps closer, positioning your chest against the wall with his hips circling against your backside holding you in place with one palm flattened on the curve in your spine. “None of them will ever fuck you the way I’m about to.”

“Alpha..” you say it in such a gentle tone, lowering down to the coquettish gamer girl voice that always makes payments drop into your account faster. Tongue hanging out for Jeno’s eyes to track, following the little wiggle you give before he snaps, darting forward to trap you between his lips.

It’s not a slow kiss, lacking rush as he savors tasting you for the first time. Just as sweet and tantalizing as he always imagined, better even; cherry flavored jolly rancher that he wishes could permanently stain his tongue with remnants of its flavor.

The Alphas strong build melts heavily against your back, trailing bony long fingers between your lower halves to tug himself free.

“F-fuck.” You gasp, planting your forehead against the wall, losing the hold around your tongue. Lips returning to an abused swollen state from the heated kiss.

“I know how you like it.” Jeno whispers, licking up your jawline to your earlobe, nipping as he slaps his length between the crevice of your ass. “I know how you love it.”

His shaft feels weighty on your bottom, slapping down landing with obscenely loud smacks the cameras could pick up on even without microphones. “How’s your pussy gonna take all this dick baby?”

Jeno already has your eyes rolling up, from the gravely rasp in his tone to his sheer mass pressing heavy on your body, forcing your nipples to scratch against the wall sending shrill sensations down to the gushing space between your thighs. “Thought you were a fan..”

“Oh I am.” Jeno clicks his tongue, kissing at the backs of his teeth. Bending at his knees to swipe between your buttcheeks. “Gonna fuck every part of you.”

He pushes between your thighs to emphasize, grunting like a beast against your nape. Excitement from before spiraling into the pure need to fuck and breed, fill you with pups before any other Alpha can.

Even between your thighs Jeno feels too thick, forcing your knees to bump into each other with each splitting thrust he gives. Pushing at his sweats haphazardly to relieve his balls of the heat swarming his skin, his Alpha taking over chanting to mate mate mate. Each slap of his hips screams against your backside, resounding an aggressive clap throughout your bedroom.

Jeno can hardly believe your slicks staining his sweats, leaking out for him, pussy folds draping around his size pleading to be filled. “My Omega, gonna be dreaming about my cock after this. On your knees for me, begging for Alpha to fuck you.”

The heat between your thighs becomes unbearable, jammed against his size viciously strumming your clit. Heavy palms cup your waist, riding you back and forth on his length faster, scrabbling at the wall.

Jeno shouts a string of curses, ripping away only to throw you down on the bed. Throat tight as he swiftly twists off his shirt. Pupils blown wide covered in black, a blush rising from the center of his chest to warm pink nipples, tracing the veins lining his throat to where his lips swell into a pout.

He stands proud following your heated gaze to his gleaming shaft standing tall, reaching the middle of his carved abdomen. Instinctively clamping your thighs together when he approaches, kicking his sweats off, smiling too adorably as he captures your thighs.

“What happened to being the queen of taking cock?”

Jeno lets out a giggle, a fucking giggle, amused by the sheer terror crossing your expression. Spreading your thighs apart, losing his stature when your heady scent hits him. Pussy insanely drenched leaving a puddled mess to create under your ass.

His length drapes down the center of your stomach, the tip landing just above halfway. Poking at your muscles twitching under his size. “That’s how deep I’m gonna fuck you.”

The need to claim you and make you his intensifies more, mesmerized by your hole twitching, pulsing around nothing. Your body screaming from anywhere to get fucked, for him to fuck you, that’s all Jeno can think. You need him to fuck you.

“Only I get to see you like this..” He says, jaw locking when he has to specify. “…out of all the Alphas who pay.”

The realization stirs up the Alphas primal hunger, desire overflowing to ruin you, ruin you for only him. Ensure that no one else will ever be good enough, no one else will ever satisfy you.

Jeno almost feels embarrassed as he circles the tip of his length on your entrance. Shivering from his thighs to where his throat bobs up and down. Prolonging teasing your hole only for his sanity— quietly pep-talking himself up to not cum in a minute, he hadn’t edged himself for hours into the night missing sleep over your videos to fuck up this chance.

After what feels like an eternity, he sucks down a deep breath lowering inch by inch into your sopping wet cunt. Lewd ridiculous sounds of wetness gush out around his fat size, walls clamping down sucking him in to move even faster. True to his word, your stomach extends when he sinks inside to the hilt, cock pushing your walls to a new stretch. Fiercely throbbing between your convulsing heat.

“Oh fu-fuck..” Jeno’s mouth drops open, his eyes rolling up as if this was his first time. Your pussy tightening around his size like a glove, the veins beating up and down his length molding to the shape of your insides. “So—so fucking tight.”

Jeno’s mewling, brain thoughtless to the cameras recording, not a care in the world about the amount of comments that would make fun of him. His reaction only confirming you weren’t just a pretty Omega for Alphas to shower with gifts, but the actual girl of his dreams. The fleshlight he discretely kept hidden under his bed from your merch site would never be able to compare.

He pulls out only to slam his cock back in, drowning in the way you spasm and clench around him. Pussy locked tight refusing to let go, knowing in the back of his mind he’d have you trained to take his size everyday, turn you into the perfect doll to sit on his cock.

The Alphas hands find your curved waist, dipping the pads of his fingers in to gain momentum. “So pretty, you’re so pretty.” He says between labored breaths, cock stroking in and out too rapidly, losing coherency too much to even understand him.

Jeno’s speed becomes punishing, caught up in his own crazed lust, determined to push cum far deep enough inside of you that you taste him in the back of your mouth.

Moans and whimpers soar off your tongue, head thrashing side to side as the Alpha lifts your ankles to his shoulders, pounding faster until you’re limp. Hanging boneless on his cock spearing all the way inside, bulging the skin around your navel out with each deep hit.

“Alpha..c-cum,” you babble breathlessly. Air knocked out of you with each unforgiving slide of Jeno’s length pushing your mind further away. “C-close, I—close.”

He nods, taking the initiative to fuck you with extra force until you’re shouting, gripping at the pillows above your head. The pillows he’s watched you ride and get off on countless amounts of times. Memories of cumming in the shower, at 3am in bed, even in the school bathroom resurface as his gaze takes in your breasts bouncing, clapping together from the impact of his body engulfing yours.

“Cum for your Alpha, cum for me baby.”

Your orgasm clutches you by the throat, beckoning your back to arch up as your release nearly forces Jeno’s size to push out. Wetness spritzing over his abs and chest, even reaching up to slap under his chin.

“What’s taking so long?” Jaemin steps in right as Jeno folds you in half, the backs of your knees hoisted to the sides of your head, neck thrown back in a complete daze.

The Alpha on top of you catches his friend entering from the corner of his eye, a camera in hand as they planned for better up-close shots under the premise of photographing content for your page. His thrusts never falter, angling and maneuvering just right to reach where you need, pummeling moaned gasps from the back of your throat.

“Gonna fill you full of pups.” Jeno mostly says to himself, voice rough and serious with each dip crushing his abdominal muscles together. Sweaty and flexing the more he grinds forward, grunting through licks at his teeth. “Want Alpha to breed your pretty cunt? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

Fixated on chasing his release, Jeno pushes your thighs to your chest. Pressing hard watching his cock punch through your slick velvety walls. Entrance clinging to his thick girth, looking raw and used, still wanting more.

Droplets of sweat rain down, landing to melt along the backs of your legs from where they jump off Jeno’s jaw, neck rippling under a sheet of sweat. Exerting more power to cage you completely, leaving little to no room for you to even squirm away.

Jaemin expected to walk in on this, what he didn’t expect was the wash of annoyance that poured down his mind. Biting at his bottom lip to control himself from ruining the moment, he powers on the camera in his hand; zooming in to your face as Jeno leans in to give you the messiest, spittiest, barely there kiss. A kiss more so meant for his friends eyes only.

“What was that?” Jeno spews, wet hair flopping on his forehead. The heat from your bodies overpowering the air blowing from the vent above your door. Even Jaemin has to lap away sweat from his upper lip the closer he approaches.

Jeno’s question breaks through your mind with another ruthless snap of his hips. Chanting a round of broken yesyesyesyes, shouting out for the Alpha when his relentless pounding turns erratic, burning your back to shift up your bed. Damp bedding lights fire up your back, dragged harder by the Alpha losing his restraint, stilling right as your head hits the headboard.

Jeno’s growls sound close to whines, pup whines. Fucking like he’s never had a rut before, never slowing, emptying cum deep inside your walls for what feels like hours. Knot popping, sending hisses between his grinding teeth, deeply wrinkled around his squeezed shut eyes. Shallowly continuing to fuck your pussy through his never ending orgasm, knot attempting to sneak through with another thrust.

“Too much! S-too much!” You sob, head reeling and aching from how hard Jeno had fucked you, the headboard smacking back when you collided.

Jaemin taps his friend's shoulder, breaking his daze. Finally letting your legs down gently to not flop down harshly.

Jeno wants to curse, cry, shout and scream, kick his legs. Smoothing his hands down soft tender flesh lining your inner thighs, fixated on your ruined hole plugged up full of his cum, filled to the brim by his cock and knot. “So perfect.”

He shifts back just enough to admire white hot release squeeze out. Knot covered with a mixture of you both, something he could get off to if he had a photo on hand. Nodding for Jaemin to come closer and get a shot as he dips his digits to collect some of the blend, raising it to your lips letting out whines from over sensitivity.

“Open baby, that’s it pretty baby.” He coos, pushing a filthy wad of your cum onto your tongue, plump lips wrapping around his fingers with a suck.

Jaemin concentrates on filming your face, his dick twitching when your relaxed expression switches to one of fear, Jeno going on about how good you feel, how he’s your Alpha now.

“Who owns you now? Hmm?” He asks, penetrating his digits further in until you’re gagging, coughing from the rough pace he starts prodding your mouth with.

“You know why she’s not answering?” Jaemin interrupts, scanning the drool that's covered your chin and chest. “You can’t own a slut.”

Without another word, Jaemin elbows Jeno’s side, taken over by how long he’s waites. How infuriated he feels having to witness another Alpha fuck you stupid when that should be him.

The Alpha in question grumbles, knot gone down enough to be shoved aside with ease to be forgotten. He sits near, doing as he was instructed to earlier— ‘film it like a viewer would enjoy, you should know how.’

Jaemin’s fast to turn you over, his hands brushing up the backs of your thighs to grip your hips. Positioning your ass up like a good Omega presenting for their Alpha, not even giving you a minute to realize he’s about to fuck you face down ass up before he swipes between your folds gathering slick and cum, burying into your ass with one push.

He’s big— so fucking big. Fully erect, stretching your hole wide around thick fat girth. The better part of Jaemin long gone, his only care now to fuck your ass raw, hear your wails blast around the room, claim a part of you before Jeno can.

He’s so deep, filling your hole up giving you no time to even adjust, writhing as you reach for something, anything. Clutching at your bed topper, at Jeno’s smooth built thigh. The Alpha panning over the exposed white of your eyes, tongue hung out trickling saliva out like something straight out of Hentai.

Jaemin’s strong thighs press to the backs of yours, cock fully breaching your hole, stinging from the tip of your spine all the way to the top. Cries, sobbing cries sound before you can even register, fucked too stupid by the fullness splitting your ass open.

Nothing about the Alphas movements comes across charming or polite anymore, brutally gripping your hips with a bruising hold; leveraging your weight to snap forward forcing a deep bowed arch in your back.

Skin clapping against wet skin boomed around your bedroom, muffling the whimpering moans spewing from your chest. Jaemin only spurred to fuck you full of his rage— rage that should be directed at the Alpha equally irritated behind the camera.

“Alpha! Please—“ saliva collecting around your tongues slips free, covering your chin in more of a mess. Adding more obscenity to the visual of Jaemin’s broad figure behind you, pushing the mounds of your ass to roll over onto your lower back with each pummel of his hips.

“Did I say you could fucking speak?” Jaemin growls, slapping your hip before looping a fist through your hair. Yanking to lift your head for the camera lense to zoom in and out and focus on the disaster that’s taken place. Tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, lips debauched from chewing and biting, snot mixing with sweat above your pout. A nasty little mess, manhandled around by Alphas like nothing but a useless fucktoy.

“You see Jeno?” He leans over, pressing against your ass making your thighs scream from the burn of his weight pushing you into a half-split bent at your knees. “He’s your biggest fan.”

Jaemin’s tone fills with mockery, taunting and picking at his friend, taking a hold of your jaw with his other hand to make you look at the camera, look at Jeno’s enraged face hiding behind it. The cold gaze watching you coiling heat through your gut, spiraling up your chest. Trapped by the Alphas hand lowering to cup your throat with a squeeze, coughing through sobs the more he tightens.

“So fucking ungrateful, he pays so much just to watch you, pretend you belong to him.” Jaemin tuts, lifting hooded eyes to glare at the other. “This is how you thank him? Let his best friend fuck your ass. Such a fucking whore.”

Jeno’s lips pull back in a snarl, silently warning his roommate to stop trying him. Making him suffer as much as he’s made you with the bullshit he goes on saying.

“You can thank him better than this.” Jaemin says, roughly shaking your throat in his grip. “Come on, open up that pretty mouth.”

Instantaneously your tongue lolls out like a bitch in heat, causing Jeno to grunt, clamping his free hand around the base of his shaft. Shame and thrill combining to rip a guttural moan through it all. Jaemin only using your brainless weakened stated to his advantage.

The Alphas bicep lodges against your throat, squeezing your breath to choke out with every thrust, his other hand fisting your hair until your neck arches back in a painful way. Jeno getting an amazing shot of your tongue hanging lifelessly, drooling onto Jaemin’s meaty bulging bicep. Biting down on it hard enough to shock yourself to waken enough and cry.

Jaemin’s nose buries behind your ear, licking at whatever he can reach. Hiding his voice by latching onto your neck. “So fucking sexy, you’re so fucking hot.”

He gets it, he more than gets it. Stilling to circle against your ass as he lets out a less than manly whine. The desperation rumbling from his chest lets you know he’s close, face crumpling behind you, doing his best to keep it a secret with his nose tucked into your hair.

His thrusts snap like quick jabs, sharp and pointed. Expertly fucking your ass without losing his pace, without caring if you even get off. Letting your head drop, Jaemin gives your scalp a break, slapping a firm grip on your shoulder to keep you in place. The impact forcing your face to drop forward, biting down on the bicep shifting under your chin. Thick meat of muscle fills your taste buds, laving at it pathetically to compress the wails trying to crack from your lungs.

Jaemin knows he doesn’t have to do it, he doesn’t owe you a damn thing. Reminding you to be grateful he’s even fucking your slutty ass, he jerks your neck back up, cracking in the process. Pushing your hips up with his length grinding into you. Fingers swoop down, blurring over your clit in a mean way just to make you cry more. “Show your loyal fans what it takes to make you cum.”

Fumbling to fist the bedding, you convulse, pussy clenching at nothing. Squirting all over your thighs, ruined pretty pink blanket, and the Alpha’s forearm continuing to vibrate pushing your orgasm over the edge.

Jaemin let’s out a cracked groan, having to slow down from the ass clamps around him. Thrashing against his arm making the pressure worse on his cock.

He sighs through a moan, cupping your bruised hip to pull out, cock landing with a wet slap where your butt perks and rounds out. Struggling to keep his eyes open as he groans filthily, the tip of his length prodding in and it of your hole to push his cum in. Letting the rest of it cover your ass with a creamy layer.

“There you go,” he sighs, kissing your temples. Licking away sweat that’s about to clump your eyelashes together more. “Such a good Omega.”

He eyes the teeth marks shining under a coat of drool left behind on his arm, softly dislodging your chin while massaging the back of your strained neck. “Hungry little puppy.”

He thrusts back in once more for good measure, making you squeal and hiss, his heavy hand pushing at your lower back to slide out with calm. Cum bubbling around his softening length as your rim pulses.

Jeno lets out an angry scoff, grabbing onto the back of your leg once Jaemin finally moves off. Grumbling something about how his friend took long enough.

“N-no! No more!” You cry, wailing, weakly trying to crawl away on your knees. Jeno tossing you onto your back like a rag doll after Jaemin emptied the life out of you.

“Shh, be good for Alpha.”

The last thing you hear before your eyes roll to the backs of your sockets. Lungs crushed under Jeno’s weight as he sinks deep inside your ass pushing the rest of Jaemin’s cum to pour out.

“Hey.” Jeno’s eyes light up above you, his face all fresh with floppy damp hair. Sporting a soft smile, patting a cool cloth on your forehead. “You’re awake. I think your heat actually broke.”

“Hmm?” Sitting up on your elbows, you see Jaemin sitting at the end of the bed, a shifty gaze roaming between you and the other Alpha.

“You feeling okay?” He asks, rubbing at the side of his neck, a nervous habit.

“Kind of sleepy.” You yawn, settling against two stacked pillows. Jeno continues to pamper you, apologizing for losing control with a look of concern.

“That was the point, Alpha.” You reassure with a wink, tracing the lines of his opened apologetic palm. “Should have the video up by tomorrow, after my editor cuts all the unsexy stuff.”

Jaemin clears his throat to interrupt, wishing Jeno would leave first so he could talk to you in private. It’s not as if his roommate should have any type of claim on you just because he was horny enough to pay for a monthly subscription.

“We should leave so you can rest.” He nods. “I have some errands to run tomorrow nearby, if you need anything..”

Jeno’s jaw pops open, fixing his friend with an offended look. The other proceeding to ignore him with a shrug.

“Thank you Alp—….Jaemin..”

“Of course.” He smiles politely, the demon that had just wrecked your ass long disappeared by now. “Let’s get going Jeno.”

Jeno follows after Jaemin, trudging to exit with slumped shoulders, weighed down by an impending sensation of regret. Tilting his head side to side annoyed the more he thought about it.

“Be right back!” He spins, jogging the short distance back to your bedroom to find you still blissfully laid in place ready to fall asleep again.

“Hey.” He smiles brightly, blinking to keep his eyes as open as possible despite the way his cheeks ache from stretching his lips so wide.

“Jeno? Did you forget something?”

The Alpha steps back inside, sinking your bed in where he sits and pulls out his phone. “Yeah, your phone number.”

“Ahh..” covering your face, you can’t resist the urge to squeal. The overly eager Alpha unleashing shyness and excitement in your chest. “So cheesy!”

“I should’ve been cooler, right?” He wonders, teeth chattering with a nervous laugh. “Strolled in like— what’re you doing this weekend? Other than me?”

“Jeno?” Jaemin pokes his head past your door, having followed after him and listened to this embarrassing back and forth long enough. “Let’s go. Now. Haechan and Renjun have been waiting for us at the restaurant.”

“Oh yeah yeah, sorry.” Jeno leans over, stealing a kiss on your forehead as if his mouth hadn’t just slathered the entirety of your body in sucks and bites. “Get some rest.”

Jaemin nods, staying behind as his friend walks out. “Can I text you still?”

“Huh?” You question sleepily, confused as to why he’d ask. “Of course.. Alpha.”

Jaemin smiles, ducking his chin to hide the blush seeping through his cheeks. “Maybe we can hang out? next Saturday?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

a/n: Jeno favoritism always😭

ps- kinda proofed/kinda not🥹💙

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zepskies · 4 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 19

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: Deep breaths, my friends. We’re almost to the end. ❤️

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Violence, peril, blood and guns, character death…

Part 19: “Sacrifice”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Dean’s wide eyes flicked up to John’s, and the other man sprang into action. He shot a look and a whispered order at Cas, who went running for some IP tracking equipment back in the police car.

Meanwhile, John guided Dean to sit down on the couch. Sam followed them on his brother’s right, while John sat on Dean’s left.

Dean put the phone on speaker between the three of them.

“You’re Daniel Savage, huh?” Dean said. He tried to inject some more control into his tone, like he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. “Man, do I feel special.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Dean-o. I’m doing the same thing your dad’s doing. Hooking the bigger fish.”

Dean’s lips pursed. He glanced at his father, but his attention on the phone turned steely.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked. “Your lackey’s on lockdown. So’s your bastard son. If you want to help him, I’d suggest you turn your ass over to the cops.”

“Yes, Nick’s an idiot. But family, right?” said Daniel. He breathed out a sigh.

But then his voice was firm and calculating. It made Dean’s skin crawl.

“Cards on the table, son. Your daddy’s got something of mine. I’ve got something of yours.”

Dean’s face hardened, but John raised a placating hand; a warning to keep calm. Dean tried to take a breath.

His heart clenched at the mere thought of you being in the same room with that man. Having been taken and hauled to God knows where. He couldn’t imagine how scared you were. And if you were hurt…

Fuck. There was a roiling pit forming in his stomach, his head starting to pound in time with his heartbeat.

Already Cas was back with a laptop and program designed to track the caller’s phone. He was fiddling with the settings, trying to get a read. Dean knew he had to keep this fucker talking.

“You have her with you?” he asked.

“Sure do. She’s a pretty little thing.”

Dean’s jaw clenched in a furious glare. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you son of a bitch.”

“Quid pro quo, Dean. What can you do for me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, as desperation began to escape him. “There’s no way they’re letting Nick go before the trial. It’s out of my dad’s hands.”

“Your dad has no real evidence that my son is anything more than a successful businessman,” said Daniel. “If you really need someone to pin these unfortunate murders on, you had your man in custody…but, oh wait. You gave him immunity.”

Dean’s eyes were desperate when they met Sam’s worried ones, then their father’s. It didn’t matter that John and Cas did have evidence besides Alastair’s testimony. All Dean cared about was you.

He swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. It’s what I want John to do.”

Dean took a moment to close his eyes, pull himself together. His hands squeezed his knees to brace himself. When he next opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.

“What do you want then? Aside from Nick somehow breaking loose,” he asked.

“I want your dad to back the fuck off, once and for all,” Daniel said. His voice was more edged, with both warning and a hint of frustration. “Or I’ll make his son live the same pathetic existence he does.”

Dean’s next breath came out harsher, as both John and Sam sharpened at the threat.

“That’s right, Dean. These are my terms of engagement, else I’m gonna have a bonfire with your girl here.”

It all gripped Dean at once.

Panic, anger, and desperation.

He grabbed the phone and spoke harshly into the speaker.

“Put her on the damn line," he said. "I wanna hear her and know this isn’t a trick.”

Daniel sighed, like he was getting bored. “Oh, all right.”

There was some shuffling, the sound of Daniel’s steps echoing in what sounded like a large room. Dean’s brows furrowed as he heard sounds of your struggle, then your labored breaths, as if a gag had been removed from your mouth.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and talk to him,” said Daniel.

Soon enough, your tremulous voice reached him.

“Dean?” you said. You sounded like you were fighting tears; maybe even losing. Dean’s heart broke all the more for it.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice shook. He hoped you weren’t lying for his sake.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He raised a fist to his mouth, ignoring how it shook. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m going to find you—”

All too soon, the phone was taken away from you.

“Rule number one of negotiations, kid. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Dean’s eyes widened. The next thing he heard was a hard slap. It echoed into the speaker, along with your shout of both surprise and pain, a chair toppling over.

“You fucking bastard,” Dean seethed. “When I find you—”

John interrupted this time, taking the cell phone from Dean. He shot his son a look that was meant to be reassuring, but Dean was too incensed. Sam gripped his shoulder and earned his brother’s gaze. Dean’s chest heaved with the effort of calming his breathing.

“What do you want?” John said into the phone. His voice was clipped and direct.

While he continued to speak, Cas was frowning in frustration over his laptop.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“I can’t get a lock on his signal. He must have something throwing off the scanner,” Cas replied.

Dean growled in frustration and pushed off the couch. He began to pace the living room, all while he tried to keep an ear on what John was saying lowly into the phone.

By the time he hung up, Dean was raging.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna find her,” he said. John tried to stop him from going anywhere with a hand on his shoulder. Dean knocked him off angrily. Sam also stood, for once on the same page as his father, no matter how much he sympathized.

“Dean, you need to calm down,” John tried.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“I didn’t ask for this!” Dean shouted. The force of it echoed on the apartment walls. “Matter of fact, I’ve never asked you for a damn thing until now. Only that you’d keep me in the loop on Azazel, and keep her out of this. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?”

Sam was at a loss, looking between his father and brother. Cas was also caught in between, watching the scene with concern, and bated breath.

John’s broad shoulders sunk a bit, along with the deep breath he expelled.

“You’re right,” John said. His eyes held the weight of his words. Of sincerity. And by degrees, Dean’s anger lessened.

Again, not by much.

“Let’s fix it,” said John. “Once and for all.”

Dean wasn’t fully recovered from his TBI. He’d been cleared for driving, but not yet for full physical exercise, let alone going back to work. The stress of all this was giving him a powerful headache, but there was no way he was going to be sidelined now, on any part of it.

Sam was forced to withdraw the case against Nick Savage, citing lack of evidence to support a trial at this time. The judge gave Sam permission to refile when he was able to build a better case.

John was then tasked with escorting Nick out of prison. Cas, meanwhile, was sitting in his personal car outside the county jail with Dean in the passenger seat. Cas didn’t trust what his friend would do behind the wheel once he saw Nick.

“What happens after Nick gets out?” Dean asked. “Dad’s been cagey about the whole deal.”

“We’re escorting him to the airport,” Cas said. “There we’ll wait for Daniel and make the exchange.”

Nick, for you. That was the deal.

“And then?” Dean asked, his teeth already clenching.

Cas blew out a sigh. “We’ll have a unit waiting on standby. We’re going to try and get ahold of whoever has her, though I doubt Daniel will come himself.”

“What if you can’t catch him?” Dean pressed.

Cas didn’t want to have to tell his friend something he didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t make a habit of lying to Dean. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Then it’s over, for now,” he replied. “We each go back to our corners and regroup.”

“Dad’ll never stop hunting this guy,” Dean said.

“That may be,” Cas nodded. “But he does have a line.”

“My father’s an obsessed bastard,” Dean groused. “He doesn’t have a damn line.”

Cas looked over at him then. He was calm and sympathetic, and yet, still disagreeing in his silence. Dean knew he was probably wrong, but in the moment, he didn’t care. He was still angry.

He perked up, however, when the prison doors slid open. Out came John escorting Nick and his lawyer, Amelia. Nick looked as smug as ever now that his cuffs were off. He was given the clothes he was arrested in—a blue silk shirt, pants, Italian leather shoes, and a silver Rolex watch.

Screw this, Dean thought. He unlocked the car from his side and climbed out. He didn’t care that he could hear Cas mutter a curse behind him and follow suit.

Nick saw Dean coming and couldn’t help but smirk, even as John grasped his arm and led him to his police car.

“Hey, fireman,” Nick taunted with his waggling brows. “Where’s our girl?”

Dean’s lips edged at a dangerous smile. Cas came up just behind him, ready to restrain him if need be.

“You can finesse your way out of this, but remember our little chat,” Dean said. His eyes burned with a thinly veiled threat. “Not a dime in this world can protect you from me.”

Nick pretended to shiver.

“Ooh, I’m so fucking scared,” he snarked. He resisted John’s manhandling and ripped his arm out of the other man’s grasp to step further into the open, leaving just a few yards between him and Dean.

“You can’t touch me,” Nick taunted. “You won’t dare. Not unless you want—”

Three shots rang out in the open clearing.

All heads ducked, but Dean’s eyes widened. He watched Nick crumple to the ground as scarlet red plumed in the man’s silk shirt. The shock etched on his face drained along with his life, leaving blue eyes staring up at a clear sky.

Forensics at the scene found traces of a sniper on the rooftop of a building directly across from the county jail.

John and Cas already were mounting an entire unit search in locating Alastair Rolston, but he had apparently moved out of his apartment as soon as he was released from prison with his immunity deal. (The police officers escorting him into witness protection had been found dead at the scene of his designated safe house.)

The detectives were later called into the medical examiner’s office on the case of Nick Savage—not to examine the body, but the bullets that had carved into his heart, right lung, and throat.

One of the bullets had a special casing. Inside was a rolled-up note, not unlike a carrier pigeon. It had a simple message:

JOHN — STULL STORAGE. COME ALONE.

Once again, Dean refused to sit idly. He’d pushed back hard enough that John had eventually relented. This time, however, Sam stepped in to make sure his brother was reigned in. Dean’s knee was already bouncing with anticipation and nervousness.

It was nearly midnight on a Tuesday. The brothers sat in the surveillance van with Jody Mills, all wearing protective Kevlar vests as precaution. The van was removed from the immediate site of Stull Storage, which was made up of a main warehouse and several rows of storage units on the other side.

Cas was leading another police unit on standby, but John was going into the warehouse. He wore his usual leather jacket over his rumpled shirt, pants, and boots, but also a protective vest and hidden wire under his collar.

Sam, Dean, and Jody were able to listen in as John entered alone.

He had a flashlight positioned over his raised gun as he walked into the building. He found some light switches along the wall and was able to turn on half the room’s fluorescent ceiling lights.

He heard a whimper.

Moving towards the sound cautiously, John soon found you tied to a chair. You looked a bit worse for wear; though you were dressed for an interview in black slacks and a blouse, your hair was in disarray, your cheek still sported a fading red mark, and you likely had other bumps and bruises.

Your eyes widened with hope when you saw John. You made sounds of surprise around the gag tied in your mouth, but he shushed you with a finger held to his lips.

He went over to you after lowering his gun, cocking back the safety, and re-holstering. He went to untie the gag first. You breathed deeply when it was gone.

“You okay?” he asked, touching your arm in comfort.

“Yeah,” you nodded, but your widening eyes still darted behind him.

Another safety clicked back. John immediately drew his gun again and turned. He was met with the man of the hour.

Standing mere feet away with his own gun was Daniel Savage. AKA: Azazel.

“Ooh, you’re getting old, John,” he said with a smirk. “Wasn’t expecting to get the drop on you so easily.”

John subtly moved so he was standing in front of you. He hadn't had time to untie you from the chair. Your breathing came out shallow as you tried to spy around John to your captor.

“Daniel,” John greeted. “It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?”

“You cheated though,” said Daniel, despite his cocky smirk. Like father like son. “I know you’ve got a team waiting in the wings.”

“If you wanna get technical, you cheated first,” John pointed out.

Daniel shrugged. Behind him came around ten of his own hired men, armed with their own guns. “Hate the player, hate the game, my friend.”

John’s lips pursed, but he didn’t lower his gun. He had a straight shot at Daniel’s chest.

“Even if you do get off a shot, you’ll be Swiss cheese where you stand,” Daniel said.

“Small price to pay for ending your miserable life,” John remarked.

Daniel’s brows rose. “Are you gonna make her pay for it too?”

He gestured behind John, where he glanced back at your face. Your red-rimmed eyes were shining with tears. And John knew that once his gun fired, his body would hit the ground. Yours wouldn’t be far behind.

His brows furrowed, and the hands holding his weapon wavered.

“So how you do think this is gonna play out?” John asked.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to drop that damn gun,” said Daniel. He cocked his own weapon. “Then, you’re going to get down on your knees and take this bullet, like putting down a rabid dog. Then maybe, I’ll let her go before the cops rush in.”

John’s hesitation was mere seconds. He clicked the safety back on. He set down his gun, and lowered to his knees in slow movements.

Your eyes widened further as incredulous tears slipped down your cheeks. You shook your head.

“Don’t!” you said shakily.

John didn’t look back at you this time, but he did answer you.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said.

Daniel’s grim smile made you shiver.

“What a caring father-in-law,” he said, and he slowly stalked forward. “You know, I prided myself on delegating my operations well. Oh, it was a well-oiled machine back in the day. But some things…well, some things are just better handled yourself. Know what I mean?”

He tilted his head down at John.

“For example: I really regret the way I had your wife killed,” he said. “For all the trouble you’ve given me, I wish I’d actually burned the bitch myself.”

John glared up at the man with pure fury and hatred.

Though his eyes widened when the first shot split the air, and buried a bullet in Daniel’s left arm. Daniel shouted in pain as he unconsciously dropped his gun. John dove for it, and everything started to happen at once.

Daniel kicked at John’s chest while holding his wounded arm, tossing the other man back. John rolled onto his feet, and their full out brawl began. Meanwhile, a unit of police officers swarmed into the warehouse and sparked a shootout with Daniel’s men.

And in all of this, Cas came out from behind your line of vision to untie you. He wore a protective vest over his usual white dress shirt, now rolled up to the elbows.

“Cas!” you gasped. He gave you a smile, then used a pocketknife to cut through the zip ties holding your wrists behind you and your ankles to the chair.

“Come on, let’s go.” He helped you up and guided you out the back of the warehouse.

The last coherent sound Sam and Dean heard was a bullet fired and hitting its target. They couldn’t tell if it was John or Daniel that had been hit, or even you.

Above all things, Dean was a man of action.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck this,” he growled. He got to his feet and went for the door of the surveillance van, but while Jody voiced her protest, it was Sam who reached him first.

“Dean, stop! You can’t go out there!” Sam said.

“The hell I can’t,” Dean said. The punch he reared back and threw was precise when it cracked Sam in the cheek. He went down hard. It was all Jody could do to keep him from knocking his head on the metal floor, but Sam was out cold, with his hair flopped over his face.

"Dean!" Jody yelled after him. She stared after the open door of the van with wide, worried eyes.

There were rows upon rows of storage units behind the warehouse. It felt like a maze in itself, one that you and Cas were forced to navigate alone in the crisp January night. Both of you saw your breath on the air as you tried to move quickly, but quietly.

Until a long arm reached out on the other side of a unit, and a hand closed on Cas’s gun, pushing it down and ripping it out of his hands. An elbow cracked into his face, making him grunt and stumble.

Your scream of surprise echoed in the night. You stared up into the familiar face of Alastair, whose mouth formed a sly grin.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said.

Cas distracted him with a blow that Alastair blocked, but it gave Cas room to break the taller man’s stance and knock his head against the unit wall—once, twice, until the man stumbled and fell. He wasn’t knocked out, but Cas didn’t wait for Alastair to recover. He grabbed you and forced you to run.

“I thought he was in protective custody for the trial,” you said, through huffing breaths.

“Evidently he escaped,” Cas replied.

“God, Cas. You really need to hand out some pink slips,” you said, with a tremor in your voice. The police were supposed to have been watching you as well, before you were kidnapped. Cas conceded your point.

“We really shouldn’t have given him immunity,” he grumbled.

Dean knew he was being some kind of idiot.

Knew it as he carefully approached a side door of the warehouse. His vest wouldn’t protect his whole body if he entered the no man’s land shootout he could hear happening on the other side of the door.

Already he could see policemen escorting some of Azazel’s captured team around the front exit. Dean kept to the shadows, and he cracked the side door open.

There was still plenty going on inside. A few bodies were already strewn across the dusty warehouse floor. Large crates stacked up to the ceiling offered meager protection for both sides of the siege, including Dean as he kept to the wall and slid his way inside and behind a formation of wooden crates. He scanned the room until he found his dad.

John was fighting hand-to-hand with who had to be Daniel Savage. Even though the latter had blood dripping from his arm, John had his share of bruises and scrapes, including a long cut across his cheek from the knife clenched in Daniel’s non-injured right hand.

What the hell do I do? Dean assessed the situation, his eyes darting quickly between the men. He came in here without a weapon (another smart move). He went through most of the training a million years ago, but Dean wasn’t a police officer. He was a firefighter.

However, when he spotted a forgotten Glock on the floor, just a few yards away where the men were still tousling, Dean inched his way closer. He’d have to leave the relative safety of the crates and throw himself out into the open to reach the gun. At this point, Daniel was closer.

And he’d noticed the gun too, at the same time that John glanced up and saw his son. His eyes widened, and just for a moment he lost his grip on Daniel. The other man went for the gun at the same time Dean dove.

John yanked Daniel back by his collar and kneed him in the stomach. But Daniel had the longer reach. He cracked an elbow into John’s face and followed by a swift punch to the gut. John grunted and doubled over at the impact to his already battered ribs and stomach.

Daniel threw him head-first into a pile of nearby crates. He was breathing hard, but his lips twitched in satisfaction at the way John fell into a heap of broken wood. The detective was clearly waning.

Daniel stalked forward. Ignoring his still bleeding shoulder, he grabbed John by the jacket and collar of his shirt and hefted him up to his feet, prepared to deliver another blow. The cocking of a nearby gun made him pause. But in a moment, he twisted John in front him with an arm wrapped around his neck to face his next attacker.

While Daniel had been distracted, Dean had managed to dive and roll across the concrete, scooping up the gun on his way back onto his feet. Now he’d had the time to take aim and wait for his moment, which was right fucking now.

Slowly, Daniel tilted his head to look past John’s shoulder. He was met with Dean’s smirk and a gun pointed directly at his head.

“I think I’ve got something of yours,” Dean remarked. His fingers slid over the trigger.

Daniel tilted his head. A dry smile edged at the corner of his lips. “All right, Dean. Well played. But…”

He tightened his arm around John’s throat and held the knife poised at his neck.

“We’re at what you’d call an impasse, don’t you think?” Daniel asked.

“Dean,” John said. He met his eldest’s gaze as uncertainly crept into Dean’s stance. His hand was still held aloft, but there was an almost imperceptible shake.

“Just shoot him,” said John, with full conviction. “Don’t worry about me.”

Dean’s mouth pressed into a line, his brows furrowing. He wasn’t doing that.

“See, I don’t think he’s got it in ‘im,” Daniel said, speaking lowly in John’s ear. His knife tightened against John’s neck. “You’re out of your fucking depth, Dean.”

Dean flinched as a bullet zoomed past his head from across the room. He was reminded that there was still a fight going on, and the three of them were very much out in the open. John’s face turned more urgent, with thinly veiled worry.

“Dean, either shoot him or get the hell out of here,” he said tersely.

“I’m not leaving,” Dean said, with a small, stubborn shake of his head. But he was nervous. Despite how close he’d come with Nick Savage, Dean had never shot at someone, let alone taken a life. The gun was heavy in his hand.

“Running out of time, son,” Daniel taunted.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean gritted out. “Speaking of, did you have Alastair do your dirty work, taking out Nick, or did you pull that trigger yourself?”

Daniel’s smirk faded, his gaze tightening with resignation.

“Sacrifices, Dean,” he said. “We make ‘em to survive. To make sure our legacies survive.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at this man, and he finally understood what his dad had been trying to tell him.

He ain’t a man. He’s a monster.

The gun was heavy in his hand…

“Come on, Dean!” Daniel shouted. “Make a decision—”

Dean still remembered most things he’d learned at the Police Academy. He’d lived, ate, sweat, and breathed those drills and tests for months. And yet, there was only one score he’d truly been proud of. It was the one record of his dad’s that he’d managed to beat.

You could guess which one.

Dean let his fingers squeeze the trigger on some instinct he couldn’t name. Daniel was forced to choke on his words.

Cas pulled you around the corner of a storage unit that blocked the light of the moon. It was just in time for a bullet to rip past where his head used to be.

You leaned heavily against the wall and heaved for breath, but Cas held a finger to his lips while he tried to calm his own breathing.

You held a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds from getting out. Your eyes were wide and panicked, but Cas could only reassure you with a brief hand on your shoulder. He nodded and signaled with his free hand. Wait.

You gave a jerky nod in return. So he reached for his belt and brandished the only weapon he had left—the knife he’d used to cut through your bonds. The air was quiet, except for the distant shouts of police officers; it sounded like Azazel’s men were finally being rounded up.

Cas had called for backup earlier, but he didn’t think they could wait for it. Nor would he know if they were coming. He’d long since turned off the radio on his belt so that it couldn’t tip off his position with you.

He chanced looking around the wall of the storage unit. The coast looked clear, though he knew it wasn’t. Still, the best Cas could hope for was to cover you on the way back to the police barricade. He leaned back and reached for you. He guided you, both with his eyes and a hand on your back.

On the count of three, run, he mouthed. You wordlessly agreed. He saw the fear shining in your eyes.

One…two…

An arm shot out to grab Castiel’s collar the moment he stepped out from his cover, making you scream. The first punch came swift; Alastair was taller, perhaps stronger, but Cas recovered quickly.

He ducked the other man’s arm and delivered an uppercut that had his adversary careening back. With a well-placed jab to the wrist, Alastair’s gun clattered away across the ground.

Cas managed to shoot you a quick look. “Run. Now!”

You paused for a mere moment while Cas continued to grapple with Alastair. Then, in your frozen fear, you finally managed flight. And you took off running, even though Alastair tried to grab at your hair. Cas held him back and continued the fight.

You’d only managed a few yards of distance though, before you couldn’t help but look back. Something in you just couldn’t leave Cas behind.

You took cover behind another storage unit and watched Alastair slowly get the upper hand. He managed to pin Cas against the ribbed metal wall of a unit. He winced as it dug into his spine, but he had bigger problems.

He spat blood after the third blow to his jaw and tried to blink dark spots of his vision. Alastair looked down on him with the lean look of a predator. His smile betrayed the enjoyment he took in his work.

“Contrary to what you might think, I’ve never killed a cop before,” he said. “Just a cop’s wife.”

Cas’s eyes widened a fraction. Alastair’s smile deepened. He raised a bloody fist to finish his work, but he winced and weakened with a shout as a knife embedded deep in his thigh.

It was Cas’s knife that you’d found on the ground.

Alastair’s angry eyes looked down and met your scared ones. You let go of the knife and scrambled back. He backhanded you roughly. You cried out and fell hard on the pavement.

Alastair reached for the knife, but Cas grabbed it first. He twisted as he yanked it out, then jabbed it into the taller man’s neck. It choked his scream as he stumbled back. And yet, even that didn’t manage to kill him.

Cas dove for the fallen gun. It was mere feet away from where he’d forced it out of Alastair’s grip. Cas felt a hand grab his shoulder. He reacted fast—he turned and shot two rounds of hot led into Alastair’s gut.

His gray eyes went wide. Blood gurgled in his mouth.

And slowly, Alastair slid to the ground.

Cas was bloody, his shirt stained and torn, but he was still standing with ragged breath. You had managed to sit up, though your shocked eyes were trained on the body you’d just seen fall into a heap. The horrific spell of it broke when Cas gently touched your shoulder.

You gasped and raised your head.

“It’s okay,” he said, reaching a hand to you. “It’s over.”

Cas escorted you back to the police barricade. There you found Sam, and the mere sight of him relieved you so much you didn’t realize you were crying when you stepped into his embrace. He hugged you tight and asked if you were all right.

You couldn’t give him an honest answer, but at least you were alive.

“I’m okay,” you said tremulously, but you pulled back at grasped his arms. “Where’s Dean?”

Sam looked anxious as his gaze flit between you and Cas.

“That goddamn idiot, he went in there! They won’t let me through—”

“What?” Cas said incredulously. “Into the warehouse?”

Your tears fell anew as a new frantic worry took hold, churning in your stomach and making you feel sick. You turned, and both Cas and Sam had to stop you from heading towards the warehouse.

“Get him out of there!” you cried. “Dean!”

You tried to push past Cas and his attempts to calm you, but you stopped the moment you saw him…

Dean was helping John limp out of the warehouse. Jody was on John’s other side, supporting him as well. John looked beat to hell, and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the calm look on his face. Like he’d finally sleep tonight.

Dean, on the other hand, looked pale, haggard, and worried. However, his head perked up as soon as he heard your voice. His eyes widened. He turned to Jody to make sure she could support John on her own, and she nodded at him.

It let Dean make his way straight for you.

Sam and Cas finally released you, like a horse waiting to bolt out of the stables. Your tears blurred your vision as you went to him.

When Dean swept you up into his arms, you were able to throw yours around his neck and cling to him for all you were worth. You buried your face into his neck and sobbed your relief.

You wouldn’t know that Dean’s eyes were shining and red, his mouth trembling slightly as he sucked in a breath and held you as tight as he dared. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, over your wild hair. His lips pressed to the side of your head as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked, when he was able to speak.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, though his question prompted you to pull back and find his face. Your heels came back to the ground, and you reached up to stroke his cheek and search his gaze.

“What about you?” you asked tremulously. “Your head?”

“’M fine,” he said. Though the truth was, he was reeling. His ears still rung from the bullet that hit Daniel between the eyes.

The weight of that decision was almost too fresh to be real, but it was heavy on Dean all the same. He could even get in legal trouble for this. He wasn’t supposed to have entered that building. Hell, he’d picked up a gun and shot a man.

Though he already knew what Sam would say.

Justification. Imminent danger. Self-defense.

Dean just didn’t know if that would fly here, especially with the Fire Department.

Right now, however, you were his lifeline. You grounded him in reality when you held his face in your hands. Just beyond you, he could see the relief on both Sam and Cas’s faces.

Dean gave them a smile, but he focused back on you. He held your hand to his cheek.

“Promise me you’re gonna stay put for a while,” he quipped. “Preferably where I can see you.”

You scoffed at him through the tears glittering in your eyes.

“Dean Winchester, if that isn’t the most hypocritical thing that’s ever come out of your mouth!” you said, punctuating your words with a slap on his chest.

“Hey!” he protested, but you ignored him. You gripped his shirt and felt the Kevlar underneath. It might’ve protected his chest, but he hadn’t had anything to protect his damn head.

“You run into fires, not bullets, you idiot,” you said, now wiping frustrated tears from your cheek.

Dean’s tension began to ease with a smile. He held you more securely, pulling you flush against him.

“You sound like Bobby,” he teased.

“Good!” you snapped. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that. Do you hear m—?”

He didn’t think he’d ever miss you giving him shit, but this time, it just made him smile until the corners of his eyes crinkled. Shortly before he cut you off with a searing kiss.

You made a sound of surprise, even as you gripped at his shirt, then his face to keep him there. You both knew this night was long from being over. An even longer way from recovering.

But for now, this was a good start.

AN: And so, we're drawing near to the end. 🥹 What did you think of the respective ends of Nick and Daniel Savage, and even Alastair? And of course, her and Dean's reunion. 💗

Soon (this weekend), we have the epilogue...

Next Time:

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he took your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little...

Keep Reading: THE EPILOGUE

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