#Mystery of Window Leaks

[chicagowindowexpert]

Dealing with Water Woes? Exploring the Mystery of Window Leaks

When you look out the window, you can see what's going on outside or let light into the house. People who live or work in the building may have trouble with what was once a source of light and beauty when water starts to leak in through those windows. A lot of homes and companies have problems with windows that leak. Aside from causing damage to the building, they can also lead to the growth of mold. This blog post will discuss what causes window leaks, the issues they can cause, and why you need to find and fix them immediately.

How to Figure Out Window Leaks

Water can get in even though window seals and screens are meant to keep it out. This is called as a window leak. What could cause this to happen? Here are some ideas:

Window seals may not be properly sealed when they need to be fixed properly, letting water in.

Wear and tear: Over time, seals and other materials used to close things can wear out, leaving holes that water can get through.

Bad Weather: Window coverings don't work as well when it's cold, windy, or rainy.

Movement of the Structure: Over time, buildings settle and move, which can make window coverings less useful.

Consequences of Windows Leaks

It can be disgusting and expensive to fix window leaks. Windows that leak can do more than just leave the walls and ceilings unappealing. Besides that, they can:

weaken the framework of a building by letting water in, which breaks down brickwork, metal, and wood.

make mold and mildew grow, especially in places where water pools because the windows don't slope properly. This could be bad for people's health.

cause excessive energy use because cool air can leave and warm air can come in, putting more stress on heating and cooling systems.

diminish the aesthetic appeal of a building because damage and water spots make it look bad, which could make people not want to interact with it.

Looking into window leaks

To find and fix window leaks, you need to follow a set of steps. People who own or run buildings should be on the lookout for signs that water is getting in, such as

Water Marks: If you see spots on the walls, ceilings, or window frames, it means water is getting in.

Mildew or mold growth: Musty smells, wet rugs, and mold or mildew growth are all signs that there is too much water.

If your windows get mist on them, they might not be protected or able to let enough airflow through, which can cause them to leak.

Damage on the outside: Cracked or falling apart caulking broken seals, or missing lighting are all signs that water could be getting in.

As soon as signs of a window leak are found, they need to be carefully looked into to find the cause of the problem. To do this, you might:

Checking manually: Look at the broken windows from the inside and outside to see if there are any clear signs of damage or wear and tear.

Water Testing: It involves making leaks happen again with a hose or fake rain so that water can be seen coming in real-time.

Thermography: Infrared thermography can find temperature changes that could mean water is getting into some places.

Experts in Consulting: To help you find and fix window leaks, it can be very helpful to hire building exterior or waterproofing experts.

How to Fix Windows That Leak

Finding the source of the issue requires promptly investigating any indications of window leaks. Therefore, it is advisable to: 

Examine broken windows from the inside as well as the outside for any obvious indications of wear and tear or damage.

Perform water testing by replicating leaks to observe the real-time water ingress.

Use thermography, which measures temperature swings with the use of infrared technology, to identify possible water penetration.

Consult with experts in consulting, such as building exterior or waterproofing specialists, to get guidance on effectively identifying and resolving window leaks.

Conclusion

Windows often leaks, but this is something that can be avoided. Buildings can get damaged if they are not fixed. People who own or run buildings need to know why windows leak and how they damage buildings. To protect their assets and make sure their buildings last a long time, steps can be taken to find them, look into them, and fix them.  The cityscape of Chicago is made up of magnificent structures. For window and curtainwall information, the Chicago Window Expert can help. They are Expert Construction Consultants who can also provide consultation and advice. This is critical for keeping buildings in good shape. Property managers and building owners need to know what causes window leaks and how they damage buildings to protect their investments. After that, they can find the leaks, look into them, and fix them. Fast action today, with the help of experts will keep buildings running well and prevent them from having water issues in the future. For tomorrow, this will be a lifesaver in terms of both time and money.

[officialspec]

so we just moved, and the house we moved into has been abandoned for a few years so weve discovered some fun little secrets scattered around as we explored. for example, theres a little room downstairs with graffiti on the door dubbing it 'the dog box'

of course we were intrigued. aside from some storage and a place to put a washing machine, the dog box seems to exclusively contain this old ass piano, with a little window to see into it from outside

also pictured sitting on the piano is a little novelty dagger we found in the grass outside. its all very funny and novel, right? we thought so

that was when we found The Stain

of course, we immediately jumped to some conclusions. the knife outside, the abandoned house, 'do not enter' written on the door. whatever it was, it had dripped through the floorboards from upstairs, from approximately just outside the bathroom. we decided to wait until we finished moving and then grab some peroxide to test it just in case

still, the dog box bloodstain remained a hot topic, and the curiosity was killing me. after figuring out where upstairs the stain wouldve dripped down from, we noticed it had also seeped up through the newly installed flooring, and i decided i couldnt wait to investigate

looking around the dog box, i noticed that there was a section of the ceiling/underfloor that was noticeably newer than the rest of it, meaning the place the stain had leaked through had been pulled out and replaced just before we moved in. suspicious

im using my phone torch to look around in the dark, and when i shine it on the bloodstain it lights up in a distinctly.... glossy way. when i get closer i can see its not matte, but sticky. so i decide to touch it, and immediately im hit with a STRONG smell of something deeply familiar. all the pieces fall together at once, and using my superior investigative prowess i have deduced the culprit

it was bees. there was a fuckoff massive beehive in the floor that got taken out before we moved in and it leaked honey up through the floorboards and onto the floor of the dog box and the landlord didnt feel like cleaning it up. mystery solved

[fanaroff]

Dp x DC Prompt: Space Like An Ocean

An alien had taken up residence outside of the Watchtower. Its first appearance immediately started a panic with most of the heroes that could survive in space converging on the station to see whether it was friend or foe. In the end, it did not seem either.

In fact, it seemed fine with just basking and napping wrapped around parts of the Watchtower that made up the outside. It wasn’t the size of the Watchtower, but off and on it was a very near thing.

Humanoid, yet distinctly inhuman. White whispy hair sat atop its head, pointed ears, and the only feature that could be made out of its face were two bright green glowing eyes. A color that sent Batman into a research frenzy. Its skin was void-dark. Almost looking as if a piece of space itself had separated from the cosmos and took and almost snake-like form. Or maybe an eel?

The most notable thing about the creature were its injuries. Multiple lacerations covered it, leaking a green that never touched the Watchtower and seemed to evaporate not long after leaving its body. Any silent attempts to collect it for study and to figure out what it was were met with emotionless green eyes and a bare hint of fang. They backed off quickly.

Flash liked to call it a mer-eel. “Cause it’s got an almost human torso, two arms, and the rest just kind of curls up!”

Wonder Woman was unimpressed with this. “That would suggest it is more like a naga.”

To which Green Lantern replied, “No, no, he’s right. There’s an almost white fin-like bit that goes down the tail like an eel’s does.”

Any more attempts to identify the creature led to nothing and soon the “eel” became a silent fixture of the Watchtower.

It was ages later when Zatanna entered the Watchtower to discuss a completely non-connected case when she stumbled immediately upon leaving the Zeta Tube and had to lean against a wall, breathing heavily.

“Something feels like Death.” Was all she could get out before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground. She wouldn’t wake up, dead asleep. Immediate worry all around lead to Justice League Dark being contacted in full.

Constantine with Deadman in tow were ultimately the ones to solve the mystery. It took but a moment for Deadman to be seen thanks to Constantine’s “magic” and awe was the first thing apparent on his face. Deadman didn’t even need to leave the Watchtower to know what it was.

“Oh,” he whispered like a prayer. “So that’s where he goes when he takes a break.”

Queue questioning.

“He” turned out to be Phantom, the Ghost King who had apparently decided the Watchtower was a perfect basking spot. Confusion was abound at this.

“No, see,” Deadman tried to explain. “He has two Obsessions and the Watchtower feeds into both. Heroes who protect, as he is a protector spirit himself and probably feels a kinship, and space.”

Constantine and Deadman explained as best as they could, but when the questions finally settled, the last was “Why isn’t Constantine affected like Zatanna? Why aren’t the rest of them affected like Zatanna?”

“That’s easy!” Deadman piped. “None of you are attuned to death magic! I’m a ghost, he’s my King. Zatanna is a magician with experience in most magics. And Constantine doesn’t own enough of his soul to feel the death!”

In the end, a request from Deadman was all it took for things to change. With barely a rumble, Phantom pulled himself from the Watchtower and drifted far enough away for his aura to no longer affect Zatanna. The heroes could only watch in awe as the eel-like god returned to the open ocean of space.

Addition:

There were a giant green eyes observing the conference room. Every hero inside was frozen in place, staring back at the eyes and trying their best not to move a muscle. Phantom had moved from atop the station. Phantom had acknowledged them. Phantom was staring at them from a window of the Watchtower.

No one knew why he was there. Just that suddenly he was. The bright green lighting the entire room with its shine was the only warning they got. They stared. He stared.

Slowly, he moved. A hand-shape pointed with a claw. They were confused. The hand made a pointing motion again.

The table?

Ah. Several shards of kryptonite sat on the table. The topic of the discussion as someone had somehow gotten ahold of the shards and used them against Superman. They needed to know who supplied them.

The hand pointed again.

Why did Phantom want the shards?

Apparently, it wasn’t up to them to question as the pointing hand phased into the room, palm up. Waiting. No one moved for a moment until a white narrowed slit formed in Phantom’s eyes.

Green Lantern was quick to grab the shards (Batman made a token protest, those were his damn it) and placed them in the palm. He shivered as his finger brushed the skin, ice cold washing up and down his spine.

The hand closed, retracted and approached the face. The eyes stared as a large mouth opened (fangs, sharp sharp fangs laid in green) and a tongue popped out. The shards were placed on the tongue and the mouth closed with a sharp crunch.

Phantom grinned almost smugly before he drifted away from the window and back to the top of the Watchtower.

“Did- Did Phantom just ask for a snack?”

[zvdvdlvr]

Could you please write an imagine based on the episode where Greg House gives a lecture about the three cases and he's one of them (where we first see Stacy).

Reader is one of the students there, gives the correct answers, therefore grabs his attention and he offers a job and they end up dating

Thanks in advance!

chasing you ✩ gregory house

“What color is your pee?”

You watched House interrogate one of the few students that had been giving input on his three stories.

“Yellow,” she replied with a sharp tone.

“And what color is your blood?”

“Red.”

House nodded. “Yes. And what colors did I use to make this tea color?”

The female student stammers as she replies with “red, yellow, and brown.”

The man clicks his tongue. “And brown. How do we get the brown color?”

“Waste-“

“Thank means the kidneys are shutting down,” House cut in. “Why?”

“Could be damage done by the self injection. He has no history of trauma.

“Treatment?”

House’s rapidfire questions had rattled the woman, but she stiller answered. “Heat and rest-“

“Other possible causes?”

“Infection.”

House nodded. “Start him on antibiotics. What else?”

Silence filled the room. House looked around, expecting an answer. “Come on! What is it?”

“I-I don’t know,” the student admits. She looks away.

House sighs and walks down the steps. The paper with the tea color crumpled in his hand.

“You know, it’s hard to think with you in our faces,” starts the annoying student right up front.

“Yeah?” House scoffs. “You think it’s gonna be any easier with a real patient really dying?”

The guy looked down. Once again, silence reigned over the room as House prepared himself to speak. Until… you opened your mouth.

“The unknown factor would be muscle death.”

House looks up. Near the back of the auditorium by the window on the far left. A student House originally thought was uninterested. Sure, House had seen you around the hospital- practically every wide-eyed intern or student had met the witty man but he had never spoken to you.

Which was odd considering he took a little joy in making the interns and students squirm- especially the pretty ones. House was surprised he’d never even caught your name.

When House’s mouth opened and closed twice, you resumed carefully. “The dying muscle leaks myoglobin which is toxic to the kidneys. There’s your brown, Doctor.”

“Brilliant,” House murmured. He eyed you carefully as he went on. “MRI the leg. See what’s killing it.”

The Heath Ledger dupe spoke up again. “Why is the girl getting the MRI?”

“Because the neck skan revealed nothing and her doctor’s way more obsessive than she thinks she is.”

Heath tilted his head. “But you said the guy needed the MRI.”

“Because the mysteriously smart girl over there said muscle death. Not one of you came up with that. Not one of this guy’s doctors came up with it either,” he replied harshly. “They gave him bed rest and antibiotics- just like you guys would’ve.”

“Does he get better?” The female student from before asked.

House clicks his tongue. “No.”

“How long-“

“Three days.” He looks around the room, stalling when he made eye contact with you. “It is in the nature of medicine that you’re going to screw up. You are going to kill someone. If you can’t handle that reality, pick a new profession. Or finish medical school and teach.”

The female student from before spoke up. “It took three days for them to figure out about the muscle death?”

House shook his head. After heaving a sigh he answers “No, it took three days for the patient to suggest muscle death.”

“What caused the muscle pain?” You asked. “Was it- was it a clot?”

House nodded. “Don’t steal my thunder, young padawan. But… yes. A clotted aneurysm lead to an infarction in the patient’s leg.”

You nodded as House examined you intently as he went on. “After the surgery to remove the clot, the patient went in to wide complex tachycardia… The patient was technically dead for over a minute.”

“Do you think he was dead? Do you think those experiences were real?”

Every head in the room turned to the back. There stood James Wilson, leaning on the door. He looked knowingly at House, like he knew something everyone didn’t.

“Define real,” House shot back. “They were re experiences… What they meant- personally, I choose to believe that the white light people sometimes see, visions this patient saw… They’re all just chemical reactions that happen when the brain shuts down.”

“You ‘choose’ to believe that?” You ask curiously.

House’s eyes dart back over to you. “There’s no conclusive science. My choice has no practical relevance to my life,” he replies. As he starts to pace slowly around the front of the room, he proceeds. “I choose the outcome I find more comforting.”

“You find it comforting to believe that this is it?” Wilson asks accusingly.

House blinks. “I find it more comforting to believe that this isn’t simply a test.”

Everyone sat, listening closely to House’s every word. No other sounds could be heard despite House’s cane movement. He explained how, once the patient was put into a medically induced coma, his trusted proxy had made the decision to remove the dead muscle from his leg.

“Because of the extent of the muscle removed, the utility of the patient’s leg was severely compromised,” he told everyone slowly. “Because of the time delay in making the diagnosis, the patient continues to suffer chronic pain.” He tilted his head up to look at the crowd in front of him and then dropped his head to look at his hands.

“She had no right to do that,” piped up a different female student.

Heath Ledger look-alike scoffed. “She had the proxy.”

The woman argued back, “She knew he didn’t want the surgery!”

“Well, she saved his life,” Heath Ledger responded.

“We don’t know that,” the guy in the front row cut in. “Maybe he would’ve been fine.”

“Still, it’s the patient’s call!”

Heath Ledger shrugged. “Patient’s an idiot.”

“They usually are,” House agreed. “Do you have a buzzer? What time does this class end?”

This time, a mew voice answered House’s question. “20 minutes ago.”

For a moment, House looked at Cuddy with an unreadable expression. Then he clicked his tongue and stood up. “I’m not doing this again,” he informed Cuddy. “And this guy is not the world’s greatest dad- not even ranked. Who the hell let’s their kids play with lead based paint? That’s why he’s always sick. Find him some plastic cups and the class is all his again,” he told Cuddy, placing the yellow hand-painted mug in her hands. He started to walk out, but paused and hobbled back to point his cane directly at you. “Except you. Come with me.”

With haste, you gathered you books and writing utensils and shoved them into your bag. As you followed the limping man out of the classroom, you felt everyone’s eyes on you.

“I have a job for you if you want it,” House tell you finally, stopping in front of a door. “It’s tough, people lie to you every day, and we don’t even have decent coffee.”

You look from him to the door that reads ‘Gregory House M.D. - Head of Diagnostic Medicine’. “I have literally spoken to you three times. How do you know I won’t accept the job, wait until you trust me, and then steal all your money and leave?”

House paused. “Good question. Will you accept the job, wait until I trust you, and then steal all my money and leave?”

“Probably not,” you reply.

“Great!” House exclaims. “You’re hired.”

Over the course of the next few month, you had clicked immediately with Chase. You spoke passionately about different types of literature with Cameron, and joked with Foreman about anything and everything.

Your relationship with House was complicated to say the least. During your first official case, House insisted he followed you everywhere. You more than understood his hesitance to let you do tests completely on your own. But when he limped around, tracking you like a damn dog… you wondered why he still hadn’t trusted you enough.

To your fortune, Wilson had cornered you in the cafeteria as you were getting lunch. “We need to talk,” he had said before plopping down next to you.

You paused, looking up from your cafeteria spaghetti. “About what?”

“House.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

Wilson looked at you with an expectant expression. “Because I want to know what you said. Duh.”

“I think I’m missing something,” you told him. “What was I supposed to say to him? What was he supposed to say to me?”

Wilson dropped his silverware. “Are you serious? He didn’t- You don’t- What?”

“I’m lost here, Wilson,” you tell him.

Wilson looks around suspiciously before licking his lips. “So… you know how the medical gala is coming up?”

Nodding, you shove a forkful of noodles in your mouth. “Chase won’t shut up about seeing ‘all the hot babes in tight dresses’ or something,” you inform Wilson.

After guffawing over your imitation of Chase’s accent, he gets serious. “It’s in a week. Are you sure he hasn’t talked to you?”

You throw your hands up and sigh. “Just spit it out already, Wilson. I feel like a high schooler trying to get my friends tell me who they have a cute little crush on. Tell me or I’m gonna pop a blood vessel!”

Wilson looks away. “I can’t. I’m scared of House.”

With that, he picks up his tray and goes to leave.

“Bye bye, Willie!” You call.

James turns and glares at you before walking out of the room. You chuckle and attempt to finish your meal before your beeper will inevitably go off.

You just start chowing down on the garlic bread (read: bread with butter and garlic) when you hear the dreaded beeping. You bite off a large chunk of the bread and dump your tray before reading the ‘MY OFFICE- EMERGENCY’ that was from House.

When you finally pushed open the door, you saw House facing the window outside.

“Is our patient with the living?” You ask, taking a step towards House.

House doesn’t turn around. “I need you to go to the winter gala thing with me.”

You stiffen up. Throughout your whole body, your muscles tighten as your freeze midstep. Your face drains of blood and your heart feels like it just dropped into your stomach and was dissolved by the acid. Bile had just started rising up your esophagus when House turns.

“Don’t look so excited,” he insists sarcastically. “But seriously. Why are you looking at me like I have a tumor growing out of my eyeball?”

“No,” you mutter raspily. “Take Cameron.”

House’s eyebrows furrow as you turn on your heel and start to leave.

“Why won’t you go with me?”

You gnaw deeply at your lip as you turn. To your surprise, House was standing- watching you leave without his cane in his hand. “Go with Cameron,” you say again. “I don’t- I’m- No. Just no.”

“Y/n, why-“

You practically run out the door before Greg can even say your name. He stands by his desk, staring intently at the ground where you just stood. “Hm,” he hums. He sighs and thinks about what to say to you next.

The next three days consist of House trying and failing to speak to you. To his own surprise, you have completely stopped talking about personal matters with him and have withdrawn any of your own opinions except for facts having to do with the patient.

House had just finished off another bottle of pills when Foreman barged into the room. “What did you say?”

House blinks. “Uhh… to who? Where? When?”

“To y/n, House. What did you say to y/n?”

“I told her that I needed her to go to the winter gala with me,” House answered truthfully. “Why? Has she said anything to you?”

Foreman flops down in the chair facing House. “Do you like her?”

“Well, I hired her, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, House,” Foreman snaps. “Answer me. Do you like her?”

A moment of silence fills the air. House thinks back to the first time he interacted with you- how confidently you completely the puzzle that certified doctor’s couldn’t figure out. How you had matched House’s wit on your very first day. How you- despite being babysat- had completed every test and blood swab and every challenge House had put in your way. How your face often spoke before you did, how House unconsciously searched for you in a crowd, how House looked for your input after almost anything is said, how House wants your company.

“No,” he answers. “Yes. Maybe. Why?”

Foreman looks at House like he’s stupid. “Because she likes you! How have you not figured that out?!”

“Uh, maybe because of the fact that she seemed to want to projectile vomit all over me and then sprinted out of the room? Sorry, I was too focused on the horror in her eyes to consider the fact that y/n really wants that enemies to lovers trope in real life,” House rambled.

“She thinks you’re gonna make a fool out of her, House, and I think you are too,” Foreman answers. He stares at House, searching for information he won’t get. “But… you’re less abrasive when she’s around.”

“You’re acting like she’s your precious little baby sister about to be wed to an evil ogre in the woods,” Greg mutters.

Nodding, Foreman quirked his eyebrows. “I feel like I am.”

House looks at Foreman for a long moment. “Why did you come here to tell me this?”

Eric heaves out a sigh heavy enough to know down an elephant. “Because she wants you to mean it. Y/n wants you to want her. To show her that you want her.”

“I see.”

Foreman nodded. “Don’t tell her I conversed with the enemy.”

Greg scoffed. “As if she’d voluntarily talk to me.”

Eric’s face turned sympathetic. “Just talk to her. Show her this isn’t some whim to- I don’t know, win a bet against Cuddy. Show her you feel the same.”

It was the day of the gala when House found you testing a patient’s blood. You whispered lyrics to a song Greg didn’t know as he stealthily approached you.

“Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a weird choking noise as you leapt back. “Christ, House!”

“Sorry,” House said with a very unapologetic tone. “I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” You ask plainly, looking through the low power lens of the microscope.

House leans on the table as you adjust the stage. “About… the dance. Tonight.”

You adjust the fine adjustment knob slowly, clicking your tongue unconciously. “What do you have to tell me?”

Greg looks around the lab awkwardly. He silently tried to encourage himself, mentally recalling the nights before, thinking about what to say to you. “I want to formally ask you to go to the gala with me.”

You stand at full height, facing him directly. House held his breath. He was so close to you, he thought he felt your breath on his face. “I don’t want to go. With you, Cameron, Chase, or Foreman. I don’t want to go.”

“Why?” House asked immediately.

You shake your head. “I’m-These things never go well for me House. Besides, you could just go with Cameron. I know she’s dying to go with you.”

House watches you watch him. “I don’t want to go to Cameron. I want to go with you,” he admits lowly.

“And why do you want to go with me?”

House pauses to see your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips- so fast that he almost didn’t notice. “Because I don’t like her the way I like you.’’

You swallow. “How do you like me, House?”

“Like this,” he tells you before dropping his cane and grabbing your waist. Hearing no complaints from you, Greg pulls you close to him and brings his face close to yours. At this point, House swears his vision is blurred by how fast his heart his pumping. House’s hold on your waist is possessive, protective. He hesitates, hoping you won’t reject him now.

You- thankfully- understand the words House is trying to tell you through his eyes. You carefully let your hand cup the nape of House’s neck and pull his lips down to yours. A breathless moan escapes your lips as Greg pulls you flush against him.

House’s head- for once- is silent. And his leg doesn’t seem to hurt quite so bad with your hands on his body: feeling him like he’s only dreamt about before.

And then- when you do pull back- House keeps his grip on your waist as he looks you in the eyes. “I want to go to the gala with you. If you don’t have a dress, then we can just go home.”

Your flushed lips pull into a dazed smile. “How much cleavage do you want to see?”

House groans and lets his head fall back as his eyes close. “As long as I can take it off tonight and any other day I don’t care.”

“Is that- Are you- Are you hinting at commitment? Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?”

House guffaws sarcastically. “Careful, there. I could get you fired.”

You just laugh. “Yeah, and have the others bicker like siblings and let patients almost die thrice before diagnosing them? I don’t think so.”

“You know, you have a pretty big ego for someone who hasn’t worked here for a full year, yet,” House chides.

Scoffing, you attempt to return to the blood you were looking at before House interrupted you. “First of all, you would know about egos. Second of all, I’m good. Cuddy has spoken to me… about other positions,” you tell him vaguely.

House is taken so off guard, his arms go limp. “What?”

“Nothing I accepted,” you answer, turning back to the microscope.

House just hums. “Good.”

You murmur a quiet ‘good’ in reply. “I know how to cure this guy,” you breathe quietly. With a growing smile, you take the slide off the stage and turn off the microscope before discarding the bio-waste.

House struggled to keep up with how fast you were walking, but your kiss had definitely left him chasing you- literally and figuratively.

[theliteraryarchitect]

A Word of Advice About Critique Groups, Beta Readers, and Other Peer-Based Feedback on Your Writing

In my time as a professional editor, I've had many writers come to me with stories they've been trying to improve based on suggestions from critique groups, beta readers, or other non-professional feedback sources (friends, family, etc.). The writers are often frustrated because they don't agree with the feedback, they can't make sense of the comments they've gotten, or they've tried their best to implement the suggestions but now they've made a big mess of things and don't know where to go from here.

If this happens to you, you're not alone. Here's the deal.

Readers and beginning writers are great at sniffing out problems, but they can be terrible at recommending solutions. For that reason, critique groups can be a disastrous place for beginning writers to get advice.

Here's a good metaphor. Imagine you don’t know the first thing about cars. Someone tells you, “There’s oil leaking onto the driveway. You should cover the car with a giant garbage bag.” Alarmed, you oblige, only to be told the next day that “now the car smells like burning plastic and I can’t see out the windows.”

A mechanic would’ve listened to the critic’s complaint and come up with their own solution to the leaking oil, ignoring the amateur’s ridiculous idea, because they know how to fix cars and can use their skills to investigate symptoms and find the correct solution.

Critique groups actually aren’t bad places for experienced writers, because they can listen to the criticism, interpret it, and come up with their own remedies to the problems readers are complaining about. Beginning writers, on the other hand, can end up digging themselves into a deeper hole.

There's a great Neil Gaiman quote about this very conundrum:

Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.

So what to do?

First, try to investigate the reader's complaint and come up with your own solution, instead of taking their solution to the problem. Sometimes, in the end, the reader's solution was exactly right, which is lovely, but don't count on it. Do your own detective work.

Second, take everything you hear with a huge grain of salt, and run the numbers. Are 9 out of 10 readers complaining about your rushed ending? It's probably worth investigating. Does nobody have an issue with your abrasive antagonist except your cozy mystery-loving uncle? Then you might not need to worry about it.

Third, give everything you hear a gut check. Does the criticism, while painful, ring true? Or does it seem really off-base to you? Let the feedback sit for a week or so while you chill out. You might find you're less sensitive and open to what's been said after a little more time has passed.

Lastly, consider getting professional feedback on your writing. Part of my job as an editor is to listen to previous feedback the writer has gotten, figure out whether the readers were tracking the scent of legitimate problems, and offer the writer more coherent solutions. Of course, some professional editors aren't very good at this, just like some non-professional readers are amazing at it, so hiring someone isn't a guarantee. But editors usually have more experience taking a look under the hood and giving writers sound mechanical advice about their work, rather than spouting ideas off the top of their head that only add to the writer's confusion.

Hope this helps!

[sisyphus-hye]

Hyeju's Milk

A/N- Gender Neutral Hyeju Breastfeeding fic, so if you're not into that it would be good to skip this one. Plus rip LOOSSEMBLE :(

In the quiet of the early morning, Hyeju was sound asleep not having to worry about anything. The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only company she had in the apartment she shared with her group memebers. The sun peeking through her blinds. She immediately woke up in a shock, feeling something wet and strange under her shirt. Hyeju sat up and reached for the lamp near hear bed to get some more light, which revealed the unexpected: her shirt and bed were soaked with a mysterious liquid. Panic crept in as she realized it was milk, but she wasn't pregnant, nor had she ever been. She felt her breasts, they were full and firm. Her mind raced with questions she couldn't answer.

Her heart pounded as she picked up the phone to call her significant other, Y/N. Hyeju tried to keep her voice steady as she explained the situation to them, but the fear in her voice was discernible. Y/N was equally confused, if not even more than Hyeju. They told Hyeju not to worry, that he would be there soon. Hyeju couldn't sit still as she waited for Y/N, pacing the room and occasionally glancing down at her shirt. The smell of milk grew stronger, making her feel both uncomfortable and embarrassed.

When Y/N arrived, Hyeju met them at the door, visibly distressed. They took one look at her and immediately knew something was wrong. Without wasting a second, Y/N led Hyeju to the bathroom and helped her clean up, gently wiping the milk off her body with a warm, damp towel. The touch was comforting, but the reality of the situation remained overwhelming. They both sat on the edge of the tub, trying to figure out what could be happening.

"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Y/N asked, their voice laced with concern as they sat next to her, holding her hand.

"I've had two periods since my last check-up," Hyeju replied, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "It can't be that. Besides, wouldn't I have other symptoms?"

Y/N nodded, trying to reassure her. "Let's not jump to conclusions. We should see a doctor to make sure everything's okay."

"I called a doctor before you got here and they said… uh… that i need to express the milk manually," Hyeju said, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "They said it might relieve the pressure and it'll be better than it leaking onto my shirt all day."

Y/N nodded, trying to process the bizarre information. "Well, i can go to the store and get one of those devices that sucks out the breastmilk," they offered, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

"No that'll take to long traffic is terrible out there, I don't have that kind of time, plus i'm running out of towles" Hyeju said, glancing out the bathroom window at the bustling city outside. She thought for a couple a seconds and finally got an idea, but it was a bit embarrassing. "Do you mind helping me?" she asked with a shaky voice.

Y/N looked at her, surprised by the question but nodded reassuringly. "Of course, whatever you need I'll do my best to help."

With a deep breath, Hyeju unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her milky breasts, "Y/N you need to suck out the milk," she said, her voice shaking. Y/N's eyes widened, understanding the gravity of the situation. They had never been in a situation like this before, but the love they had for Hyeju overrode any discomfort they might have felt. They leaned in gently, placing their mouth around her nipple and began to suck. Hyeju's body tensed at first, but she soon felt the pressure in her breasts lessen. The sensation was strange for both of them, but Y/N focused on helping Hyeju through this weird ordeal.

The first spurt of milk took them both by surprise. Y/N didn't expect it to be so much, and Hyeju gasped as it left her body. They quickly found a rhythm, and Y/N swallowed the milk, doing their best to make Hyeju comfortable. Hyeju's breasts began to feel lighter, and she could feel the tension in her chest easing with every pull. Despite the strangeness of the situation, there was an undeniable intimacy in this act. The sound of Y/N sucking on Hyeju's breasts was the only noise filling the bathroom.

As the minutes ticked by, Hyeju felt a warmth spreading through her body, something she hadn't anticipated. She watched Y/N's cheeks hollow with each suck, and she couldn't help but find it oddly erotic. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of his mouth, and she felt a flush spread across her cheeks. Her breathing grew heavier, and she let out a small moan that she hoped was inaudible.

Y/N noticed Hyeju's change in demeanor and paused for a moment, looking up at her. Hyeju's eyes remained closed, a soft smile playing on her lips. She was lost in the peculiar mix of relief and arousal that coursed through her veins. Y/N felt a jolt of desire, but quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself that this was about helping her, not satisfying their own needs. Y/N returned to their task, Y/N's mouth moving with more urgency now, their hands supporting her breasts, feeling them soften and empty as he worked.

"Y/N touch me please," Hyeju murmured, her voice thick with arousal. Her hands found their head, running her hands through Y/N'S hair. She couldn't help the way her body was responding, but she didn't want to stop them now. Y/N's eyes searched Hyeju's for consent, and finding it with Hyeju giving a slight nod, they resumed they assistance with renewed vigor. Y/N's hands snaked their way to Hyeju's panties, gently rubbing her clit through the fabric. Hyeju gasped as she felt a warmth spread from her chest to her core, her breathing quickening.

The sound of her moans grew louder as Y/N's fingers moved with more urgency. They slipped her panties aside and slid a finger inside her, feeling how wet she was. Hyeju leaned into the feeling, her hips rocking slightly against their hand. The pressure in her breasts lessened further as she grew closer to climax. The situation was surreal, but the sensations were very real.

Y/N could feel Hyeju's body tensing up, and they knew she was almost there. They increased their sucking and her moans grew louder, echoing off the tiles of the bathroom. Hyeju's grip tightened on Y/N's hair, her breath hitching as she came, the pleasure pulsing through her body like a wave. Y/N kept suckling her breast, ensuring every last drop of milk was removed. Hyeju's legs trembled as she rode out her orgasm, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Finally, the flow of milk slowed to a trickle, and Hyeju's breathing evened out. She leaned back against the wall, panting, her body feeling both drained and satisfied. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes finally meeting Y/N's. They looked at each other for a moment, the intimacy of what they had just shared hanging heavy in the air.

[morverenmaybewrites]

Imagine Early Mornings with Jason Todd (Jason Todd x Reader)

Imagine a morning with Jason Todd, on that first day after he moved into an apartment.

(An apartment, you think, not a safehouse where the roof leaks and the wind howls so eerily that it sounds like weeping. You had often wondered why Jason or any of them called them safehouses when they never made you feel safe, not really.)

You wake alone, to a room that only has the bare minimum. A mattress so new that it still smells like the store, with sheets so fresh that they still feel stark against your skin.

(The bedframe, you had been told, will be delivered in a week. Until then, you have to contend with waking up to a back so sore that it’s a wonder it doesn’t crack like dry twigs.)

On Jason’s side of the bed, a cardboard box had been overturned to make a hasty nightstand. The edges are ragged and curling where someone had spilled coffee on it.

(It is not yet home, you think. This place chafes against your skin like an ill-fitting shirt. The wind sings a different tune as it blows throught the windows, the roof does not leak from the same spot.)

(No, this place is not quite home. Not yet.)

On top of the cardboard box is a book. The Black Hunger, you read. By Nicholas Pullen. From the carefully placed bookmark, you can tell that Jason is nearly finished with it, and it makes you wonder if he had gotten as little sleep as you did.

Imagine a morning with Jason Todd, on that first day after he moves into a new apartment.

You wake alone.

You sit and you stretch, and your back crackles like dry twigs.

And you swallow your doubts where they settle in your stomach, as heavy as stones.

This is good, you think to reassure yourself.

Different, but good.

You try not to think about how, the first night you moved into Gotham City, you had slept as soundly as infant in a crib, for the first time in years. Convinced that finally, that you had found home.

(Last night, you had tossed and turned and sweated. You had counted sheep, you had counted the exhalation of your breaths. It was only when you felt Jason’s arm wrap around you, did you finally begin to settle. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.)

(Instead of your own breaths, you had fallen asleep counting the steady rhythm of his.)

Even the temperature of the room is different, you note. And really, how can something like temperature be different in a place as dour and as rainy as Gotham City?

You wonder how Jason slept, if he did at all.

You can smell coffee and freshly-backed pastry, and you follow the scent of it into the hallway, where the wooden boards creak at the wrong places and the floor feels warm against your feet instead of cold.

This is different, you reassure yourself. But different can be good.

You find him in the kitchen.

Imagine a morning with Jason Todd, on that first day after he moved into an apartment.

There are dark shadows underneath his eyes, and you know, just by looking at him, that he had gotten less sleep than you.

And he moves in that odd, stiff way that tells you he’s hurting.

(You think back to the mattress, to the way your back sound like dry twigs when you stretch, and you wonder how much pain he woke up in this morning.)

“Morning,” you say, and you wince at the way your voice cracks.

His eyes find you, in that searching way he does and you wonder if he’s cataloging you the way you catalogued him: does he wonder if you’ve gotten enough sleep, if the lack of bed frame hurt your back?

(Is he wondering if this was a mistake?)

His face is a mystery, and all he says is, “Breakfast.”

He gestures to the table, meticulously clean despite the bareness of the kitchen. Two wooden chairs, the paint peeling off to reveal the termite-eaten wood. One for you, and one for him.

And despite yourself, you find yourself smiling.

Though, the paper package is still carefully folded, the scent rising from it is unmistakable. Freshly baked pastries, the barest hint of dark chocolate.

Gotham City had everything, including, in your opinion some of the best bakeries in the world.

Before you moved into Jason’s apartment, there had been one right next door to you. Every morning at 4 am, like clockwork, the scent of their products would fill the entire street.

It was better than any alarm.

You remember finding yourself on these mornings, leaning on the rusty railings of the fire escape, taking gulps of the crisp morning air, as if the smell alone could fill you.

(It was, in your opinion, the best place to be.)

(Have you told Jason this? You don’t remember.)

What you do remember is the view outside Jason’s new apartment: greasy diners that have not changed since the 70s, swinging yellow lamps that made everything look jaundiced, the air thick with cigarette smoke from their patrons.

(Jason had taken one look at these places and wrinkled his nose. You found that they had their charm. But perhaps not in the morning, with your stomach still roiling from lack of sleep)

There are no quiant little bakeries in his street corners. At 4 am, the air smelled like thick smoke belched from delivery trucks.

“Where did you get this?” You asked, carefully unwrapping the package.

Freshly baked bagels, smothered in cream cheese. Muffins dotted with fat blueberries, the insides stained with their dark juices. Croissants so delicate that its buttery surface practically crumbled against your fingertips.

He made sure you had options.

You inhaled the steam rising from them in soft tendrils.

(The crisp air at the fire escape.

Watching the sun begin to rise over rooftops.

Mornings that convince you that Gotham City is the best place in the world to be.)

Jason shrugged, an odd one sided shrug that barely lifted his shoulder.

He takes a deep breath.

“Gas hasn’t been connected yet,” he said, by way of explanation.

That would explain the takeout.

“I don’t remember seeing any bakeries around here,” you said lightly.

That shrug again.

The barest hint of a flush crawls up his shoulders, it leaves the scars around his neck discolored, where the skin doesn’t take on any color. He turns away.

You had the sudden, vivid image of him waking up early, taking the subway back to your old place and picking his way through the winding streets, to find your previous haunts. Carefully picking the pastries you love the most to bring back to you.

Your fingers find his arm, and he visibly tenses.

“Thanks, Jason.” You said. “Which one do you want?”

“I’m not picky. Take what you want.”

Your fingers climb up, gently touching the stiff shoulder.

Underneath the shirt, you knew that it is a ruin of scar tissue, hardened to the point that it pulls at the skin, making it difficult to move on cold mornings.

(The fire escape.

The best place to be.)

“Hurts?” You asked softly.

(Your back cracking like dry twigs.)

“I doubt the mattress was very uncomfortable,” you added.

“I’m fine.” His answer is almost automatic, then he pauses.

Breathes.

“It’ll get better once I get some movement in.”

That’s as much as an admission as you’re going to get from him.

Normally, you’d prepare something warm for him to press against the stiff muscles and loosen them, so it doesn’t have to hurt so much when he moves.

But—

(He answers your question before you even speak it.)

“Gas hasn’t been connected yet,” he reminds you with a wry smile.

You let go of his shoulder, to find the coffee cup he had set aside for you.

(Somehow, you know, that it is the from the same bakery. Somehow you know that it will be exactly how you like your coffee.)

You lift your coffee, the stiff cardboard still warm against your fingertips, offering him a smile of your own.

He lets out a small gust of air, the closest thing to a laugh he has most days. The corners of his eyes crinkle.

“If you want to try,” he said, in a tone that tells you he’s humoring you more than anything.

He sits down, allows you to press the cup against his stiff shoulder, careful not to spill liquid on him.

Your voice is soft as you speak.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t how I imagined your first day at your new apartment would be.”

And it isn’t.

Jason deserves so much more than a leaking apartment in Old Gotham, where the gas and heating hasn’t even been connected yet.

He deserved golden mornings with the sunlight just barely peeking through lace curtains. Waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, perfectly circular pancakes drizzled in warm honey.

Not…whatever this is.

The corners of his lip quirks. “S’not so bad,” he says.

He shifts, takes your hand in his to move the cup a little to the left. Your skin tingles at the contact.

“It’s hotter here. Reminds me of Santa Prisca.”

Your breathing stutters.

He rarely talks about his past, and even rarely talks about those years he spent as the Arkham Knight, lost in rage and dreams of bloody violence.

The question nearly lodges in your throat like a thorn.

“What was it like there?”

He turns his head so that you can’t see his face. The flush is back again, ending just at the terrible scar that encircles his neck. You picture garrottes, piano wire wrapped tightly around his throat, destroying the tissue underneath.

You wonder what it must have been like: those early days in the heat and unfamiliarity of a new country. The boiling rage.

And perhaps, the sheer relief in knowing that, at last, he was out of the Joker’s grasp.

(Perhaps, you think, Santa Prisca wasn’t all that bad. Perhaps, there had been a relief in starting something new.)

When Jason shifts to look at you, he’s smiling. The barest lift of his lips that makes the brand of his face almost invisible.

“It was okay,” he said. “This…this is better, though.”

He takes a deep breath.

Exhales.

(The fire escape.

Crisp morning air and the best place to be.)

“Back in Santa Prisca, I didn’t have you.”

[lillypad910]

Christmas with the Emersons

Eddie Munson x Emerson! Girly! Fem! Reader

Part 2 of Brother's Best Friend!

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, pin, protected sex (follow their example!), a lot of fluff, giggly cuteness, Christmas celebrations, not pre-read, might have errors, Reader is Gareth's little sister

Summary: After 6 months of dating Eddie, you're reminded of the Christmas get together your family throws every year. This time, Eddie is invited- or, "your boyfriend" is, since your family isn't aware of that person being Eddie Munson yet. Will they be excited for you? Or will your brother have something to say about it?

a/n: this took so long and I know its late but shush.

Big thanks to my girl Mare at @munsonsmixtapes for giving me her time to help me wrap this bitch up!

It is December 1st of 1992, the cold air outside leaks through your not-greatly-sealed windows into your apartment. Your heater broke on you last week, and you’ve been waiting for the landlord to send a guy to fix it. Fortunately, your new-ish boyfriend was kind enough to stick around until it’s fixed.

Lounging across the couch, on top of your boyfriend, Eddie, you bury yourself into his chest. He chuckles as your hair spreads across his skin, pulling the blanket that’s wrapped around you both more over your shoulders. “You ok, sweetheart?” He asks, running his fingers through your hair to clear a spot for you to look up at him through.

You do so, blowing air to push a strand he missed out of the way, “No, I’m cold.” You give him a playful glare, not actually meaning it, of course.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” he wraps his arms around you more snuggly, “I know another way to warm you up…” he smirks. Your cheeks flush, slapping your forehead against his chest once again, making him laugh.

To be honest, even though you and Eddie have been dating for 5 months now, since that fateful concert back in June, you haven’t done anything…physical. Besides the heated make out sessions and getting to your underwear before backing out. Thankfully, Eddie is really understanding about it all.

“Not… yet.” You mentally groan out the words, straining your brain.

His lips press to your forehead, smiling softly, “I know, Sweetheart, I was just teasing.” He pulls you closer to him, sitting up in his spot on the couch. He places his finger around your chin pulling you towards him, pressing his lips to yours. You hum into the kiss, still amazed at how you were able to actually start dating your teenage-self’s crush.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, as his tongue swipes your bottom lip. Just as his tongue breaches your lips- your phone rings.

You groan, dropping your head to his shoulder for a second before pushing off of him, yanking the blanket with you. He is yanked off the couch in the process, a soft yelp leaves him as you make your way to the counter where your phone is stationed.

“Hello?” You answer, holding the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Sweetie! It’s Mom!” Your mother’s recognizable voice echos through the speaker, her cheerful attitude as perky as ever.

“Hey, Mom,” you glance at Eddie as his head pops up to look at you as you address who you are talking to, “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing much, just trying to figure out what we are all doing for this year’s Christmas party, you know. Now that Garrett is married, you have a whole new boyfriend none of us have met before, everything’s different.”

You never told your family who you were dating, not even his name. You just said you started seeing someone, and that you promised they would meet him when you brought him home. You didn’t think about the Christmas party your parents host every year when you made that promise. That’s bad planning on your end.

“Oh yeah…” you hesitate, “I honestly kinda forgot, haha…” your mom hums in response.

“I figured as much, but not to worry! I’ve already got your room all ready for you to arrive in two weeks. And when you and that mysterious boy get here, you can help us go pick out a tree, decorate it, help me prep meals and all the goodies for-“

Your mother talks on and on about all the tasks you will have to do when you get there. You like Christmas, you really do, especially when you were still at home and could help your mom prepare everything so early in the month to make sure everything was perfect. “The Emerson Way” as your dad called it, perfection was the only outcome for Christmas. But god, did you just wanna stay home, in your cold apartment with your warm-bodied boyfriend.

“Mom,” you call out to her, and she shushes herself quickly, “let me talk about it with him, ok? I need to be sure he can even come this year.” You explain.

She gasps, “Oh my lord, of course!! I’ll let you go so you can give him a call. I love you!”

“Love you, Mom.” You hang up the phone.

Obviously you are not about to call Eddie Munson’s apartment, so you turn around. “Eds, code red. It’s Christmas.” Eddie looks at you confused, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“Yeah? I know, it’s December.” He chuckles a bit.

“No, Eddie, you don’t get it. It’s Christmas. The Emerson’s Christmas Party?” You gesture to your phone as you watch him blink.

God, you love him but sometimes his brain is ‘head empty, no thoughts’.

“Sweetie,” you step closer to him, placing your hands on the sides of his face. “My family hosts a party every Christmas Eve. I’m a required guest, and now so are you.” It hits him.

“Oh- Oh no.” Eddie hasn’t spoken to your brother, his ex best friend, in six years. At the time they were besties you were a simple 16 year old girl that he never thought of as more than just ‘Gareth’s little sister.’ Now you’re his girlfriend. “Oh I’m dead. Oh sweetheart, he’s gonna kill me.” Eddie hisses in a breath, wrapping his arms around himself. He may have just been cold but you also think it’s because he’s genuinely uncomfortable with this news.

“He’s not gonna kill you, Gareth doesn’t have the heart for that. Besides, Cindy wouldn’t let him even if he tried. Can’t have her husband in jail with a baby on the way.” You let out a soft laugh, trying to joke.

“Eds, I promise it will be fine.” You give his nose a soft kiss. “When do we leave…?” He asks, eyes wide with anticipation. “Two weeks…?” You awkwardly smile. He yelps.

The two weeks fly by fast, and before you know it, it’s December 14th and you’re passing the ‘Wecome to Hawkins’ sign as you cross over the town line.

“Haven’t seen that sign in a while.” Eddie speaks genuinely, it has been 6 years since he was last in Hawkins.

“Oddly enough I’ve seen it more in recent years than I ever did living in Hawkins.” You explain to him, watching the trees pass the car as you come into familiar territory.

Driving up the long driveway of your home you see a familiar car parked outside, your brother’s car. You and Eddie glance at each other, before turning off the car and stepping out onto the pavement into the cold crisp air of Hawkins, Indiana.

You don’t grab your luggage just yet, too nervous to bother with it right now. As you step towards the front door, Eddie follows close after.

It’s weird, he’s always felt welcomed at your house in the past, felt like part of the family. But now he feels like a total stranger, like a bear stepping into a bush with a hidden trap.

You ring the doorbell, rolling back and forth on your heels as you wait impatiently for the bright smile of your mother. “Coming!!” You hear a sing-song voice call out, and you’re both able to get in one final deep breath before the front door opens.

“(Y/n)!” Your mother opens the door, all smiles like usual, pulling you into a hug, “It’s so good to see you, dear!” She pulls away and looks up at Eddie. “Well as I live and breathe!” She smiles at him. “Is that really you, Eddie Munson? My, you’ve grown quite a lot!” She holds up her hand to graze his head before pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie hugs her back.

When she pulls away she smiles happily, “Oh, please, call me Donna, Eddie. I’ve known you since you were a kid! It’s only fair.” She turns back to you after patting his arm. “Sweetie, I thought you said you were bringing your boyfriend? Not that I’m complaining, Eddie Munson is forever a welcome face in this house,” she smiles at him again before facing you once more.

“Mom,” you smile at her, “meet my boyfriend.” You gesture to Eddie beside you. “Eddie.”

Donna Lynn Emerson looks up at Eddie, her smile growing wider before her eyes close and few words leave her breath, “Oh thank you, Jesus.” “What?” You ask. “Sweetie, I love you, you know that,” you mom pats your arm, “but when you told us you weren’t gonna tell us anything about your boyfriend until we met him, we all thought he was gonna be some biker or gang member.”

She turns to Eddie and taps the side of her head, “Parents brains go to the worst outcomes.” “So… you’re not mad…?” You ask, a little shocked by the chill reaction.

“(Y/n), you’ve had a crush on this boy since you were 14. You’re living the teenage girl dream, Sweetie, I don’t judge.” She smiles at you, “Besides, It’s Eddie. I know his Uncle, knew his dad, his mom, shit I knew this kid’s grandma on both sides.” She laughs to herself.

“But we are four years apart…? That doesn’t concern you?” Your mom’s face go dead serious, making the both of you jump at the sudden change in expression.

“Sweetie, I’m 7 years younger than your dad, and we married when I was 19. You’re a 22 year old woman who can make her own choices.”

“Anyways!! Come in!! Get out of the cold!” She drags you both into the house.

Stepping into the familiar entry way, you take off your coats and shoes, sitting them by the door and respectable hooks. You mother leads you both into the kitchen, where you are met with a very familiar face.

“Cindy!” You smile and run up to the girl, throwing your arms around her. “(Y/n)!! Hi!” Cindy laughs and pulls you to her, but you be careful not to squish her too hard on her belly.

Gareth and Cindy got married nearly two years ago now during February of 1991. They met 5 years ago when Gareth moved away for college. You will never forget that Christmas of 1988 when you met her, been friends ever since. You honestly questioned who side you would be on if they divorced. You love your brother, but it’s Cindy.

“How have you been? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call you last week, life got a little hectic.” She laughs running her hand over her baby bump.

“I’ve been good! And no worries! My heater broke a couple weeks ago so I’ve been just shivering in the cold since then, honestly this might be my vacation.” You laugh a bit.

She giggles before turning her attention to Eddie, “This must be the guy!!” She holds out her hand to him, “So lovely to finally meet you! (Y/n) never told us your name so I apologize for the awkwardness of the family.”

Eddie shakes her hand, smiling at her, “oh it’s fine, I actually-”

“Munson?” A voice comes from behind you all and Cindy tilts her head.

You both turn around and there in the door way is your dear brother. “Shit. Holly shit!” Gareth, as if reverting back to 17 practically tackles his old friend. “Dude! It’s been what? Almost seven years? Where the fuck did you go?” He pulls away, smacking his old friend’s arm.

Eddie looks like a relief was weighed off him, “I needed to get out of town, moved to Indianapolis, been living there ever since, though I’ve actually gone on tour a few times now.” Eddie snickers and Gareth chuckles.

“Yeah, no shit! Jeff and I found out there was a band called ‘Corroded Coffin’ and nearly fainted!” He turns to his wife who smiles at him. “Oh! Eddie,” Gareth squeezes through the two of you, wrapping his arms around the woman your age, “meet Cindy. She’s my wife.” He’s practically glowing when sharing this knowledge.

Eddie tilts towards you and not even bothering to whisper goes, “I see why you say they are meant for each other.” You snicker and Gareth glares at you.

A moment of laughter washes over all of you though, but Gareth stops first, “so, why are you here, man? Not that I’m complaining, just-“

“Oh!” Eddie, blissfully innocent Eddie, smiles at his old best friend before throwing his arm around your shoulders. “I’m (y/n)’s mystery boyfriend! Isn’t that cool?” As if clockwork, Gareth’s arms drop from his wife, his smile drops, and he stares at Eddie.

“I’m sorry,” he glances at you before looking back at the tall guy, “repeat that?”

“Eds-“ you go to press your arm against him.

“I’m her boyfriend! Isn’t that cool?” Eddie chuckles a bit, obviously more nervous than the first time he said it.

“You son of a-“ Gareth doesn’t even finish before tackling him, arm wrapped around his neck, locking him in a choke hold. Eddie flails around like a fish out of water, “I told you she’s off limits! When the fuck in all those years did I stutter!”

Gareth bumps into everything almost knocking over Grandma’s vase before, “Gareth!” The entire house goes silent. Your mother, the sweet woman that she is, struts into the kitchen and practically rips your brother off your boyfriend. “Eddie, dear, are you ok?”

“Him!?” Gareth yells, utterly shocked.

“Yes, Gareth! Him!” She glared at him, making your brother’s back go pencil straight.

Gotta hand it to Mom, she’s a sweet one, but god damn you don’t wanna be in the cross fire of her glare.

“I’m ok, Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck, “kinda deserves that honestly.” He lets out a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you step forward, turning towards the nitwit you call a brother. “Off limits?”

“Oh,” Gareth hesitates, “I made the guys promise to never date you. I know them, trust me you don’t wanna know everything about them.” You gesture to Eddie.

“Kinda been living under the same roof with this one for a good few weeks now, trust me what ever you know, I know.” Eddie blushes covering his face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, no…” He knew what Gareth was meaning, and god knows you have not discovered yet.

“What?” You question.

“I hate to ask, but if I don’t it’s gonna bother me,” Gareth takes a deep breath, “Have you two-“

“no!” You speak a little too quickly for everyone in the room, “no… not- oh my god, Gareth. Why are you like this?” You hold your head in your hands.

Gareth raises his hands up defensively. “Sorry.”

It doesn’t take long for everyone to get comfortable again. Gareth takes Eddie out to the garage with your dad and talks, you, your mom, and Cindy all stand around the kitchen, helping your mom do some Christmas baking.

“So,” your mom smiles at you, “Where did you meet Eddie again? He mentioned living in Indianapolis?” You roll the rolling pin over the homemade cookie dough on the counter, pressing it flat.

“Steph had tickets to his show, though I didn’t know it was his show when she invited us.” You explain, checking the width of the flattened dough.

“That’s fun! Did you meet him during the show?”

“Half time, and then met up with him again after. Jenny was there too.”

“How is Jenny? I haven’t seen her in a while.” Your mother changes the subject.

“Good, she’s dating this new guy, I’ve met him once. He’s cool.”

“Good for her.” Your mother smiles.

Cindy comes up by you with the container of cookie cutters. You both take a few and start cutting out Christmas shapes from the dough. “It’s good to have you home.” Cindy nudges you with her shoulder, “This town is so boring without you.”

“Aww, thanks, Cindy.” You smile at her.

“Your father has been a pain, claiming he needs to come see you every week. I kept telling him off about it.” Your mother jumps in.

“Gareth too, when you called us and complained about your heating being out, he was about to drive down and come fix it for you.” Cindy chimes in. You giggle at their claims, happy to know your brother and father still want to take care of you even though you’re a good bit away now.

After a little more baking and cookie decorating, the men come back in from the garage, beers empty and ready to eat. Eddie steps over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you from behind. He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Having fun?” You ask him, smiling at the small kiss.

“Yeah, it’s nice to catch up with your dad and Gareth.” He leans his head against yours.

After you all eat, your mother notices the time, and quickly shoos everyone off to bed. “We need to get up bright and early! Tree shopping isn’t going to do itself!”

You step up to your old room, Eddie close behind you as you open the door. “Whoa,” Eddie mumbles from behind you. You look across the room. It’s the exact same, the pink walls, white carpet, and baby blue bed spread.

“Don’t judge,” you glance back at him before stepping in, dropping your bag - that you finally got from the car - onto the floor.

Eddie steps into the room, glancing around at the pictures you have on your walls. There’s a painting he remembers you painted in art in your Freshman year, the mirror over your dresser, and a ABBA poster taped on your closet door.

As he steps closer to your mirror, he looks over the photos tucked into the frame. Pictures of you and Jenny in middle school, you and Gareth in the yard as little kids, and one more. You and him, a picture Gareth took the night you were at their concert back then. He was smiling at the camera in that picture, his arm thrown over your shoulders.

“That’s cute.” You look over at him, seeing the photo he points to.

“Oh- um, yeah…” you feel your cheeks heating up, looking back down at your bag. Eddie steps closer to you, placing his hand on you cheek and pulling you closer to him. His lips press to your forehead, soft and sweet.

“You’re cute,” his words are simple but to the point. “You make it hard to forget,” you let out a soft laugh.

The next morning, you wake in your old bed, the alarm on your night stand ringing out. You press the ‘off’ button before throwing yourself back against the mattress. You look over to where you left your boyfriend last night, but the spot is already empty. Then, the door to your room opens.

Stepping into the dim room, Eddie smiles at you with a mug in hand, “good morning, sweetheart. I brought you some coffee.” He makes his way around the bed as you sit up, before hanging the mug over to you.

Taking it you look down at the contents of the mug. “You didn’t have to do that, Eds, but thank you.”

“Of course!” He crouches down by the bed, smiling like a kid in a candy store as you take your first sip.

“Mm! You’re making my coffee every morning now. This is so good.”

After a semi-slow morning, you come downstairs fully dressed and ready for the day, your family all ready in the kitchen. “Finally, the bear leaves her cave.” Gareth snickers. You roll your eyes at him, “Oh, shut up.”

Your family piles into your mom’s Chevy Suburban. Your dad driving, mom shotgunning, Cindy and you in the middle row, and Eddie and Gareth in the back. The ride is nice, your mom having the Christmas station playing on the radio, with you and Cindy (mostly) perfectly singing every song it plays. Gareth and Eddie banging their hands against the back of your seats to the beat.

After your dad pulls the SUV into the local “Mary’s Trees,” the place everyone in Hawkin’s buys their Christmas trees, you all fumble out of the brick on wheels, Eddie nearly falling out himself. You all are quickly greeted by an associate, one you remember well from high school.

“Welcome, Emerson Family!” Tiffany Fraser, a girl who was on the cheer squad in your high school, smiles and greets your mom and dad with open arms. Her blond hair blown out and curled, perfectly pulled back into a high pony tail. “Coming by a little later this year, but don’t worry, I have some perfect trees to show you!”

Your mother smiles at Tiffany and loops arms with her before letting herself be dragged off, “Please share! I’ve been dying to get decorating!”

It doesn’t take long for your parents and brother to begin to make their way through the forest of Christmas trees for sale. You take this opportunity to fall back and hang with your obviously intrigued boyfriend.

Eddie’s eyes dart all around the area, the subtle glitter in his eye reminds you of childhood wonder. “You doing ok, Eds?” You ask him, stepping into an easy pace with him as you both follow behind your family.

“Hmm?” Eddie’s head snaps to your direction, before getting distracted again, “Yeah, yeah… didn’t realize how many trees would be here. How do you pick just one?”

You blink. What?

“What do you mean?” The question came out a little more harsh than you intended but you were genuinely confused, “have you never been tree shopping before?”

“I mean…” Eddie hesitates.

He had gone with his uncle Wayne once to pick out a tree. Though it was in a box and he had gotten it from one of the few chain stores in Hawkins. It’s a memory he will hold on to forever.

“Once. With Wayne, but it was a fake tree. I didn’t realize people actually bought real trees to decorate.” His eyes glance over the rows and rows of living trees that the farm has on display.

Something about that made you feel weird. You never even thought about that. Eddie grew up in the trailer park down the road with his Uncle Wayne. They wereon the poorer side, not having much money and Eddie mostly wearing hand-me-downs from Wayne until he could buy his own clothes. For some reason you didn't realise how different you two grew up. But suddenly this Christmas tree meant more to you.

"Hey, Mom?" You get your mother's attention, and she turns to you, stopping her conversation with Tiffany.

"Yes, dear?" Her voice is as joyful as always.

“In honor of Eddie joining us this year, can he pick the tree?" You know you're asking for a lot from your family, especially your mother. Donna Lynn loves Christmas. She loves to have full control over it.

"What a great idea!" Her voice seems to go higher, causing people around you to glance over, "Of course! Eddie, please do us the honors of picking out the tree this year!" Eddie glances at you with a look of pure concern. You pat his back lightly and lead him towards the front of the party. "Tiffany, you remember Eddie from high school, right?" Your mother asks her.

You remember Tiffany hated your brother and his friends in high school, and now she was being made to be nice to him.

"I do, nice to see you again, Eddie." Tiffany smiles and you can tell its a bit strained. She continues with, "Let me show you some trees they might like, that way you at least know you did something right..." The second part was mumbled under her breath, but you heard it, and so did Eddie based on his expression.

"What was that?" You ask, quite loudly so your mother looks over, interested. "Hmm?" Tiffany looks over at you, "oh nothing, just speaking to myself, haha." She turns around quickly after getting a weird look from your mother, but luckely no further comment was made.

It takes a while of Tiffany showing the metalhead different trees, him getting your mother's input before he finally decides on a wide 7ft tree. The cielings in your house were taller downstairs so your mom told him it was alright. When you got home, the boys help move the tree into the living room, while your mom, Cindy, and you migrated to the kitchen. The first thing you noticed on the island was the Christmas recipe tin from your Granny.

"Are we making anything tonight?" Cindy asks, situating herself on one of the stools as she opens the tin to go thorugh the recipes. You walk up behind her and lean over her shoulder.

“We can, but it will have to make something that will be fine for the next week." Donna replies, washing her hands at the kitchen sink. "Any ideas?" Cindy looks up to you.

"Maybe the Peanut Brittle? Ohh, or the Buckeye Balls!" You snatch the recipe card for the Reese's-like recipe out of the tin the moment you see it.

Your mother giggles, "You did always like that one... How about this, Cindy and I make the Brittle, and you and Eddie make the Buckeye Balls?" your mother suggests. You smile, excited to finally have the best holidy treat just sitting in the fridge, begging to be eaten by none other than yourself.

Eddie comes in with Gareth and your dad, who both walk straight up to their wifes. "Tree is up and ready to be decorated!" Your father sallutes your mother, making her giggle. He kisses her cheek before stepping over to the fridge and pulling out a coke.

"That tree was heavy..." Eddie steps up to you from behind and sits his chin on your shoulder, "Gareth and I both had to hold it straight while your dad bolted it into the stand, but damn."

You nod, leaning your head onto his, "hmm, now think how my dad feels doing that every year while we were kids, and Gareht didn't start helping until he was thirteen." You glance over at your brother who shuffles through the recipe cards.

"Don't look at me like that." Gareth doesn't even look up at you.

“How do you always know?" You ask, which inclines him to turn to you.

"I can feel the burning rays of your eyes staring straight into my head. You've never been a subtle starer."

You smack your hand to your chest, faking insult. "How dare you! I'm an amazing starer!"

Gareth rolls his eyes before looking at Eddie. "This is who you're settling for?"

Oh now you're insulted. "Hey-!"

"Enough!" Your mother gets your attention, making both you and Gareth look over at her, "I'm stopping that before it even begins... God, behave, both of you." 'Behave' was strained, you'd obviously annoyed her with your sibling banter. "Eddie, (y/n), you two make the Buckeyeballs. Gareth, Cindy, would you two make the Peanut Brittle?"

"Of course!" Cindy gives her award winning smile, but your brother just hums in response. "Thank you."

"Wait, what are you and dad gonna go do?" Gareth asks, his teenage self coming through, and you swear you just experienced some deja vu.

“Mom and I are gonna go sit our asses on the cough. You two know the kitchen and where everything is." Your dad answers for your mom.

"Exactly!" She jumps in with a smile, starting to push him towards the living room. "We're old, Gareth! We need a break!"

"You are not old!" Gareth yells as they go through the arch of the kitchen, "And they are gone..."

“Yup" you respond, not even really shocked about your parents ditching you.

“If we were under fifteen I'd say we might be safe to assume a nother sibling before next year, but-"

"Gareth! Ew!" Cindy interrupts.

"Oh please, you’re pregnant, Cin."

You shake your head at your brother's comeback, “I agree it’s gross, I never wanna think about our parent's sex life." Gareth just shruges.

As the four of you look over your recipe cards and begin to pull out the ingredients you need - or rather, you and Gareth get out everything you need - Cindy sets up some Christmas music to play on the stereo in the kitchen corner, while Eddie helps her pick out the first song. It doesn't take long for Jingle Bell Rock to be echoing through the house.

Gareth hogs the stove, heating up his sugar mixture for the Brittle, bickering back and forth with you because he refuses to let you start melting your semi-sweet chocolate chips. Cindy is prepping the pans for you all to use, linning then each with some parchment paper. Eddie is already mixing up the powder sugar, peanut butter, softened butter, and vanila in a large bowl, aproned up - per your request - so he doesnt get dusts of sugar on his new Metalica shirt.

It takes a while, but soon the goodies are done and you are able to finally take a seat.

You and Eddie take refuge on the couch, him laying across first with you laying over him. Gareth takes your dad’s chair, with Cindy sitting just on the arm.

“Well at least we’ve got it done.” Cindy smiles, brushing some of Gareth’s hair out of his face.

“Yeah, still kinda pissed mom and dad didn’t help. Those bitches.” Gareth glares in the direction of the stairs.

Your parents called it a night about two hours ago, coming in the kitchen to say goodnight to you all before shuffling up the stairs giggling like a couple of high schools. It was a little unnerving if you had to be entirely serious with yourself.

“Oh, let them enjoy themselves. They deserve a break after dealing with you for your entire childhood.” Cindy kisses his forehead, earning herself a scoff from your brother but a few well deserved chuckles from you and Eddie.

“I was not the problem child!” Gareth tries to defend himself, glancing over at you. You can’t even defend yourself before Cindy follows up.

“Yes you were.” She smiles at him, glowing under the soft lamp light. “But hey, at least you have your sibling as your child. We’re gonna have a well behaved kid. Poor (y/n) gets you.” She nuzzles into him a bit.

You have to admit, Cindy and your brother were adorable. They perfectly balanced each other, with his annoying antics and her sweet personality.

“Well,” Cindy stands back up after a few more minutes, “I say it’s bed time! Lord knows your mother will come barging into our rooms in the morning.” She does a quick stretch before taking Gareth’s hand, pulling him up from his spot. “Goodnight you two! Go to bed soon.” Cindy calls out, dragging the (in denial) man-child up the stairs.

“Goodnight!” You and Eddie call back, watching as Gareth mumbles annoyances under his breath to his wife, who just giggles and waves him off.

“They’re an interesting pair.” Eddie smiles to himself, his arms gripping a bit tighter around your waist.

“They are. But they’re cute.” You express, leaning your head back on his chest. Eddie hums.

His eyes roam down to you as you lay there over him. Your fingers drum over his, playing with his rings, the metal cold to the touch. He cant help but feel a warmth rise in him at the sight of you, the little bit of chocolate still on the corners of your mouth from licking the spoon from your kitchen adventure.

You abruptly turn around, sitting up and straddling his lap, your knees now placed on the outer sides of his thighs. He feels his heart pick up, suddenly nervous as you face him, a soft smile on your lips.

“We should probably go too-“ you’re cut off when Eddie’s lips press to yours. You gasp, caught off guard by the suddenness. His hands press to your hips, dragging you closer to him. Eddie kisses you deeply, before kissing the corners of your mouth, then down your jaw and neck. You can’t help the soft moan that leaves you.

“Eddie-“ you try but your voice catches in your throat when you feel the bulge of his pants as he tries to press you to him. Heat floods your face, suddenly embarrassed. You press your hands to his shoulders, softly pushing at him, which he relents immediately.

“Sorry, just… got carried away.” Eddie mumbles, a bit breathless from the kisses he was giving. “I was just watching you in there and I kept wanting to- ugh.” Eddie runs one hand through his long hair, pushing the strands back. “I know we’ve agreed that we would wait until you’re ready… I didn’t mean to push… just-“

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his again, earning a soft groan from him that ignites something in you. He gently places his hands back on your waist, respecting the boundaries you had originally placed. You pull away just a bit, both of you with your cheeks flushed.

“Eddie,” you call out to him, his chocolate brown eyes stare deep into you. “I-“ you hesitate, feeling your legs twitch as his thumb rubs circles into your hip, “I’d like to…” you glance away from him, embarrassed to say more, but Eddie understands your words.

He leans forward, placing soft kisses on your temple and cheek before you feel his hot breath on your ear. “How about we head out for a bit?”

You both slowly make your way upstairs to your room, but he takes every opportunity to give you little kisses that stops you in your tracks and makes you giggle. When you both make it into your room, you watch him grab his jacket and pull you close for one last gentle kiss.

“Stay here.” He mumbles to you, a simple order that you can’t stop yourself from obeying. You realize you’d probably do anything he asked of you, as long as he pairs it with a soft kiss and that goofy youthful grin you love so much.

“Ok” is all you get out before you watch him exit your room once again, jacket barely on his shoulders as he leaves. You sit on your bed, feeling a little antsy as you wait, your nerves not letting you relax. Then you hear his van start up as he leaves the driveway.

You know he’ll come back. He has to. Eddie wouldn’t ditch you, he’s literally staying here with you. He wouldn’t do that… right?

You keep glancing at the clock, time ticking by as you wait for him to return. 10 minutes turns to 20, 20 to 40.

As the old clock on your nightstand is about to hit midnight something hits your window. You nearly jump out of your own skin as your head snaps towards it. Then another.

And another.

Pebbles.

Wait- pebbles?

Getting up from your bed, you go to your window, looking out to see the metal head of your dreams standing down below, the moon light reflects on his eyes as he looks up to see you there. You notice the few tiny rocks still cupped in his hand.

Was he throwing rocks at your window?

You open the glass that separates you from the cold air, instantly getting a chill as you lift it and stick your head out.

“Eddie? Why are you throwing rocks at my window?”

“I wanted to do that right.”

“What-?”

“Lady (y/n) of the house of Emerson, will you do me the honor of giving me your company on this cold night?” Eddie smiles at you, all teeth as if he’s proud of himself.

You can’t help but feel the butterflies flutter through your stomach as you remember the first time he did this, taking you to their concert when you were 16. The context was different then, a boy taking his best friend’s little sister to see their band. But this time you are his damsel, without the distress and needing saving. But his, nonetheless.

“I would be honored to accompany you, Lord Edward of house Munson.” You can’t help but giggle, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t noticeable to him. But he notices.

You grab your jacket, slipping out of your window just like you did back then, climbing down the cold sturdy vines that line the outside wall of your house.

He catches you just like he did all those years ago, easing you down to the ground. But this time he gives you a small kiss, cupping your face before taking your hand in his and leading you past the yard of your house. To your surprise you realize he parked down the street, as if trying to not gain suspicion from your family.

He leads you to the passenger side, and you can’t help but giggle as he opens the door for you, bowing down with a dramatic “My lady.”

“Thank you,” you hop into the car, buckling up as he shuts the door for you. He scurries his way around the front of the van and into the driver’s seat of the car.

Although he doesn’t play music, the drive is far from quiet. You two giggle and chat back and forth, and you can’t help but feel comfortable. Eddie has always been someone who has tried to make you feel safe around him, and tonight is no exception.

After about a 20 minute drive, Eddie parks the van. Glancing around you don’t recognize the scenery around you.

“Where are we?” You ask him, looking out the window to see the rows of trees that line your sight.

“Lover’s lake. I… I’ve never actually taken anyone here before, believe it or not. But I know it was a big spot when we were in high school.” You can’t help but feel the warm traces of heat rush up to your cheeks, grazing your skin with the ignites of something unknown.

Lover’s Lake?

“You’ve… never brought anyone here?” You ask, a little shocked at the admission. You know Eddie wasn’t… how do you say… everyone’s cup of tea…? But surely he had his share of girlfriends or at least flings in high school.

“No, I mean… I had… experiences in high school, but never brought anyone here. Mostly it was the bathroom stalls at the Hideout after shows.” Eddie mumbles the last part, blabbering to himself. You know by now he never means to, he just can’t help it when he gets nervous.

“I’ve… never had any experiences.” You respond, giving him a shy smile. He matches your smile before gesturing towards the back of the van.

You hesitate before squeezing through the two seats, shoving yourself into the bed of the van. After an abrupt landing, you glance at the arrangement around you. Pillows, blankets, it’s comfy, warm, a stark contrast to the sharp crisp air outside. When you turn back, Eddie is already next to you, fluffy one of the pillows.

“So… um…” you hesitate, nervous for the eventual activities that will happen. “How do we start…”

“Well, we can just kiss for a bit first, and slowly lead into it.” Eddie scoots a little closer to you, his body heat radiating off of him, covering you in a warmth of anticipation.

He leans closer to you, placing his fingers under your chin, tilting you to face him. Eddie’s lips press to yours in a soft kiss that sends butterflies through you. You lean into it, lifting your hand to his cheek. He pulls away just a bit, leaving you a bit breathless.

“You’re really pretty, I hope you know that.” His voice is deeper than usual, huskier almost. It sends a heat to your core that you’ve never felt before.

Leaning forward again, he kisses you once more, shifting his body so he’s more turned towards you. After a few kisses, it becomes more intense. The once soft kisses turn heated and passionate, your hands cling to his clothes, grabbing at his shirt and jacket.

Your hands glide under the leather fabric, pushing it off his shoulders for him. He doesn’t pull away from you, but he shifts his arms back to allow the coat to fall into the floorboards of the van’s backseat. When the restraints of the added weight are gone, Eddie leans more forward, placing his whole palm on the side of your neck, his fingers long enough to reach into your hairline on your nape, his thumb pushing your jaw upwards.

His kisses feel hot and heavy, almost desperate. He pulls away only to leave a kiss on the corner of your lips before trailing down your jaw and neck, the opposite side of his hand.

You take in a deep breath, suddenly aware of how little oxygen you were getting. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the metal head as he pulls the coat off your shoulders. Your breath hitches when you feel him suck on your neck, a soft moan leaving your lips as your hands grip at his shirt.

“Ed- Eddie-!” You’re trapped, your throat in between his hand and head. You don’t mind it, the feeling of his tongue swiping across your warm skin; the way his free hand grips at your thigh doesn’t go unnoticed either.

After a moment, Eddie pulls back, looking at the masterpiece he has left on your neck, the hickeys slowly turning more red. He leaves a soft kiss on one of the more purple ones, a ping of guilt tugging at him as he does so.

He knows it doesn’t hurt, if anything, he hopes you enjoyed it being left there as much as he did.

Eddie pulls back from you, taking the hem of his shirt in his hands before slipping the cotton fabric over his head. You’ve seen him shirtless a few times by now, mostly before bed or when he gets out of the shower in the mornings after he’s stayed over. But this is different. It feels more intimate.

“Oh…” the sound leaves you before you can realize. You see the little grin that tugs at his lips.

“Oh?” Eddie sits back into some of the pillows, leaning his head against the wall of the van. “Like what you see, Sweetheart?”

You don’t know what came over you. A simple surge of confidence, maybe?

You crawl over to him, climbing into his lap. You watch those warm brown eyes widen a bit, taken aback by your sudden forwardness. But he’s eating it up nonetheless. He’s got you right where he wants you and he intends to make this night perfect for you.

“I love what I see,” you bat your eyelashes at him as your hands move up to the top button of your flannel, unbuttoning it slowly as you make eye contact with Eddie.

“Do you like what you see?” You ask as you do a few more buttons, revealing a light pink lacy bra. Eddie’s eyes dart to it, desperate to see what’s underneath but he’s going to wait until you’re ready.

“Love,” he says, the word slow, like it has more meaning than it should. “But I think you’d look good in nothing at all.”

Together, you unbutton your shirt until it’s open, only your bra on display as Eddie pushes it off your shoulders and it falls behind you.

Eddie gently lies you down on the bed of the van and slowly unhooks your bra as he does so, tossing it to the side as a dramatic leaves his mouth.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says as he goes to unbutton your jeans, pulling them down slowly but with force. Once they’re off, he spreads your legs wide, noticing that there’s a wet patch on your underwear and feels himself getting even more hard as he sees how wet he’s gotten you.

He lowers his head down to your cunt and your eyebrows furrow as you try to figure out what he’s doing. He grabs onto the waistband of your panties with his teeth and pulls down slowly, and once they’re off, he pockets them and he spreads your legs even wider, seeing that you’re so wet that your slick has run down your legs.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, leaning up to see exactly where he’s going.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his brown eyes going all soft.

“Of course I do,” you nod and he grins wide.

“Then lie back and enjoy the ride, princess,” he winks then moves his face towards one of your thighs, placing his tongue on it and swiping up, wanting to get every last bit of your slick.

He then moves on to the other one, quicker this time as he’s eager to get on with the main event. He places your legs on his shoulders then dives in shamelessly, the only thing on his mind being your pussy and how delicious he knows it is.

His tongue flattens against your slit and he moves it up and down as your hands move to his hair, a sound you’ve never made before escaping your mouth.

It’s a mixture between a moan and a whine and Eddie continues as he likes what he’s hearing. He’s not being precise, the whole thing sloppy as he wants to taste every inch of your cunt, wanting every part of it underneath his tongue.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s done this as he’s forgotten just how much he enjoys doing it. With you, it’s different. He’s never done anything like this with a virgin, and goddamn is he going to make it memorable for the both of you.

“E-Eddie, oh my god,” you moan loudly, giving Eddie’s hair a yank as you do. This is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before and now you’re addicted, wondering just how long you can last.

He pushes his tongue inside you and you tense, the sensation is so foreign, but you like it, love it even as he pushes his tongue inside and out of you swirling it around.

His tongue hits just the right spot and you’re moaning again, this time, your back arching as you do, grabbing onto his hair for dear life.

Your thighs press against the sides of his head as you reach your orgasm, the prettiest moans Eddie’s ever heard falling from your lips. Just when you think it’s over, Eddie pushes your legs back open, going in for seconds, wanting another taste of you as his tongue moves faster, trying to get you to that high again.

He removes his tongue and their replaced with his fingers, pumping them a little slower as his mouth goes for your clit, his tongue doing most of the work as he licks and sucks, taking his time with it.

“Eddie, fuck,” you whine and he goes in with his teeth, biting down with just enough pressure to get you to make that pretty sound again. “Yeah, just like that,” you tell him and he does it again, harder this time as his fingers move just a little faster, just enough to overstimulate you.

Another orgasm courses through you, but Eddie’s not quite finished. He just needs one more taste and he’ll be good. He swirls his tongue around your clit one more them then removes his fingers, leaning up to make eye contact with you as he puts his fingers into his mouth, giving them a suck before removing them with a loud pop.

Once you’ve come down, Eddie leans over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips then leans back as you whine for more.

“Sorry, did you need something?” He asks, his tone nothing but teasing. “I just gave you your first and second orgasm and now you’re whining for kisses? I really have created a monster.”

“Eddie, please,” you beg with a roll of your eyes.

“Let’s not get greedy now, baby. Or else I might have to punish you.”

“Punish me, how?” You ask, genuinely curious, wanting to know what he’s referring to, wondering if he’ll give an example.

“I’ll show you next time,” he says as he goes to unbutton his own pants and as soon as they’re off, you see the outline of his cock through his underwear. He takes them off slowly and you’re unsure what to make of it. Sure, you had maybe seen one in a movie or two, but never in real life and never this close.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, removing a condom from it and he tosses his wallet behind him, the whole thing completely abandoned for the beautiful woman in front of him.

He removes his underwear and removes the condom from the packet before rolling it on. He then takes no time to spread your legs again, slowly inserting himself, little by little so you can get used to the feeling. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, especially not for your first time.

He watches you wince as he moves inside, understanding that this is something that you’ve never done and he’ll go as slow as he needs to. As long as you’re comfortable, he’s happy.

“Is this okay?” He asks, looking down at you, then where you’re connected, seeing that he’s only put so little of himself inside.

“It’s good,” you nod. “It’s good. You can do a little more.”

He does as you say then begins to pump, the slowest and most gentle he’s ever done, watching your face the whole time to make sure that you’re okay. You’re moaning already so he takes that as a good sign.

He picks up the pace ever so slightly and you’re eating it up, moaning and whining as you grab onto his back, burying your face into his neck because you can’t handle him looking at you so intently anymore.

“You’re doing so good, angel,” he says his thrusts pick up just a little more. “Make some more of those pretty sounds for me, hm?” He asks as his arms moved underneath you, pulling your chest to his. He just wants to hold you while you share this intimate moment.

He’s enjoying it, but a part of him wants to fuck you until you can’t walk the next morning. He knows you can take it all and he wants to try and see how much will fit as he fucks you so hard that the van will shake.

But he can’t. He won’t, because this is your first time and he wants to make it special for you. He didn’t get that for his so it’s even more important that makes this something you remember fondly for the rest of your life.

He picks up the pace just a little more and he can tell you’re almost there, just one more push and-

“I love you,” is what comes out of your mouth and everything freezes. You both pause, unsure what the next move is and now you’re panicking that you’ve done something wrong as he stares down at you, his mouth wide open in shock.

Without a word, he’s pounding into you with so much force that you feel your brain turn to mush. You’re goo in his arms and all you can do is clench around him, wondering where this Eddie has been the entire night.

You’d never tell him, but this was what you had been wanting from the very beginning. It was sweet that he was trying to be accommodating, but you know Eddie well enough that he’s never been the kind of guy to “make love”. The kind that’s sweet and gentle, filled with murmurs of sweet nothings and soft touches.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you say again and Eddie’s going even harder now, making your back arch.

Without a warning, Eddie’s hand wraps around your neck squeezing tightly and you can slowly feel yourself being unable to breathe. He’s unsure at first if you like it, but feeling your cunt clench around his cock, he’s sure.

He holds you there, wishing so badly he had a camera to capture this moment, something just for him to look at when he needed a little encouragement.

Just when he thinks you’re going to pass out, he lets up, his hand favoring your thigh as he knows he can squeeze it as much as he wants and he not so secretly, desperately wants to leaves marks all over your body. And he intends to.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he sees you reaching another high, spreading your legs even wider so he can get all of himself in for one last thrust. He watches you as the last few inches are in, your bodies now fully connected, and now he just wants to see how long you can hold out as you’re riding your orgasm.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you moan as your nails scratch down his back, already feeling fucked out, but you can’t give up now, not when it’s gotten so good.

You’re almost drunk when Eddie pulls out and lets you come down from your orgasm as his lips press to your collarbone, nothing but gentle kisses all along it, light nibbles before he’s leaving straight up hickeys wherever he can, wanting to mark up your body so you know exactly who it belongs to. Even though he’s pretty sure you already know.

Once he’s done, he lies back on the floor of the van, pulling you with him as he covers the two of you up with a random blanket he had lying back there.

his hands run through your hair as he hums a song you’re not familiar with, the only thing on your mind now is that you told him that you loved him, during sex. You feel so embarrassed that you don’t think you can look him in the eye again. Especially not after he didn’t say it back.

“You-“ you try to say, but cut yourself off. “You never responded.”

“To what?” He asks, his voice soft as he tries his best to look down at you, his hand still combing through your hair.

“To me telling you that you love me.” You sit up, now looking at him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Oh god, you don’t love me do you? Just say it, I can handle it.” But as you’re speaking, you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to see how he’s looking at you.

“Hey,” he says softly, as if he’s speaking to a spooked animal. “Hey,” this time a little more rough as he pulls your hand away from your face. “I love you,” he says, looking you dead in the eyes as he presses a kiss to your wrist. “I love you,” he repeats, going for your other wrist.

He then takes your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, pouring every single bit of love for you he has into it.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips before pulling you to his chest, holding you there so you can hear his heart, the thing that only beats for you.

The sun is already up when you get back to your house, both you and Eddie gliggle amongst yourselves as you enter the front door. Eddie presses a kiss to your kiss bitten lips, getting a little handsy as they slide up your shirt. Just as he goes to unhook your bra once again, a lamp flicks on and the two of you jump away from each other, Eddie accidentally biting your bottom lip in the process. Eddie's cheeks go pink and you press your fingers to your bottom lip as you turn to see your mother sitting in her favorite chair, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

She's dressed in her robe, her legs crossed with a book in her lap. It's not uncommon for her to be up early in the morning, but something is off about this time. It's almost as if she was waiting up for you. And the way she crosses her arms over her chest, it's obvious that she was. You don't know why you're embarrassed now at the state of both of you and Eddie. Your clothes are all rumpled and Eddie's hair is an absolute mess, lipstick smeared across his neck, accompanied by a very prominent hickey.

"What were you two doing out all night?" She asks and her tone is nothing but teasing. The three of you know exactly where you were and what you were up to and it almost seems like she's trying to embarrass you in front of Eddie.

"We were out." You're being vague because this isn't exactly something you want to talk to your mother about, especially not in front of your boyfriend who already looks embarrassed even though he'd never admit that he was. You just wish she'd drop it and let you go upstairs.

"You don't have to hide what the two of you were up to. You're adults now and you shouldn't feel like you need to sneak around me. I would have just been nice to know where you were." You're fully expecting a lecture about letting her know when you leave the house, but she suprises you when she says, "Now go get into your pajamas before the others come down," she nods towards the direction of the stairs. “We're doing presents soon and our special guest will be here any minute."

You and Eddie make a beeline for the stairs and head to your shared room. Everything is silent between you as Eddie closes the door, the two of you finally alone again. You're both getting into your matching pajamas that your mother had bought for everyone and you can't help but smile at him as he's completely oblivious to you staring at him.

You never thought you'd be here with him like this. You fully expected to spend the rest of your life dreading any and all holidays you had to spend with the Munsons' because then you'd have to see Eddie's husband or wife and be nothing but jealous the whole time. You honestly never thought that your feelings for him would be reciprocated. But here you are now, more in love than ever and the two of you were very much looking forward to the future.

You head twards the door but Eddie stops you, resting his hand on your shoulder as he gently turns you around to face him. You look up into those honey brown eyes and they're nothing but soft as he hands you a black velvet box with his free hand.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he says as he squeezes your shoulder and you sit on the bed to open the box.

He's smiling now, so excited for you to see what's inside. He's honestly glad you're not looking at him because he’s grinning like an idiot as he watches you open the box, a gasp escaping your mouth as you do so. You remove the necklace from the box, your initals sitting pretty together on the chain as you hold it up to the light.

"Eddie," you say. "It's beautiful. I love it. Help me put it on?" You hand it to him and move your hair out of the way. Eddie lowers the chain onto your neck and attatches the end to the clasp before pressing a kiss to your neck. You let your hair down then turn to Eddie to show him what it looks like on.

"What do you think?" You ask and just by looking at him, that soft, loving look in his eyes, you already know what he's going to know what he's going to say.

"You look beautiful, baby," he gestures for you to come closer. You lean in and your lips find each other, a brief kiss before you pull away, reaching into your bag for your gift for Eddie. The two of you seem to have thought alike because you're handing him a velvet ring box.

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as he opens up the box, that stupid smirk on his lips as he takes the ring out of the box. It looks like a wedding band and it has the date of his concert where you had ran into him again engraved on the inside. His silence is making you nervous and now you're beginning to second guess yourself.

Eddie's not silent because he doesn't like your gift, he's silent because this is easily the best gift he's ever recieved. All of his past relationships have been nothing but shit and he thinks you're it for him. It warms his heart knowing that you feel the same.

"Is this a promise ring?" He asks as he puts the ring on the correct finger. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. You could propose to him right now and he'd say yes. That's how far gone he is for you. He loves you with everything that he is and wants to do exactly that until he takes his last breath.

"Yes," you nod. "I love you, Eddie, and I know we're not ready to take that step yet, so this is just a placeholder. So all of those women you meet on tour know that you're mine."

"You're always jealous, aren't you?" He laughs. "I'm yours and will continue to be yours as long as you'll have me."

With that, Eddie kisses you one more time then leads you down the stairs where everyone else is already gathered with the added company of Wayne who just so happened to be the special guest your mother had invited. His eyes lock on yours and he stands from the couch where he was sitting next with Gareth and Cindy. He pulls you into a tight hug, giving your back a few pats before pulling away to ruffle Eddie's hair.

Wayne has been not so secretly rooting for the two ever since the two of you crossed paths again. You are nothing but a great addition to their family and Wayne is always quick to tell you so, always thanking you for taking care of his boy. Seeing the way his nephew's face lights up when he talks to or about you, he can't help but feel his heart swell as that's what he's always wanted for him.

Ever since Gareth and Eddie became friends, Eddie was always welcome into the Emerson household and that invitaion was extended to Wayne as well. You fondly remember having dinner with the two of them as guests, everyone joking and laughing at the dining room table. You'd look at the two of them as they sat side by side, deciding that it was no wonder how Eddie was such a sweet guy when you looked at who raised him.

"Alright," your mother claps her hands together to get everyone's attention. "Now that we're all here, why don't we-" her words were cut off by Cindy letting out a groan and as soon as she stood up from the couch, all you see was her leaving a trail of water behind her as Gareth rushes her to the door.

You all hurry out the door to your separate cars to head to the hospital where your niece is about to be born. Thinking about your brother being a dad now fills you with joy, epsspecially with how much he's grown up over the years. There's still a bit of the Gareth you grew up with in there, but for the most part, he behaves differently than he previously had.

You've all grown up, you, Eddie, and Gareth, and you did it together. Well, more like Eddie and Gareth grew up together while you tried to insert yourself into their little club because of your giant crush on Eddie. But now you're apart of it, you, Eddie, Gareth, Cindy, and now the little one who was about to be born.

Thinking about your niece got you thinking about what it would be like to have a baby with Eddie. Maybe one day that dream will be a reality, but until then, you’re going to take this relationship one step at a time. You want to enjoy every second with him.

Tag list!

@cagethemunson

@spikeybatt

@cherrycolas-things

@r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

@ali-r3n

@thepurplelovewitch

[hannie-dul-set]

heartbeat conquest — day 0.

SYNOPSIS. you’re sucked into a reverse harem otome game, and there’s only one goal— say the right things to conquer as many pretty boys as you can. PAIRINGS. tomorrow x together x reader. TAGS. social media! au, modern fantasy, reverse harem (of fucking course), romance, humor, a whole bunch of weird dynamics maybe HUAHAHAHAHAHHAAH. inspired by the manhwa with the same title, “heartbeat conquest.”

it's pink.

no, literally. it’s all pink. one moment, you see the headlights of a van coming straight at you. the next moment, you open your eyes and see nothing but pink. pink floor. pink ceiling. pink walls (if there even are walls. you’ve been walking around for what seems like ages but you’re yet to bump into one).

you never thought that the afterlife was gonna be so bubblegum-y and barren.

but then again, you never expected that you’d be bringing your phone to the afterlife, either.

ding!

now, what in the otome isekai bullshit is this crap?

seriously, what the hell? is this actually real? you stare at your phone, eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion as the notifications keep pouring in— the same text over and over again prompting you to unlock, to start whatever this thing meant by conquest.

this really must be some weird post-death fever dream (can you dream when you’re dead?) but whatever mindfuckery this is, there’s one thing that’s clear to you.

if unlocking meant getting out of this pink-stained hell, might as well give it a damned shot.

your thumb presses the screen. you swipe up.

ding!

all your senses are swallowed by that dreaded shade of sickly sweet, bubblegum pink—

ding! ding! ding!

— and next thing you know, you’re now in an unfamiliar room, pink skies leaking through the sheer curtained window, trinkets strewn about the lived-in bedroom—

ding!

—with five new messages on your phone.

“—the natural talent to be loved and adored by all.”

ding! ding! ding! ding! ding!

how do you start your conquest?

NOTE. i have no idea what the fuck this is going to be, but let’s all have a blast anyway!!!

this is a choose your own adventure. click on the link above and answer the form to progress with the story. you’re the MC of this world who had just been sucked into wherever the fuck this is and have no idea who these five mystery men are, so just to your best in responding with the context that you currently have (none). after this one, more context will be provided, i promise BWAHAH.

honestly the only way to win this and get a “good ending” is to get a correct read of the boys’ characters and give the right responses— and if you’ve read a bunch of my stuff, you probably have a good idea on how i like my male leads HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHA.

i will synthesize all submitted replies and move forward from there. the form will close once i get enough responses. this is just a little experiment that i’m doing and i have no idea how this gonna turn out HHAHHAHAHAHAHAH still, i hope you guys will participate!

DAY 0 | DAY 1

heartbeat conquest. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[crystalflygeo]

Kinktober Day 1 - Semi-public ft Blade (Honkai Star Rail)

Guess who is attempting this challenge wheeeeeeeeze let's see how it goes~ This one is lowkey dedicated to @zhongrin ehe <3

You squeak when he presses you against the stony outer wall of the house. The streets of the divination commission are empty and most people would be at home, asleep. The darkness shrouds you, it shrouds him until only his red eyes glow like molten lava, mysterious and intimidating. 

“B-Blade?!”

His body flush against yours, the man lets out a soft grunt in acknowledgement as he nuzzles at your hair. Time stops. 

“We’re in p-public , what are you…!”

His large rough hands roam over your body and dip down your navel, venturing past the waist of your pants. Calloused fingers brazenly touch your folds. You yelp, face heating up with a strong blush.

“Keep. Silent.” He murmurs, voice husky and deep.

You feel his warm ragged breath by your ear, he deposits kisses along your neck and shoulder, and then rests his forehead there. All the while his fingers sink inside your sweet hole, deliberately slow, working you open…

You whimper, squirming a bit, asking for more or wanting to stop you’re not even sure yourself, the line is already blurry with pleasure. Your heart thrums wildly in your chest.

“Sshhhh… you wouldn’t want anyone to hear, do you?”  

Shamefully, your pussy clenches at that.

He hums, the sound vibrating against your skin where his lips press. “You like the idea of that.” You can hear the hint of a smirk in his voice. 

It’s not a question but a statement.

“I-I don’t-!” You hiss.

“All the better… I can barely contain myself” He growls. 

His fingers dig deeper, their movement grows faster and more insistent, his palm pressing against your clit making you see stars. His other hand slides up from your waist to massage your chest, toying with a nipple over your clothes. He presses close, so close. and suddenly you feel his bulge against your ass. His cock hard in his trousers, no doubt a leaking mess. Blade buries his nose into the soft slope of your neck again and inhales deeply.

“Fuck, the things I want to do to you.”

You simply bite your lip to stifle a moan, trying your best not to call out, trying your best to keep hidden in this dark corner. 

Blade is a man of actions rather than words, and you’re absolutely certain he has dragged you into this alley with the express purpose of publicly laying his claim, albeit hidden in shadows and behind some large tarp-covered crates, you’re still in the Xianzhou Luofu, a place that once meant so much to him.

Perhaps that’s why he decided to throw common fucking decendy out of the window. 

And maybe you too, considering you didn’t do a damn thing to stop him. 

“Blade.” You murmur, a plea that borders on a little too loud, shuddering and needy at the edge of that mounting pleasure. “Please.”

Your hips buck and you’re close, so close, eyes closed shut, lower lip caught between your teeth making a soft keening noise. 

At once the delicious friction stops, his left hand starts pulling at your clothes and you gasp at the slightly cold night air on your naked skin.

“W-wait what are you-?! Oh-” You start scandalized, when the hand that was previously busy instead cradles your soft thigh up. Your foot off the ground, your weight on the other one and caught between him and the wall. Spread, exposed. 

“Blade…!”  Your head tosses back. There’s the rustle of clothes again and the engorged head of his cock presses against your entrance. 

“Quiet down.” His free hand rests on your bare neck, not applying any pressure, just so, large and warm. Your own hand grips at his arm, his clothes, his hair, desperately trying to hold onto something, anything. “We are just getting started.”

[smuttysabina]

A Month with Aespa (Ch 3): Salty and Sweet

(Giselle, Winter x Male Reader, 4k Words) Tags: Anal Sex, Some Frustration, Painal, Taking Your Frustrations Out On Idol Asshole, Awkward Dinner Conversations, Perhaps Regarding Anal Sex, Are You Seeing A Pattern Here?, Also You Technically Get Cucked, Some Writing Delays, Dramaaaaaa

Read Ch 1 Here! Read Ch 2 Here!

Rain whispers against the windows of the drafty corridor, silver droplets streaming down their clear surfaces until continuing on to puddle on the stones beneath. In eerie sympathy, another puddle spreads in the drafty hallway of your manor, steadily leaking from the crotch of the maid collapsed against the interior wall. Her plump breasts are utterly exposed, her nipples still raw and rigid from arousal; the tips oozing a faint trail of milk. The maids face is slack from exhaustion, but you can still make out the swelling of her mouth and cheeks from overuse; and smell the faintest hint of something heady... Mystery aside, it is obvious that she was to be the one who was supposed to have brought you breakfast, and soothed your morning's stiffness. With a resigned sigh, you briefly consider slaking your lusts upon her unconscious form, before deciding against it; it would be beneath you to use someone else's leavings (Not that you minded sharing, merely that you were looking for a more, attentive consort). Filled with a twined hunger, you stalk down to the warmth of the kitchens, where you will be able to find relief for both of your mortal needs. It seems that somebody has been enjoying your maids a bit too much...

Your dearly departed grandfather had designed his estate with intimacy in mind. The long, windowed hallways around the perimeter encouraged the mansion's inhabitants to roam and frolic in the heat; whilst when things grew colder, they would force the people into the interior rooms to seek warmth. And what more intimate circumstances could there be, than cuddling together for warmth before a roaring fire? The locus of this heat was of course, the kitchen; centrally located, it provided an easy excuse for the members of the estate to congregate. So that was where you decided to head; to banish the cold, to slake your hunger, and perhaps (most definitely) find some company. Your measured pace leaves you vulnerable to the chill, you are still dressed only in a night robe, but you could hardly demean yourself by giving in to such petty discomforts. You languidly wave a concerned looking maid towards the site of her fellow employee's mess, calmly ordering her to clean things up. You start with surprise however when a bedraggled looking Ningning lurches around the corner to the stairwell, her eyes bloodshot and face pale. She responds to your somewhat hurried greetings with a disgruntled grunt, obviously suffering from some inner torment. Ningning slouches off with the barest hint of the grace she had shown before, perhaps she was simply not a morning person?

The sight of the haughty diva did remind you of your current dissatisfying position; it had been several days since you met Karina in the showers, and since then the rest of them had been... distant. Winter had only grown colder along with the weather, while if anything Giselle's tongue had grown even crueler than before. Karina kept herself entombed within her room, opening her door only to accept her meals, while Ningning had grown strangely airy and annoyed. While you were indulgent of Aespa's eccentricities, their conduct was starting to become a touch, ungrateful. Perhaps one of them had been behind the "assault" upon the poor maid outside your room. You truly did not mind your maids being interrupted and enjoyed, they often did it to one another (you can hardly be expected to satisfy them all can you?); what stuck in your craw was that your breakfast had been so rudely stolen. Well there was only one way to find out, and it would provide the perfect excuse to strike a conversation with each of the girls on your own terms. But first, breakfast.

The delectable scent of the kitchen has your mouth watering even before you enter its controlled chaos. Maids scurry to and fro, preparing meals for the entire house, chopping and sautéing and boiling and steaming and baking all manner of delicacies. The room was almost uncomfortably stuffy, and maids therefore had more than enough bare skin on display to titillate even a celibate. At one point, the old man had even decreed the ladies cooked garbed only in an apron; but that scheme had been shelved due safety concerns (there had also been delays to his penchant for bending the head cook over and making furious love to her while she attempted to make complicated meals. They had an odd relationship, but she did manage to make sure that Grandfather never ejaculated in the porridge). Amidst all the hubbub, you are intrigued to find your frosty little paramour, Winter; dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, seated at a table, steadily devouring a stack of waffles. Bemused, you join her on the stool across from her; motioning to the staff that you would also enjoy what she is currently having, before turning your full attention to the idol. Winter gives you a chilly glance, before forking another glistening bite into her mouth, chewing blandly as she studiously avoids your eyes. It would be quite the turn if she was the culprit behind the mystery, but you had seen innocent sorts before engaging in... degenerate behavior (you never could figure out how that maid managed to get her entire arm inside that man...).

It would be untoward to simply interrogate Winter however, what manner of host would that make you? A disgraceful one, Grandmother would say. So you start things off by making the most delicate of small talk, gently inquiring after her health, and her stay at your residence. Winter mostly responds with awkward chewing, but she does manage to slip some affirmatives and hesitant nods into her response. Soon enough, your own waffles arrive, slathered with syrup, which you dig into with gusto. All the while you continue to kindly press at the idol, but judging by her hesitant answers you can only assume that she was not the one who dealt with your maid; she is far too delicate and distant. Syrup slicks across Winter's petite lips from an over-ambitious bite of waffles, making them glisten in a most tantalizing fashion... Oh my. Winter coyly notices your sudden change in attention, slowly cleaning her mess up with her dainty little tongue. Meekly, she leans forward, arching her back to thrust out her posterior, as she gives you a permissive glance behind her. Your eyes widen in surprise at such a direct proposition from the demure idol, wondering if you had misjudged her icy demeanor after all... But no, though her face was an archetype of warmth and invitation, Winter's eyes remained as cool as her name.

Ignoring the lust suffusing your lower body, you inquire in a bemused fashion (that was quite admittedly strain at your manners) the source of such an, unexpected, invitation. Forking yet another bite into her mouth, you are forced to wait patiently until Winter is finished chewing (which was laudable on her part), before she gives you an answer. Realizing her simple deception had failed, she shrugs and gives you an honest response. Put simply, she had noticed your rising desire, and had sought to direct them in a way favorable to her; pointedly, she didn't want you to ejaculate in her mouth, or upon her waffles. You blink, giving her a dubious look, surely she could not think that you would do something so depraved... (well perhaps, it was a vaguely enticing idea) Maybe Winter took the first night's light play too harshly, but one would think that an idol such as herself would be used to such activities! Judging by her mannerisms however, you sense that the girl would more likely than not put the bare minimum of effort into any joining. Which would severely hamper your enjoyment, as you craved the heat of intimacy this cold and dreary morning; and Winter was evidently going to be as icy and distant as possible. What a cunning idol, to deflect you so.

With a soft sigh you refuse her kindly offer gracefully, thanking her profusely for such a generous suggestion; perhaps another time? Winter's expressive mouth quirks up at her victory, and she triumphantly devours another bite of her breakfast; this round to her then. Upon finishing your own meal, you bid her farewell, and still in a foul mood, decide to interrogate (politely inquire of) the other three idols abroad in your domicile. Back into the chill of the hallways you stride, robe held tight about you, gleaning from the passing maids where exactly your quarries were hiding. The dear ladies always seemed to have an innate sense of the comings (in some cases, literally) and goings in our residence, seamlessly gossiping information as they chance upon one another. So after a somewhat brief discussion (and a vigorous fingering) with the lusty maid stationed outside of Ningning's room, you politely knock on the idol's door. Pained curses can be heard as someone loudly stumbles towards the entryway, the brittle sound of abused glassware accompanying them. The door is wrenched open several inches, and the rather unhappy and haggard face of Ningning is shoved into the gap.

The idol blinks up at you, eyes bloodshot, looking as if she had recently risen from the grave rather than an extremely comfortable bed (you would certainly know). You are taken aback by her deathly appearance, but upon realizing who you are, Ningning opens the door more fully, revealing that she is wearing naught but a sheer and dainty shift. Her hand hurriedly attempts to straighten out her unkempt hair, as she politely asks for the reason for your untimely visit. After listening for a few moments though, her mood quickly sours once more, answering your questions with a terse negative before slamming the door in your face. Somewhat glum at this abrupt rejection, you cast an inquiring eye at the nearby maid; exactly how much has she drank? She politely informs you that every night a bottle of whiskey has been consumed since Ningning had taken up residence in her room. You scowl, an entire bottle? No wonder the girl had been so sickly, you would have been too after dealing with a hangover brought about by such drinking (especially since Grandfather's plonk was notoriously over-refined, he was certainly running low on taste-buds near the end). Ruling Ningning out as the culprit, since she was unlikely to have been conscious until very recently, you move on to dear Karina's room. The luminous debutante had been much subdued of late, so perhaps this could serve as an opportunity to make amends...

Karina seems extremely flustered upon answering the door, the lack of her ordinary poise is quite intriguing, and certainly the most suspicious so far. She awkwardly refuses your offer for brunch, flushing as she inches the door closed; apologizing profusely the entire time. How very odd. But her maid cheerfully informs you that her mistress had not left her room since returning from dinner, so you count Karina out, leaving only... Giselle, who is not in her room, but is instead for some bizarre reason prancing about in the theatre (Of course you have a theatre, what sort of cultured man of your station would not?). So you march courageously across the cold and drafty length of the mansion to reach the place where the noblest of arts is performed; as well as more gauche activities as well. Grandfather was an avid supporter of the more salacious plays, often done entirely in the nude. What was the point of romances if one could not watch the starring roles engaging in passionate lovemaking? Grandmother had not entirely approved of such voyeurism, being somewhat of a traditionalist, she had much preferred to be onstage herself!

And it is upon such a well-trodden (and stained) stage you find Giselle, idly twirling and writhing as her breath steams in the cold air. She gives you a teasing look as you take a seat in the front row, her eyes gleaming maliciously as she notes your gloomy mood. Giselle pouts at you, what sort of host would bring such a negative air to her performance? You scowl slightly, no doubt confirming her suspicions, and forego the usual niceties by inquiring if she stopped by your room earlier this morning. Giselle beams as she cheerfully informs you that she had, and that both your breakfast as well as your maid had been quite delicious. She covers her mouth in an entirely unconvincing act of shock; oh dear, had her little mistake enraged you so? Giselle had assumed that she was allowed to enjoy whatever she liked in this mansion, including your morning meal. After all, it was only fair after you had enjoyed the rest of Aespa to such a degree... You grimace, your already foul demeanor growing worse by the minute, Giselle was doing an excellent job of needling you, perhaps she required some... training. The minx's eyebrows raise, judging by your attitude, you had evidently not exerted yourself much this morning. Was Winter not your liking, did you not bend her over the table in the kitchens and ravish that adorably innocent girl? She is ever so complacent, did you use that to your advantage when you took her, forcing her to engage in all sorts of depraved acts?

You are certainly feeling a dangerous urge to force Giselle to engage in all sorts of depraved acts; a little forcefulness would be forgivable in some cases... So you bluntly order the idol to strip for you, now. Giselle blinks, before demurely complying, languidly stripping out of her clothes until her body is bared fully to the cool air of the theatre. Tan nipples harden upon her modest yet shapely breasts, as goosebumps ripple down her taut belly; her hands stray shyly over her exposed crotch, hiding her sex from view. Giselle's discomfort raises your spirits somewhat, and you generously indicate for her to continue dancing. While her earlier performance had been a touch erotic, now her movements were downright lascivious; flexing and spinning to show off every angle of her delectable body. She pauses, posterior upraised, holes on full display as she glances back at you knowingly. Giselle can tell that you're unable to control your lusts, that you're going to take her like some perverted beast. You're going to ravish and despoil her nubile body until she is left broken and sobbing! Your member bulges at the thought of inflicting such debased acts upon Giselle, she certainly did deserve it after all; the mincing little bitch. She had ruined your morning, and was unabashedly mocking you while impinging upon your hospitality; a little payback was surely warranted. And if you were a touch rough with her, then well, she did deserve it, afterwards you would make it up to her... Wait.

That devious idol was goading you on, spurring you to go too far, so that when she was left wailing with crocodile tears you would face an unendurable guilt. In such an enfeebled state of mind, no doubt Giselle's honeyed tongue would convince you to do nearly anything in an attempt to redeem yourself for your sins. Her guile was truly impressive, so similar to Karina's sacrificial attitude, yet far more sleazy in its nature. Cunning, so very cunning. Ah well, sometimes the best way to deal with deceit was with direct action; and to be completely fair, she was quite literally asking for it at this point. With Giselle's poisonous entreaties slithering through your ears, you promptly remove your pants, and approach her gently swaying butt. Her permissive vitriol only increases in vulgarity when you grasp her hips, as she freely insults you for being such an ignoble brute; all while daintily spreading a cheek in welcome. So you blithely decide to derail her nefarious seduction by simply shoving your manhood into her anus, lubricated only with sweat. Giselle throws her head back and screams, even for an experienced idol, having something suddenly forced up your asshole is quite the surprise. Now her curses are quite devoid of salacious intent, as she spits and yowls in pain.

Giselle's anus feels absolutely delicious, devouring every inch of your manhood with ease, while still gripping you so tight it's almost agonizing. Though to say your thrusting was accomplished without difficulty would be a disservice to the lady in question, for her there was undoubtedly a great deal of discomfort as her entrance dragged along your length. She lets out a pained whine as she claws at the floor, unable to escape from her deserved punishment; her petite cheeks suffused with a rosy glow from the force of your coupling. Giselle was not the only one making noise however, your own groans of pleasure nearly matched her shrieks in volume. Her ass was amongst the tightest you had ever felt, far tighter than even Karina's pussy had been, and it's coils massaged your member in a most licentious manner. If you had not been so pent up, perhaps you would have lasted longer, but having gone for such a time without release, and subjected to such an intoxicating sensation, could you be blamed for finishing so soon? With a mighty growl you haul the teasing idol against your crotch, your balls emptying themselves into Giselle's guts as she writhes at the sudden warmth filling her belly. Every mighty spurt of your seed causes her to gasp anew, simpering and sobbing as her hips buck and shake. She moans pitifully in despair, no doubt still believing that you were under her devious spell; working overtime to shower you with guilt in your most vulnerable moment of triumph.

You slide your manhood out of the warm confines of Giselle's hole, as she continues to prattle on in a most woeful manner; your seed already starting to bubble out of her used ass. She looks back at you, expecting to see you wracked with despair at what you had wrought; only to find you staring back at her with bemusement. Giselle blinks, before rolling her eyes and letting out an annoyed sigh, "Well it was worth a try, and would you mind warning me before fucking my asshole? I would hate to make a mess all over the floor..." She lets out an awkward cough as she clambers to her feet, pointedly glancing at the door to the theatre; expecting a prompt dismissal now that her plan had failed so dismally. But one bad turn deserves another, and having Giselle endure a little painal was nowhere near enough to satisfy your bruised ego. So you politely ask her to clean you off, but the look of absolute disgust she gives you warns that she would not be gentle should she be forced to follow your instructions. Ah well, you would have to experience the heavenly bliss of Giselle's pussy some other time then; back into her rear you go.

The idol scowls as you motion her to get back onto the cold floor, laying flat on her stomach and kicking her feet in irritation. This time your entrance into her ass is much smoother, her hole well lubricated with cloying remains of your last visit. But unlike last time, Giselle isn't bothering to pretend that she is in distress, instead treating you with sassy indifference. Where once her pained squeals of pleasure serenaded you ears (accompanied by some truly titillating, if abusive, wordplay), now she simply acts as if your cock is not buried to the hilt in her guts. Giselle shoots you smug glances, yawning exaggeratingly and proclaiming how bored she is; and of course, insulting your love-making skills. The meaty slap of your sex grows louder as you put more force into your thrusts, her taught butt jiggling as you put your weight into it; driving your cock deeper inside of her. Your previous load froths out around your shaft, splattering onto your balls and coating her thighs with sticky droplets. Your still sensitive cock throbs with sensation as it explores the deeper reaches of Giselle's ass; it is difficult to simply not give in to your lusts and breed it endlessly. The increased violence of your coupling seems to have quieted Giselle's bitchy abuse however, who now seems more focused upon gasping for air as you push your entire weight onto her to steady your wildly pumping hips.

Giselle's pained breathing grows more shrill as you approach the crescendo, mechanically pounding away at her asshole as if it were a cheap toy. You howl as you climax, each thrust slamming deep into her guts as you spew ropes of semen inside of her. Giselle squirms beneath you, letting out a surprised squeak at the sudden heat pouring into her belly. Hot liquid paints your sack as they smack against her unused pussy, your balls pulsating as they empty themselves mindlessly into the infertile warmth of Giselle's ass. You collapse onto the idol, the both of you panting for air from the fierceness of your sex; the chill of the room now long banished by your exertions. After several minutes, you have composed yourself enough to unmount Giselle, allowing the distinctly squished-looking member of Aespa to stagger upright. She scowls at you as she rubs at her tender backside, "Ugh your seed feels absolutely revolting inside of me, couldn't you have just spent yourself in one of your maids instead? Asshole." Sniffing disdainfully, Giselle stalks (gingerly) out of the room, not bothering to collect her discarded clothes; and pointedly ignoring the fact that her asshole was burping semen down her thighs with every step.

With a tired groan you haul yourself into one of the chairs in the front-row, now thoroughly exhausted and drained, yet quite satisfied with yourself. You eye the puddle spreading across the stage balefully, the heady stink of it remarkably familiar to you... You wearily call for your maids to come in and help clean up the mess; resting your head back and closing your eyes as you hear them puttering around... One of them lets out a discrete cough as she approaches, causing you to blink awake; you had not even realized you had dozed off for a time. The maid courtesies, before politely inquiring if you required any cleaning. You wave in acquiesce, untroubled by the fact that the maid seems to be intent on using her sopping cunt to wash your cock off. She would no doubt suck you clean after she had doused it with her own juices; an indulgence which a good master could hardly complain about. And to be honest, having someone else put the work in was rather appreciated; and who doesn't enjoy having quivering breasts shoved into one's face? (Well I imagine that some degenerates would not, but their inferior opinions are hardly worth your attention)

That night around the dinner table, Aespa are far more animated than they had been before. Karina seemed almost her old self, Ningning had softened a bit, even Winter's attitude had perked up a bit, and Giselle was as gregarious as always. Though she spent much of the evening squirming in her chair, much to the curious glances of her groupmates. In a sociable mood, you playfully ask after her health, fully expecting an innuendo-laced retort from her. Instead, Giselle blandly replies, "But of course I am a bit uncomfortable, after you spent all morning violating my asshole." There is a moment of awkward silence before utter chaos descends upon the table; with Karina looking absolutely outraged, Ningning glaring furiously at Giselle, and Winter appearing quite relieved.

Giselle sends you a devious smirk, before mouthing, "Asshole"

Perhaps she was still a touch salty?

A/N Jesus this one took forever to write, it took me forever to properly write that anal scene, it just wasted away in my drafts. RIP. Well hopefully it was worth the wait lol!

[weskie]

The Future of a Past Life (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

1700 words, domesticity, themes of corporal punishment, recollections, established relationship, somehow fluffy, part of the lover, leader, liar series | Fic Directory

“What was your childhood like?” 

“So what exactly made you think to do this?” 

You appear caught off guard by such a question.  Good.  You should be.  

Wesker had asked you to stay and eat with him after you’d surprised him with lunch from the sandwich shop he frequents.  It was the least he felt he should do.  Simply taking it and ushering you out felt wrong.  How you’d discovered his preference was a mystery, though it would not surprise him if one of the team’s blabbermouths had spotted him there.  He wasn’t shy about how often he frequented the store, but why should he be?  

“Well, just…” You start, head nodding from side to side as you try to formulate your answer.  You’re a peculiar thing to him.  Always have been.  “I heard you’ve done two all-nighters already this week and thought it would be nice.”

He’s already thanked you, but he hums another expression of gratitude before biting into his sandwich.  He’d never tried this one in particular before.  A ‘wedgie sandwich,’  you’d called it.  Essentially just an Italian sub mashed between thin pizza dough.  Messy, but certainly something he would get again.

“How much was mine?”  Wesker asks, wiping away a dribble of sauce that had leaked onto his fingers.  Gift or not, feelings of indebtedness were not optimal.  

“It’s a mystery.” You smirk.  

“Then I’ll call the shop and ask for the prices.”  He replies, lip quirking just the tiniest bit as he slowly reaches for the rotary phone. You don’t budge.  Maybe you know that he doesn’t know the number off the top of his head.  The phone book is in the cabinet behind him.  He could find it, but he decides not to.  “Fine,” he relents.  “I’ll just have to return the favor sometime.”

You often sit with him while he works.  There wasn’t much for you to do around the facility given the different varieties of research were far beyond your expertise.  You were Alpha Team’s field medic and the one in charge of maintaining their firearms back at the station. Virology was beyond your understanding. At least for now.  

Sometimes you occupied yourself by trying to further your knowledge of him, asking questions that had been too far off the table of whatever it was that you two had been prior to what you were now.  It was fine.  You’d ask; he’d answer. You’d share; he’d listen.  But then you inquired about… that.

“What was your childhood like?” 

He’d decided to work at the kitchen table while you cooked.  Your occasional banter was not unwelcome and he’d been meeting it with apt replies despite how absorbed he’d been in test results and future trial concepts. 

Ink bleeds from where his pen had halted on the paper.  Like a dark void staining the present, growing with each passing second that he doesn’t lift it.  What should he tell you, hm?  Should he tell you anything at all?  Would it be wrong to regale you with the tales of his youth?  He doubts you’d ever betray him.  And, even if you did, so what?  Other than a broken heart, there was little you could do to him.

“I…”  He begins, but he doesn’t quite know where to start.

His bed was beside the window.  A privilege of the school’s top students.  The dormitory had cleared out entirely. They’d all gone home for the holiday.  To their families…  Everyone but him, of course.

He’s spending his eleventh Christmas alone.  He’d done exactly the same for the past ten.  What was one more?

Flakes of snow swirled beyond the glass.  The cold bite of the wind leaked through the old seals, chilling him beneath his wool blanket.  Albert tried his best to calm the chattering of his teeth and shivering shakes that rattled his body, but he couldn’t.  The dorms always froze terribly in the winter.  Normally the collective body heat of the others helped warm the room enough to be bearable.

It was forbidden to take another's bed, but the thought always left his skin crawling anyway.  The others were unkempt and strange.  Poor hygiene was a punishable offense, but it seemed to matter little in the eyes of the staff.  Only rare cases of such were ever met with discipline.  The occasional booger picker didn’t go unnoticed either.

He’d rather freeze than sleep in another’s rotten bed.  He curls in on himself to conserve body heat.  Tears bite at his eyes.

His body is numb when he wakes the next day.  His legs refuse to stand.  He hardly registers the chill of the floor.

Discipline… 

To not rise this very instant is to be late. To be late is to miss the morning headcount. To miss this is to violate the rules.

Obedience…  

Violations are acts of disobedience. Such acts beget punishment.

It takes every ounce of willpower to get on his feet and stumble to the bathrooms.

He must warm up enough to function.  He has no choice.  The heat of the shower burns white hot against his reddened skin. 

Wesker makes it early to the morning headcount.

“I was raised in a boarding school.”  He says cooly, pen still bleeding into the paper.  Wesker’s eyes are locked onto the glass of water you’d placed in front of him long ago.  Condensation drips along the sides and settles into the wood grain of the table.  Your kindness to him will leave behind a mark on the furniture. “I lived there year round.”

There’s a pang of something in his chest when you turn from the stove to look at him.  You’re wearing some silly ruffled maid apron that you thought would be far funnier than one of a more standard design. He has to clear the tightening of his throat before continuing.  

“It was alright.”

A wooden yard stick slams down onto his bloodied knuckles for the umpteenth time.

He’d gotten into a fight.  Another one of the boys, Andrew Haines, had accosted him in the courtyard. It wasn’t his fault the lad made a fool of himself in class.  If he hadn’t wanted to be shown up by Wesker and his correct answer, he should’ve gotten the question right in the first place.  That the teacher berated his classmate’s subpar performance was no fault of his own.

One sucker punch was all it took for Albert to sock him right back.  The supervising staff, of course, only witnessed the second hit.  They were never truly watching.  Only when commotion began did they ever pay any attention, but it was always too late by then.  

His assailant got off scot free. 

“You will learn quickly that fighting is not tolerated here.”  The headmaster grits, teeth bared behind an ugly mustache as he brings the ruler down once more.

Wesker swallows harshly, but he doesn’t react.  Why give him the satisfaction?  It hurts, of course.  It hurt very much the same as the time prior when he’d been met with the wooden paddle after correcting his teacher in mathematics class.

The trick is simply not minding that it hurts.

“Impudence will only get you so far, young man.  You should be thankful that we care enough to correct this behavior.” 

“Yes, sir.”  He answers. “Thank you, sir.”

Whack!

“Recite the tenets.”  The headmaster waves the yard stick in his face.

“Through discipline, we find strength.”

Whack!

“Through obedience, we excel.”

Whack!

“Through unity, we gain power.”

The headmaster doesn’t stop until the stick breaks.  Excessive pain for stoicism in the face of punishment.  

“Damn you, boy!”

Typical.

Wesker’s fingers drip crimson all the way to the bathroom.  It hurts terribly, stinging something fierce when he runs cool water over the broken skin.  Antibacterial soap scalds his trembling hands like fire.

He meets his own eyes in the mirror.  There’s something missing in their icy stare.  Not even the pain touches them.

“I was at the top of my class.”  He continues.

He is seventeen years old, hailed as the best and brightest of his peers.  Doctor Albert Wesker…

He stands at the window next to his bed.  His permanent privilege even in a new school.

He’s got his eyes locked on the moon.  He wonders what it must have been like when Armstrong first stepped upon its dusty surface.  A whole world away…

Away from the nearly silent sound two beds over of his classmate suffocating on his own blood and bile.  His peer’s death will not spawn a monster.

The real one is working in the basements below.

“Mm, that’s not surprising.”  

When did you come so close?  Shouldn’t you be worried about the– oh.  You moved the pan to the oven already.  He knew that.  He saw you do it.  So how did you catch him off guard like that…?

You lean against the table and bring a hand to his cheek.  The scent of lemon tickles his nose and he can’t help but bask in your touch.  It’s so very warm compared to the chill of his memories.

His knuckles tingle…

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.”  His answer comes too quickly and you shoot him a raised brow.  He’s not used to talking about it.  What was the point?  No amount of rehashing it would change the past.  Even then, was it something he’d want to change?

“Your eyes get brighter when you’re upset, you know.”  You tilt his face toward you slightly, just enough to bring his gaze back to yours.

Perhaps he should start wearing his glasses around you again.

“And there’s this.”  You say, tapping at his paper with your free hand.  You’d noticed the ink stain.  “I… If that question made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

Part of a successful relationship is the willingness to share with the other person.  What kind of partner would he be if he denied you that which you’ve so willingly given to him?  He shakes his head.

You didn’t make him uncomfortable.  You never have.

“I was an orphan.”  He blurts.  But you already know this.  The night he showed up at your house after your parents died, he’d bumbled through a weak apology that his ability to empathize was less than stellar.  “I spent a lot of time alone.  The others were… different.”

He was different.   Stronger.  Smarter.

Better.

Somehow his hands find their way into yours.  Your thumbs smooth over the backs of his knuckles.  It’s like you know how to soothe him without actually knowing.  There were no marks there to indicate past damage.  No scarring.  Perhaps later in the evening he’ll confess the worst of it to you.

“Hmph, but I earned the title of Doctor before I’d even turned eighteen.”  His lips quirk.  It’s a humble brag compared to his other accomplishments.  “Academia can be a very beneficial friend.  However, I did find myself involved with the football team as a running back for a time.”

You chuckle warmly and squeeze his hands.  “I unfortunately don’t speak sports, but it sounds like you were an amazing kid.”

He’s received such praise countless times in his life, but it feels different coming from you.  It always has.

“I received many awards.”

Your sweet laughter enchants him somehow, as does the quick kiss you press to his lips.  “Someone sounds humble.”  You tease.

“Humility is my middle name.”

The beep of the oven interrupts another round of soft giggles from you.  Frankly he’d rather allow dinner to burn and keep you where you were, but he can’t quite complain.  Never in his life has a relationship gone so far that home cooked meals were able to become an occurrence.  Domesticity has never been his speed, but he finds that he’s got quite the sweet tooth for it when it comes to you.  He supposes there will be many firsts with you.

He’d like to experience all of them.

[slowbison]

Bottom! Leon S. Kennedy x Top! Male Reader

Summary: Leon had been caught off guard and got hurt in the process. Running out of supplies, you come across the merchant who offers a questionable solution which you take, in an effort to help Leon. Later on, he notices something rather wet staining his shirt. Coming from his nipples.

words: 2.3k

warnings: male lactation, praising, frottage, hand jobs

Heavy footsteps echoed behind you as you frantically scanned the area for any temporary shelter. Your eyes landed on a dilapidated home in the near distance that looked good enough to barricade. Determination set across your face, you adjusted your hold on the blonde man next to your waist and rushed forwards, until a familiar gravely voice rang out to you.

“Hey there stranger, got a couple of goodies in stock. C’mere and take a look” the shadowy man called, signaling over to his makeshift booth.

“Now’s not the time, I’ll come back later if I can. There’s a whole swarm behind me, I suggest that you leave.” You warned, sounds of angry grumbling and footsteps slowly approaching. The man laughed and opened up his trench coat, revealing a series of ammo, guns, bombs, and a mysterious red liquid vial.

“C’mon now, how do ya expect to protect the lad on yer shoulder if ya ain’t got the gear or the fixing’s?” The merchant asked, eyeing the unconscious blonde man whose breathing turned ragged, quiet groans slipping out. Your mind started racing as you recalled your dwindling supply of herbs and the last few shots that were left in your gun, firing so many at the villagers behind that just seemed never ending.

The merchant sensing your conflict chirped up “Since you’ve been a rather generous paying customer, I’ll give this to yer for free,” grabbing the small red vial from his pocket into the air for you to take. You eyed it suspiciously as he had never had this in stock during your sudden run-ins with each other and asked for a description.

“It’s an experimental drug of mine that I’ve been whiffing up, guaranteed to heal major wounds. It ain’t gonna kill ya if that’s whatcha worried about, heheh.” You eyed it some more before, a loud whine came from your side. As the man began jerking in pain, holding onto his side with a piece of cloth, a slight hint of blood shining. Earlier, he had made the mistake of letting his guard down at an old villager that jabbed a pitchfork at him, you axed the grandma in the head for that. Pocketing the vial, you threw out a handful of Pesetas, pointing at some ammo and few grenades since no herbs were available.

The merchant happily gave them out to you, scooping up the money before nodding at you. “Pleasure doing business stranger, wish yer all the best.” Disappearing into the woods soon after, forging for supplies to sell at the next encounter. You readjust your hold and resumed a fast pace to the for-mentioned home.

Reaching at the entrance, you swung it open and scanned around the room. It was a bit shabby, but so were all the homes in this insane village. The floors were slightly cracked along with walls, there were a few pieces of furniture that still seemed functional and a decent looking bed sat in the corner. Dropping him off at the bed, you went to the side of the door and grabbed the wardrobe, pushing it in-front of the door. You closed the window next to the bed using a piece of wood on the floor, hammering it shut with some nails. Though you were tempted to light the furnace for some heat, it would draw unwanted attention which was the last thing you wanted right now.

Soft groaning could be heard from the bed at your side as you put down the hammer on a dresser, rushing to the man’s side. Leon’s face was scrunched up in pain from the stab wound, still slowly leaking blood. You lifted his head into your arms, gently shushing him and dug your hands into your pocket for the vial. “Hey, it’s alright Leon, I’ve got you okay? Just hang on for me love.” You bit at the cork sealing the vial - spitting it in some corner and brought it to Leon’s mouth. “Open up darling, this will help the pain… I hope” You whispered, tilting it up as the liquid creeped into his mouth.

The taste wasn’t ideal, but it held a soft cherry taste with a bit of a burn which led to a heaved cough. “You did good Leon, always good for me” You praised, caressing the side of his face watching as his complexion became better thanks to the drug, noting to give a nice tip for the merchant later.

You moved to the wall facing the bed and rearranged your positions with his chest in your lap, head cradled in your arms. You stilled, hearing the sounds of multiple footsteps outside the boarded window, torch light creeping at the corners. The villagers growled and lingered around the house before taking off at the sound of a distant noise, yelling along the way.

Letting out a relaxed breath that you didn’t realize you were holding, glanced down at the man in your arms and ran your hand in his hair. “I won’t let them near you, so take a nice nap for me.” You whispered, kissing the top of his head. Leon cuddled closer to you, breathing finally stabilized and the wound seemingly disappeared. You smiled and drummed your fingers on his chest, keeping watch over the sleeping man.

Sometime later, Leon groggily woke up with a slight hint of red dusting his cheeks. “Ugh, I feel like I was stabbed by something.” He grumbled, rubbing his hand on his head. You chuckled, lifting his head up to peck his lips, “That’s cause you were, got a free drug thing from the merchant while we were coming here.”

Leon gave you an incredulous look.

“You gave me some random drug from the merchant? Much less free?”

You nervously smiled, playing with a curl in his hair, “He said it wouldn’t kill you, plus there isn’t enough herbs that could’ve helped.” Leon raised his head slightly, squinting at your face as you continued, “On the bright side it worked didn’t it?”

He sighed, falling back to your arms and closed his eyes. “Is there also a reason why my chest is wet?” he muttered, turning to face you. A confused look crossed your face as you looked down at the wet spots donning his shirt around the nipples. “Well he did say it was experimental…” You muttered, lifting a hand to squeeze the pec. A low moan escaped from Leon, slapping a hand on his mouth before batting your hand away.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He hissed, more liquid staining his shirt.

“Examining your chest, now if you would kindly cooperate with me agent” You said, tugging at the straps for him to help remove. Leon reluctantly sits up to straddle your thighs and removes the holster, tugging up at his shirt to reveal two puffy nipples that dripped with white substance and a much rounder chest than usual. Grinning at the embarrassed look he gave you. “The assessment won’t take long now, be good until then.”

Leon quietly grumbled as you moved closer to his chest, grabbing at his pec once again — giving it a good squeeze. Leon let out a choked moan at the action and unknowingly pressed his chest closer to your palm. The sounds he made as you gently massaged the right swollen pec went straight to your dick which made you even more curious…

You latched onto his left nipple and sucked, relishing at the savory taste that flowed in your mouth, letting out a pleased groan. Sensing slight relief from his chest, he whined and locked his fingers in your hair - pulling you closer before feeling your hard dick against his own.

“You- you’re enjoying this” He said, face flushed.

You released the puffy nipple with a soft pop, flicking your tongue to catch any remaining drops. Grinning up at him.

“We’ve gotta make the best out of this situation and I’m willing to take the fall” You said, licking your lips. “Besides, you seem to be enjoying this just as much as me.” Leon, embarrassed, looks away before straightening his back and jutting out his chest. “Then hurry up… don’t just stare, do something.” He refused to admit that he found you feeding from him rather hot and boner inducing, as the grip on your hair got tighter. The thought of you fucking him while suckling milk from his teats spurring him on, whimpering at the the idea.

“With pleasure, love.” You chuckled, leaning in to resume your suckling at the nub, flavor bursting in your mouth. Leon threw his head back moaning, rolling his hips against yours, cock straining painfully in his pants. You could feel your head getting fuzzy, switching to the right nipple when you couldn’t suckle anymore milk while returning the man’s eager grinding with your own rocking.

The taste was absolutely heavenly and you could definitely get addicted to the taste, perhaps already so as you pulled more into your mouth, cock leaking in your pants. Leon whines were a mixture of relief and want, begging for more friction.

“Please, I-I need more, fuck please touch me,” He begged, humping helplessly on your crotch.

You dug your hands into his pants blindly going as you refused to leave his chest, fumbling to unbuckle his belt. Slipping a hand passed his underwear, pulling it down to free his leaking cock, doing the same for your own matching prick. Bringing them together with one hand, you set a rather fast pace — using the pre cum as lube.

Leon sobbed at the feeling, squirming as he could feel himself nearing his orgasm. Your hold on hips got stronger, thrusting faster and more slippery as you neared yourself as well. There were a few drops of milk left that you savored, swirling your tongue around the bud hoping to ease more out, releasing the sensitive areola when you couldn’t pull anymore.

You settled for kissing and marking his chest, focusing on drawing out more noises from the blonde. Who whined, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. “More, ah- I’m close.. mhpm, please keep going.” He cried, losing himself more in the pleasure. You moved from his chest to his neck, trailing up to his jaw before attacking his lips, devouring his moans.

He could taste himself in your mouth, finding it odd, but it didn’t stop him from fucking your hand more. You felt yourself nearing eruption and wrapped your hand tighter, moving to whisper into his ear, “My good boy, waiting for me. You can cum love.”

Leon let out a broken moan, spilling into your hand and onto his torso, cock twitching as he lightly humped your hand. You followed soon after, mixing your release with his — cum trailing down your hand. Chest heaving, Leon draped himself over you, head resting at your shoulder. You kissed his nape as you wiped the cum on the sheets, tucking yourself and him back in your pants.

Running circles on his back, waiting for his breathing to stabilize before speaking. “We have to keep moving, love. They’ll be back with possibly more.”

Leon sighed, nuzzling your neck before moving to stand, fixing his shirt and putting his holster back on. “Well let’s get moving then, the sooner the better I guess,” he grumbled.

You followed after him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck as a silent apology. He turned to kiss you properly before breaking and going to push the wardrobe blocking the door.

Carefully making your way outside, you traversed through the village and onto a beaten down log path in the woods. Coming up to the entrance of a desolate church, killing a few villagers as you made your way further in. In the distance there was a fickle purple flame that grew brighter as you got closer.

“‘Ello strangers, good to see ya.” The merchant greeted, eyeing the now conscious blonde. “Glad to see you’re still kicking, last I seen ya, you were as sick as a dog. Good to see the puppy back at full health heheh.”

“Very funny, now do you want to do some business or not?” Leon rolled his eyes and scanned the items the merchant had in stock, purchasing a few before walking over to stand at the church door.

You walked up buying a few before dropping in low voice, one where Leon couldn’t hear you. “So uh, about that experimental drug of yours… got anymore in the back,” throwing some extra pesetas on the table. Though you couldn’t see it, the merchant grinned, understanding the implication and opened a hidden pocket with the same red vial from before.

“Do hope it meets your desires, stranger.” He chuckled, slipping it into your hands as you stealthily tucked it in your pocket.

“Hey what’s the hold up?” Leon yelled, raising a brow at the both of you. The merchant let out a deep laugh before waving him away. You nodded at him before walking over to Leon, patting his shoulder.

“Let’s go in, wouldn’t want to miss out on any action” You purred, leaving a puzzled Leon who trudged behind you.

“What did you buy?”

“Oh nothing really, just a little treat was all.”

“Yeah that’s totally not something to be worried about at all.”

“Haha, don’t worry about it love, you’ll love it. Trust me.”

Leon blushed and bit his lip, guessing what it may be and definitely tried not to think about it again. You grinned watching the blonde in the corner of your eye, playing with the vial in your pocket. You couldn’t wait to give it to him.

a/n: hey y'all, finally dropped the leon fic (yippie). hope y'all enjoyed this one, kinda proud of this one honestly and gyaatt damn, have y'all have been sweet to me with all the praises for my last miguel o'hara fic. got some more on that cooking, i see your requests and it got me giggling and kickin feeties n' shit. working on those after this, got a structure down on that. also i'm in the process of making a masterlist for y'all to easily go through my stuff, i never thought i would write as much as i do, but it's been real fun. i will say that after like 4 more drops (requests included), i'm gonna take a short break. anyways that's all for now.

up next: miguel wears a collar with a bell and you fuck him???. whatttt. teehee.

[blingblong55]

Heartbeat-Philip Graves NSFW

Based on a request:

hear me out, pretty baby. cop au with Graves is like playing dangerous by mother lana i need to be cuffed nd fucked by him --- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, cop au, cop!Graves, civilian!reader, P-in-V, unprotected sex, cuffs, some degrading

A/N: will be somewhat short

A uni student and a young police officer are the perfect equation for having you cuffed to the headrest of his car. His cock slipped into your tight cunt. The car shook with each thrust. His moans are deep, tip all sensitive from when you got on your knees and gave him head. He couldn't resist though. His hand prints on your reddened ass, your skirt lifted to your waist. You look back, a wide smirk on him as he watches you bounce on him. You lean onto the headrest, tired and more than overstimulated. His hands on your hips, couldn't take them away from the girl that he so needed.

A frustrated man he was before a random car check on the highway. The cars pass by as he hears you moan. All of a sudden you can feel his hands begin to rub your clit again, "spread 'em for me, darlin'," he kisses the back of your neck. The way he rubbed your clit, being so gentle yet so rough with it, showing his mastery in you. "It's okay, let go," he whispers against your neck. "Be a good little slut and show me how good it feels," he kisses your neck again. You can't help but guide his hands, hitting in all the right places you moan. "Oh that's my girl," he chuckles and you smile.

Eyes closed when he pulled onto your hair, "Look at me, c'mon, do it," he ushers. His American accent was so smooth, so rich unlike how rough he was being to your body. Your back and neck were covered in his marks, his cuffs leaving marks on your wrists, something you couldn't care about anymore. In this moment, and as he reminded you all night your body was his, his to fuck, his to ruin and, "mine to mark," teeth biting into your shoulder. He wasn't a corrupt cop like his mates but to you? That was a mystery to be solved by you. The cigarette set aside as it let the tobacco smoke in the air, windows fogged, your body claimed to be his.

His lips, addicted to your body, never separating from you. "Just like that," pre-cum already leaking into you, he pushed your face to the headrest. You, like the slut you had become in those forty minutes, felt his cum paint your walls with his sticky seed. His thrusts were no longer rough but rather gentle and slow. Small groans or slight whimpers came from him. Your cunt the temple in which he worships.

A/N: I know for a fact this man whimpers when he gets overstimulated or cums...its canon now...shut up

Tags: @liyanahelena @clear-your-mind-and-dream @sleepydang @demons-darling @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @pxssygxblin @99ggukie @puffinhp @m0cha-bunny

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I was wondering if I can request a sam Winchester x fem reader smut and fluff, where maybe he's an alpha and he and Dean are out hunting or something and maybe they get ambushed but then are saved by omega reader, and Sam is head over heels for her from the beginning, but she is unsure cause of comments in her past saying that's she's weak or something and then maybe after a while he asks her out on a date and it goes well and they keep seeing each other and eventually smut

.⋆｡Something Happens And I’m Head Over Heels｡⋆.

Alpha!Sam Winchester x omega! plus size reader

When a mysterious hunter swoops in and saves the Winchesters at the last second, Sam falls in love at first sight but she’s been hurt by alphas like him before.

Warnings: smut, a/b/o, angst, monster death, canon typical violence, injuries, parental abuse/neglect (not just for the Winchesters), mention of parental death, consent checks, oral (m and f receiving), no penetration, confessions, sort of mutual pining, he falls HARD

WC: 6.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The coppery smell of blood was now almost permanently etched into Sam’s mind. He had smelt blood straight from a wound and even blood that was weeks old but nothing had ever smelt like this before. The scent was so thick he could practically taste it. He gagged on the stale air silently, still cautious of how much noise he was making.

The walls of the abandoned warehouse were painted a rusty brown and when Sam looked closer, he immediately shut his eyes, trying to repress his nausea- it was dried blood, caked on so thick it looked like paint. His grip on the machete in his hands tightened until his knuckles were a deathly white.

Get in. Take out the vamps. Get out. He repeated to himself as he continued his journey into the heart of the nest.

From what he and Dean had predicted there were, at most, 6 vamps in the nest. And while normally that number would constitute calling in backup, Sam’s rut was only a few days away so he had the strength of three grown (and frustrated) men so they went in alone.

Sunlight leaked through the boarded up windows, providing the only illumination to guide his way. Vaguely, he could hear his brother’s footsteps from the other side of the otherwise silent building. Soon, the hall opened up before him, revealing a huge room absolutely full of bodies, both dead and undead.

His heart pounded in his ears as panic quickly overtook him. Their calculations were very very wrong- there were close to a dozen vampires littered around the room, each with at least three drained corpses around them. His hazel eyes went wide as he caught sight of Dean, only now entering the room on the other side.

He saw as Dean’s chest hitched, the situation dawning on him. They made eye contact and with an almost investable nod to each other, then slowly began to back out of the room. Even with Sam’s temporary strength, there was no possible way they could kill that many vamps safely.

His whole body was tense, both rearing for a fight and ready to run at a moment’s notice. 

Clang!

The pipe appeared from thin air, practically materialising before him just as Sam put his foot down. The metal spun away from him before he realised what was happening and slammed into the hollow siding of the hallway. 

Everything froze and Sam held his breath. “Looks like we got some fresh meat boys!” He cursed under his breath and spun around just quickly enough to see the vamps rising to their feet, eyes blazing with bloodlust.

The plastic handle of his machete suddenly seemed incredibly slippery as Sam readjusted his grip on the weapon. They couldn’t kill this many vamps at once and they certainly couldn’t outrun them but they definitely weren’t going down without a fight.

Debris crunched under his heel as Sam planted his feet, his pupils contracted to a pin drop and his chest rumbled with a deep growl. His scent turned sour with his fury. “Bring it.”

His blade whistled as it slashed through the air, easily biting into the neck of the first vamp. Its head separated cleanly but Sam’s follow through was too long and quickly, the second darted towards him, razor sharp teeth bared. 

With a snarl, he planted a hand on its chest and shoved the monster back, giving him just enough room to plant the blade into its shoulder. It howled in pain but continued to charge forward, yellowing fangs glinting in the low light.

Sam’s shoulder jerked as he pulled the blade back out but before he could complete a second swing, another vamp threw itself towards his legs, quickly knocking him off balance. Fear prickled across his skin as his back slammed into the metal wall. There was a crunch and then pain shot up his right shoulder.

He tried to curse but all that escaped him was a feral growl that echoed through the building. A bulk of the nest now crowded the hallway, each pushing and shoving, trying to get at the hunter. Fangs sliced into his calf as more hands grabbed at him, ripping the blade from his hold.

Just as his desperate struggle to get free seemed fruitless, light filled the hallway and the dark figure of a woman was silhouetted against the afternoon sun. The vamps barely had time to react to the burn of the light before her arm cocked back and she threw a pipe into the middle of the crowd.

As soon as the thick metal hit the dusty ground, it set off an explosion, sending thick almost black liquid all over them. It sunk into their flesh, spreading through them like molten lava. There was a moment where everything froze and then a sound erupted from the vamps.

They screamed in pain as they clawed at their skin. Suddenly Sam was free but it was not his blade that struck down the suffering vamps. 

She moved with more grace than he ever thought possible, her own machete almost dancing through the air as she effortlessly operated their heads from their bodies. Within seconds, the warehouse was silent once more, leaving behind only the smell of blood and the most delicious scent Sam had smelled in his life.

Without a word, the hunter wiped her blade clean with the shirt of one of the vamps and slid it back into the sheath strapped to her plump thigh. “You hurt?” But all he could focus on was the little smear of blood on her full cheek, oh how badly did he want to reach out and wipe it away with his thumb.

Her eyebrows scrunched and gave him a once over. “That’s a pretty gnarly bite you got there, can you walk?” She reached a tentative hand to him, quite obviously taking note of the husky scent of his rut, and it was all Sam could do not to snatch it up and press his nose to the pulse point on her wrist.

She easily helped him back to his feet, laying a steadying touch on his toned stomach when he began to sway. His heart flipped and the world shrunk to just her. “Sammy!”

Her head turned to look where his brother’s voice had come, exposing her scent gland to the alpha who couldn’t help but take in a deep breath, eager for another whiff of what he thought his heaven smelled like. Old books, campfire, home. 

“Sammy, huh?” She teased, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. His knees buckled. Yet before he could come up with a semi-articulate response, Dean barrelled around the corner, eyes wide and full of fear.

The biting scent of adrenaline came off of him in waves and the mysterious woman immediately cringed, her nose scrunching. Anger flared in Sam’s belly, his alpha screamed at him to pull her away from whatever was causing her such discomfort, even if it was his brother.

As soon as Dean saw Sam, his body sagged with relief. “Shit that was a close one.” He groaned but quickly, his tone changed when he caught sight of the plump woman standing next to his brother. “I see you found a friend, a very attractive one. Dean Winchester, and that is my gigantor baby brother.”

He easily slid up to her, his green eyes hungrily tracing her soft curves before settling on her face. Sam knew that move, he had seen it hundreds of times before but it was only now that he had a problem with it. “Y/N. You boys should know better to take on a whole nest alone.” 

Dean actually looked sheepish at her scolding and Sam’s alpha preened. “Strong omega. Perfect mate.” He purred.

“Well, we thought there were less. How the fuck did you kill all of ‘em so quick?” He looked around at the bodies in amazement, giving the one closest to him a kick. The skin where his boot touched crumbled into ash.

“Pipe bomb filled with blessed dead man’s blood.” She replied like it was obvious.

“Blessed?” Sam croaked out. Y/N shivered at the sound of his voice but quickly suppressed it as she spoke again.

“Like how you would bless holy water.” Dean nodded in approval, the hand holding his machete going slack as he forced himself to relax with the danger gone. But Sam still felt incredibly wound up, especially as his brother approached her. 

“That was badass, for an omega that is.” Sam didn’t miss the way she flinched, however minute it was. 

“Yeah.” She smoothly took a step back from him, her body twisting beautifully as she moved towards the exit. Unconsciously, Sam began to follow. He needed to be close to her, to soothe the ache in his chest.

Dean gave a quizzical look to his brother but he was ignored as Sam limped behind her, his alpha slowly stealing control from him, rut now dangerously close. 

“So do you wanna go get a drink with us to celebrate, I think we owe you a round.” But she waved him off as she walked to her slightly busted up truck. He watched the way her hips swayed, the dark material of her jeans perfectly hugging her ass in a way that made Sam’s mouth go dry.

“Bars aren’t my thing. Maybe I’ll catch you another time. Try not to get yourselves killed.” Her machete is thrown into the passenger seat with far more force than necessary, making the hollow siding reverberate as she climbed in after it.

The engine roared to life, quickly breaking Sam from his trance. But before he could even take one step towards the truck, she was gone, leaving behind only echoes of her scent.

——————

She couldn’t stop thinking about that alpha no matter how hard she tried to forget him, even though it had been weeks since the unfortunate encounter. There was just something about the way his big hazel eyes had looked up at her as she saved his life or the sound of his voice. But most of all, his scent was almost seared into her mind, a delicious mixture of gunpowder, pine forest and chocolate.

Never in her life had she smelt something as good as that and it was slowly killing her. Alphas were dangerous, alpha hunters doubly so. They were violent and aggressive and more pigheaded than she ever thought possible, and they hated omegas.

Sure, they liked fucking them but they refused to claim them. Omegas were just rut bunnies, a tool to get off so they could go back to killing monsters. And an omega hunting? She had been laughed out of more hunter bars and backups than she could count. So it was best to just forget him, she didn’t think she could bear it if he was like the others, if he was like his brother.

Y/N swallowed thickly, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Even his name was pretty, Sam like some guardian angel or an ancient warrior. He was strong and tall and packed with muscle. Her omega constantly reminded her of what a perfect mate he was, how he could provide for her and her pups, how safe he made her feel.

With every mile she drove away, her soul burned, urging her to turn the truck around and drive straight back to him. But her willpower was stronger… for now at least.

But until that day came, she would do what she did best- hunt.

——————

“C’mon Sammy, you’ve been sulking for weeks. She was just an omega!” Sam glared at his brother over top of his beer, the fifth of the night. He couldn’t just forget her, not when he had never met anyone like her before, not when the very thought of her made his heart clench and butterflies fill his stomach.

It had been easy to learn all about her from Bobby and Rufus. They both sung her praises, describing her as immensely intelligent and well versed in all sorts of lore as well as being cunning enough to escape a den of werewolves with only a screwdriver and a half-empty lighter. With every story they told and little fact they divulged, Sam fell even deeper in love with her.

She was an enigma of the best kind.

“You’re being an asshole Dean, what exactly does her presentation have to do with her value as a hunter?”

“Jesus Sammy.” Dean scoffed. “What crawled up your ass and died?” Sam rolled his eyes and stood from the old booth.

“I’m going back to the motel, text me if you aren’t coming back tonight.” He walked out of the bar before he could hear Dean’s protests.

The biting winter air calmed his anger some but that simmering disappointment in his brother was still there. Y/N was not just an omega yet for some fucking reason, no one else agreed. It made his blood boil.

Stuffing his hands into his jacket, Sam began the short walk back to the motel. A part of him wondered if Dean was right, they had only met once and it was for barely ten minutes before she was off again. But so much more of him wondered why she was gone, why they had never seen her before or even heard of her. She was a great hunter so why did no one call her for backup.

With his head down and lost in his thoughts, the tall hunter didn’t notice the familiar truck parked in the spot by his shared room until he almost walked right into it. 

The tip of his boots stopped right before the back tire as he gazed at the vehicle in amazement. She was here. His eyes darted along the row of rooms, searching for any indication of where she might be. His pulse sped up as he finally caught a whiff of her dizzying scent. 

His heart jumped as he realised that it was coming from the room right next to his, a coincidence that he would be eternally grateful for. Warmth bloomed from his chest as he cautiously raised his hand and knocked on the ancient looking door.

There was a shuffling from the other side and then slowly, the door creaked open. Sam groaned softly as a fresh wave of her scent washed over him. It was raw and overpowering and immediately went to his cock. 

Her eyes were bleary with exhaustion as she looked at the alpha on her doorstep. “Sam?” His chest rumbled with a pleased sound at the way she said his name. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the room next door.” His eyes wandered down the length of her curvy body which was now only covered by an oversized shirt and some fluffy socks. One of her hands nervously tugged on the hem of the shirt in an attempt to cover more of her naked thighs.

She shuffled her feet nervously as if contemplating something before she stepped to the side. “You can come in if you want.” 

There was not an ounce of hesitation in Sam’s mind as he stepped into her room. His chest puffed out in pride at being allowed to enter the omega’s space. She followed behind him after locking the door but still kept her distance. She was obviously wary of him and for the life of him, Sam couldn’t understand why.

An awkward silence settled over the pair, neither one of them knowing how to begin the conversation. She avoided making eye contact as the slightly older hunter forced himself to stop looking at her thick thighs. 

“Why-“ “I-“ They both spoke at the same time. Y/N laughed softly under her breath and Sam watched as she finally relaxed, taking a seat at the edge of her bed. His own smile began to grow and took the liberty of sitting opposite her on the arm of the couch.

The room was so small that their knees were barely inches away from each other but neither wanted to move any further away. “Bobby said you had asked about me.” She said bluntly if not a little bashfully. A blush spread across Sam’s face and suddenly he felt incredibly small.

“Yeah I did.” He admitted. “I was curious about you.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Why?”

Taking a deep breath, he rested his elbows onto his knees, making himself as small as he could. “You just… captured me, I’ve never met a hunter like you before and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to know more.” She sat straight up as her eyes narrowed.

“You wanted to know how an omega could hunt.” She snarled. 

“No! No, you being an omega has nothing to do with it. I asked Bobby because well, I couldn’t believe how clever you were. I mean come on, blessed blood? I don’t think anyone else has come up with that idea. You took out that whole nest by yourself!” He rushed to defend himself. He laid a large palm onto her knee as if that could drive his point home but all it really did was make his mind go blank except for the thought of just how soft her skin was.

Sam expected her to lurch from his touch but to his surprise, Y/N nudged her knee even closer to him, albeit slightly warily. “It wasn’t the whole nest.” She muttered shyly with her head tilted downwards, exposing her collar. Sam’s alpha grumbled happily at the submission but he swallowed the noise down, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“Even if it wasn’t, we- I would have been dead without you and that’s why I wanted to find you, to learn about you because I wanted to thank you and maybe, get to know you a bit more.” The expression on her face grew more pensive as she looked into his eyes.

“You don’t care that I’m an omega?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I don’t care about that, but that part has nothing to do with you hunting.” His fingers curled into her flesh, sending a fresh wave of her scent through the room. “You being an omega is far from a detriment in my eyes.” His voice dropped lower, becoming husky and laced with arousal. 

Her thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between her warm legs. Sam leaned forward even more, their foreheads almost touching. He watched as her gaze flicked to his lips. “You can’t mean that.” She whispered but it was directed at herself, as if she were trying to remind herself of something.

With his free hand, the alpha gently brushed his fingertips along her jaw before his palm settled against the soft swell of her cheek. “You’ll be like all the other alphas out there.” But still, she leaned closer, resting her forehead against his. 

“I promise I’m not.” Her fingers tentatively worked their way into the buttons of his flannel and Sam’s heart skipped a beat. The silence that fell between them now was far from uncomfortable. Y/N took in a deep breath, swallowing down the alpha’s scent before she groaned quietly.

“You wouldn’t stop an omega from hunting?” Sam shook his head. “You wouldn’t force them to be subservient?” 

“Never.” He vowed as his lips brushed against her cupid’s bow. Her chest hitched.

“What about claiming?” Sam’s hand skirted higher up her legs until the calloused tips of his fingers disappeared beneath her night shirt. Heat radiated from her core as slick soaked through her thin panties.

Sam was almost delirious with lust and apparently, Y/N was the same. Her pupils were blown wide, the blackness consuming the natural colour of her irises. “Hypothetically?” She nodded, knowing that this conversation was veering into far from hypothetical. “Only when they’re ready, and I will be fine if they never are.”

She smiled widely and just as she leaned forwards to kiss him, there came a pounding on the door. “Sam!! You in there?!” At the sound of Dean’s voice, she threw herself back as if she were a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

Sam actually whined as his hands were ripped from her skin. “Yeah Dean.” He growled, quickly standing and shielding her half-naked body through the door was still firmly shut.

“Sheriffs just found another body, we gotta move.” Y/N sat up on the bed, her interest now focused on the case.

“Was it the pawn shop owner’s wife?” She piped up.

There was a pause and then, “Y/N? Damn Sammy, you need an extra 10 minutes? Cause we definitely have time if you do.”

“Dean.” Sam warned, but the omega’s soft touch upon his hand stopped him in his tracks. 

Y/N’s eyes blazed with a fire he had never seen before as she lifted herself from the now crumpled bed sheets. Her gaze was hard and firmly set upon the door as if she could see right through it to the idiotic alpha outside. Sam watched as the omega melted away and was replaced by the hardened hunter.

“Go. I’ll catch up with you two later. I have something to take care of.” Sam’s heart dropped to his stomach and he opened his mouth to protest, to insist that she come with them. Not because he thought she needed any sort of protection but that he didn’t think he could bear to be away from her for even a second. But then her glare settled on him.

He tried to turn his wrist to capture her hand in his but she pulled back from him quickly. “You should stay here, where you’re safe.”

He would never admit to it, but Sam cowered, shrinking in upon himself as Y/N’s lip turned downwards. “Go.” She snarled and before he could even comprehend what her sudden change in demeanour meant, Sam was out the door and his alpha howled with shame.

She rejected him and he had no clue how to fix it.

——————

Somehow, through the incredibly awkward tension and the less-than-perfect hunt, all three of the young hunters now found themselves in Bobby’s living room, a heavy air between them.

Y/N nursed a beer and a slightly swollen cheek as well as the angriest look on her face. Even Dean cringed away from her line of sight like a little boy escaping a scolding. “Any of you wanna tell me exactly what happened out there?”

Bobby shoved an ice pack into her awaiting hand before leaning against the desk at the far end of the room. “Just bone-headed alphas getting in my way.” She snarled and took a pull of her drink, her scent now bitter like stale coffee. 

“Y/N, now’s not the time.” Bobby sighed, his head dropping between his shoulders. The omega turned her glare to him but he did not falter away like the boys did. “Hunts are always gonna be tough but you gotta work with the cards you’re dealt with and trust your partners. And these boys are the best you could ask for, alphas or not.”

Her growl echoed through the room before she slammed her beer down and stormed off. A bedroom door slammed shut soon after, rocking the foundations of the house. “That girl.” Bobby muttered, shaking his head mournfully.

Sam looked up the stairs longingly, part of him wanting to follow after her but also knowing that doing so might only worsen the already rocky relationship between them.

“What is her deal anyway?” Dean sat forward on the couch, planting his elbows onto his knees. Bobby’s hand curled around his tumbler of whisky, knuckles turning pale.

“You boys weren’t the only ones to grow up under the thumb of an obsessed hunter but the only difference between you is, she had both parents. Both alphas, both life-long hunters, and both believed that omegas were beneath them in every way. She was bait.”

Sam and Dean sucked in a breath, they both knew what that meant. Omegas would be stripped of all weapons or protective symbols and then sent into bars that vampires frequented or told to go for a walk in the woods where werewolf dens were. Their scent was the sweetest and the most appetising. Most of the time, the omega would make it out with minimal injuries but there were some hunters out there who would let whatever monster they were tracking down have a little treat before killing them.

“She got smart, learned how to gank monsters using whatever she could find and yet her parents took all the credit. They got lazy, letting her do the hunt while they went to go drink or do whatever the fuck else besides trying to protect their daughter. And one day, when she was recovering from a witch’s curse, they decided to get the hunt done themselves. They were slow and stupid. Y/N found them two days later, completely ripped apart. She’s been hunting alone ever since.”

“Shit.” Dean leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his cropped hair. “I figured she was just bitter about an ex or something. I- Sam!” The youngest Winchester sprang to his feet and before anyone could stop him, he pounded up the stairs and threw open her bedroom door.

Y/N sat against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving with barely controlled panic. Sam didn’t hesitate to yank her into his arms, forcing her face into the crook of his neck as he held her tightly. She thrashed against him, her warning snarls only ceasing when she finally inhaled his scent.

Tentatively, she placed her hands on his muscular back as Sam’s arms tightened around her shoulders, his head resting on top of her own. “You don’t need to worry anymore, omega. I’m right here.” Sam pressed his lips to the crown of her head, giving her a gentle kiss. “No one will ever hurt you again, not while I’m around.”

Her soft body slowly relaxed into him and the alpha could feel the weight being eased from her shoulders. “You can’t know that, it’s an impossible promise to make.”

Sam’s left hand slid up the soft curve of her arm, his fingertips gently brushing along her neck before settling on her jaw. He tilted her head up just enough so that she could meet his hazel eyes. His gaze flickered over her face, settling on her lips for a moment too long before finally looking longingly into her wide eyes.

“Because I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, happy and loved, no matter what.” Her breath hitched and for a moment, doubt crept into Sam’s mind. “Because you deserve so much more than what life has given you and I want to fix that.” He rushed to add on, hoping that she would not reject him once more. 

But then, Y/N rocked forward and captured his lips in the best kiss of Sam’s life. 

The world blurred around them as their lips danced together. Sam could taste the beer she had drunk but also something else- something that was just her. His hand fell to her neck making her moan loudly into his mouth as his thumb accidentally brushed against the raised skin of her scent gland.

His knees buckled as her scent suddenly filled through the room, emptying his mind of everything except her. Her nails dug into his back, the kiss quickly became something more. 

“Wait wait wait.” Sam reluctantly ripped himself from her but she wasn’t letting go that easily. She pulled him back into another kiss which he was barely able to pull away from. “Wait babygirl. Are you sure you want to go any further?” His right hand, which she now realised was low on her back, the tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of her ass, pressed her further into his toned stomach. 

Y/N whined trying to chase his lips but a warning growl from Sam had her obediently silent. “I need a clear answer, omega.” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Please, I want you, all of you.” She managed to get out through the heavy lump of arousal in her throat. Sam smirked, his alpha preening at her desperation and her acceptance that he was hers. Yet he still did not kiss her again. Part of him wished for her to beg, to scream and cry for him after her rejection. 

His thumb pressed down onto her scent gland, immediately making her eyes grow hazy. “Then prove it.” 

Her hands flew to his belt buckle, trembling almost violently as she struggled to open it and gain access to what she was craving. She growled in frustration, ripping the leather apart Y/N was finally able to pull his dark jeans down enough for his cock to spring free, unburdened by any boxers. 

Sam could barely hold back a groan as she moaned loudly at the sight of him. Her eyes flicked to his but quickly returned to the long and thick cock just a hair’s breadth away. The old hardwood groaned with the impact of her knees as she dropped in front of him. “Omega-“ He tried to say but suddenly her mouth was on him. 

A saltiness exploded on her tongue as Y/N licked up his tip, lapping at the pre-cum that was already gathered there. She mewled, eager for more of the alpha in her mouth. Her lips pulled tighter with each inch she swallowed down, her jaw already beginning to ache even though she had barely taken half of him down her throat. 

Sam’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles paling with the force. He watched with bated breath as the omega’s eyes hardened and she forced down even more of his cock. “Babygirl- fuck- slow down.” Now he was the one begging but she refused to listen. 

She pulled back slightly, just enough that the fat head of his cock rested on the back of her tongue and then she pressed forwards again, now able to brush the tip of her nose against the groomed thatch of hair on the base of his pelvis. Sam threw his head back and moaned loudly, his cock already throbbing with the edge of ecstasy. 

“Omega stop.” Her movements ceased but he was still deep down her throat. Her eyes were wide with a questioning gaze, the colour of her irises completely swallowed up by her pupils. The room was thick with their scent, and had he been in the right mind, Sam would wonder if the two men downstairs could smell them. 

Delicately, he cupped her hollowed out cheeks and dragged her from his cock. She whined in protest as she was ripped away from him and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “So good for me, so perfect. Can I take care of you now?” He cooed, rubbing his thumbs across the apple of her cheeks. 

Her eyelids fluttered and she nodded enthusiastically. 

She went limp in his arms as Sam pulled her to his feet, letting him guide her soft body back onto the creaky mattress easily. She bounced once, her tits jumping towards her chin with the movement though they were still confined by her bra. 

Sam’s plaid slipped over his head quickly, followed by his undershirt, leaving him completely bare to the omega who was still fully dressed. Her thick thighs pressed together under the weight of his gaze, needing any sort of friction against her core or she felt she would go mad. 

His touch was hot, even through the thick denim of her jeans, as he slowly crawled up the length of her body, absentmindedly kissing the little flashes of skin where her shirt had risen on her stomach, her wrists, her collarbone until he finally reached her lips once more. 

He gripped a plump thigh in one hand, the other holding his huge body above her as they lazily kissed. His hips settled against hers, immediately fanning the flames of desire between the two. She wiggled beneath him, fingers desperately pulling at the buttons of her own flannel, bumping into his hard chest with each unsuccessful attempt. 

Sam let his hand drift from her thigh to the button of her jeans, popping it open with a calm ease that made her omega preen. Long fingers slid into her pants, immediately finding her panties completely soaked through with slick. As soon as his rough fingertips brushed against her covered clit, Y/N threw her head back and howled, her hips canting up to chase his touch.

With her neck now exposed, his lips found their way to her hot skin, nipping and sucking as his fingers pushed her panties to the side. Nails dug into the strong muscles of his back as he gently traced the length of her. “So wet for me. I’ll make you feel so good, omega.” 

Before she could even take a breath, her pants were ripped down her legs along with her panties and discarded across the room. Sam’s eyes were fixated on the apex of her thighs, hungrily licking his lips at the sight of her laid out before him. 

Without any warning, he dove in as if he could no longer stop himself. Pleasure shot up her spine in a way she had never before experienced. Sam nosed at her clit, groaning happily as more slick poured from her. He tried to be gentle at first, to ease his way into her but as soon as she clenched tightly around his tongue, Sam knew that there was no going back, that he would do this every day, multiple times a day if it were up to him, for the rest of their lives.

“Sam!” She cried, her hips bucking from the bed, making the old bed springs scream in protest with the sudden movement. Sam growled into her cunt, the vibrations sending a mind-numbing spark through her body, and grabbed her wide hips to keep her pinned down. Now unable to escape his mouth, Y/N was forced to feel every stroke of his tongue and each flick of his large nose against her clit. It was overwhelming, overpowering and tortuous in all the best ways.

The edges of her mind were beginning to go fuzzy just as small black dots grew in her vision. She grabbed at his hands, their fingers intertwined as she held them to her covered chest, desperate for more of the alpha’s touch like she could never get enough of him. Sam’s head bobbed with each furious thrust of his tongue, lapping up everything she was giving him. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. Her body strung tight with her impending release but still it did not cum.

She lifted her head from the pillows and opened her mouth to beg the alpha to cum but instead, she saw how he was nestled between her thighs, his own body tightly pressed to the bed sheets as his lean hips rolled down. He was humping the bed, furiously so, all because of her taste. 

The omega shattered in his arms, her orgasm washing over her like nothing before. She was silent only for a moment, too washed out in pleasure to make a sound but then, she screamed. Her cum coated his tongue and Sam couldn’t stop his own orgasm from slamming into him- her sounds, her taste, her warmth, it was all too much for him and the alpha spilled himself onto the moth-eaten duvet cover.

“Alpha.” She sobbed, her soft arms reaching out to him. “Wan your knot!” Part of Sam winced at her tears but his alpha was howling in pride at leaving the omega a desperate puddle of lust and need for him. He wrapped her up in a comforting embrace, twisting both their bodies so that she could lay mostly on top of him.

“Shhh omega. You will get it, but not today.” She stiffened in his hold but he was quick to reassure her.

“I want to earn it, your trust and your mark.” He smiled and kissed her softly, cupping her jaw in one massive hand. “Let me work for it, please.”

Her shy smile knocked the breath from his lungs, her eyes shining with the beginnings of love. “Yeah okay.” Sam relaxed back into the bed, deliriously happy as Y/N laid her head on his bare chest, hand over the heart that beat only for her.

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[nouearth]

breaking news.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: bruce has been making national headlines once again, but this time, you're caught up in it.

warnings: bale!bruce, panicked!reader, media frenzy surrounding relationship with bruce!

dating bruce wayne in public included explosive media coverage when the news of your relationship first leaked. for weeks upon weeks, it was all every news outlet and the public could talk about—gossip about. people couldn't flip through their tv, or scroll through their phone without seeing:

THIS JUST IN: BRUCE WAYNE, MULTI-BILLIONAIRE PHILANTHROPIST AND PLAYBOY, CAUGHT IN ROMANTIC RENDEZVOUS WITH... A MAN?

it all started with a photo; a voyeuristic shot that framed you and bruce sitting in one of the restaurants that he'd invested in, holding hands and laughing by the candle light. it was one of the many dates where he closed business for the night for privacy reasons—to keep you safe from the public's eye. and judging from the angle, it was evident that it was one of the employees that had managed to stay back in the building.

to be honest, it was tasteful. nothing scandalous or even remotely explicit, especially if you had to compare to the scandals of men of bruce's status. as much as you felt like your privacy was invaded, you couldn't help but feel relieved when you saw bruce's smile in the photo. the way he looked at you with such doting eyes, his thumb caressing over the bridge between your index and thumb, the plates of food left cold because you were addicted to his company, and vice versa.

it was an intimate moment that was ruined by selfishness—greed.

for a brief moment, you felt... scared. the windows in your apartment were immediately shut and blinded by curtains; the locks in your doors were triple-checked; your passwords were immediately changed to new ones you'd probably forget in the future. you felt eyes on your back, pierced through the walls, watching your every move even if they hadn't.

and as much as you teased bruce about leaving him after your fifteen minutes of fame, you needed him more than ever.

"bruce, what do i—what's happening?""alfred's coming, you're at home, right? i'm talking with my security team right now and—"

it wouldn't be long until people found out who the 'mysterious man' in question was.

in less than an hour, your social media presence had a tenfold increase. photos on your feed received more comments and likes you could ever count. many of them ran with the narrative that you were simply an object of bruce's undisclosed desire for men, his boy toy. and before you knew it, the news outlet began reporting the same, including their own findings of your life.

dating bruce wayne in public included him hugging you as soon as you arrived to his manor. it was a protective instinct that had been brewing since he heard how panicked—how afraid you were—on the phone. while multiple phones rang off the hook, bruce took the time to let you breathe into you, to find a sense of peace as he held you, comforted you with affectionate words in your ear, affectionate touches that rendered you calm and ultimately safe again.

dating bruce wayne in public included bruce addressing his relationship with you in a press conference. it was silly that it had come to this point, but he made sure his feelings regarding how the news outlets had turned a relationship between two men into a media frenzy were known.

"yes, i am in a loving relationship with (M/N)." "no, i am not dating a man for relevancy." "who wears the pants—really? security, let's escort him out, please?" "no, my fiancé is not what those rumors have suggested." "and yes, (M/N) is my fiancé. be kinder, and i ever so might have the fleeting thought to invite you all to my wedding."

dating bruce wayne in public meant that you were advised to keep your answers as vague as possible when you were approached by paparazzis. there were few times where you could escape, but they came in massive groups, bombarding you, and the security team that bruce had hired to protect you, with questions that would guarantee the tabloids massive engagement, but you wouldn't falter.

"ah... yes—he's doing very well, thank you." "oh? my coat? bruce gifted it to me on my birthday a few years ago!" "what do i like... uh, cooking! i make a mean burger—ask bruce yourself!"

and as the public began to know you more, through your timid answers, to the wary and tired smile that only emphasized the dark circles on your face, you were rather... charming? compared to bruce, they've quickly fallen in love with how personal you could be at times. where bruce was always stoic and formal in his answers, you stuttered and answered with a laugh, unexpectedly cracking a joke in between.

it didn't take much interaction before the public realized what made bruce fall in love with a man like you.

dating bruce wayne in public included you becoming quite of a celebrity yourself. alongside bruce's, your day was documented from the very minute you stepped onto a sidewalk and started your day. what was your order at the local coffee shop? what did you like having for lunch? your favorite movie? your favorite thing about bruce?

you were a hot commodity and everyone wanted a piece of you.

though, that never stopped your weekly dates with him. golfing, swimming, hiking, eating; you'd hear the clicks of photos being taken from the shadows, and it was bruce who always held you closer, by the shoulders or by the hand to remind you that you were safe with him.

"they'll get tired of us eventually.""hopefully..."

with him by your side, it wasn't so bad that the camera flashes never failed to blind you whenever you two shared a sweet kiss.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!