#*brain flat please accept my offering

[arachling2]

𝑨𝒄𝒕 𝒊. 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆,

Because it takes me the better part of a century to produce anything coherent, I'm just going to slap this up so that there's something for the brain to chew on while the pretty words evade me.

After leaving 𝖴𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄, which happens in the beginning of the silence period amidst the anarchy, he becomes part of a small company that's primarily based in the Lower City. As the cult of the 𝖠𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾 begins to crop up, the foremost leader of the company is willfully indoctrinated by the forces that be, which basically enables The Chosen Three to own a private, elite batch of soldiers that can be dispersed among their cultist settlements as needed.

Breaking apart the company removes any foreseeable threat of retaliation down the line. Just as well, it serves their best interest to bolster the forces at their True Soul's disposal by granting them an individual that can function with great versatility. ( Bodyguard, Lieutenant, disciplinarian & or enforcer, etc ).

This removes him from being a True Soul himself but nonetheless entangled in the cults mess. He is best suited to the encampment in the derelict temple, his cool headed demeanor was assumed to mesh most successfully with the True Soul trio because it is arguably the most contentious grouping among the other two ( that being under 𝖪𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗂𝖼 in the shadow lands or personal detail for 𝖡𝖺𝗇𝖾'𝗌 chosen. )

There are several angles this can be written from:

His arrival could be taken as a sign from the 𝖠𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾, despite his blasphemous ways ( he will tread carefully, there ), he is still an adept soldier & leader, as is any 𝖣𝗋𝗈𝗐 worth his salt.

It could be seen as punitive, sending more forces because clearly the ones they have can't handle their workload on their own.

After the 𝖭𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗂𝖽 crashes, he is a potential guide into the 𝖴𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 & would be familiar with its terrain, its creatures & the subterranean cultures. Its not like his loyalty can't be bought, that's the danger of retaining mercenaries, they can always abandon you for the next highest bidder.

In this particular circumstance, he is not infected with a Tadpole & is not a True soul. He does not subscribe to the cultist preaching, he finds the desperate fanaticism far too similar to the exact environment he tried to escape in the first place.

Companion specific angles:

𝖦𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂 & 𝖣𝗋𝗈𝗐 are not so different from each other. Even though this won't be noted at the time, there's enough similarity in culture that he's relatively amiable to 𝖦𝗂𝗍𝗁. He's not bothered by militant personalities. If anything, he understands what's at the source of them from a personal perspective. He actually might enjoy the disparaging remarks more than he lets on, he'd find them quite funny.

He won't condemn 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍'𝗌 worship of 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋, but his feelings about it are exactly how he feels about this 𝖠𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾 business. It's a whole lot of self sacrifice for someone that will never return your admiration. He's of the opinion it's not his place to say that, though, he believes some lessons need to be learned the hard way.

𝖶𝗒𝗅𝗅 is a surprising presence to him, his reputation proceeds him &, unfortunately, their moral compasses might grind against each other like sandpaper. A'byssel was raised to prioritize self preservation, not charity or acts of goodwill. He's skeptical of 𝖶𝗒𝗅𝗅's pointed ability to think of others over himself, but so long as you aren't volunteering his time without his consent, it's a harmless skepticism.

He doesn't trust 𝖠𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗇. He knows self preservation when he sees it, if push came to shove, they'd abandon each other in a dire situation & they both know it. He's content to trade witty banter on occasion, to pass the time, but he proceeds with a watchful eye over this one. ( He doesn't care that 𝖠𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗇 is undead )

𝖦𝖺𝗅𝖾 is a bit of an odd one, his well meant intentions & considerably warm disposition are just very strange to him. Near alien. 𝖣𝗋𝗈𝗐 are rarely met with displays of open hospitality, but the 𝖶𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗋𝖽'𝗌 lack of bias is actually well received. He won't blame him for being reasonably cautious in the beginning, he'd be right to have a little doubt, but so long as 𝖦𝖺𝗅𝖾 himself remains harmless, he'll reciprocate that.

In a rare display of empathy, he can understand what it means to be more weapon than person. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗁, despite her loud enthusiasm, has a better chance of understanding his upbringing than most in the party. While her heat will absolutely make him slick with sweat, as a pair of weapons who've regained mastery over themselves, he would enjoy the thrill of her recklessness in battle & is willing to fight alongside her at any time.

While not necessarily a companion in act 1, given the implied potential of a shared culture & former lifestyle, it would be a small injustice not to mention 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺. Being with her is not unlike being under the thumb of a 𝖬𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇 once more, she's a natural commander, with all of the privilege & confidence that was allowed to grow because she was born in the right body. That's not to overlook the challenges that pushed her out of the 𝖴𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄, they all have things they'd like to leave buried, but the fact remains that in act 1 he will not feel like her equal & that's apparent in his initial hesitation to show anything beyond his unreadable mask. Speak when spoken to sort of thing, with the caveat that, without the structure around her protecting the True Souls, he'd be less willing to be such an obedient solder. ( He likes the spiders, though. )

[mikoriin]

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[1800-fight-me]

The Wrong Guy

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Rating: M (As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, non explicit sex

Word count: A little over 1k

Synopsis: Both you and Logan fight against the growing feelings for one another as your relationship deepens.

Author’s note: I am so in love with Wolverine my brain stopped working, please accept this humble offering! I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, the words rough and choked out as if he had to force himself to push the vile words past his teeth. 

“Like what?” you breathed out. 

“Like you see your future in my eyes,” he said. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your eyes began to water. 

“Because all I see when I look in yours is a past that broke me completely.” 

You reached your hand across the table and gently laid it atop his own. 

“Logan,” you whispered. 

He shook his head and pulled his hand away. You swore you could hear the sound of your heart cracking. 

“You don’t want this, sweetheart,” he practically growled as he gestured to himself and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince you or himself. 

“I can decide for myself,” you protested. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You deserve better than to be shackled to someone like me,” he said, and now his hazel eyes shone with unshed tears- the same as yours. 

You glared at him, suddenly sick of all his self hatred bullshit. 

“Then why haven’t you told me to fuck off? You certainly have no problem pushing people away.” you snapped. 

“Because I can’t!” he said, voice raised. 

His breaths came hard and heavy and a part of you wanted to only offer him comfort, but your defenses were up from his harsh words. 

“Why?” you asked, voice flat. 

“It hurts to be near you, a constant reminder of my biggest failure, of everything I lost,” he said as he hung his head. 

This time the tears did begin to fall. 

You opened your mouth to speak but he continued. In a broken voice so unlike the powerful wolverine the world knew, he said, “And it hurts worse to be away from you.” 

If honesty was finally on the menu, you decided to say what had been on your mind as well. 

“When I look at you, I see the future I should have had. I see the life that should have been filled with love and the feeling of home rather than constant wandering and heartbreak.” 

He looked up at you and you ignored the impulse to smooth out the worried wrinkle between his brows with your thumb.  

“And that hurts too,” you said. 

He shook his head. “I’m not him, darlin’. I’m sorry you never met the Logan from your world, but I can’t be what you need from me.” 

“And I can’t be her,” you said, referring to the version of you that was once his wife. 

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with pain and regret. 

He was your soulmate, but he wasn’t. A different version of the soulmate you were supposed to meet but never did. 

You were his soulmate, but you weren’t. A different version of the love of his life, his wife, the mother of his child, that was ripped from him violently and mercilessly. 

You were bound but doomed from the start. Both unable to walk away but also unable to stay. 

“Where does that leave us?” you asked in a voice so soft and tentative you didn’t even recognize it as your own. 

He sighed heavily, downed the rest of his whiskey, before he said, “I don’t fuckin’ know.” 

You sighed and stood up, ready to storm out of his apartment. 

“Wait,” he murmured, his large hand catching yours. 

You met his gaze and melted at the affection you saw there. 

You let him tug you back down to the couch, this time your body closer to his, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough that the presence and scent of him was intoxicating. 

“Let me kiss you,” he said, voice low in a way that made your toes curl. 

You worried there were unspoken words he wasn’t willing to say, that he was really asking to kiss you one last time. 

This man had just ripped your heart out, but you could never say no to him. You could never deny him anything. 

“Logan,” you whimpered and he reached for your face, wiping your tears away before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so tender you wondered if he was being honest before. You wondered if underneath the hurt that maybe he loved you. 

Your soul belonged to him. 

So you moved your lips in time with him, opening up at his prompting, and a soft whine came from the back of your throat as you tasted him, as your tongue slipped against his. 

A sound- something akin to a growl rumbled through his chest as he pulled you closer, kissed you harder, desperation evident in the way he consumed you. 

“Don’t wanna make you cry, baby,” he murmured against your skin as he trailed his lips across your jaw and throat. 

You whimpered as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he said, and it was less of an order and more of a plea. 

You let him pull you onto his lap and make good on his promise to give you pleasure, the kind only he could provide. 

But the pain still sat heavy in your chest even as he kissed you gently, moved inside you, and helped you reach your peak as he stared into your eyes. 

This wasn’t anything like the other lust driven entanglements you had with Logan. No, this was him making love to you and baring his soul within the process. 

There were tears once again in both your eyes as he brought you over the edge with him. He held you against his sweat glistened chest and you listened to his slowing heartbeat as you traced patterns on his muscled torso. 

“What if we tried?” you asked softly. 

He hummed as his nose ran across your hair, breathing you in. 

“You’re it for me,” he said in agreement. 

You burrowed your face deeper into his chest and he held you tight. 

And when the morning came, you both tried to put the past and the future aside and just be together, to love each other.

You both tried. 

[wheneverfeasible]

Ruin Me (part 4)

wc: 4.7k || rating: E || story summary: Steve shows up on Eddie’s doorstep with an offer he can’t refuse || chapter summary: Smut ensues, as does a terrifying realization. || tags: omegaverse, alpha!Eddie Munson, omega!Steve Harrington, intersex omegas, explicit content (see ao3 for full tags) || posted in full on ao3

See bottom for notes

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Previously…

“You feel so good, omega,” Eddie whispered with a pant against Steve’s skin, feeling how his own tip was beginning to bead with desire for the boy beneath him. “Gonna knot you up so good. Gonna ruin you for anyone else again ever.”

“Prove it,” Steve growled. “Stop being such a pussy and put your fingers inside me already.”

Who was Eddie to argue with that?

With a sharp bite to Steve’s shoulder just above his clavicle, Eddie let his finger finally sink into the wet heat of Steve’s pussy, causing Steve to let out a deep groan of both pain and pleasure. He pumped his finger in and out just enough to feel the muscles adjust, pleased at how quickly Steve accepted even just this part of him, and then he was adding the second finger soon after.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve whined again, hitching his hips up higher to rock against the thrusting fingers. The wet sound of him was evident even over the rain outside, little gasping breaths leaving him as he dropped his head back exposing his throat. “Feels so good, alpha.”

“You touch yourself like this, baby?” Eddie murmured, pressing a kiss to the bright red mark his bite had left behind, moving back to trail soft kisses to Steve’s exposed neck. “You touch yourself and imagine it’s alpha cock instead?”

“Gonna be thinking about yours next time I do,” Steve groaned, which turned into a high keen when Eddie curved his fingers to find that spongy spot inside that caused Steve to tense beneath him.

Smirking, Eddie pulled back to look down at Steve’s face, pressing into that spot over and over again as obvious pleasure jolted through Steve. A quick look down showed even Steve’s cocklet was shiny with arousal, and Eddie was eager to taste it all. He could feel Steve’s muscles coiling, knowing how quickly the first time can go with someone else in charge of your pleasure.

Eddie pulled back, eager for Steve to climax as if it were his own pleasure he was chasing, but wanting to do it right. He ignored Steve’s whine of loss as Eddie pulled his fingers free, knowing he’d have his fingers back in that slick heat soon, and soon after that he’ll have even more.

First, however, he gripped Steve’s hips and scooted back to pull Steve lower on the bed until he was flat on his back, grinning at the small surprised ‘oomph’ Steve let out from the action.

“I’m going to suck your cock now as I spread your pussy with my fingers,” he said conversationally, giving Steve just barely enough time to protest or call out ‘red’ if need be (not that Steve could do more than simply gape at Eddie as his brain obviously tried to process that information) before he was diving in, sliding three fingers deep in Steve’s pussy as he wrapped his lips around Steve’s cocklet and took him whole into his mouth.

Steve cried out at the dual sensations, hips stuttering as though they didn’t know if they wanted to press up into the warmth of Eddie’s mouth or down onto his fingers spreading him open.

Eddie, meanwhile, was quite happy to slurp up the slick that had spread over Steve’s cocklet and was even coating Steve’s thighs until they were just as shiny, letting Eddie know easily that Steve definitely didn’t have a problem with getting appropriately wet. Encased against Steve’s core by his own draping hair, Eddie eagerly breathed in the omega’s enticing sweet musk.

Though Steve’s inner walls were tight around him, he was slick enough to let Eddie’s quickly thrusting fingers meet no resistance, his body adjusting to the new width easily and promisingly. He could feel the quivering of Steve’s thighs again, could hear the needy whines the boy was making as he took Eddie’s fingers as deep as Eddie could bury them, making Eddie wonder at how easily Steve might be able to take his whole fist.

The thought of Steve’s wet pussy lips encasing him up to his forearm had his dick jerk warningly, so he pushed that thought aside for later contemplation, instead focusing on the just as alluring present. He suckled at Steve’s cocklet, groaning around him at the pleasant weight on his tongue, before reluctantly pulling back. He wanted to see Steve’s face for this.

Letting Steve drag slowly over his lips, swirling his tongue around the tip one last time, he released him with a small pop as he readjusted his fingers inside Steve to find that spot again. Once he was certain he found it, he glanced back up at Steve’s expression with a grin, watching the way Steve flushed all the way down his chest, writhing beneath him.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good riding my fingers like this. Can’t wait to see how you look riding my knot,” he breathed, causing another sharp whine to rip itself from Steve’s panting lips.

“A-alpha,” he moaned, limbs shaking with the intensity of his building orgasm as Eddie’s fingers assaulted the sensitive spot inside him over and over again. Eddie couldn’t tell if Steve’s hair was still wet from the rain or if it was from sweat, but Eddie’s own hair was sending droplets of sweat down the back of his neck, so he figured it was probably both. Eddie wanted to lick it all up. “G-gonna—”

Though Eddie had a feeling he knew how Steve was going to finish that sentence, he had no chance to as, with another firm massage against his g-spot, Steve was suddenly shouting in surprise and arching off the bed with an accompanying rush of slickness that soaked Eddie’s entire hand down to his wrist. The scent was unlike anything Eddie had ever smelled before, making saliva pool in his mouth with anticipation.

Even still, Eddie milked Steve through his orgasm, working the sensitive spot until Steve was whimpering at the overstimulation, utterly spent. Only then did Eddie pause, slowly pulling his hand free with a wet squelching sound that was music to his ears.

Steve’s face and expression during this had been everything Eddie had hoped for. Eyes squeezed tightly shut as the orgasm hit, head thrown back against the pillow and bedding, mouth open after his shout with his face, neck, and chest flushed a deep red. One hand was curling into the sheets in a white-knuckled grip that had Eddie worrying about the continued wellbeing of the old material, while the other was curled into Steve’s own hair and threatening more than a few lost strands there as well.

With his dry hand, Eddie moved to lightly grasp those fingers first, easing them open to release the hair that had already been through a lot tonight. And would be through so much more after he was done with the omega, that was for certain.

He squeezed the hand once it released the precious strands, causing Steve to flutter his eyes open and stare at Eddie with glazed, unfocused eyes. Eddie patiently waited for him to return to himself, grinning down at Steve with a smug expression. He needed Steve’s focus for the next part.

Steve, focusing on the leering face above him finally, let out a small chuff, carefully stretching his legs back down on the mattress. His nose wrinkled a little as he shifted on the damp spot beneath him, his eyes moving to track Eddie’s hand still shiny with his slick as the older boy finally brought it up to his mouth, licking a long stripe from wrist to fingertip.

Eddie could only smirk at the wide eyed stare he received for that move.

“You really are as sweet as you smell, precious,” he purred, taking himself in hand next to spread the slick over his own cock, squeezing himself once more to keep himself under control. The mere aperitif of Steve’s taste had him more than eager for the real thing waiting for him, however, direct from the source.

A small whine left Steve at Eddie’s words, the sweet smell Eddie was quickly growing addicted to rising, and all Eddie wanted to do was bury himself in the scent and drink his fill. So he did.

Eddie took only a moment to wipe off some of the slick on the sheets, and then he was scooting back on the bed and lowering himself down flat until he could mouth at Steve’s hip bones, nipping him sharply before softly kissing the reddened mark. He glanced up at Steve, catching his pink faced look of incredulity, and then he lifted one of Steve’s legs to throw over his own shoulder and moved in.

The first swipe of his tongue over Steve’s folds was unlike any pussy he’d ever tasted before. Not that he had a lot of experience, of course, but he had enough. Enough to know what he was doing at least. Enough to help a little virgin through the first time he had his pussy eaten.

“Oh, fu—” Steve gasped out in exclamation, one hand staying fisted in the bed sheets while the other moved to curl in Eddie’s hair this time. Steve didn’t pull or twist or push or tug, however, instead he just held on as Eddie’s tongue slid through his folds, curling to flick along his already swollen cocklet.

Entirely without his permission, a deep rumble of pleasure began in Eddie’s chest, the taste of Steve even better than he had ever expected it to be. He thought about teasing Steve some more, about telling him how sweet he was, about how his virgin cunt tasted, but a hunger was burning in Eddie. He wanted more, he wanted all, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had his tongue soaked in Steve’s delicious slick.

Even still, Eddie let himself enjoy the moment. He swiped his tongue flat over Steve’s drenched pussy, every bit of slick he cleaned up being replaced by yet more. He could feel it coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin, mingling with his own saliva as he ate the bountiful feast before him.

“Ed-ddie-ee,” Steve continued to whine out, his heel digging into Eddie’s back where it was slung over his shoulder, hips thrusting up to meet his tongue. Great panting breaths were forced from his plush pink lips, Eddie’s name a repeating gasp for air, a reminder of who was making him feel this way.

It was the prettiest fucking sound Eddie had ever heard.

Unable to control himself, Eddie turned his face briefly to sharply bite at Steve’s inner thigh as he shoved all four of his fingers into Steve’s dripping hole. A sharp moan, nearly a cry, left Steve as he squeezed around the intrusion with an expression of pure bliss and…

Yeah. Eddie was going to fist this boy one of these days. He could feel that to the very core of his being.

For now, however, he had other things in mind.

“Look at you, darling,” he whispered, nuzzling into the red indent of his teeth. “So fucking pretty. I’m going to fucking ruin you so no alpha can ever make you feel as good as I can. I’m going to make you insatiable for me and me alone.”

Despite bordering on inappropriate, seeing as how they both knew this was only meant to be a one time thing and it wasn’t real between them, Steve could only frantically nod. “Please,” he moaned so prettily. ”Please, Eddie. P-please, alpha. Make me yours.”

The growl that had been building itself up in Eddie finally let loose. He all but ripped his fingers from Steve, though he didn’t give the poor omega even a second to mourn their loss before he was diving back in, his tongue finally replacing them once more.

“Alpha!” Steve all but shrieked, both hands now curling in Eddie’s hair and this time he did pull Eddie closer, thighs trembling as they’re squeezed against Eddie’s ears, keeping him boxed in against his heat. Eddie was more than happy to oblige.

Steve arched off the bed as Eddie expertly tongue fucked him, crying out with each thrust and curl of the appendage inside his core. Eddie’s fingers dug into the thigh hooked over his shoulder as he pressed so close he was suffocating in Steve’s moist scent, his other hand having to squeeze his own balls trapped against the bed so he didn’t pop a knot just from eating Steve Harrington out.

He ate with a ferociousness, licking and sucking and biting and thrusting, until Steve was nothing but a babbling, sobbing mess. He could feel and taste the gushing of Steve’s eager cunt, how tightly he began squeezing around Eddie’s head and tongue, how he was trembling beneath him so tightly coiled, so close, close, close—

Steve came with a scream, his cocklet squirting over his own chest.

Eddie nearly laughed with glee as his face was soaked with Steve’s release, swallowing the rush down with greedy swipes of his tongue. He kept licking and sucking at Steve’s swollen walls and lips until Steve’s fingers tugged a little too forcibly at his hair, overly sensitive and aching. Eddie did laugh then, chuckling as he lifted from his prize and immediately sought out Steve’s other lips.

Steve moaned into the sloppy kiss, bent nearly in half with his leg still over Eddie’s shoulder, panting against Eddie’s mouth and shuddering at the taste of himself. Teeth clacked together as Eddie couldn’t quite stop smiling, smearing Steve’s own juices over the other boy’s face.

“Damn, baby, I almost burst just from tasting you,” he lightly huffed, trailing his lips to Steve’s ear and swiping his tongue along the shell of it, causing another sharp whine to leave the omega. He smirked, slowly letting Steve’s leg slide from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow. “But we’re not finished yet, sweetheart.”

Without giving Steve a moment to react, Eddie pulled back, tossing Steve’s leg over to his other side to give him the space necessary to grab the other boy by the hips and���thanking the muscles that came from hauling around heavyass amps and drums every week—flipped Steve over until he was on his front.

A startled squawk left the omega, causing Eddie’s smirk to become a small grin, especially when he then pulled Steve up to his knees and pressed the length of his cock against the boy’s pussy, pulling out another moan from Steve beneath him.

Eddie paused though, swiping his fingers lightly over Steve’s hips, giving the other boy a moment to catch his breath. Steve shakily held himself up on his forearms, his body twitching like he didn’t know if he wanted to move forward or back against Eddie’s body. His entire body was slick with sweat, and god if Eddie didn’t want to see just what else he could wring from the boy.

“What’s your color, baby?” he quietly asked, his voice gruff with desire. It took every drop of strength within himself not to rock against Steve’s hips. “It’s not too late to stop now.”

But Steve shook his head roughly at that. “No,” he gasped and groaned, and though when he looked over his shoulder there was a pinch of anxiety around his eyes, his voice didn’t waver. “It’s green, Eddie. My color…it’s green.” Steve drew in a shuddering breath. “Knot me, alpha. Please.”

Christ on a cracker. Eddie let out a heavy groan at that, and then he couldn’t stop himself from thrust his hips against Steve’s, the tip of his cock sliding through the soft folds of Steve’s swollen pussy.

Whatever smirk had started spreading on Steve’s lips at Eddie’s groan was knocked from him by the action, a moan of his own escaping him. Eddie pulled back, taking himself in hand to line himself up, before pausing again.

“Are you certain you want me to come in you? No condoms, or…anything?” If he was meant to knot Steve, it wasn’t like he could pull out, but he didn’t want to cause Steve any worry. Since Steve wasn’t in heat then it wasn’t likely for anything to catch, and he’d give Steve a morning after pill too just in case, but he wanted to make absolutely certain that Steve was serious about going raw.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve groaned, sounding exasperated and annoyed. “If you don’t stick your dick in me right no—OWH GOD!”

Well, it had sounded like permission enough.

Eddie thrust forward as soon as he was certain that Steve was certain, bright green and certain, and then he was sliding home into Steve’s tight, wet heat like it was where he had always belonged.

After two orgasms and being properly loosened and relaxed, there was little to no resistance, Steve’s body squeezing around him to suck him in deeper. A sound like the air being punched from his lungs left Steve as his head dropped to the pillows before him, thighs trembling.

It was…fuck. It was unlike any pussy or ass or mouth or anything else that Eddie had stuck his dick in before, Steve’s body an inferno and—before tonight—untouched. A soft keen left Steve’s lips as Eddie slowly slid in, deeper and deeper, until their bodies were flush against each other.

“Fuck, baby boy, it’s like you were made for me,” Eddie panted, and he could feel the sweat spilling down his back, over his chest, down his thighs at the sweet pleasure and effort it took not to move. “Your virgin pussy feels so perfect, omega, made just for my thick cock.”

He knew he was supposed to ruin Steve tonight, was supposed to fuck him hard and deep so that there was no denying what had occurred tonight, to save him from an unwanted bonding, but…

He needed to make certain that Steve was okay. Despite Steve’s earlier assumptions that Eddie would just take and take and take, he wasn’t that sort of alpha. No, instead he wanted to give and give and give. And maybe take just a little bit as well.

As he felt Steve flutter around him, clenching and releasing as his omega body naturally accumulating to an alpha cock inside him, Eddie slowly rocked in circles, taking pleasure in the hitched breathing of the boy as he adjusted. Of course, it wasn’t just for Steve either. Eddie feared that if he moved too quickly, he’d pop his knot and bust a load immediately, more turned on than he had ever recalled being before.

Eventually, however, a small whine came from Steve, and then the boy was pressing back against him. “Eddie,” he moaned. “Need you, alpha…”

“I’ve got you, omega,” Eddie answered immediately, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist as he laid himself over the boy’s sweat-sticky back. He nuzzled into the back of his hair with a rumble in his chest. “M’gonna knot you so good, omega. Gonna make you scream for me. Gonna fill you with my seed so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Oops.

That last part was probably a bit too much, because Steve wasn’t his, but before he could backpedal and try to explain that he was just in a role right now, Steve was moaning and pressing even further back against him with a needy whine.

“Fuck, yes, alpha. Show them I’m yours,” he panted. “Mark me up. Ruin me, alpha, please.”

How was Eddie supposed to do anything but answer that request?

Steve was already marked with blossoming bruises, but Eddie couldn’t help but leave more, sucking biting kisses along Steve’s neck, shoulders, and back, though he avoided the mating gland he knew that Steve had been worried about. That Steve had trusted him with. That fact shouldn’t make him feel the way it did, yet it did.

That strange urge to protect Steve began rearing its head again, causing Eddie to squash it down and focus on what was real between them: nothing but hot, no-emotions sex for a specific purpose.

(If that purpose was to protect Steve from an alpha who would hurt him, well, that was neither here nor there at the moment.)

Eddie finally pulled back again, sliding slowly out of Steve until just his tip remained inside. He relished in the needy whine Steve let out, though he didn’t let the boy finish it before he was slamming back inside the omega with a bruising grip on his hips.

A choked off cry left Steve at the force, followed by a shuddering gasp as Eddie repeated the process, working his hips as he thrust into Steve over and over again. All of it Steve took willingly, spreading his thighs more as pushed back against the alpha drilling into him, back arched like a bitch in heat.

Eddie did not let up, tilting his hips as he brought Steve backwards to meet him, angling for that spot inside of Steve and knowing he found it again when Steve let out a sharp cry, even his forearms giving out on him until Steve fell face first into the bed.

“You feel so good, omega,” Eddie panted between thrusts, the cheap bed frame beneath them creaking and groaning as the force of his thrusting made it hit the wall repeatedly. Slick dripped from Steve with every thrust, pulled out of him by Eddie’s dick, the wet sound of their bodies moving together louder than even the raging storm outside.

Steve made an attempt to speak, but it came out as little more than an incomprehensible and drooling moan as Eddie nailed Steve’s g-spot over and over again. Were Eddie not holding Steve’s hips up to fuck into, he was certain Steve would have collapsed fully to the bed.

“So fucking tight,” Eddie moaned. “So wet for me, omega. Such a good boy.” That caused another high pitched keen to leave Steve, causing Eddie to grin. “You like being my good boy? Like taking my cock? Bet you’d look so pretty choking on it.”

Shit, he was close. There was no denying that with how well Steve was taking his dick, wet and hot and so inviting, keening moans leaving Steve amidst cries of pleasure. Literal cries of pleasure, tears leaking from Steve’s lids as Eddie fucked him closer and closer to his own climax, his fingers weakly scrambling in the bedding for purchase.

“Look at you taking my cock so well. Like a fucking pro,” Eddie groaned, sliding one hand from Steve’s hip to glide over Steve’s sweaty back and curl his fingers into Steve’s messy hair. He clenched his fingers in the strands, pulling slightly, causing Steve to let out a whining shout and shudder around Eddie.

Eddie’s knot, which had already begun filling, nearly fully popped right then and there at the sound. Christ, he needed to come now.

“Good boy, such a good boy,” Eddie breathed, feeling his growing knot pressing against Steve with every thrust. One hand still in Steve’s hair, he slid his other under Steve’s chest, sitting back on his heels and pulling Steve with him until the omega was all but riding him…had he the presence of mind to do so.

A sharp cry left Steve at the new angle, thighs and entire body trembling as the force of gravity made him take Eddie deeper, and finally Eddie’s knot fully popped inside the omega’s quivering body. The wet heat felt like coming home.

Holding Steve to him, pulling his head back against Eddie’s shoulder to expose his gorgeous neck already dotted with his bruising marks, Eddie thrust up as much as he was able only a handful of times more before his release broke.

As his spend flooded inside of Steve, Eddie’s teeth found purchase in Steve’s neck once more, clamping to the small protrusion of Steve’s mating gland to suck a deep, dark bruise over the area every instinct in him was telling him to pierce and bleed and claim.

He didn’t though, of course, because he wasn’t some knothead and Steve trusted him, but he would make it known that Steve was not untouched in the greatest way imaginable.

And if his inner alpha was whispering that it was a promise, well…no one needed to know that.

Steve’s hoarse voice cried out as he arched against the bite, the knot, everything Eddie was doing to him and giving him, reaching back to grab old of Eddie’s hair as his cocklet squirted again across the bedding as he clamped down hard on Eddie with a flood of his own release.

Eddie’s arm across his chest kept him close, his hips jerking in small thrusts as they rode their shared orgasm together. Without even truly knowing what he was saying, Eddie whispered quiet though filthy praises in Steve’s ear.

It was only when Steve turned truly boneless against him, wrung dry and yet filled with Eddie, that Eddie carefully maneuvered them back against the bed, their heads at the foot of the bed as he rolled them to their sides. A small whine left Steve at the pull of their bodies, held together by Eddie’s knot, but he made no other protest.

Steve’s gasping breaths matched his own, chest heaving as he panted for air, and despite knowing this wasn’t real, Eddie couldn’t help but gently nuzzle into Steve’s sweaty hair, placing a soft kiss to the dark bruise on Steve’s mating gland.

The feeling of Steve against him, of his knot inside the other boy, the mingled scent of Steve and sex thick and heavy in the room…fuck, Eddie wanted more of it, he realized with a sudden pit in his stomach.

Steve—Harrington hadn’t been anything like he had expected. Sure, it’s not like they had had a truly meaningful conversation before they’d fallen into bed, but Eddie had seen and heard enough. The person he had thought Harrington to be simply didn’t seem to exist. Steve wasn’t the pampered, spoiled prince everyone thought him to be.

Well, maybe he had been a little spoiled, but he certainly hadn’t been pampered. Not if he was willing to pay the town’s drug dealer to fuck him and hurt him just to get away from his parents’ machinations. How much of Steve had been Steve? And how much had been the puppet of his parents?

Did Steve even know?

Even he could…acknowledge that the Harrington of this past year—hell, even more so these past few months—was not the Harrington of last year. Ever since that first time Steve came to school busted to hell because of Byers, something about the boy had changed. And now…shit.

Shit hell goddamn fuck.

Steve had shown up at his door, desperate and afraid, but oh so fucking determined. He’d come expecting a night of pain and being roughly used with no thought to his own pleasure or wellbeing, only being broken and used up so that no purity obsessed alpha would want him, all just to get out of an unwanted mating.

Because, in his parents’ eyes, he was nothing more than a piece of meat to be put up for auction.

There was something more to Steve Harrington than he had ever expected, more to the strange omega who was unlike any omega he had ever met before. An omega who was willing to do anything to protect himself, even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

Steve was purring.

Eddie froze for a moment, realizing he was still nuzzling Steve, still lightly kissing over his neck, still gently running soothing circles over Steve’s belly, and that Steve had begun purring as he melted into Eddie’s embrace as they both waited for Eddie’s knot to go down.

Shit.

Eddie didn’t know Steve, not really. Knew him only by reputation, but that was obviously false, or at least exaggerated. Steve was practically a stranger to him. And yet…

And yet Eddie wanted nothing more than to protect the omega in his arms who trusted him to keep him safe, at least to a certain degree.

Stupid fucking biology.

Eddie wasn’t stupid. He knew that, even if he was interested in getting to know Steve more, there was no way that Steve would want anything more to do with Eddie after tonight. He had gotten what he wanted and Eddie…well, Eddie wasn’t stupid.

Sure, maybe his rants about forced conformity and biological slavery were enough to convince Steve he’d probably be safe enough with him, but Eddie knew the truth. What greater disappointment was there than having a Munson be the one to steal the precious golden boy’s virginity?

The super senior, drug dealing, trailer trash, poor excuse of an alpha Munson who had no hope for a future that didn’t include the bars of a cell or six feet underground.

Why would Steve ever want anything more to do with him after tonight?

next

Author commentary:

So, besides a little minor ficlet here, this is the first time I’ve published some genuine smut publicly. This is also the first time I’ve ever written intersex omega smut, which for some reason vaginal sex was just harder for me to actually write. It was fun though. Might have to do it again.

I was originally going to write the part where Eddie finally penetrates Steve as a quick and sudden thing, but it ultimately felt more genuine for Eddie to pause and get Steve’s continued verbal consent again, just to check in on him. Consent is highly important to me.

You also see Eddie starting to realize fully that the douchebag he thought Steve was actually isn’t his true self, that Steve is actually so much more, as well as someone that needs protecting. Something Eddie is finding himself drawn to more and more, despite knowing (or so he thinks) that nothing could ever come of it.

Despite himself, Eddie has already fallen far more than he would ever like to admit to himself. His inner alpha has already claimed Steve as his own, much as he might try to deny it. He fights hard against biology, not wanting to succumb to baser instincts.

The line “And if his inner alpha was whispering that it was a promise, well…no one needed to know that” is probably one of my favorite lines of the entire fic. That scene where he left a mating mark without actually biting Steve was just a favorite in general too.

And Steve’s purring.

Steve has never had reason to purr like that before, so he simply hasn’t. Even when he was with Nancy, he had only seen to her needs while ignoring his own, and she wasn’t really the cuddling type. But Eddie has taken care of him, was praising him, making him feel good, and holding him close in a way that his inner omega is latching on to, even if he is similar to Eddie and believing nothing further will come of it.

As for pregnancy, in my omegaverse headcanon, omegas can get pregnant outside of heats, but it’s harder and less likely. It’s especially harder for male omegas. Even though Steve is wanting to be ruined, it’s only about his virginity, not making him an unmated teen parent. That’s a step a little too far haha.

Once again, morning after pills can be used but like real world Plan B’s, they’re not very pleasant and can either make an omega skip their heat, or make it come earlier and a little more…extreme. Suppressants and birth control don’t really work then either. Suppressants not at all and birth control very minimally. It’s basically like a super heat. And without an alpha, it’s very painful.

I also am incapable of writing Steve without a praise kink. Boy deserves to be praised and Eddie is more than happy to step up to the plate for that.

~

If anyone in the permanent tag list would like to be excluded from this fic’s parts, please let me know and I’ll remove you for this fic only!

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife @everywherenothere

As well, temporary tags for this fic only are also still open if anyone else is interested in my bts author commentary.

Temporary fic tags:

@amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @estrellami-1

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter eight

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . after the trauma i inflicted on you all last time, i thought i'd treat you to a few chapters of fluffy max x y/n content <3 Also this isn’t proofread unfortunately as i just got done with part of my dissertation and if i look at my computer for another second my brain will explode )

Y/N was left stunned, her mind grappling with the weight of Max's unexpected confession. The vulnerable honesty in his words lingered in the air, and she found herself at a loss for a response. What could she say? She had accepted that Max simply didn’t see her like that and that’s why he left so abruptly; the last thing she thought he was going to say was this. 

Max's next words pulled her back to the present moment. "Could you just let me in so we can speak in person?" he requested, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and sincerity. 

Y/N, still processing the revelation, stammered, "What?" 

"I'm outside your flat," Max confessed. "I know this is unexpected, and I'm sorry for just turning up, but I've been mulling it over in my head. When I realized how I felt, I needed to tell you immediately." 

The gravity of the situation settled on Y/N, and she hesitated before responding, “I’m at a bar, with Mas- With the team. They won today and we went out for a few drinks.” 

“Oh okay, I’m sorry I’ll leave.” Y/N could hear the deflation in Max’s voice and her heart sunk a bit. 

“No, give me 15 minutes and I’ll be there” she spoke before quickly hanging up. She didn’t know what exactly to say to Max, but she knew they needed to talk. 

The atmosphere in the bar hummed with celebration as the team and their friends reveled in the victory as Y/N re-entered the bar to inform people that she needed to go. She discreetly approached Mason, her face a mask of determination, and whispered, "I need to go, something came up." 

Mason, concerned, furrowed his brow. "Is everything okay?" 

Y/N offered a quick nod. "Yeah, just something I need to take care of. We can talk about it tomorrow, I promise." 

Mason's eyes searched hers for more answers, but Y/N's resolve was unwavering. "Please, Mason, not now. Tomorrow, I promise," she reiterated, and before he could press further, she pulled away, heading towards the group. 

She interrupted the lively conversation with a brief, "I need to head out, guys. See you tomorrow," leaving the group with confused glances. Mason, however, couldn't shake off his concern. He approached her once more, this time with a more direct plea. "Can we at least talk about what happened today?" 

Y/N met his gaze, a mix of apology and determination in her eyes. "I really have to go now, Mason. We can talk about everything tomorrow. I'm sorry," she said, a heavy weight in her voice. With that, she turned away, leaving Mason standing there, bewildered and frustrated, with their friends watching the scene unfold. 

The night draped itself over the city as Y/N approached her apartment building, the darkness obscuring the details of the world around her. In the dimly lit corner, Max stood waiting. The feeble glow of distant streetlights cast long shadows, rendering their faces almost invisible. Their greeting was muted, a hesitant hug exchanged in the dimly lit vicinity. Neither of them spoke much, the lack of clarity mirrored by the obscured visibility. The shadows seemed to swallow their words, leaving an unspoken tension hanging in the air. 

Inside her apartment, harsh lighting unveiled the details that the darkness had concealed. Y/N's neck bore a series of marks, intricate patterns etched in the aftermath of a passionate encounter. The marks, though unintentional, now became vivid tattoos, stark against her skin. 

As Max began to say something, his eyes fell upon the visible aftermath, and his words caught in his throat. The room, now flooded with the unforgiving light, accentuated the complexities of the situation. Y/N watched as his face dropped, the color draining from his skin. The realization dawned upon him, and an awkward silence settled in the room. The unspoken weight of Mason's presence loomed over them, turning the atmosphere into an uncharted territory where words faltered, and emotions hung heavy in the air. 

She tried to find words to explain, to offer some justification for the marks, but her mind drew a blank. Max, observing the unspoken turmoil in her expression, interrupted her before she could stumble through an explanation. 

"Mason?" His voice was devoid of emotion, dry and almost detached. Y/N, feeling defenseless and without a valid explanation, could only nod in response. In her defense, she had none. She could see the gears turning in Max's mind, trying to process the implications of what he'd just learned. 

She anticipated Max's departure, expecting him to distance himself from the completely fucked situation that he found himself in through no fault of his own. Instead, however, to her surprise, he didn't retreat. Without uttering another word, Max walked over and took a seat on her couch. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, leaving the room in a suspended state of uncertainty. Y/N hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the conversation that loomed before them. 

She hesitantly broke the silence, asking, "Aren’t you leaving?" 

Max, however, countered with a question of his own, delivered in a measured tone that hung in the air. "Should I?" 

Caught in the throes of uncertainty, Y/N admitted, "I don't know." 

Max, still processing the situation, confessed his genuine affection for her. "I really like you," he said, his words heavy with sincerity. "But if there's something between you and Mason, something real, you should tell me now. I don't want to stand in the way." 

The weight of his words lingered in the room, prompting Y/N to examine her own feelings. Yet, as Max continued, laying out the conditions for their potential future, the complexity of the situation deepened. "Unless you can definitively say that you want Mason and not me, then I'm not going to go away." 

He sought clarity, gazing into her eyes with a mixture of curiosity and expectation. "Can you tell me that?" he asked. 

Y/N, entangled in the web of her own emotions, shook her head. She really didn’t know much, but she did know that she felt something for Max. She did feel something for Mason too, maybe she always would; but Max made her feel something she had never felt before, and she couldn’t just ignore that.  

Max looked at Y/N with a sense of urgency in his eyes. "Do you have any holiday saved up?" he asked. 

Y/N, caught off guard, nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I do." 

Max took a measured breath, his eyes reflecting a sense of determination. "How about this? Come with me to Monaco for a week, and then it’s Silverstone so you can come with me to that. Two weeks, just you and me. And if, by the end of it, you still want Mason, I'll walk away." 

The proposal lingered in the night air, and Y/N felt the gravity of the decision pressing on her. "I... I don't know," she admitted, uncertainty threading through her words. 

Leaning in, Max's eyes bore into hers. "Think about it." 

Silence enveloped them as Y/N contemplated his proposition.  

After a pause, she looked back at him. "I need to talk to Mason, to see if I can get the time off work and also.. Well, I can’t just up and leave for two weeks without an explanation. " she asserted, the resolve in her voice mingling with vulnerability. 

Max nodded, acknowledging the necessity for clarity. "Sure. I can book a hotel room for tonight, and then you can talk to Mason tomorrow. If you decide to go, we can leave after that." 

"Okay," Y/N agreed, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. 

The next day, the weight of anticipation hung in the air as Y/N, accompanied by Max, navigated the familiar path to Mason's house. The drive was a quiet affair, with unspoken tension filling the car. Max, understanding the gravity of the impending conversation, remained in the vehicle as Y/N gathered her courage to face Mason. 

Stepping into Mason's home, memories of shared laughter and easy camaraderie clashed with the somber reality of the impending discussion. Mason, sensing the gravity of the moment, met her gaze with a mix of concern and apprehension. 

"I need a few weeks off, I’m going to Monaco with Max for a little while," Y/N declared, her voice a delicate blend of determination and vulnerability. Her eyes, once filled with an unwavering spark, now reflected the tumultuous emotions swirling within her. 

Mason didn’t know what he expected when Y/N came to his door without any warning, but it wasn’t this. After yesterday, when they had- their moment. How could she just drop this on him, come and tell him that she wanted to go on holiday with someone else.  

“What do you mean? What about us, what about me?” 

Y/N, torn between loyalty and her evolving understanding of self, shook her head. "I need to, I like Max, and I owe it to myself to be able to give it ago. Being around you is confusing and complicated. I just need a break" she uttered; the weight of the decision etched in her expression. 

At her words, she couldn't help but notice the stark change in Mason's expression. His features, once marked by familiarity and warmth, now contorted with a palpable hurt. The lines on his forehead deepened, and his eyes, once a source of comfort, now betrayed a pain he couldn't conceal. It was as if her words had struck a chord, unraveling the threads of their friendship, leaving Mason visibly wounded. 

“Please don’t go, I’m sorry I- Well I was wrong before. I do see you as more than a friend," he admitted, laying bare the depth of his feelings. 

Yet, Y/N, no longer content with half-truths, posed a poignant question that lingered in the air like an unspoken truth. "Would you feel that way if Max never came along?" 

The room fell into a contemplative hush, the unspoken answer lingering like an invisible barrier. Y/N, her heart heavy with the weight of decisions, knew she couldn't settle for uncertainty. "Exactly," she asserted, her voice a mixture of resolve and sorrow. "I don't want to be with someone who only wants me because they don't want somebody else to have me." 

In a reluctant tone, Mason finally agreed, "Alright, Y/N, take as much holiday as you need." As she uttered a sincere "thank you," she turned to leave, only to be halted by Mason's hesitant voice. His words hung in the air, heavy with remorse and an unspoken apology, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I ruined everything, and I don't... Well, I'm just really sorry." The weight of his regret lingered, creating a somber atmosphere as Y/N absorbed his admission before uttering. “Yeah.. Me too.” and walking away from her best friend.  

As Y/N returned to the car where Max patiently waited, her eyes betrayed a lingering sadness that Max couldn't ignore. Concern etched across his face, he gently inquired, "You okay?" She offered a halfhearted nod, confirming Mason granted her the time off. Despite her affirmation, Max sensed something amiss. "You sure?" he pressed, genuine worry in his voice. She shook her head, signaling a preference to keep it to herself. 

The atmosphere remained heavy with unspoken words. The engine roared to life, and they merged onto the road, the rhythmic hum of the tires the only sound between them. Max stole glances at her, concern etched on his face, but respecting her need for silence. 

After a stretch of quietude, Max broke the stillness. "I need to pick someone up at the factory, they need to go back to Monaco too" he mentioned, his eyes focused on the road. Y/N nodded, speaking for the first time in a while “Okay no worries, who?” 

"It's Daniel," Max revealed, the name hanging in the air. At Max’s words, her eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "No way, Daniel, as in Daniel Ricciardo?!?" she exclaimed, the unexpected joy momentarily pushing aside the shadows. Max couldn't help but smile at her animated response, grateful for the chance to divert her thoughts from whatever weighed on her. 

Max chuckled at Y/N's admission, teasingly asking, "A fan of Daniel, huh?" She grinned, nodding, "Yeah, even though I grew up a Mercedes fan, there's always been something about Daniel." Max laughed, "Well, he'll enjoy hearing that. He's been excited to meet you." Y/N blushed at the idea, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Have you told people about me?" Max's demeanor shifted slightly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. He jokingly responded, "Well, when I stopped making up excuses to get out of coming to the factory, they knew something was up." 

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine melded seamlessly with the soft daylight as they continued their journey. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the cityscape passing by—a lively backdrop for the evolving conversation within the car.

Max skillfully guided their dialogue through diverse topics, carefully avoiding any mention of Mason. Despite the apparent ease in their exchanges, a delicate undercurrent of tension lingered—an unspoken presence that painted the atmosphere with a muted complexity. Max, attuned to the subtleties, felt the weight of Mason's words pressing upon Y/N's thoughts. 

As they traversed the city, Max occasionally stole glances at Y/N, his eyes seeking clues within the nuances of her expressions. There was a magnetic pull between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the uncharted territory they navigated. Max sensed that Mason's remarks had imprinted themselves on Y/N's consciousness, like an indelible mark that begged exploration. 

Yet, Max exercised restraint, choosing not to pry into the depths of Y/N's emotions. Instead, he allowed the daylight to unfold, leaving room for the unspoken to gradually find its voice 

The car pulled up at the designated spot to pick up Daniel, and as he stepped into the car, a vibrant energy accompanied him. Daniel greeted Y/N with a warm smile, his friendly demeanor putting everyone at ease. The introductions flowed naturally, and Daniel couldn't resist a playful comment. 

"So, this is the infamous girl Max can't stop talking about," he teased, shooting a playful glance Max's way. 

Y/N chuckled, feeling a mix of amusement and curiosity about what Max might have shared. As they continued the journey to the private jet, the conversation effortlessly ebbed and flowed. Y/N and Daniel discovered common interests and shared laughs, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie that surpassed the typical introductions. The initial awkwardness melted away, leaving room for genuine connections to form. 

Upon reaching the private jet, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the luxurious surroundings. The sleek interior, plush seats, and attentive service were a stark contrast to her usual mode of travel. Her excitement spilled into the conversation. 

"Wow, this is amazing! I've never been on a private jet before. It's like a whole different world up here," she exclaimed, taking in the opulent surroundings. Daniel grinned, his eyes reflecting her enthusiasm. "Get used to it; you're in for a treat. Flying private is a game-changer," he remarked, settling into his seat. 

Amidst the smooth hum of the jet engines, Y/N, engaged in an animated conversation with Daniel, seemed oblivious to Max's watchful eyes. Her laughter was infectious, punctuating the air and drawing everyone into the magnetic orbit of her joy. Max couldn't deny the fascination that swelled within him as he witnessed her seamlessly fitting into his world, connecting effortlessly with one of his closest friends. 

For Max, the allure went beyond the surface. He liked the feeling of introducing Y/N to his realm, of sharing moments and friends with her. Watching her throw her head back in laughter, observing the spark in her eyes, Max found himself entranced by the unique melody she brought to the symphony of his life. 

Meanwhile, Daniel, ever the observer, noted Max's subtle yet profound shift. It was as if he'd discovered a new rhythm in the music of his own existence. Daniel had never seen Max act so reserved, so captivated by someone's presence. 

As the jet touched down in the Monaco, Daniel, having fulfilled his role as the transient third wheel, bade them farewell. Max guided Y/N through the picturesque streets to his apartment, a chic abode that overlooked the azure Mediterranean Sea. 

Max's apartment, perched atop a hill, boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the breathtaking panorama of Monaco's coastline. The decor seamlessly blended modern aesthetics with subtle nods to the city's classic charm. Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the tasteful art pieces adorning the walls and the plush furnishings that invited relaxation. 

On the terrace, Max pointed out the landmarks below—the glittering marina, the famous Casino de Monte-Carlo, and the labyrinthine streets that told tales of luxury and opulence. The breeze played with Y/N's hair as she took in the view, the sun casting a warm glow over the city. 

Inside, Max introduced her to his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, who surveyed her with a mix of curiosity and indifference. The apartment resonated with a sense of Max's personality—elegant, sophisticated, and a touch playful. 

Leading her to the spare room, Max revealed an unexpected surprise. The room was elegantly decorated, adorned with fresh flowers, creating an inviting and serene ambiance. Y/N, genuinely touched, couldn't help but express her gratitude. Max casually mentioned that he'd arranged for his cleaner to work her magic during their flight. 

As Y/N settled into the room, a wave of fatigue washed over her. She thanked Max once more for the thoughtful gesture and embraced him before retreating to the comfort of the bed. Max assured her that dinner reservations were secured for later, and with a gentle smile, he left her to rest, closing the door softly behind him. The room, now silent, cradled Y/N into a peaceful slumber as the sun dipped below the Monaco horizon. 

Tag list-

@nightlockcornucopia @jaydensluv @girlytots19 @formula1mount @alwaysclassyeagle @aundercover @sofifiia @dessxoxsworld @lpab @lorarri @thelovehypothesis @torrie421 @ironmaiden1313 @celesteblack08 @glow-ish @urfavouritef1girly @alwaysclassyeagle @barnestatic @simxican @formula1mount @charli123456789 @mac-daddy-210 @lazybot @imguce @azxulaa @mehrmonga @sunny44 @skepvids @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @chimchimjiminie16 @tyna-19 @hoely-maria @stevesworld9 @f1lov3r @elliegrey2803 @heyyhelloohii @landosgirlxoxo @skepvids @aundercover @andydrysdalerogers @illicitverstappen @bbygrlllllll @kageyamama-hinatatata @imagandom @bibissparkles @sofifiia @dark-night-sky-99 @viennakarma @tyna-19 @wcnorris @storminacloud @girlintheredscarf @yourbane @anotherfan07

[zablife]

Here’s my lil offering for the ‘ambiguous gif’ request! Although I’m not sure how ambiguous it is.

It’s not a Peaky gif so I wasn’t sure if this was acceptable, but if it is….. I was thinking this with either Tommy, Luca, or Alfie ☺️👉👈

(thank you for all the ones you’ve been putting out btw! they’ve been amazing 💕)

Hi darling, this request must be old, but just showed in my inbox?? Anyway, I’m so pleased to hear you enjoyed the sleepover celebration! There are 2 more requests coming bc I started them then promptly became sidetracked by my new Bikeriders obsession 🙈 I won’t leave this delicious GIF unanswered tho!

I def think it’s Luca 🤭 His ego demanding immediate satisfaction if you did something as simple as give him the silent treatment over dinner. I imagine this bratty display of disobedience would warrant swift punishment.

The moment you’re alone in your flat, his fiery temper is unleashed. His strong hands fist into the buttery silk of your dress, gritting his teeth as he suppresses the urge to tear it off you. It’s the one kindness he shows, knowing it’s your favorite.

That won’t stop him from harshly rucking it up to your waist, revealing the tender flesh underneath to leave a stinging slap. Your yelp of pain entices him, delivering countless more before soothing you with his palm, only a moment of reprieve before he’s bending you over the arm of the couch.

His full weight presses against your back as he thrusts into you without warning, leaving you gasping for air. His energy will be nothing short of animalistic until he hears the tell tale pants of your impending release, then he’ll slow to a tortuous pace to keep you from bliss. It’s devious and infuriating, but so addictive at the same time.

Hot breath whispering in your ear, he’ll ask if you’re ready to apologize and in your needy state, you can’t help but play his games. You’d say anything he wanted, even beg for forgiveness.

At times like these, one thing is certain—a petty fight might have started all this, something neither of you will remember later, but the night of pain and pleasure that follows will be seared into your brain forever.

[despairat6oclock]

Merry Christmas, Please don't Call

GN! Reader x ChrisMD

Synopsis: Former lovers rekindle on a lonely Christmas Eve

Word Count: 1.0k~

Contains: angst + fluff at the end if you squint

Warnings: Usage of the term "Y/N", drunk Chris, kinda cringey bear with me

[m.list]

Chris and I had broken up after being together for close to an online documented decade. Why? It seemed neither of us actually knew.

After the breakup, I had decided to find a place close to your old one in central London. As I was just as much in the content creating space as my past lover.

The summer has been hectic, having to find my own footing, pace, and peace alone. Finding peace within oneself was proving more difficult than any self-help book led on.

Tonight was the eve before Christmas, marking it off my calendar with a sigh. The snow falling upon the pavement outside marking it too late to go back home now. I wanted to avoid the bombarding questions I was sure to be met with anyways.

Mixing the last bit of the cookie mixture that would only serve one, a bottle of red wine close by. Its contents dip hidden below its wrapped label.

A sigh slipped past between my lips as I pulled my phone out of my apron pocket. Snapping a picture of the messy scene laid out in front of me for my Instagram. Putting the background music to the first Christmas song that popped up without much care before uploading it to my story. The array of notifications laid out neatly on the top of my phone piqued my interest. With comments from multiple media apps as well as a plethora of text messages from hours ago. One specifically catching my eye.

Not putting any meaning to the message before typing a simple corresponding message in return, no need for animosity.

Going back to my batter mix, setting the few doughy blobs into a tray and into the oven before leaning back and admiring the sight of my goods baking before the reverb of a knock on the front caught my attention with a slight jump in surprise.

Upon opening the door, I'm met with a flushed face, glassy eyed Christopher. With his hair disheveled and arm resting against the door frame as he panted erratically.

“Chris?”

I asked in confusion, head tilted while stepping aside just enough that if he wanted he could come in, he could.

“Please don't push me away.”

He practically pleaded, his free hand in front of him moving with his words.

“Are you ok?”

“I don't know."

Gesturing him with a simple hand gesture, “Please come in, you reek of alcohol.”

Stepping into my flat for the first time, being aware enough to close the door behind himself. Feet planted at the entrance as he took in the sight of the place decorated in a way that he knew was distinctly me.

Meanwhile I was back in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water I knew the man needed.

Hand on his back as I lead his swaying feet to the couch, forcing the glass into his hand.

“What brought you here?”

I questioned softly as I took a seat beside him.

“I actually don't know, I was supposed to be heading home with George."

“Should I call you a car?”

“No no, I'm good,” he spat out behind his water.

I nod, getting up to check on my cookies. If he didn't know why he was here, then he should be on his way soon.

“Do you have any plans?”

He speaks up as I walk away.

“For tomorrow?”

Chris hummed in approval.

“Not much, probably just an evening in.”

“Me neither, we should get breakfast.”

Giving a quiet laugh at his rushed words as I pulled the cookies out of the oven.

“Would that be appropriate?”

With a shrug and a smug smirk, I offered him more water. Which he gladly accepted.

“I like your place.”

“Thank you.”

“This couch used to be ours,”

He commented as he rubbed the cushion, a quick flicking grimace marked my features as I put my oven mitt back onto its pin.

“A lot used to be ours.”

Assuming the alcohol was now speaking for him rather than his brain, I continued my work around the kitchen.

“I had a lot of plans,”

He continued, still mindlessly messing with the fabric of the couch.

“I had a ring. Have. I have a ring. It was supposed to be your Christmas present.”

Eyes glancing at him from afar in intrigue and a bit of forced disinterest as I sip at my wine.

“i still carry it around with me, as if there would still be an opportunity for me to propose”

The ruffle of him reaching into his pocket and the click of the ring box opening was enough for my eyes to widen as I continued hiding in the kitchen as he continued his drunken rant.

“I don't even remember why we broke up, but I know it was my fault. Something about growing as a people. I was so ready to marry you.”

The sight of him gazing down into the velvet ring box like a sad puppy was enough to make me sigh and the darkness crawl back into my chest.

“Chris, you're gonna regret this in the morning, I'll call you a car.”

Tugging my phone back out of my pocket, I was quickly met with slurred protests.

“No please wait, a few more minutes.”

“Chris-”

“Please Y/N.”

Hands on my shoulders as I surrender to his defense. Shoulder sagging down with my head as it lays on the edge of his shoulder.

“You aggravate me.”

A chuckle that just screams he's smiling escapes his lips

“I know.”

“You should really go.”

Picking my head up to look up at him, his blue eyes meeting mine.

“Just a few more minutes, please.”

But this time instead of a plea, it was a smile and arms sneaking around my own. It wasn't much of a hug, but it still left his pinky rubbing the side of my palm.

“Just a few more.”

I nodded, trying to fight back a smile that matched his dorky grin.

Those few minutes turned into hours, and those hours turned into a night.

A night spent reminiscing under fairy lights and the background sounds of cliché Hallmark movies.

The snow didn't keep either of us in, but that would be the excuse used the next day when either of us were questioned the next day.

That Christmas Eve wasn’t spent with a lover, but the underlying feelings were more than a friend.

A/N:

This is my first bit of writing on here, so I hope you enjoyed it if you made it all the way down here!

I always accept advice, and even requests.

Cheers!

[chaotic-orphan]

The Immortal Hunter : Part 4

Continuation of Always a ball

Read Part one here

Part two

Part three

I found this in my drafts and forgot about my vampire babies, so enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“What can I say,” Heath said easily. “I’m an honest kind of guy,” then he plunged the knife deep into Wolfe’s heart.

Heath relished in the wide grey eyed surprise of the bastard who had orchestrated his own demise. He wouldn’t admit it later on, but Heath even smiled.

He stuck the blade in nice and deep, and still holding the handle followed the momentum through, his other hand grabbing Wolfe’s shoulder and pushing him onto his back with Heath breathing heavily over him.

It was strange being a vampire. He had no heartbeat yet he swore there was something slamming against his chest, thundering euphoria around his body. His ears which shouldn’t have a pulse drunk on the thrill of the kill of another rotten bloodsucker. The hunter’s high was always a little unhinged, but in that moment Heath didn’t care.

His body responded as if it was still alive. Adrenaline keeping him going, not blood from last night’s party. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, eyes closing in a moment of bliss.

He missed this.

“Heath?”

Heath’s head turned with a hyper energy to the sound, where his unfocused eyes found Killian tied to the chair staring at him with human eyes full of uncertain fear.

Killian shouldn’t be afraid, the voice in his head said. His heart still beats. He is sacred.

Heath stood from Wolfe’s body and turned full to face Killian now, ears honed in on his heartbeat speeding up. Which was ridiculous. Heath would never hurt a hair on his head.

Heath bowed to Killian, knife flat on his two outstretched palms.

“An offering,” someone said. Who wasn’t important to Heath. No all that mattered was that precious human life he saved. “I’ve heard of the hunter’s high, but I thought it was a myth.”

“The hunter’s high?” Killian asked.

“When a hunter kills a vampire when saving a human life. It’s like a high we could never begin to understand. This is his promise to you.”

“Promise?”

“You need to accept the knife to complete the ritual.”

A pause.

“Oh wait, your hands- let me…”

There was the sound of ropes being cut, then falling limply to the floor.

“I just take the knife?” Killian asked.

“No. Well yes, don’t take it from him. Just grab the handle. It’s like a thank you, if you wanna think of it like that.”

“I thank him for saving my life?”

“No. He thanks you for giving him the opportunity to slay another vampire. Do it. Now.”

A pair of black runners appeared in Heath’s view. Not that he could really register it. But he recognised them as Killian’s from the day before in a faraway part of his brain.

Then there was a warm hand on his, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the blade and Heath wrapped his hand around the owners hand.

Then it felt like Heath crashed back down onto his own body.

He looked up at Killian who looked down at him with a weary expression, as if he was afraid Heath might hurt him. Heath frowned, eyes flicking to Felix who stood behind the chair Killian was tied to watching the exchange with that awful cat like interest that made Heath’s stomach turn.

“Heath?” Killian asked, and Heath looked back at him. Heard his heart beating. He was still alive.

Heath got to his feet with Killian’s help, feeling very weak from the Hunter’s return. He looked down at Wolfe at his feet, blood seeping steadily into a stream from his wound.

“Ah fuck,” Heath muttered, looking over his shoulder at Felix. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Felix waved the death of his friend away as if it was spilled milk.

“Don’t be daft. Let’s have breakfast, I’m famished. Killian will you join us for breakfast? Please do. Actually, as your boss I insist. I’ll have the cook prepare some pastries. I feel like a nice croissant right about now.”

Felix kept talking and gesturing as he walked out of the door to the basement and waited there, holding it open for the others to follow.

“Are you okay to walk?” Killian asked after Heath let him go.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Heath said then took a step and collapsed. Killian was bent double trying to catch him, but before Heath hit the floor Felix had a hand under him, putting Heath’s arm over his shoulder and helping him out of the basement. “Shit,” Heath whispered as his head swam. The rush from the Hunter’s high zapping his energy.

“Hush, dear boy,” Felix said quietly enough so only Heath could hear, “I got you.” Heath didn’t have the energy to argue or repress the shudder at Felix’s old pet name for him, and just let Felix half carry him out of the room.

Felix didn’t turn as he said over his shoulder, “Chop chop Killian.”

Heath heard an immediate: “Yes sir.”

Then he zoned out knowing Killian was safe and let Felix guide him to the dining room.

Celeste was already at the dining table, knife and fork in hand, hair in a simple low bun and she didn’t as much raise a brow when the three men arrived. On the table before her was a small feast of pancakes, fruit, bread and pastries that still had steam rising from them.

“You’re just in time,” she said simply. “The pastries only arrived.”

Killian walked through the door after Felix and Heath. Following Felix around the table after he had deposited Heath onto the chair next to Celeste, and then sat at the head of the table on her other side. Killian sat opposite Celeste on the other side of Felix, her perfect eyebrows raised at that.

“Oh hello. You must be Felix’s new employee. I’m Celeste.”

“Celeste, Killian. Killian, Celeste. We’re all acquainted now let’s eat,” said Felix plating himself some pastries from the table and a side of grapes.

“I’m sorry you’re in debt to him,” she said as Killian sat down and Killian nodded in response. “You have a bruise on your cheek, and a cut… and blood on your shirt and nose. Felix, did you do that?”

“I would never.”

“No. A guy named Wolfe,” said Killian.

“Oh,” Celeste said her voice taking an edge to it as she looked to Heath at her side who was a little out of it. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I’ll remember that,” said Killian, taking a croissant and biting into it. “It’s all thanks to Heath.”

“Defender of the Humans that man,” Celeste said with a secret smile. She dropped her voice conspiratorially and added, “He must like you.”

“I don’t,” Heath said, voice raw, reaching across Celeste and taking a pancake from her plate.

“Now that’s a lie,” Felix said, eyes on Heath even as he continued talking with Celeste. “You should have seen him down there, Celeste. He was exquisitely noble.”

“When is he not?”

Heath grunted in response. Killian for his part was mostly famished and weirded out by the three vampires sitting before him. He ate quietly, every now and then grabbing something when his plate was empty as they fell into silence.

“Tell me,” Felix began, cutting a pancake with his knife and fork and easing a piece to his mouth, “Did you know he was the Immortal hunter?”

Celeste froze for a split second, imperceptible to the human eye, the brief halting pause in her limbs. A split second was all it was, but that was all it needed to be for Felix to notice. Silence descended on the table, even Killian stopped chewing as he noticed the change in tone at the table. Felix’s eyes were sharp as a feline’s as he watched Celeste process the information.

“Yes. I was shocked too. I would have thought he’d tell you of all people,” Felix said conversationally, as if he didn’t just drop the bomb of the century on her over breakfast.

“I’m right here,” Heath said. His eyes were shut, his head tilted back on the chair and staring at the ceiling.

“Would you prefer we talk behind your back?” Felix asked.

“I’d prefer if I didn’t have to hear your voice for another decade, Victor.”

“You wound me. It’s not even 9 a.m.”

“I’ve had a long day,” Heath said. He looked at Killian then from across the table. “As have you. Would you like me to walk you home?”

“Heath-“ Felix began but was cut off immediately by Heath’s chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

“Give him the day off. It’s my treat. Plus I’ll be here to wait on you hand and foot.”

Felix shrugged in response. “Fine,” he said in an exhale. “However me and Celeste will be talking about you behind your back.”

“As all good friends do. Come on Killian.”

Heath was out of the room before Killian had even stood up. He did so a bit awkwardly, bowing his head to Celeste.

“It was nice to meet you, Celeste.”

“Enchantée. Don’t be a stranger, Killian.”

Killian didn’t know what to say to that so he said nothing, just nodded again and followed Heath out of the house. He wouldn’t be prey to another Vampire’s stupid contracts and customs in the span of 24 hours.

Celeste waited until they were out of earshot to turn to Felix staring daggers into his face which Felix just blinked unfazed at.

“What do you mean Heath’s the immortal hunter? The immortal hunter can’t be a vampire? And that boy? You let Wolfe hurt him in your own house?”

"Wolfe is dead now, Celeste, so any disrespect he caused me in my house is currently bleeding out of him in my basement. As for how the immortal hunter can be a vampire," Felix said, taking a sip of wine and looking at her over the glass, “I have a few theories...”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[artemuerto]

Lurking

Pairings: Allison Cameron/Robert Chase. Implied Robert Chase/Gregory House. Implied Allison Cameron/Gregory House.

Trigger Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics. Alpha Gregory House. Beta Allison Cameron. Omega Robert Chase.

Author's note: I've been rewatching House since it came on Netflix and I am flooded with nostalgia and feelings. I've been dying to write something for House and Chase but my brain is till focus on getting Chase off Cameron and then this happened.

Read on AO3

"You and I are not the same, Cameron." Chase exhales in fear. He is willing to tell the truth. 

This tiny thought and wonder around reasons why House hires them in the first place —the sweet and evenly hurtful murmur of him and her being there only for House's sore eyes, it's all time consuming. House openly admits admiring them both, no discrimination whatsoever. And that pleases him and her. 

Now, hiding in her flat, sharing her bed, he can show her the truth. The thing House has known all along but took him time to discover. They seem similar and equally different: tomato, tomato. 

"You had a date," Chase gives her an easy image. "You were with him. Did you see him?" Cameron is intelligent enough to realize there's a hidden meaning, but even in all her innocence, she is still confused. 

"Of course I saw him. He was with me." She frowns in thought and it's clear to Chase she is trying to think back. 

"When you see him..." He is now holding her face with both hands, obligating her to find him, to learn and see. "You expect him to change." The reality is solemn and her face crumbles.

"I'm not—" I'm not trying to change him, goes unsaid. 

"But you are." A lock of his hair falls in. "When you see him... You expect him to notice." He offers in kind. "You expect him to notice you. You expect him to care. You expect him to care for you. You expect him to love. You expect him to love you." Not that Cameron doesn't have redeemable qualities. She is young, smart, caring and emphatic; she is lovely. She can be loveable. And so, she awaits, she knows she has value and eagerly awaits for House to accept that value. "House won't do that." The spark of pain hurts them in symmetry and Chase feels guilty for causing it. 

Chase is so close that she can feel him, his warm breath, the soft fading scent of mint, brushing lips bring memories of passion, only that would get them distracted, however. 

"When I see him..." and there it is, the constriction of his whole being and the new born sensation of life. Chase seems to lose himself and Cameron brings him back with a hand around his wrist. 

She looks invested. "When you see him..." And he pushes them foward. "You feel the soft tingling in your hands and the nervous sweat behind your neck. Your tummy forms a knot which only seems to increase size when he comes close. You smile and your eyes light up." Cameron is up fronted by such clear definition of her feelings when all this time she has been thinking only House could read her in. Chase offers a meek apology. 

"When I see him," there's a shift in the air. The bed becomes heavier, he probes and her eyes zoom-in. His alluring voice traps her, giving her a overpowering sense of connection. He encompasses her as a whole. Her skin becomes heated, her heartbeat rises up. "When I know he is near... I can sense him." He stares down, locking her in place. "Even floors apart, I know he is in there." Chase rests her forehead against hers. "When I stand next to him... I can taste him." Her mouth feels dry and the light brush of his tongue on her cheek feels electrifying." Even far away, I can smell him." He takes her breath away, her senses fill in with a new undertone, an unrecognizable shade of known. His kisses are deep and long as they are delicious, they hold no weight, no rush but they melt away everything she knows until the only thought available is him.

House is everything she sees, everything she hears, all she can taste, all she can feel and it overwhelms her to the point of tears. As if she has been drowning all along and she is able to reach the surface for the first time. 

He steals her voice, though she doesn't need it. 

"When I see him... I can breathe."

-

Gasping for air, heart drumming in her ears; the world appears to spin round and round, Cameron thinks she still hears the whispers behind her neck. 

Chase is not forceful. He may not look into her eyes anymore, although he is not intent on hurting. Cameron relives the feeling of him filling the condom, tightened and sealed, it's soon forgotten as he slides out leaving her with a clean hollow sensation of emptiness. He has given her everything and now he is taking it all away, taking it back hidden where it doesn't belong. 

He shamelessly cleans himself, he has made a mess. Cameron ponders the possibility of him being the only responsible for the mess they lie in, in between his legs is still tender. 

He denies her fully now. However, he offers the comfort of touch, a lingering hand behind her neck where soothing love should be and retaliates. 

"You and I are not the same." 

-

Foreman corners Chase in the locker room. 

And now he will see, he has always foreseen what rules in his kingdom, this would not be any different. First thing in the morning, it's clear as the blue sky above their heads. House crosses the lobby while indignation creeps into him, he doesn't even know why. Yet. 

"Did you break Cameron's little heart?" Chase is keeping his bag close and sits. It's quite the opposite, actually. Though, he'll never say. 

Opening the door to his office, House is hit by the burning recognition of l o s t. All his ducklings are in the playground: Foreman looking busy and about with a medical magazine in between hands. Cameron is sorting out folders, searching for a new case; occasionally talking to her peers for input, her scent has become meek. House has been so used to the polluted aroma of lilies that now being deprived of it threatened to give him a headache. 

Cameron's scent is dim and watered-down, it brings up questions which are dying at the tip of his tongue. But it's only when a freshly served cup of coffee is given, House identifies a missing puzzle piece. 

There's nothing coming from Chase. It's not new for doctors to hide their scent; blockers and suppressors available in the market nowadays, soft dented perfumes on display to offer comfort to possible patients, and considering their differences: Foreman being the only Alpha after himself, Cameron being a Beta and Chase guarding the fact he is an Omega as much as he wears it in pride. 

All of their scents balance each other creating a mellow net of safety within the department, rumours could be heard about it. 

And now a piece is missing. 

There's nothing House's sharp senses cannot detect. There's not even a lingering whiff of honeysuckle, rose wine or cream, the scents he commonly comes to associate with the youngest duckling. 

He is received with medical antiseptics and cleaning products. It feels as if it were meant to wound, which it does even if they can't place it right away or there's no reason for him to even spot it. There's no doubt. He has no proof but he is nonetheless certain. 

And it makes him want to scream. Mine. 

"No." He swears.

No, Foreman has it all wrong, he doesn't understand. No one does. So he shakes his head, hair brushing on his sides, giving him an acute softness Foreman is not used to see, he is more accustom to think it is all a lie. And Foreman catches a fleeting look, fading in smoke, a look in Chase's eyes, so ephemeral he almost wonders if he is imagining things. Oh, my, look at those eyes, look at the trouble they hide inside. Believe it or not Foreman swears to see pain in those eyes.

 "She broke mine."

[waheelawhisperer]

Your taste is impeccable, Im curious about your thoughts on Ironwood. I can kinda see the appeal but not really

Honestly there are a lot of reasons I like Ironwood. I'll start with the more superficial ones and go from there.

His voice. I really like deep voices on both men and women and Ironwood's is very nice and calming. His VA did a great job.

He's aesthetically pleasing. I'm not attracted to him personally, but in a purely aesthetic sense, he checks a lot of my boxes - I like his height, his build, his hair, his beard (when he has it), his facial shape, and so on. I'm not a fan of war or imperialism, but I also have Hideo Kojima brain, which means I never grew out of my little-boy fascination with things that go fast or go boom, so I think military equipment and aesthetics and uniforms and so on are rad as hell. Suits and long coats are both things I like a lot and Ironwood's got both going on at one point or another.

He's very complex and compelling, second only to Raven among RWBY's cast in that regard. He's got a lot of personal strengths and a lot of personal weaknesses, and they really serve to make him feel like, well, a person. There are some characters in RWBY that feel flat and bland and lacking in dimension (Vine Zeki, please come stand at the front of the class), but Ironwood never does. He possesses genuine personal courage - he fights an Alpha Beowolf to protect the students, regularly joins his comrades on the front lines, and personally apprehends Watts in Volume 7, flaying the skin off his own arm in the process. He's genuinely warm and caring toward others (at least the ones in his ingroup) - he offers the students the chance to flee the Battle of Beacon without judgment, he sends Yang a prosthetic entirely unprompted, and he welcomes the protagonists to Atlas with open arms, offering them his personal support and his Kingdom's resources. He's emotionally demonstrative and also, in many ways, a very lonely man - just look at how happy he is to see his fellow members of Ozpin's inner circle every time they reunite. He shows flashes of tactical and strategic competence with the Amity plan, the ambush his forces pull against Tyrian, and his capture of Watts. He's also stubborn, paranoid, convinced that his solutions are the right ones, and very willing to sacrifice people who aren't members of his ingroup if he thinks doing so serves the greater good. He's a strong man in many ways, but that strength is brittle and easily shattered. Just ask Cinder.

Many of his personal traits would be considered strengths in other action-oriented media, but are portrayed as weaknesses here. Generally, it's great for your action hero to be determined, to be willing to stand against the whole world to do what they believe is right, to be willing to buck authority when that authority holds them back, and so on - that gives them the strength and resolve to push on through adversity and blah blah blah, but with Ironwood it warps into tunnel vision, into commitment to a failing course of action, into a willingness to listen to others, but not accept that they might actually be right, often because something happens that he thinks proves him right (the breach at the end of Volume 2, Salem's arrival in Atlas). Instead of being a strong, resolute hero or ally, a source of hope and inspiration in the world's darkest hour, he becomes an obstacle that must be circumvented because he's too inflexible to bend.

I love the way he serves as a microcosm of Atlas. He does a great job of embodying his Kingdom's positive and negative aspects - the arrogance, the belief in Atlas's superiority, the technological advancement, the appeal to force, the symbol of hope, the conception of themselves as the defenders of the world... all of it is made manifest in General James Ironwood.

I appreciate his ability to cause problems by accident and cause problems on purpose. He's a very versatile man.

Finally, he's just... fun to watch. When he's onscreen, I feel like something interesting is going to happen. Will it be a good thing? Maybe not, but it will be a thing I want to watch.

[patchworkorphan]

The Immortal Hunter: part four

“What can I say,” Heath said easily. “I’m an honest kind of guy,” then he plunged the knife deep into Wolfe’s heart.

Heath relished in the wide grey eyed surprise of the bastard who had orchestrated his own demise. He wouldn’t admit it later on, but Heath even smiled.

He stuck the blade in nice and deep, and still holding the handle followed the momentum through, his other hand grabbing Wolfe’s shoulder and pushing him onto his back with Heath breathing heavily over him.

It was strange being a vampire. He had no heartbeat, yet he swore there was something slamming against his chest, thundering euphoria around his body. His ears, which shouldn’t have a pulse, pounded like an exalted drumming, drunk on the thrill of the kill of another rotten bloodsucker. The hunter’s high was always a little unhinged, but in that moment Heath didn’t care.

His body responded as if it was still alive. Adrenaline keeping him going, not blood from last night’s party. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, eyes closing in a moment of bliss.

He missed this.

“Heath?”

Heath’s head turned with a hyper energy to the sound, where his unfocused eyes found Killian tied to the chair staring at him with human eyes full of uncertain fear.

Killian shouldn’t be afraid, the voice in his head said. His heart still beats. He is sacred.

Heath stood from Wolfe’s body and turned full to face Killian now, ears homed in on his heartbeat speeding up. Which was ridiculous. Heath would never hurt a hair on his head.

Heath bowed to Killian, knife flat on his two outstretched palms.

“An offering,” someone said. Who wasn’t important to Heath. No all that mattered was that precious human life he saved. “I’ve heard of the hunter’s high, but I thought it was a myth.”

“The hunter’s high?” Killian asked.

“It happens after a hunter kills a vampire when saving a human life. It’s like a high we could never begin to understand. This is his promise to you.”

“Promise?”

“You need to accept the knife to complete the ritual.”

A pause.

“Oh wait, your hands– let me…”

There was the sound of ropes being cut, then falling limply to the floor.

“I just take the knife?” Killian asked.

“No. Well yes, don’t take it from him. Just grab the handle. It’s like a thank you, if you want to think of it like that.”

“I thank him for saving my life?”

“No. He thanks you for giving him the opportunity to slay another vampire. Do it. Now.”

A pair of black runners appeared in Heath’s view. Not that he could really register it, but in a faraway part of his brain he recognised them as Killian’s from the day before.

Then there was a warm hand on his, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the blade and Heath wrapped his hand around the owner’s human hand.

Then it felt like Heath crashed back down onto his own body.

He looked up at Killian who looked down at him with a weary expression, as if he was afraid Heath might hurt him. Heath frowned, eyes flicking to Felix who stood behind the chair Killian was tied to, watching the exchange with that awful cat like interest that made Heath’s stomach turn.

“Heath?” Killian asked, and Heath looked back at him. Heard his heart beating. He was still alive.

Heath got to his feet with Killian’s help, feeling very weak from the Hunter’s return. He looked down at Wolfe’s grey ashen body at his feet, blood seeping steadily into a stream from his wound.

“Ah fuck,” Heath muttered, looking over his shoulder at Felix. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Felix waved the death of his friend away as if it was spilled milk.

“Don’t be daft. I never liked him anyways. Let’s have breakfast, I’m famished. Killian will you join us for breakfast? Please do. Actually, as your boss I insist. I hope the cook prepares some pastries. I feel like a nice croissant right about now.”

Felix kept talking and gesturing as he walked out of the door to the basement and waited there, holding it open for the others to follow.

“Are you okay to walk?” Killian asked after Heath let him go.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Heath said, then took an independent step and collapsed. Killian was bent double trying to catch him, but before Heath hit the floor Felix had a hand under him, putting Heath’s arm over his shoulder and helping him out of the basement. “Shit,” Heath whispered as his head swam. The rush from the Hunter’s high zapping his energy.

“Hush, dear boy,” Felix said quietly enough so only Heath could hear, “I got you.” Heath didn’t have the energy to argue or repress the shudder at Felix’s old pet name for him, and just let Felix half carry him out of the room.

Felix didn’t turn as he said over his shoulder, “Chop chop Killian.”

Heath heard an immediate: “Yes sir.”

Then he zoned out knowing Killian was safe and let Felix guide him to the dining room.

Celeste was already at the dining table, knife and fork in hand, hair in a simple low bun and she didn’t as much raise a brow when the three men arrived. On the table before her was a small feast of pancakes, fruit, bread and pastries that still had steam rising from them.

“You’re just in time,” she said simply. “The pastries only arrived.”

Killian walked through the door after Felix and Heath. Following Felix around the table after he had deposited Heath onto the chair next to Celeste, and then sat at the head of the table on her other side. Killian sat opposite Celeste on the other side of Felix, her perfect eyebrows raised at that.

“Oh hello. You must be Felix’s new employee. I’m Celeste.”

“Celeste, Killian. Killian, Celeste. We’re all acquainted now let’s eat,” said Felix plating himself some pastries from the table and a side of grapes.

“I’m sorry you’re in debt to him,” she said as Killian sat down and Killian nodded in response. “You have a bruise on your cheek, and a cut… and blood on your shirt and nose. Felix, did you do that?”

“I would never.”

“No. A guy named Wolfe,” said Killian.

“Oh,” Celeste said her voice taking an edge to it as she looked to Heath at her side who was a little out of it. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I’ll remember that,” Killian said, taking a croissant and biting into it. “It’s all thanks to Heath.”

“Defender of the Humans that man,” Celeste said with a secret smile. She dropped her voice conspiratorially and added, “He must like you.”

“I don’t,” Heath said, voice raw, reaching across Celeste and taking a pancake from her plate.

“Now that’s a lie,” Felix said, eyes on Heath even as he continued talking with Celeste. “You should have seen him down there, Celeste. He was exquisitely noble.”

“When is he not?”

Heath grunted in response. Killian for his part was mostly famished and weirded out by the three vampires sitting before him. He ate quietly, every now and then grabbing something when his plate was empty as they fell into silence.

“Tell me,” Felix began, cutting a pancake with his knife and fork and easing a piece to his mouth, “Did you know he was the Immortal hunter?”

Celeste froze for a split second, imperceptible to the human eye, the brief halting pause in her limbs. A split second was all it was, but that was all it needed to be for Felix to notice. Silence descended on the table, even Killian stopped chewing as he noticed the change in tone at the table. Felix’s eyes were sharp as a feline’s as he watched Celeste process the information.

“Yes. I was shocked too. I would have thought he’d tell you of all people,” Felix said conversationally, as if he didn’t just drop the bomb of the century on her over breakfast.

“I’m right here,” Heath said. His eyes were shut, his head tilted back on the chair and staring at the ceiling.

“Would you prefer we talk behind your back?” Felix asked.

“I’d prefer if I didn’t have to hear your voice for another decade, Victor.”

“You wound me. It’s not even 9 a.m.”

“I’ve had a long day,” Heath said. He looked at Killian then from across the table. “As have you. Would you like me to walk you home?”

“Heath –” Felix began but was cut off immediately by Heath’s chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

“Give him the day off. It’s my treat. Plus, I’ll be here to wait on you hand and foot.”

Felix shrugged in response. “Fine,” he said in an exhale. “However, me and Celeste will be talking about you behind your back.”

“As all good friends do. Come on Killian.”

Heath was out of the room before Killian had even stood up. He did so a bit awkwardly, bowing his head to Celeste.

“It was nice to meet you, Celeste.”

“Enchantée. Don’t be a stranger, Killian.”

Killian didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing, just nodded again and followed Heath out of the house. He wouldn’t be prey to another Vampire’s stupid contracts and customs in the span of 24 hours.

Celeste waited until they were out of earshot to turn to Felix staring daggers into his face which Felix just blinked unfazed at.

“What do you mean Heath’s the immortal hunter? The immortal hunter can’t be a vampire. And that boy? You let Wolfe hurt him in your own house?”

"Wolfe is dead now, Celeste, so any disrespect he caused me in my house is currently bleeding out of him in my basement. As for how the immortal hunter can be a vampire," Felix said, taking a sip of wine and looking at her over the glass, “I have a few theories...”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued Here

[letstalktea]

Parasite

Content: Tav x The Emperor, endgame spoilers, mild angst, smut referenced but not shown

Word Count: 1.4k

Where did they end and the parasite wriggling just behind their eye begin? They had been asking themselves that question a lot lately, especially after the worm had stopped moving and the only thing left to remember their adventure by was some deeply seeded trauma that had fundamentally changed who they were. Their companions had been freed from both the parasite and their own past – as much as they could be, anyway – but Tav was still left staring straight into the endless sky, at the glittering star dust of the Astral plane through the empty eye sockets of a long decayed skull. Even knowing the Netherbrain was gone, this was the only place they felt completely safe anymore.

"You've come again."

Tav turned their head to stare at the grand illithid floating beside them, seemingly appearing from nowhere but knowing he must have sensed them coming.

"You did too."

The Emperor wasn't a prisoner of the prism anymore now that the brain that tried to control him was no longer around, so being here was a choice rather than a strategy. Or maybe there was still some strategic element to his presence. 

"I find myself curious as to why you keep coming back here. Did I not make myself clear that we have no further reason to associate in this capacity?" 

"You did." They sat up and leaned back on their palms. "And yet, here you are. Curiouser and curiouser. If I didn't know better, I'd think you missed me."

"You are allowed to think whatever you want, as illogical and irrational as it is."

"I would appreciate it if you at least pretended. I miss when you tried to play on my mortal emotions. It was nice to live the lie that you cared about me as more than just a tool."

"I have no reason to cater to that charade anymore." 

"Please? For old time's sake?" They patted the space beside them as they stared up at him.

He didn't move.

They shrugged. "I tried."

Then they burst into laughter. "I can't believe I used to think you actually cared about me. A mind flayer caring about some random mortal? Preposterous! You probably thought I was a joke. Was I at least a funny joke? Tell me you were at least laughing while I played your fool."

"I don't find your bouts of mania amusing." 

They stood up with a deranged look in their eyes, practically shouting as they approached him. "Then was it at least entertaining to play with me as I fell for you? Is that why you offered to spend the night with me? Was it your grand finale to make me trust you and ensure I would do whatever you wanted when the time came? Was I the only one who cared?"

"You already know the answer." He said with a flat affect.

"Right," they muttered. "I wish I didn't. It's unnerving how easily I can hear your thoughts these days."

"You made that choice when you accepted the tadpole."

"Nah. What I did was less like choosing and more like picking the only option that made sense." They clumsily held up three fingers and counted their list of grievances. "I couldn't trust you, wouldn't betray you, and wanted to save my home. I made the only logical decision."

"Because even after I attempted to manipulate you and opened my mind, you did not trust me."

"You were always a liar, especially in your own head. That's what the worm in my head was saying and it turns out it was right. Even now I suspect you are trying to lie in whatever way lets you win this little tête-à-tête because you don't like me picking at your presumably perfect plan, even after it's long since unneeded."

"You misunderstand." He finally floated downward and allowed his feet to touch the ground so he was standing in front of them. "I am pleased by your decision not to trust whatever honeyed words others may speak to you. I am frustrated that you suspect me of such things however. Have I not proven myself your ally even now?"

"You've proven that you still find me useful and are willing to work in our common interests. Although, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to prove that your continued presence in my life has a deeper meaning." 

They reached out their hand to wrap around one of the tentacles hanging from his face, recalling how they'd done it the night they'd spent together; the moans they didn't know he could make as they kissed their way up each one, the frantic heat as they tore at his clothing even knowing he didn't have human anatomy because they wanted to know his body, their giddy joy and laughter as their body lifted into the air for the first time and the giggles as they tried to figure out how hovering was supposed to work, the way they leaned against him and let him use his own mortal memories to pleasure them until they came on his fingers– Then they saw how their fingers looked wrapped around his tentacle and quickly withdrew.

His gaze was unwavering, but there was an understanding – real or fabricated they couldn't tell, but they chose to believe it was genuine. "You'll find such desires dissipate over time."

"I know." They had already reached that point. They simply liked to pretend there was still more of their original personality left than really was. It was distressing how quickly the person they were fell away.

It was disconcerting how easily they understood his motivation for playing on their fickle mortal emotions and even more so how they could imagine doing the same thing, if need be. Now, however, their emotions and reasoning weren't so malleable by pleasantries. Now they could hear his genuine thoughts and have an inkling as to what machinations ran through his head. Their favorite was the small corner of his mind that called them such pretty things like divine or exquisite before those stray thoughts were buried beneath every other logical one. It was nice to hear someone think they were still beautiful when every other voice usually screamed at their mere existence.

"Are you finished with your delusions?" The Emperor asked.

They waved him off with a thought as the illusionary world – the one they'd conjured in their head so many times lately as their mortality began to slip further and further away – began to dissolve around them and give way to the reality of the cellar they made a serviceable home in. 

"I would appreciate some understanding and sympathy for my current situation."

"I understand that you have become a greater existence than you previously were, so sympathy is unneeded."

If they could have, Tav would have rolled their eyes. Instead they simply rose into the air so they were hovering just barely above their fellow illithid. "How anyone believed you to be a human man with that dismissive attitude, I will never understand." 

The Emperor followed their lead, rising into the air so his gaze was level with theirs.

They turned away from him, choosing not to delve into his thoughts or accusations about the hypocrisy in thinking others foolish for believing his deception when they themselves had fallen for his ruse until they saw the tentacles on his face and him pleading for aid.

"I'm hungry," Tav said, trying to ignore how that comment and its implications weren't unnerving in the least to them, not like it had been when they had first transformed and devoured the brain straight out of an exiled prince's skull.

No. Instead the most disturbing thought in their head, the one they tried to push aside using what little of their mortal morality remained intact, was the creeping desire to have a tadpole or two of their own. It felt natural as an illithid to want an entire colony at their disposal. Nevermind that they were not an Elder Brain with that kind of power nor did they have a desire to become the very thing they defeated, but they did have an itching for power and control that surpassed their conscious mind.

If that desire was loud enough to slip through their carefully maintained demeanor for The Emperor to hear, he at least had the decency not to say anything. That, or he was formulating a new plan to either support their twisted desire or find his next ponzi to be their undoing once the last of their mortality finally gave way to illithid motivations.

[thewriting-corner]

Introduction To My WIPs

Helloo! I just took a ginger shot and multivitamin in the hopes that I do not get a cold right before the free week I plan to use to get all my uni work done, and my brain is fired up lol. ANYWAY, the other day I got a DM asking about TSLBTY and it hit me that despite all the promo I did for TSLBTY, I still never really talked about it 🤔 so here I am ranting to you about the only healthy loves in my life: the wips (or whips, if you will). Have fun, ig? And it goes without saying to please not steal any of these ideas. Be decent

The Sun Leads Back To You

This is my main project at the moment, and has been my source of therapy for a year now. I restarted the current version in April 2022 when I began getting really bad anxiety attacks again and my mental health was ✨on the ground✨ because how else would I cope lol. I hereby present you with a synopsis 🫶🏼

When on vacation with her family in Guanacaste, Costa Rica, Sofía Barrera finds her almost-boyfriend kissing another girl. In an attempt to make him jealous, she asks a random stranger to kiss her. Eager to make her ex even more crazy, she enlists the help of British tourist Thomas Woods to fake date her.

Thomas Woods doesn’t know what he hates more - the brain melting heat of the Costarrican beach or being forced to spend two weeks with his mother’s fiancé and his brand new step siblings. Desperate to get away from them, he accepts an offer to fake date Sofía in exchange for one thing: she gets him away from his new family as much as possible.

Their deal slowly unravels when Sofia’s family falls apart, and more than ever she’s convinced that she’s destined to stay at home forever, making sure her parents do not break the way they did seven years ago. Add an ex-boyfriend determined to win her back and the moody, yet charming Thomas, and Sofia’s world is soon to be collapsed.

I’m on it’s 3rd Draft, about to start the 4th and final once my beta readers finish reading it sometime this month. My current plan is to start querying it on June 1 as a birthday present to myself :) This book has meant the world to me and has helped me move on from so many things that it only feels appropriate to begin its new chapter as I leave my final days of teenage writerdom and entire my 🤢 20s. Sofia and Thomas are the products of my greatest flaws and pride, and yet I hope they will eventually find home in readers’ hearts like they’ve done in mine.

Songs I Relate To It: folklore love triangle :) or Last Kiss by Taylor Swift (iykyk)

The Wrath of Chaos [working title]

Now that I’ve gotten the super gross part of the way, I am pleased to announce that once I send out TSLBTY into the query trenches, I plan to reimagine one of my favorite worlds I’ve ever written! I tried querying this book before and it went terribly, BUT the other day I got an idea on how to make this book better and I CANT WAIT to put it to paper. While I have loved having my dearest, slightly depressed Marty on the spotlight, I’ve decided to shine a little bit of light on my favorite character of all time: Chaos. In this new version, he will be aged down and gain his own POV chapters in the book so that finally, he and Marty can be direct mirrors of each other like they were always meant to be.

Song I Relate To It: Carry On - The Score, AWOLNATION (or literally any song by The Score lol I swear their entire discography fits)

The Time Travel Wip

Working Title: The Time Keepers or Daughter of Time

One of the darkest concepts I have ever come up with, the time travel wip is a sci-fi/romance/thriller about a girl so desperate to return home, she accidentally destroys time😃 In the unfortunate experience of outlining, I realized that the plot was WAY too flat and so I need to rethink a lot of the aspects, which is why it’s so down the line of priorities right now. But I’m fine with that! Good books take time, and I’m excited to see what this wip will end up in once I’m a little less tired to think it through again lol

My plan for this one is to restart the outline eventually lol as soon as I can figure out how to up the stakes. Usually I have no issue with high stakes, but the entire concept of my characters being lost through time made it really hard to keep up with what they have to lose since it’s so difficult to remember the order of events even though it’s written down haha. Definitely my most ambitious project so far, which is why I have no issue taking my time with it. I’ve rushed through these wips in the past, and I’ve come to learn that a quick project will never be worth more than a well done one.

Song I Relate To It: End Game - Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran, Future

[riewritten]

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑, 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏

: ERWIN SMITH X GEN NEUTRAL!READER, ERWIN SMITH X YOU, NO Y/N

: 1500 words

: mental health issues, suicidal ideations, hurt/comfort, methinks chapter 2 of erwin protecting you from yourself?

You’re not going to die. Not on Erwin’s watch. Continuing your existence might be pure suffering on your end for the rest of your life, but Erwin couldn’t care less. Even if all he could do is to make the suffering a bit bearable but still existent, he couldn’t care less. If you crack his brain open and see the thoughts running inside his big silly head, Erwin is certain you’ll be angry at him. Not letting you go is driven by his selfishness to cling to your existence, even if existing is none but a foolish burden on your end. He’d keep you from slipping away from him—from everyone—by all means.

You don’t want silly reminders of how much you’re loved by everyone. You demanded him not to do that because you know how loved you are. You’re very much aware of how everyone would cry for you once you’re gone. And even then, despite the keen awareness, it still doesn’t help in toning the voices down. It doesn’t make your life much bearable. The love is there and it’s certainly not enough to make you stay. Yes, you do feel sorry for them, but not sorry enough to stay.

Erwin did not insist. If you don’t want to hear about it then he could help. If it doesn’t help you relieve the voices then it wouldn’t hurt to push for another options.

The next time he asked you how you are doing so far, you stopped him midway to say, “Please don’t ask how I am right now.” The answer was enough. Erwin did not insist. If you don’t want to elaborate then suit yourself. If the question would just remind you of how your situation stays unchanged, that it is not getting better unlike what they say, that the answer to “How are you?” is a constant “Not fine. Terrible, in fact.” for months and months, and that answering gains no bearing any longer. Erwin would comply. If that’s what you’d prefer in exchange for staying with him, he would comply.

But Erwin is, first and foremost, a mere human being. He is designed to give into desperation just as he is designed to love. He is subject to vulnerability just as he is capable of accepting your fragility. One day he appeared on your doorstep, drunk, with sullen eyes and down shoulders. Raindrops are visible on his coat and slightly tussled hair. You rushed to him with a towel and offered him your couch and tea to heat himself up.

Erwin obliged, albeit in guilt, but more of desperation. He wants to see you. He wants to make sure you’re not slipping away tonight. It’s just that only the bravado brought by liquor would Erwin surrender to this feeling.

“How are you doing?”

You stopped in your tracks. It’s been more than a month since he asked you that. He never broke the rule of not asking until tonight. You decided to let it pass because he’s drunk.

“Fine,” you answered, back facing him. You made sure he wouldn’t see your face while answering this. “Could still get up from bed.”

But the precautions of not getting seen failed when Erwin scooped you by his arms. He went from behind, rendering a gasping shriek from you. The drunk man brought you to your room and laid you down on your bed. He laid you flat on your back, helpless, tender, open with only him to help in this very space and in this very moment. He hovered on top while you stay underneath him, speechless.

“What are you doing…?” you whispered lowly.

“Answer my question.”

“I did.”

“Answer my question,” Erwin reiterated lowly, almost sharply, patience not found in every angle of his voice. “How are you doing?”

You averted your eyes away, “I thought I had made myself clear last time.”

And thus Erwin gave in. His body had given up on him just as he gave up on his resolve to acquiesce to your wants. He buried his head on your neck, his chest glued on yours heavily, his knees trapping your legs in between him as if you’d try to escape from this confrontation.

The next time he reiterated his question, his voice was soft, longing, yearning, and utterly vulnerable. He wouldn’t want you to see his face; the crook of your neck seems to be the most viable option. “Tell me,” he called your name, one tinge and you’d notice the desperation. “Tell me how you are.”

And with his reverent touch, you gave in. “Terrible,” you almost spat, hoping the frustration would somehow stop the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. After all, he wants you helpless, tender, open with only him to help. And while you want that, too, the favor he’d want you to do next would be too heavy to accomplish. After all of this, Erwin would want you to be strong again. And Erwin wouldn’t want you to die no matter how bad you wish for it. He is asking for too much. Would his gesture to lay you tenderly on your back be enough?

“I feel terrible. And it’s not changing at all.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “As always, yeah?”

You could feel its vibration on your skin. The long-standing forlorn deprived you of feeling a lot of things, but Erwin’s voice and warmth this drunken night did otherwise for the first time in a while. This very warmth is bubbling in your stomach. His affection tipped the insides of your nerves. It sends a signal to your brain that tonight, being loved by someone matters to you. Just for tonight, you feel like this is quite enough to make you stay.

“As always, yeah.” Your hand then caressed his hair, gently so, as if the feeling would keep this warmth and your temporary will to stay. “Sorry. I can see you’re very worried.”

He sneered, “I doubt you see it quite well.”

“Sorry.”

Erwin sighed and called your name before landing a chaste peck on your neck. “Let me do something, please. Something that would keep both of us at ease.”

“Don’t ask me to be strong. Don’t ask me to keep living and be strong.”

He raised his head again and looked you in the eye, confusion etched in his features. That’s all? Or so his face said.

“Is that why you were avoiding my gestures? Because you don’t want me to tell you this?”

You nodded meekly.

He swore he would laugh if not for your embarrassed face. “You could’ve just told me so.”

“I know I will receive a lecture if I tried. I’m so tired of hearing it.”

“Then tell me you wouldn’t want me to lecture you.”

“Can I easily say that to the most reputable professor alive?” you joked.

“Don’t stray the topic away, honey.”

You rolled your eyes, masking your vulnerability in a petty manner. “Sorry for not communicating properly.”

“I wouldn’t tell you to keep living if you don’t want to.”

“But you want me to do just that. Even if I don’t. I can see it in your eyes. You want me to live. You want me to be strong even if I can’t, even if I don’t want to.”

“But that doesn’t mean I would merely say my desire.” Finally, he understood you after months of walking on eggshells. As if to reward you, he started peppering your face with kisses. You could feel him smiling along the way. You closed your eyes to savor it, to remember every sensation brought by the curls of his mouth, the faint beard brushing on your skin, everything, everything that makes you feel a lot of things right now. “Words wouldn’t suffice. I will make you want to keep living. I would want you strong again, but I must make conditions that would help you do so.”

You never thought of it that way. That’s why the task seems heavy to hear. That’s why people wishing for it seem too heavy to see until now.

And with his words finally reaching you, you burst out in tears. You heaved a loud, long-awaited sob. Erwin watched you as you did. Never in his life he’d thought your cry would bring him so much comfort. He didn’t think your tears could be construed as a symbolic factor of you going back to him.

“Yes, my love,” Erwin cupped your cheeks as you lay down all your cries—tender, vulnerable, only with him to help. “Show me everything.”

You finally acquiesced. You showed him everything he had wanted to see all this time he couldn’t reach you. He wants you helpless underneath him, and oh it would be a pleasure to give it to someone who deserves to see it. Even when you started kissing him Erwin kept his eyes open. He wants to see you desperate, flat on your back, tender with only him to see. Then he’d make the world easier for you to live. That way you’ll be strong again. And your desire to die would decrease. You’re not going to die. You’ll settle down little by little. You’ll settle down with him.

🔖@collinnmckinley @frenchdyer @aeanya @xiaotopia @watyousayin | SUBSCRIBE TO STORIES

MORE OF SWEET SUBTLETIES SERIES HERE

[matryosika]

Day 11: Fucking machine + Overstimulation + Multiple orgasms with Chan

Wordcount — 1276 words

Includes — (Mild) sadist soft dom!Chan; dirty dialogues, overstimulation, use of toys (fucking machine, dildo), squirting.

Author's note — Love, love, love Chan as a sucker for pain, but not necessarily of it being inflicted on him. I also love picturing him as the kind of man who talks sweetly to you when he is ruining you, so this shows pretty much it. I hope you all like it, and please remember that english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance!

There's nothing innocent about Chan.

Nor the heart-warming smile he offered you the night you two met, nor the way he is holding your hand at times like these even has a pinch of innocence in them.

“One more,” he coos, pushing away the hair sticking to the sides of your face with sweat. “I know you can give me one more”.

A pleasure dom, it’s exactly the label he used on himself when he first revealed to you his preferences. It was all about giving, about making his partner feel good, about driving them to the edge of insanity only to bring them back to reality with an overwhelming sensation of pleasure. 

“Chan,” you exhale, head crestfallen while your cries are drowned by the sound of the machine. “Chan, Chan, Chan”.

“I’m right here,” he tells you, thumb caressing your hand while his dark eyes admire the scene. The lewd noises your cunt makes when it sucks the dildo right inside, and the way you squirm and tremble it’s something he is not going to forget easily.  “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here”. 

“Too much,” you cry, lifting your face to meet up his gaze; there's a tad of concern in it, but it is nowhere near the amount of lust they hold. “Hurts”.

“You know I can make it stop,” his available hand caresses your cheek while the other one squeezes yours tightly, a romantic gesture in the middle of such a corrupt moment. “Say the word and I will”.

Chan knows you are nowhere near your limits to stop, and he knows that if you were really done with everything you would just say so. But there is always something enticing in reminding you that you are the one in control, the one who —with a single word— can put an end to the moment and still not do it. 

“No,” you whine, squeezing his rough hand even harder. “Can take more”. 

Chan laughs softly, wholeheartedly. Nothing makes him feel more satisfied than when you bear all the pain he inflicts on you, when you thank him over and over again for ruining you, for removing every single coherent thought engraved in your brain with a couple of hours of overstimulation.

Because things always unfold like this —you, texting him in the middle of the night, asking if you can come over to his playground, if he is in the mood to help you destress.

And every time, Chan accepts willingly.

“You’re doing good so far,” he praises you, lifting your chin with his digits to make eye contact with you. “Taking everything so well, you are making me proud”.

A shy smile escapes through your lips but it is quickly replaced with a grimace of pain when his hand lands flat on your clit, the sting feeling sending shivers down your spine and making your toes curl, “Fuck, Chan!” 

“Come for me,” his hoarse voice resonates near your right ear, his breath caressing your sweaty skin makes you feel a tingly sensation on your neck. “Show me how much you enjoy having your cunt fucked”.

There’s nothing he loves more then being the one fucking you —absolutely nothing compares to the thrill of the intimacy between you two, no machines nor toys involved. But tonight he felt like pleasuring and torturing you in ways he knows his body isn't capable of.

You’ve been laying on your back with your legs spread and a machine thrusting a dildo in and out of your for hours, making you come and cream for more times than Chan remembers now. All he has done is to be by your side during all this time, holding your hand and planting wet pecks on your forehead, praising you and comforting you through it.

There’s nothing innocent about Chan, but even his sadistic side has a certain tenderness to it.

“Again,” you beg in between cries, eyes fluttering to where the toy and you meet —the machine fucks you easily, the dildo all slippery and sticky from how much you’ve come around it. “Do it again, please”.

Although you didn't say exactly what, Chan knows what it is that you want. So he indulges you by slapping your pussy one more time, focusing especially on your swollen clit that pulsates visibly in anticipation. 

“Ngh-” you swallow thickly and buck your hips against the toy, your hands gripping the bed sheets underneath you, “shit”. 

“I know baby,” Chan coos, the empathy in his voice contrasting with the cruelty of his touch. “Feels good, yeah?”

You can hardly answer because you are too focused on your upcoming climax, one that's starting to build up inside your guts and that it's threatening to wreak havoc.

“Too intense,” you breath, heart racing at a thousand miles per hour in anticipation of the ecstasy you are about to experience. “Can’t stop- making a mess”. 

“Don’t worry about the mess,” he purrs, kissing your forehead one more time. “Worry about satisfying me and giving me what I want”. 

The next time Chan touches you, it’s not with a sharp slap but rather with two of his fingertips, rubbing your hardened clit to the pace of the machine fucking your pussy. He knows you well enough to realize that that’s what you are missing, that his touch is the only thing that can make you come. 

“Chan!,” you cry out, moving your hips in circles while you try to get the most stimulation from both him and the dildo. It hurts, but that pain is what triggers your orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, fingers expertly rubbing your clit. “Let all the neighbors know you are having an amazing time with me, will you?” 

You bite your lower lip and shut your eyes tightly while your back arches against the bed. You try to close your legs around Chan’s wrist, your body instinctively moving away from the stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it to.

He holds you firmly in place with his palm against your lower abdomen, his other hand bringing you closer to the highest peak of climax. You try to hold as much of it as you can, but you fail miserably —the satin bed sheets turn a darker color when you squirt all over them, shaking pathetically while you make a mess all over again, just like your previous orgasms.

“Too much?” he asks you, smearing your fluids along your slit. Your body jolts at even the slightest touch, and he knows he has to be very careful right now if he doesn’t want to cause you any discomfort. 

“No,” you gasp with shortness of breath, throat dry and heartbeats resonating loudly even through your eardrums, “so- good”. 

The machine keeps on working the dildo with back and forth motion, but your body feels so numb that you can hardly take it into account. Your hazy gaze focuses on Chan, who’s kneeling right next to you with one of his hands caressing your hair while the other massages your thighs, deciding that you’ve had too much of everything tonight. 

“Was I helpful?” he asks you, moving your body away from the machine. You whine when you feel the dildo going out of you, not used to the sensation of not having your pussy filled with something because of the last hours.

“Always,” you exhale, cupping his face with both your hands when he leans to give you a kiss. “I really needed this. Thank you”.

“I know,” Chan smiles, his dimples gleaming in the dim light of the room you two are in. “My pleasure”. 

Because really, it was.

[diamond-coral]

A Game

Summary: Tony suggests a game that you, the unfortunate intern, get dragged right into the center of: who can make a woman cum the fastest?

Pairings: all dark!: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader, Tony x Reader, implied natasha x reader

Warnings: DUB-CON/NON-CON (oral: f-receiving, fingering, tiny smidge of analplay) VOYEURISM/EXHIBITIONISM, BLACKMAILING, OVERSTIMULATION. The characters in this story are NOT good people. After reading the warnings, your media consumption is your own responsibility!

As Stark’s party mellowed down and all the guests left, you, the unfortunate intern, were called over to the small group of five Avengers seated in a section of couches.

“Y/n, come!” Thor’s voice boomed.

“Y/n, come!” Sam mimicked, deepening his voice to make fun of Thor’s.

You approached them as the men snickered at Sam’s joke. 

“What can I do for you?” you ask, a fake smile plastered on your face.

Stark cleared his throat and raised a brow at you; a silent command. 

“What can I do for you, sir?” 

“A round of drinks please, and add this to Sir Barnes, Sir Rogers, and I’s drinks.” Thor handed you the flask of his Asgardian liquor and you accepted it, hiding the slight nervous tremble of your hands.

“Of course, sir.”

“Someone’s been learning their manners,” Steve taunted, and it took all your restraint to not snarl at him.

“Easy there, Rogers,” Stark interjected, noticing how your fingers clenched Thor’s flask tighter. “Pretty sure Barnes fucked the brat outta her couple days ago when he came back from that shitshow of mission in Bosnia. Got a lot of pent up rage there, Buck?”

“Mission just put me in a bad mood,” Bucky shrugged. “Either way, I don’t think I fucked all the brat outta her. Got anything left for me, doll?”

“I have nothing for you, you self-righteous, ignorant prick,” you spat venomously.

“There she is. I always love a challenge.” Bucky smirked at how your knuckles were turning white around the flask. “Now didn’t Thor ask you to go fetch us some drinks?”

You huffed, opting to bite your tongue rather than lashing out, and spun on your heel toward the minibar.

Three-months ago, you would never have imagined your internship interview at S.H.I.E.L.D to bring you here. Your interview had been conducted by Captain America himself, and just as things began to look promising, it was interrupted by a sharp knock from Tony Stark. Tony had brought Steve into the hall, leaving the door to the conference room open, and you could only sneak glances through the window of the room, hearing Steve whisper about how it was “a question of morality” while they both kept looking back at you.

You got the position, and the next day, Tony sat you down and gave you an offer.

The Avengers needed to be ‘taken care of’, as he put it, and you being a ‘stress-reliever’ would boost morale around the team. Most of the them never had time for the outside world (apparently saving the world was a big commitment?) and were rarely ever able to make lasting relationships. You could accept the position, be compensated monthy, and get to live in the compound, or you could decline, and walk away with your mouth sealed by the confidentiality contract you signed before the interview.  Something about S.H.I.E.L.D. work being linked to a lot of top secret information, meaning you weren’t allowed to speak any details of the job to outside parties unless you wanted to get sued for every penny you were worth.

You had been on the cusp of taking the second option before Tony mentioned your sister’s job as S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent. She was half the reason you’d interviewed for an internship. A couple words from Tony about her possibly falling into a fatal accident on a mission, and you took the position offer in a heartbeat.

You almost overfilled the glass while getting lost in your train of thought. Setting down the bottle of expensive whiskey, you placed the last glass next to the others on the silver tray, and picked it up, gracefully yet begrudgingly making your way back to the small gathering.

“Y/n, finally. We were just talking about who here can make a woman cum the fastest.”

The complete utter bluntness of Tony’s words caught you entirely off guard, and you tripped over your own feet, stumbling in your high heels to keep the tray of drinks from falling before Sam reached an arm out to catch the tray and another arm to hold your hip and steady you.

You ripped yourself from Sam’s touch without acknowledging or thanking him, to disturbed by Tony’s previous words to do so. You began passing out the glasses of dark liquid. “And you’re telling me this why?” Your voice was flat in hopes of showing Tony you were completely disinterested in any plans he might have.

“Why, we need your aid, Lady Y/n,” Thor answered a little too cheerfully for your taste.

“I won’t be partaking in your little immature competition of toxic masculinity.” You crossed your arms and continued. “It makes it seem that women are nothing but prizes. Games to be played by boys as they fight over the highscore. Toys.”

“Aren’t they?” Steve cocked his head, eyes glimmering with amusement while a smirk painted his face. The rest of the men chuckled at his reply.

“I think HR would be shocked to hear that Captain America is being a sexist dick to a woman in the workplace,” you bit back, but your threat was weak and they all knew it.

“I think HR would be to busy writing a condolence letter to your sisters family if, let’s say, on her mission with Sam tomorrow in Russia, a stray bullet hit her,” Steve replied. A quick reminder at the stakes. 

Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock sympathy. “Those darn Russians and their careless aim.”  

He abruptly pushed himself off the couch and clapped his hands together. “I wanna go first,” he declared.

“Just remember, you can’t use your dick,” Tony added. “Some of us don’t have super soldier serum enhanced fuckwands.”

“Please never, ever say fuckwand again,” Bucky said, scrunching up his nose. “Besides, the hydra serum didn’t do anything down there.” He waggled his eyebrows while elbowing his enhanced counterpart. “Don’t think I could say the same for this punk here though.”

Steve muttered a ‘shut up’ while the group snickered.

All while they compared sizes like a bunch of teenagers, Sam manhandled you onto the coffee table in the center of the couches. You let out a grunt as you were shoved onto your front, stomach pressed into the tabletop while your pelvis was slammed into the edge.

Sam kneeled behind you and brought up two fingers to your mouth.

“Get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby.”

The men around you went quiet, entranced as you reluctantly took Sam’s fingers into your mouth, sucking on them and swirling your tongue around them.

When Sam finally pulled them out, he looked back at Tony.

“You ready?” Sam asked.

Sam hiked the flowy skirt of your dress up your legs causing you to squirm and pathetically thrash; a desperate attempt at putting an abrupt stop to this stupid game.

“You’re on the clock.”

At Tony’s words, Sam immediately stopped your desperate attempt at worming away from him by catching you by the back of your neck and slamming you back down hard on the coffee table. Much to your disdain, the rough treatment made you wet, and that was the last thing you wanted them to see.

But when Sam pulled your lacy panties down, you could tell it was the first thing he noticed.

“Fuck babygirl, I didn’t need you lubing up my fingers, you’re already drenched,” he noted.

You let out a soft moan as Sam worked two calloused fingers into your pussy. Although they’re thick and long, they were nowhere near the size of his dick and you silently thanked whatever was out there that he wasn’t splitting you in half with it at the moment. Sam released the grip on your neck, moving to settle the hand on your ass before giving it a light squeeze and a slap that elicited another moan from you. While Sam slowly began moving his fingers- twisting, curling, and pumping them- he leaned over you, caging your body under his broad chest, to speak dirty words into your ear.

“Baby, you’re so wet right now, I think you like having them watch you.” Your cheeks burned in shame while he picked up the pace. “You want them to see how well-behaved you are for me? Want them to see how you come on my hand like a good little slut?” he cooed.

Slow pumps now turned to quick thrusts from his skilled fingers and Sam groaned as you fluttered around him.

“That’s it. You’re taking me perfectly.”

Twisting his wrist so his thumb could also strum your clit, Sam was moving so fast you’d easily mistake him for a superhuman.

“Yes, Sam, please,” you cried out, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Uh-uh, babygirl. Wrong word,” he scolded, although his pace never slowed as his fingers brutally fucked into you.

“Daddy!” you screamed. “I’m cumming!”

You chanted those words, cunt clamping down on his merciless fingers. He gave you no reprieve, mercilessly thrusting into you, until you squirted, your release coating his hand and dripping down his forearm. Only when you were almost crying, did he finally remove his hand from your abused cunt.

“Now that-,” Sam stated, grinning while he stood. “-is how you make a girl come.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever Birdbrain.” You don’t have any strength to look at Tony as he speaks. “Give her a couple minutes before whoever’s next.”

Whatever the conversation was between them (you couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in your brain), it was much too short to your liking. The few minutes Tony gave you only felt like a few seconds before Bucky was getting up.

“Guess I’ll take a crack at it,” he announced, rolling his head from side to side.

“No one says “take a crack at it” anymore, old man.”

“Keep talking when your in last place, Sam,” Bucky quipped, however, his tone was still light.

You felt a metal hand on your hip before you were rolled over onto your back, now facing Bucky while your eyes pleaded with him.

“Please dont,” you croaked.

Bucky just scoffed, kneeling down between your legs and wrapping both arms around your thighs as he pulled you closer.

“Tony?” His hot breath fanned your pussy as he spoke and you inhaled sharply at the feeling.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Stark said.

Bucky wasted no time the moment the words left Tony’s mouth. He started by licking up from your hole to clit over and over, the lazy stripes already driving you wild. Letting go of one of your thighs to bring his flesh hand to your pussy, he pulled the hood of your clit back, pausing his licking to blow on your engorged bud.

“Such a pretty pussy, doll,” he murmured before turning his head around and speaking louder. “You guys seeing this?” 

He moved his head out of the way to showcase your glistening folds. A couple groans from the men on the couches had you trying to close your legs, but Bucky’s grip was like steel (especially considering his hand was metal).

“Wasting time Buck,” Steve commented and Bucky just rolled his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I can still beat Sam and have time left over,” he scoffed.

Bucky directed his attention back to your folds, this time, diving in right away. He still had the hood of your clit pulled back as he encased the bud with his lips causing you to writhe at the intense sensation. And yet, you were held down with practically no effort as he methodically played with you. Each time he groaned against you, you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, and by the time he started sucking on your clit, you were wrecked. Your hand found home in his brown locks of hair while he quickly moved his tongue back and forward on your sensitive nub that was trapped in the vacuum of his mouth. The coil inside you wound tighter and tighter, and suddenly, while Bucky began shaking his head from side to side, it snapped. Your clit pulsed rapidly while encased in his hot mouth, and you screamed, legs locking around his head while your hand held his head in place. He worked you while you rode out your orgasm on his face until you could barely move.

Bucky got up from his knees, grinning down at you, so weak, you couldn’t muster it in you to glare back.

“Now I think I really fucked the brat out of you,” he said. “What was that?” He cupped his ear. “Did I hear a thank you sir?”

“Thank you, sir,” you whimpered weakly.

You were so fucked out, all the next events were but a blur.

Thor had feasted between your thighs the same as Bucky but was more sloppy, although, your body seemed to love ‘sloppy’. His tongue was constantly lashing and worming around your clit, the wet muscle accompanied by lewd slurping sounds, and in record time, Thor’s suckling and licking had you tensing and building up so much that your orgasm felt like a waterfall crashing over your body.

Steve was just as methodical and precise as Bucky, also pumping his fingers slowly in and out of your pussy. He was sweetly slow, dragging out your pleasure to the point where you were begging him to come. His warm tongue dragged across your sensitive cunt, while another hand reached up to grab a breast and pinch a nipple. You felt like your body was on fire. It wasn’t until Steve had inserted a thumb into your ass that he finally allowed your body sweet sweet release.

Your head span as finally collapsing on Tony’s floor, listening to the muffled voices above you.

You didn’t even register Stark’s words as he announced Thor had won and Steve had come in last. You barely even heard Steve’s defense that he was just enjoying himself too much in the moment.

Although ten-minutes later you had a somewhat sense of clarity, after hearing their conversation, you wished you were just unconscious. Even better, dead.

“I’m tellin’ you man, I made her squirt. She definitely came the hardest with me.” Sam’s voice rang.

“Dude- she was literally grinding against my face and holding me in a headlock with her legs,” Bucky argued.

“I literally made the brat beg to cum,” Steve inserted.

“I’d say that by bringing her to release the fastest, it was most intense with me,” Thor declared, victoriously.

You were on the brink of tears as they talked about you. Until another voice cut into the room. A female voice.

“What do you boys think you’re doing?”

It was Natasha. Your head jolted up as you felt a glimmer of hope surge through you.

That glimmer of hope was quickly extinguished at her next words.

“Not inviting me to the boy’s party?” she scolded. “You think a girl might beat you by a landslide?”

Nat squatted down next to you, running a soft hand on your cheek.

“Well you’re right. I’ll beat Thor’s record and cut it in half.”

She began unbuttoning her pants.

“And I’ll do it while riding her face.”