#hozier writing challenge

[high-quality-assorted-chaos]

challengers (2024), luca guadagnino / almost (sweet music), hozier

[babybluebitchface-blog]

hozier writes songs for people in love with the same gender and people in love with people who are old enough to be their parent

[radioactive-killjoy]

Writing my first ever smut (Good Omens) while listening to Hozier and drinking hot tea ☕️

[thebunnyslibrary]

BunBun's Spooptober Collection

My very first spooky challenge! I'm so excited to share these works with all of you <3

A/N - This was heavily inspired by and is in a way a tribute to Hozier's new album "Eat Your Young." <3

October 6. - In The Woods Somewhere

Vampire!Bucky x Reader

October 13. - To Be Alone With You

Loki x Reader x Muse!Hozier

October 20. - Sunlight

Sun God!Steve x Reader

October 31. - To Someone From A Warmer Climate

Witch!Reader x Demon!Lee Bodecker

[wordstome]

*David Attenborough narrating a nature documentary about exotic birds voice* “It seems Bucca’s currently working on kingdom come 3! Let’s take a peek in on her creative process.”

*the door opens to reveal me endlessly looping Hozier’s Blood*

BUT I LOVE THE VERY BLOOD OF YOU IT KEEPS ITS HEAT IN SPITE OF YOU OH THE HEART THAT BEATS TO KEEP YOU HERE WITH ME ALWAYS

*quietly shuts the door* “well. Let’s wish her luck.”

[bi-bard]

the writing challenge for "The Good Witch" by Maisie Peters should be a hate letter to men

the writing challenge for "The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess" by Chappell Roan should be a love letter to women

and the writing challenge for "Unreal Unearth" by Hozier should be... a neutral letter about sin? I guess?

[sofullofloveicould]

march writing challenge 2023 - day 24

your least favorite song from your favorite album

You open your arms wide, the creaking sound of poor-oiled wooden doors, revealing the stoic entrance to a giant's lair. Your heart is a dangerous thing, and coveted and closed it must be, shuttered behind those doors, fingers tapping on your forearms, blowing too-long strands of hair out of your eyes.

Run to me. I see laid bare in your bog-water green eyes. And once your heart pounds and your lung bleeds, I will pick up your pieces. But first, you must run.

I must be the kind of thing you wish to pick up one day and place like a chess piece into your elaborate mythical tapestries, the stories you strum to life on my sister's old guitar.

Here, you would sing, is the woman who betrayed the man she married, the man who rules over bugs and birds and trees. Her hair is still woven into moss by the river rocks.

Or the man who rules over death breaths, rising out of the sea. He seeks a consort, and when he finds her his mouth with foam like a rabid beast, and his claws will come out to play

But, most importantly, there was a woman, a girl, really, who coveted love like bits of gold and jewels. Her lover urged her to run to him to prove so, and drunk on the affection, she ran until her legs gave out, and then further, but he slunk away into the shadows.

You do not love quickly. I fall, you find. Your search for someone worthy and slowly wear them out on the sheer insurmountable burden of your endearment. I will prove my love to you, you with the wooden-door arms and the smile that cracks at the sides and the eyes that are murky and cloudy, that never meet mine fully.

I will face your trials like Heracles faced his, head up, shoulders back. When I tell you that, you huff a laugh. I will simply become another ancient soul for your stories, the same ones you lured me in, like flies to rotted fruit. Your milk-and-honey tongue slips the stories into silvery little things that hide in your pockets and hold back your hair.

But I will run and run and run, until my lungs bleed, and you will strum chord's on my little sister's old guitar, and urge my story from the dark places it hides.

[eeveesanddragons]

Someone New - Drabble Challenge #14

The pure delight of jumping onto the fallen leaves is one of my favourite things. My boots match the bright yellow or the deep reds, depending on which pair I decided to wear that day. I fall a little bit more in love with the world with every tree I see turning hues of russet and gold during autumn. Even more upon their return along with the flowers in spring. Watch the leaves twirl, and the…

[tempting-andromeda]

Fuck it writing for rdr2 now

Nsfw headcanons

Warning: smut, knife play, somnophilia, power dynamic, spanking, hair pulling, bruises.

Characters

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy,Micah Bell, and Eagle Flies.

Arthur Morgan

He likes for sex to be intimate but he gets a rise out of things escalating. Like you two are in bed about to sleep but like 20 minutes later your legs are over his shoulders and he’s shushing you to stay quite.

He doesn’t force moments between you two he likes when it’s natural.

He laughs softly at you if you get too eager for him. He teases you and degrades you for it softly like “Really? This desperate for me? Guess I gotta give you a good time don’t I, Girl/boy.”

He likes to hear you talk during it even if it's just jumbled moans. He'll ask you questions like “That feel good?” and he likes a response but he doesn't force it (unless he's being rough then he'll stop moving and make you reply)

Sex is personal for him so he likes to make you feel good and sometimes he completely forgets about himself.

John Marston

He likes being in control but simultaneously he likes when you’re in control as well. He’s a complicated man.

He’s so fucking eager. Sometimes he forgets about foreplay but once he remembers he focuses on making you finish until you’re barely able to take him.

He’s real into dirty talk. He simply cannot shut up. He’s between your legs describing how you taste.

He has a high sex drive yet he cums quickly. He goes multiple rounds to make up for it though.

He’s so sensitive. He tries to pretend he’s not but after a while he starts begging you to bite his neck or use your mouth on him.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes a power dynamic. He likes being dominant and he doesn’t like that changing. If you try to top or be dominant he sees it as a challenge.

He’s into humiliating you but he doesn’t like bringing it out of the bedroom. He likes seeing you on your knees as he sits in a chair and he likes making you beg to suck him off.

He likes brats. He’s into the challenge and he likes making them submissive. It’s a huge thing for him if you act all bratty.

He likes to lightly smack you but doesn’t actually apply pressure unless he’s spanking you. Like if you back talk or something he grabs your face and uses a stern voice and after you say “yes sir” he lightly taps your face.

Really likes to stand back and admire you after he’s done with you. Looking at your panting frame and fucked out face. It makes him so proud. If he could he’d have a picture of it.

Charles Smith

He’s super into passionate slow sex. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he praises you but sometimes he can’t seem to hold himself back and he fucks like his life depends on it.

Like he’ll have your legs spread in a nearly humiliating way but he’s complimenting you the whole time, praising your very existence.

He likes when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him feel like you’re desperate for him as well and it drives him crazy.

He’s a munch. No doubt about it. Sometimes it’s the only thing he wants to do. He’ll lay in between your thighs like he’s starved.

Having sex with Charles is like experiencing a Hozier song first hand. At the end of every night with him you have absolutely no doubt he worships you.

Javier Escuella

He’s into knife play but he’s not entirely into drawing blood. He’s into cutting your clothes off of you. Like completely ignoring the buttons on your shirt and instead just running his blade along the buttons, snapping them off.

He’s real into hair pulling both ways. He likes fucking you from behind to pull your head back so he can kiss you and he likes when you pull his hair in missionary.

Possessive. No doubt about it. I feel it in my bones. He always asks you who you belong to before you cum and he gets a huge rise out of it. He makes your scream out his name at least once every time y’all have set.

He’s super into quickies. He likes to pull you away for a bit and absolutely destroy you and then go back to what you were doing and watch you struggle to pretend like nothing happened. It’s a huge turn on for himz

He likes to cum on you instead of in you. He’ll finish in your chest, back, stomach, face. He’s so into it. He likes knowing you’re a mess for him and you’re allowing him to do this to you.

Sean MacGuire

He’s huge on praise. He needs you to tell him he’s big and that no one makes you feel this way. It drives him crazy.

He’s super messy when he fucks. There’s something about it that makes him feel prideful that you’re a mess and he’s a mess.

He likes to humiliate you but in a different way from Dutch. Dutch does it for the power dynamic and he does it just because he likes the idea that he’s the only one allowed to do this to you.

He’s a head pusher but he always makes it up to you afterwards by making you pull his hair when he goes down on you.

He likes having sex in semi public places. It fills him with such adrenaline he’s trying to go again afterward.

Lenny Summers

Hes into handjobs. More than anything. If you put your hands in his pants he’s nearly crumbling that instant.

He likes when you go down on him randomly. Like he’s reading a book and suddenly he’s getting head or waking up to head? It’s so attractive to him.

He knows what you like and what you don’t like and his fingers are magical. Sometimes he tries to multitask and do something else while he fingers you but he ends up giving in and giving you all of his attention.

He’s real nervous at the idea of people catching you two so he just whispers a lot of praise in your ear. He feels horrible degrading you but he tries.

He moans at everything. Like if he goes down on you, he’s moaning the whole time. If he’s touching you he’s still moaning. It’s just attractive to know he’s doing something that arousing to you.

Kieran Duffy

He likes when you tell him what to do. He’s real clumsy most of the time and if you lead his hands and body and tell him what to do he’s determined not to fail.

His dirty talk is mostly him asking for reassurance like “am I doin’ good?” Or it’s just him worshiping you.

He whimpers and whines so easily it’s like he’s getting fucked. (Or he is) he gets real embarrassed afterwards but he doesn’t try to stop

He begs to touch you even if you’re not holding him back or telling him he can’t. His hands could even be on you and he’s begging to touch you.

He moans so loud when he cums. He always tries to cover his mouth to muffle it or he buried his face into you to prevent anyone from hearing.

Micah Bell

He’s rough. Real rough. A night with him probably ends with a few bruises and a sore body and he’s real smug about it too.

He likes watching you pleasure yourself. Sometimes he’ll touch himself as you do so and after you both finish he won’t touch you.

He loves edging you. Sometimes he pulls away right before your climax and wait for you to beg. Once he got up and nearly left just to see your reaction.

He likes shoving your face into the pillow as he fucks you from behind. It makes him feel dominant and like he’s in control.

His praise is really rare so he saves it for a special moment. He’ll have you hanging off the side of the bed as he bellows your back out and he makes sure you hear him when he speaks, grabbing you by the back of the neck just to whisper something like “look so pretty from back here, slut.”

Eagle Flies

Experimentalist to the core. He wants to try everything at least once. He thinks it’s a huge trust thing to experiment with intimacy.

He likes showing off his strength and stamina so he likes to lift you up to fuck you. He can last so many rounds too so by the end both of you are panting and tired.

He says “I love you” during sex. He feels so intimate to say it and he likes to make eye contact as he does it. He knows it’s cheesy but he likes to say “I love you” while he finishes

He likes to talk about your sexual fantasies and tries to recreate them as best as he can. He feels like he has to prove that he’s better than some fantasy and he never fails.

[my-castles-crumbling]

📝🦊Cas🏳‍🌈🎵 (New Pinned Post)

they/them/she/he - queer - married

This is a safe space- I'm always here to help <3

Age: Over 21

Fandoms: Marauders with a side of drarry.

Ships: Jegulus, Jegulily, wolfstar, rosekiller, pandalily, dorlene, drarry.

Music: Taylor Swift, Conan Gray, Olivia Rodrigo, Lana Del Ray. Hozier

AO3: my_castlescrumbling

Writing: Requests open!

Link to list of crisis hotlines for many different countries

Link to Marauders Knowledge Quiz

Link to list of requests (requests are open)

Please do not post any of my work on fanfiction.net/wattpad. I welcome collaboration and translation with permission. I do not support the use of AI in fanfiction/fanart.

Below the cut:

My ao3 Fics

My Microfics

Fic Recs

Request/reading boundaries

Advice/ask boundaries

LGBTQIA+ resources

Writing tips

Song covers

My ao3 Fics:

Note- I am writing all fic ratings. If you are a minor, please take heed.

Clandestine - Rated M - jegulus, background wolfstar - in progress but currently 75k words - AU-everyone lives/nobody dies/no Voldemort - mostly Regulus's POV as he attends Hogwarts - Trans reggie

Focus On Me - rated E - jegulus, background wolfstar - in progress but currently 15k words - photographer!James, model!regulus AU - trans Reggie

Long Story Short - Rated M - dorlene, wolfstar, jegulus, background rosekiller and pandalily - completed - 152k - AU-everyone lives/nobody dies/no Voldemort - A longfic with a long explanation? Basically how hurt/comfort leads to the three main pairings.

Three Hundred Takeout Coffees Later - Rated M - wolfstar - completed - 4.5k - AU-coffee shop/muggle - fluff, love, healing

The Plan - Rated G - wolfstar - completed - 1k - AU-everyone lives/nobody dies/no Voldemort - Wolfstar proposal

Of Firewhiskey and Stupid Speeches - Rated T - drarry - completed - 1.5k - Eighth Year - Hurt/comfort - Pre-Slash

Bad Press - Rated T - drarry - completed - 1k - Eighth year - mostly fluff

Stuck - Rated T - drarry - completed - 2k - Eighth year - hurt/comfort

You Asked For It - Rated G - completed - 1.5k - Marauders friendship mostly - Pre-Wolfstar - Sirius and James and nerf guns

The Deeply Threatening Physical Attributes of Werewolves - Rated T - Marauders friendship with some wolfstar - completed - 1k - James, Peter, and Sirius making Remus laugh

Slow Hands - Rated E - wolfstar - completed - 5k - Sirius realizing he loves Remus, smut ensues.

Whoops. - Rated T - jegulus - completed - 2k - AU-University/Muggle - Regulus is a TA for Professor Monty Potter. What happens when he goes to the Potter Christmas Party?

Mistletoe - Rated G - Jegulus - completed - 1k - James has a plan to finally kiss Regulus.

Warmth - Rated G - Jegulus - completed - 1k - Holiday fluff

Noises - Rated E - Jegulus - completed - 2k - it's just smut, guys

That's Different, Then - rated G - Jegulus and Wolfstar - completed - 2k - Sirius thinks James likes Remus. James does not, in fact, like Remus.

Of Toy Stores and Gag Gifts - rated E - wolfstar - completed - 6.6k - Remus works at a toy store and shows Sirius around

Imagine Being Loved By Me - Rated E - Jegulus - completed - 9.1k - Ice skaing AU!

Terrible at Friends With Benefits - Rated M - Jegulus - completed - 2.4k - Jegulus thinks they're FWB but obviously they catch feelings

Sure, but only if you watch - Rated E - Jegulus - completed - 1k - a challenge is given

Like in Your Stories - Rated E - Jegulus - completed - 1.6k - James catches Regulus reading smut

Show Me - rated E - Jegulus - completed - 1k - Regulus is usually quiet

Of boredom and overheard phone calls - rated E - Jegulus - completed - 1.5k - James overhears Regulus working

Idiots - rated M - wolfstar - 2.5k - completed - a wolfstar 5+1 fic

Dibs - rated E - starchaserkiller - .5k - completed - it's smut, guys

Prank Wars- rated T - wolfstar - .5k - completed - get-together

Of Romance and Play Practice - Rated G - wolfstar - 1k - High School AU

Grieving His Sanity - Rated G - Jegulus - .7k - Regulus realizing his feelings

Good Morning - Rated E - Jegulus - 1.5k - Trans!Reg, soft Jegulus

My Microfics:

Jegulus Microfic Archive

Wolfstar Microfic Archive

Rosekiller Microfic Archive

Explicit Microfic Archive

Fic Recommendations:

☆ = has at least some smut , 💔 = MCD, major triggers, or some sort of warning

I'm not putting anything that's pure smut...too many minors follow me. If you want pure smut recs and are over 18, message me.

💔All The Young Dudes - Rated M - wolfstar and jily - 526k - Canon compliant - Necessary read as a part of the fandom, a masterpiece

💔☆ Show Me Everything I Missed - no rating, but I'd give it E - wolfstar - completed - 153k- AU - Remus and Sirius working through trauma - So many trigger warnings, but I really liked it

☆ Sweater Weather - Rated E - wolfstar - 156k - AU - Okay I think hockey is stupid but when these boys play it <3

just lovers (like we were supposed to be) - Rated M - jegulus, background wolfstar, dorlene, and marylily - 321k - AU- no voldemort - fake dating trope - literally perfection

lessen my load - Rated T - wolfstar, dorlene, jily - 73k - AU- Muggle - one of my comfort fics

☆The PB to my J - rated E - wolfstar, background jily - 63k - AU-textfic - we love a good text fic

Across the Hall - rated T - wolfstar, background jily - 41k - AU-textfic - This made me kick and scream and giggle

quite like us - Rated T - jegulus, background wolfstar - 67k - AU-textfic - I just...it's wonderful, perfect, lovely

Best Friend's Brother - Rated M - jegulus and wolfstar - 330k - AU-muggle - such twists and turns I love them

☆ The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa - Rated E - wolfstar, background jily- 21k - AU-Muggle/Coffee shop - I just love the concept of this one

my almost lover - Rated T - jegulus - 28k - AU-no voldemort - miscommunication trope

Blue Sheets - Rated T - drarry - 4k - fluff/drunk Harry is an idiot

☆Falling for a Golden Boy - Rated E - drarry - 45k - eighth year- guys it's the weirdest concept but Harry and Draco as characters from Hercules works, okay?

Potter - Rated T - drarry - 9k - Eighth year - Draco's friends make fun of him and it gets adorably out of hand

touch starved - Rated M - jegulus - 4k - soft boys

Inevitable - Rated T - drarry - 11k - Draco and Harry make a "if we're not married by the rime we're 40" pact

💔Like Real People Do - rated T - wolfstar - 37k - AU-coffee shop/muggle - Sirius raises Harry and meets Remus in a coffee shop

☆💔Let's Play Pretend - rated E - wolfstar - 70k - AU-muggle - Sirius raises Harry, Remus raises Teddy, fake dating

Remus Lupin is the Number One James Potter Cosplayer - Rated T - wolfstar - 8k - AU-Muggle - miscommunication trope

playing it cool - Rated T - drarry - 4k - Harry thinks he's much smoother than he is

Yours - rated T - drarry - 4k - Harry had a bad day and makes a big decision.

So Kiss Me - Rated T - Jegulus - 4k - mutual pining!

Funnel cakes and peanut butter fudge - Rated T - wolfstar - 5.6k - AU, meet cute

If You Stayed - Rated G - Jegulus - 5k - AU, kidfic, getting together

I still don't like you, you know - rated T - drarry - 3k - Draco is in denial?

Six Firewhiskeys and Potter's Green Jumper - rated G - drarry - 2.6k - Draco is drunk and wants to cuddle.

Forget-me-not - rated T - jegulus - 13k - James forgets that he's not with Regulus.

Every Christmas from Now On - rated M - wolfstar - 86k - Wolfstar fake dating trope.

Slumbering Love - rated T - jegulus - 5k - James needs a kiss from his soulmate.

☆💔 Scenes of Surrender - Usually I don't put E-rated recs here but this one was exquisite. Rated E, Minors DNI - Drarry - 16k - Drarry coping after the War. Please read the tags on this one! It's a lot, but it was so good.

5 times James Potter was completely oblivious and 1 time he almost wasn't - rated M - wolfstar - 5k

Scar-Crossed Lovers - rated M - wolfstar - 11k - soulmarks fic

Our skin is on fire, and its not gonna stop burning- rated T - jegulus - 13k - sickfic

a goddamn miracle - rated t - jegulus - .5k - microfic

My Dad's Going to Kill Me - rated T - rosekiller - 1k

Request/Reading Boundaries:

A lot of people have asked to send me things to read or requests for writing. I LOVE when people send me these things, but just a few boundaries:

No MCD

No incest

No large age gaps

No noncon, in any sense

No EDs, SH, or SI

Advice/Ask Boundaries:

Advice about sex (how-to, positions, etc)

Personal topics like my own intimate life, my own personal information (IRL name, names of family members, etc)

Topics that I am not educated on, or do not have a right to give my opinion on. While I am happy to talk and give advice about LGBTQIA+ issues, I am uncomfortable sharing my opinion on issues that I am still working to learn about, because I don't want to spread false information or be unintentionally hurtful. Also, since I hold a lot of privilege, there are certain topics that I would rather amplify the voices of others about, rather than taking up my own space.

LGBTQIA+ Resources:

Here are the websites I often link to when giving people advice. I'll add to these as I find more!

Need help? The Trevor Project has Crisis Counselors

The genderbread person- (sexual attraction versus gender versus romantic attraction)

List of nonbinary identities and definitions

List of ace identities and definitions

A highly-reviewed chest binder that ships to like a hundred countries

Pronouns explained

LGBTQIA+ travel safety guide- world

LBGTQIA+ rights/safety by state in US

United States LGBTQIA+ student rights

The Trevor Project- Sexual Orientation Information

The Trevor Project- Gender Identity Information

Pronoun closet (try different pronouns)

Writing Tips:

Write a lot.

Don't worry about mistakes or editing. Just write a lot to get your ideas out. Practice makes better, and writing a lot will help you gain confidence. You don't have to post it anywhere of you don't want to!

2. Try microfics!

Microfics are a great way to practice writing certain ships, or just practice in general. They're also lovely for getting a feel of posting! They're low-pressure and low-commitment, which is lovely!

3. Find people to write with.

Whether it's people online or in person, find people to talk about writing and write with. It's very motivating and helps hold you accountable.

4. Be gentle with yourself!

This is supposed to be fun. Don't beat yourself up or be too hard on yourself.

5. Write down your ideas.

Ideas come at weird times. Write them down, because you'll forget them.

Song Covers

Sometimes I sing...

People Watching - Conan Gray

Gravity - Sara Bareilles

Blank Space- Taylor Swift

Idontwannabeyouanymore- Billie Eilish

Sparks Fly - Taylor Swift

So Long, London - Taylor Swift

[high-quality-assorted-chaos]

challengers (2024), luca guadagnino / who we are, hozier

[prettiestlovergirl]

EAT YOUR YOUNG (part one)

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; ravenclaw!reader; hidden identites; teasing; masks; french! mattheo riddle. no active smut just yet.

concept: hogwarts is having a masquerade ball and the student body has taken it amongst themselves to ensure everybody's identity remains a secret. tonight will be about shedding your inhibitions and exposing who you really are. song: eat your young by hozier.

a/n: this came to me in a dream after i finished another cinderella story (the one with selena gomez) and then i had to write it djfgnsf. this is PART ONE!! had to cut it into two bc it was getting long, promise part two will be extra smutty. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

tonight, you were determined to try something new.

in your regular day-to-day life, you had a fairly generic life. you got good grades, you were a good student, you hung out with your small group of friends, you just... didn't do anything outside of the norm.

you didn't really flirt with cute guys or go to parties and get drunk. really, you didn't do much of anything that would bring a lot of attention to yourself.

so tonight, when your best friend insisted on you going to the masquerade ball with her... you decided you were going to be someone brand new.

for one night, and one night only, you were going to be open and free. no names, no rules, no boundaries. as long as you wore this pretty white mask, you were going to have fun.

you'd left your best friend to pick out your masks and dresses, knowing that if you chose you would pick the safe options, and that's not what you wanted. if you were really doing this, you needed to be out of your comfort zone.

your mask was absolutely gorgeous. it was white and covered in gold tipped feathers, reminiscent of a dove. and your dress? god, it was fucking stunning.

the material of the dress was gold satin that flowed down your body perfectly, the back of it an open crisscross that exposed more skin than you were used to.

you made a mental note to thank your friend for this tomorrow. if there was one thing she had, it was good taste. she knew you and picked out the best possible outfit for you.

but now that you were here, in your gorgeous dress and mask, you were insanely nervous. it was exciting, of course, getting to be a new person for the night, but still, it was brand new.

mattheo riddle was definitely excited for this masquerade ball.

already, he could have just about any girl he wanted. it was that bad boy charm that had just about any girl hooked on him with a single wink.

he looked at this evening as a sort of... challenge for himself. no one would know it was him, he wouldn't have his reputation to back him up when he started to flirt. he had to rely solely on his skills, it was exciting.

he'd spotted you first.

he was in the middle of a conversation with draco, taking a survey of the room when you arrived. you were a gold fleck in a sea of dark blues and blacks, it wasn't hard to track you as you made your way in.

you didn't notice his stare until you turned to do your own survey of the room and caught the man staring intently at you. his entire outfit was a stark contrast to yours.

he wore a black button up with the cuffs rolled up and black jeans that outlined his muscled legs. he looked mouthwateringly delicious, and with the way his lips quirked up when you caught him staring? he knew it.

you shot him a wink before turning and walking in the opposite direction, feeling the heat of his gaze on your back as you got lost in the sea of masked students. normal you would have gone towards him, but tonight?

tonight you felt like playing the long game.

mattheo's eyes sparked when you walked farther away from him, you were exactly the challenge he had been hoping for. fly as far away as you want, petite colombe (little dove). the night would end with your lips on his, that was a guarantee.

you walked over to the food table, leaning over to grab some punch and letting your dress glide up, revealing more of your plush thighs to him and the rest of the room.

môme (brat), he thought, his tongue gliding over his suddenly dry lower lip. draco continued to go on about.... something, but mattheo's attention was solely on you.

he wanted nothing more than to grab your hips and bend you over, smacking your ass until the skin was a deep red and his hand stung. he wanted to drag has hand between your thighs, feel the way they were soaked in your arousal.

you could still feel his eyes on you, but you didn't look back at him. you grabbed your drink and took a sip, excited butterflies floating in your stomach. you'd never played this game before, never been chased and tracked like this. it was exciting.

"wanna dance?" a voice asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts as you looked to see a different guy standing in front of you, instantly being struck by deep blue eyes. "i'm sorry, what was that?" you asked, having to shout over the music as you looked to him.

"i asked if you wanted to dance." the new guy shouted back. you glanced over at the brown-eyed man still watching you from a distance, although now his gaze had shifted towards blue eyes and narrowed.

you couldn't stop the grin breaking out on your face as you nodded, placing your hand in his happily. "i'd love to." you stated, tossing your cup into the trash and letting blue eyes lead you back towards the dancefloor.

mattheo watches as you and blue eyes dance on the floor, a smirk on his face as he sees just how bad of a dance partner he is. you look fucking stunning, your body free and weightless as you sway your hips to the beat. blue eyes on the other hand?

he's not equipped to handle you the way mattheo can. he doesn't tease you while you dance, doesn't run his hands over every inch of exposed skin, doesn't murmur filthy things in your ear to make you blush.

he let it go on for a bit longer, wanting to see you suffer a bit for teasing him the way you did, before making his way down to get rid of him.

"i'll take it from here." mattheo stated firmly, tapping blue eyes on the shoulder and then shooing him away. you bit your lip gently as you heard his voice, all deep and rough.

"i was dancing, you know." you hummed, resting your head back against his chest as you went back to swaying your hips to the music, his hands gliding down your body.

"'m not sorry, petite colombe (little dove). your body deserves to be fucked right, to be worshipped. he's got nothing to offer you." he murmured in your ear, making you shiver at his hot breath on your skin.

"and you think you do?" you asked teasingly, chest heaving as his hands continued to run over every inch of your body he could reach while your hips swayed together.

"oh, petite colombe (little dove), i know i do." he smirked, his voice deep and so full of lust it made your thighs squeeze together. he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, smudging your perfectly lined lipstick onto your chin.

you looked straight up at him, head falling back onto his chest so you could look right into his eyes. he nearly groaned, feeling your ass pressing against his bulge and providing delicious friction.

he pushed his thumb into your mouth, surprising you slightly. you flicked your tongue against the digit, staring right back into his eyes as a million images popped into his mind. "fuck. let me have you, petite colombe (little dove). let me fuck you like you deserve."

you suck on his thumb harshly as you consider his words. isn't this exactly what you wanted from tonight? a free moment, away from yourself? his eyes nearly roll into his head as your tongue expertly sucked the skin.

"okay."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[buckets-and-trees]

Warm Shadows - Let All Light Go (2/4)

Fandom: MCU Collection: Warm Shadows Title: Let All Light Go Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader, existing Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Now that he's claimed you, Captain Hydra takes you back to his new base of operations, his little omega bait for the Soldat. But the bond between an alpha and an omega is a powerful thing that shouldn't be trifled with. [sequel to When You Fall On Me Like Night]

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/omega heat, oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, breast play, vaginal intercourse

Logistical Notes: We've got a dose of pride for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event. Now this second part is too late for the Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon, but I had most of it written before the challenge closed, and so I had plucked another dialogue prompt from her list, so I still want to give @witchywithwhiskey credit where it's due, and you'll find the prompt in bold and italics when it appears.

Additional Notes: I had no intention of making this three times as long as the original, but Steve had other plans. So many other plans. Thanks to @biteofcherry for letting me suss out a couple of the things I had questions on plot-wise. Title from Hozier's De Selby (Part 2).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Steve doesn’t smile anymore. He hasn’t smiled in weeks. And yet the frown on his face is more than the non-smile stoicism that had taken over his demeanor since the ambush outside of Turin. He exhales deeply, washing away the frown as he straps your limp body into the jump seat of the stealth jet. Unconscious and sedated, your head falls forward though your torso is held back by the chest harness of the safety belt. Steve angles your head back against the headrest because if you got a crick in your neck, it will be a problem he doesn’t want to hear you try and complain about later.

He had achieved his objective in coming to Wakanda. Though the operation had played out with slight differences from what he had anticipated, it had gone as close as he could have logically projected in almost every aspect. He knew Bucky. No. The Winter soldier, he corrects. And he knew you. As players in this piece of the plan, you had both been reliably predictable.

As a super soldier Steve knew the strengths, the weaknesses, the limitations, and what Barnes would be susceptible to. That’s why he had been so prepared in laying his trap and incapacitating the asset.

Overpowering you had been easy.

Claiming you had split a slow but building tremor to his system. It had changed what he’d intended to do.

A few hours later as he approaches the remote Hydra base, that disconcerting feeling in his brain that he is working to tamp down still smolders with something unsettled that makes him flick his eyes up to the mirror that allows the pilot to check the interior behind him to see that you’re still in the same state of sedation.

His new conditioning will help him to control this irritating itch.

After touching down and rolling into the hangar, Steve unbuckles you from the seat and slings your unconscious body over his shoulder. He doesn’t stop walking but proceeds to give his brief mission report to the ranking officer on base who was waiting to meet him at the base of the small jet’s cargo ramp as he exits. This man is not his handler but his liaison for the time being. He’s competent enough that Steve if rarely frustrated with him. The power dynamics are something Steve is constantly aware of. Hydra wants to know they are in control and yet learned with the Winter Soldier that an asset stripped of complete autonomy was more inflexible to work with – and impossible to pull back when he broke free. They don’t want to make the same mistake with him, but they give him no illusion over who his allegiance is to now. It’s not a leash, but an unmistakable tether that they will let him tenuously control as long as he ultimately complies.

It's why he has tolerable and private living quarters where he deposits you on top the large bed. He leaves a bottle of water next to you and then leaves. The door to his quarters is controlled by a fingerprint recognition, allowing Steve a fair amount of control over who can come in and out, and he has no intention of giving you access.

He goes to the mess to get food. No one approaches him while he eats. He collects two of the meal boxes that are ready to go – one marked for lunch, one marked for dinner – and brings them back for you.

You’re still asleep when he returns. He takes the time to order routine meal delivery to his quarters for you long term as well as a supply of standard issue clothes and laundry service. This base is a hub for research and development, so the standard of living is functional and minimalistic, which suits him fine, and that is all you will require as his omega.

It's mid afternoon before you finally wake, and he can sense the moment you resume consciousness – his heightened senses heard the change in your breathing, but there’s also an innate sense about it. He wasn’t expecting that.

He shifts slightly where he sits in a boxy armchair reading over some new intelligence reports on his tablet to watch you. You slowly sit up causing the water bottle he set on the mattress next to you to roll against your body, and you frown, then look around and see him almost immediately. Fear and anger show immediately in your face, exactly as he expected.

“Your food is on the counter,” he says flatly.

“I don’t want it.”

“You will,” he responds.

You look away from him, scan the single-room quarters, and then look down to the water bottle again. He hears your small sigh before you pick it up, unscrew the top to take a few sips, then close it and shift to one side of the bed and lay back down, curling up, facing away from him. There’s an east-facing window on that side of the room.

None of this behavior is unexpected, and it’s of no matter to him. He has you here, he’s keeping you here as long as necessary. You’re hurt, you will hold onto your pride at the offense for a long while yet, and he expects it. He’s not offended. It will wear away.

He has a few projects he planned to touch base with various research and development teams on the base, and so now that he knows you’re alert and fine, he has no problem resuming his operations and routines.

The single declaration over the food is all you say to him for the first few days.

Not that he is there much either. He has missions, projects, agendas – his own and Hydra’s, and certainly doesn’t exist to coddle his omega.

An omega, he reminds himself.

There is only one bed, and he doesn’t say one word about it to you. The first night when he returns, you are curled in on yourself on the edge of the bed much as you had been earlier when he left (though he notes you had eaten the roll from the dinner box, so you had moved at some point). He wordlessly changes into his sleepwear and slides beneath the sheets. He figures if it bothers you enough, you can choose to sleep on the small couch or the floor, but he isn’t going to give up the bed to accommodate you.

On the third day, you rise when he does. The small bathroom is the only private part of the living quarters, so he is closed off from you while he showers, but as he eats breakfast and finishes the rest of his morning routine, you sit in the armchair, legs curled up, and watch him with a cool storm in your eyes.

When he returns on the fourth night, you smell different. You wear the same clothes, but you’ve clearly showered, and you must have done what you could to clean your clothes in the sink because you're wearing them and not the base-issued garments. You’re already curled up on your side of the bed, still on top of the bedding, barefoot, but not sleeping yet.

Your state of unrest is burdening his thoughts. It’s an imposition he can’t have.

The way you bleed into his consciousness was the only thing he had stupidly forgotten to even account for in this maneuver to draw out the Soldat. Part of it was because he hadn’t been entirely sure he could successfully make the claiming bond – he knew he could get the bite, but it had been a gamble on whether it would work.

It had.

Though it hadn’t been like a clap of lightning but more like an invisible string threaded between the two of you. He had used it to manipulate the situation that night, but the reality of it had also shifted what his original plan for you had been.

Having never bonded with an omega, he had heard varying reports of how the connections could develop between an alpha and an omega. Some said it was strong enough to reach a degree of non-verbal communication, but this seemed to be developing as more of a constant, pressing awareness as the string wove further through him as the days passed, but an awareness that he was learning to read and decipher.

That cool storm that brewed in your eyes any of the few times you looked at him had to be tamed. He didn’t expect it to go away, but he could not have the rage brewing, growing, and pulsing from you to him. He can’t afford the distraction.

In an operations meeting one of the analysts sits down to the table with two unnecessary books in the stack of things they’ve brought with them, and he remembers that you loved to read.

He deposits a linen tote bag with a stack of books on your bedside table that night, returning after you’re already asleep.

He leaves for a mission across the globe before you wake the next morning.

When he returns three days later, it’s mid-afternoon, and he goes to his quarters after the mission debriefing. You’re sitting almost comfortably on the couch with one of the books. You still regard him with cold, guarded eyes, but you’re wearing the base-issued clothing. It’s plain, utilitarian, slate grey.

He remains with you the rest of the evening, the two of you eating dinner together at the small table in one corner of the room when meals are delivered. You don’t look at him, and he doesn’t watch you too much. He thought he had been focused on the mission. He thinks now the focus had come easily again because you were less angry, an icy ache rather than the rampant and enflamed rage that was only further agitated without anything to do.

The next day is unremarkable with this new development. You read, you wear different clothes from the base again, and he is back to his standard on-base routine, returning to his quarters after dinner but before dark. It’s the same the day after, and then the day after that. The only thing that changes at the end of one more day, is that once you’re settled to sleep and he slides into bed a quarter of an hour later, he’s about to drop off to sleep when he hears you take a deep breath.

His own heart stills. What are you about to do?

“Can I have normal clothes?” you ask softly.

One request could lead to another request, and another.

But if they’re as simple as this, easy enough to appease, he could say yes until he needs to refuse you something he’s not willing to entertain.

“I’ll see it done.”

“Oh,” your response is small, surprised.

“Now sleep,” he says, not a command.

Mid-morning he has a break between consultations, and he pulls one of the base caretakers aside and charges them with accommodating your request.

He returns to you before dinner that night. He simply finished his work earlier than usual that day, it’s nothing more than that. You’re in jeans and a lightweight crewneck sweatshirt. Eating dinner is another quiet affair, but the easiest it’s been out of the few times you’ve shared any meals in this place.

Over the next week he eats breakfast with you and most of his dinners. There’s a sadness that’s growing, but he is also melting the glacier of your guarded hostility.

While eating dinner one evening, you ask, “Where are we?”

“A Hydra research and development facility.”

You give it another moment, and then you press further, “And where’s this facility located?”

He looks up at you across the table and gives a dark, wry smirk. “Europe.” His tone is clipped. He can see you know that’s the end of the information he’s going to give you on the matter.

“How are your books?” he ventures after a few minutes. He had gone to the bookshop in the town to purchase a second stock of books for you earlier in the week.

“I appreciate them,” you answer. Without looking back up at him, you say, “The old you liked to read.”

He glowers at you, but he can see there’s almost a warmth in your eyes. It does something to him, so he drops his eyes back to his plate.

He stands abruptly and takes his plate to the counter by the sink, then he leaves. He won’t entertain that line of conversation with you. He paces through the facility for an hour before he returns. When he sees you seem to have been waiting for him, there’s a small warmth in his chest. You just nod at him, and he nods in return. No more words are exchanged between you that night.

When you both finally retire to bed, he doesn’t say a word or give any sign of reacting to you pulling the covers back on your side of the bed for the first time in this space and climbing into them, he simply does the same on his side. You still stay rigidly still and curled up, nearly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s more than he ever expected from you. The nights following, you maintain this step forward in proximity.

He notices your hand going to your bonding mark from Bucky over the following days, and it happens more and more frequently. He almost says something, but as he scrutinizes your actions, he sees you do it without seeming to think about it. It bothers him, but when he sees it’s not intentional, it’s not jealousy or rage that eats at him, it’s something else.

Because why hasn’t the Soldat come for you yet?

That was the object of the game, after all.

He was sure he hadn’t underestimated the Soldat’s skills or Bucky’s devotion to you. Bucky had, in fact, been spotted close enough in the region that the whole base had been on red alert for three days, certain the Winter Soldier would strike, but he hadn’t. Then the reports were he’d gone further north and left Italy altogether, so the alert had gone down from red to orange, and now sat at yellow - standard caution and operating procedures.

It was bothering him further because you were supposed to be Bucky’s beloved omega. How could he abandon you this long? Work so carelessly? Soldat should be desperate and raising hell at this point.

Because at this point?

It’s why Steve decides to embark on one more mission. He doesn’t tell you where he is going. He didn’t tell you even that he is going. He could already feel your unease growing, the questions and uncertainty. He doesn’t need his omega further agitated.

His mission is quick and successful.

As he returns, there is a sudden spike of fear and adrenaline when he is about an hour out from the base. It burns through his system, and he hasn’t felt any emotions overpower him this strongly in weeks and weeks, but after less than a minute it’s snuffs out almost as quickly as it had flared.

Twenty minutes from landing, a call buzzes in over his comms.

“Captain, our base has been attacked, but we are clear from intruders and in active recovery mode now,” his liaison’s voice relays.

“Intruders?” he growls.

“Full report forthcoming and will be ready by the time you arrive. You are cleared for landing but divert to the machine storage facility rather than our standard hangar, we’ve sustained damage there. End communication.”

Steve slams his fist against the arm rest of the seat – the place he knew could sustain the brunt of his impatience – and it breaks off, smashed away completely.

His landing approach gives him a view of the obvious devastation to the base, the entire northwest quadrant still in flames, but with crews working quickly to extinguish the fire.

His liaison is waiting in a truck to drive from the storage on the outskirts back to the main base.

“Twenty-two casualties, six injured, two hundred on evacuation disbursement orders. Only beta essential personnel and the damage control teams remain, prime essential personnel were evacuated as soon as the intruder was reported.”

Steve frowns. “Identity?”

“Confirmed as the Soldat.”

Steve nods. “You said intruders when you contacted me on approach.”

“We’ve since confirmed it was the Winter Soldier and only him.”

He nods again. That news wasn’t surprising. Had he known I would be gone? He was certainly cutting it close, waiting until almost the eleventh hour to come for his omega.

“Status of the omega?”

“We sedated and moved the omega to our facility outside of Geneva.”

Steve’s entire chest seizes in rage – not only moving his omega without consulting him, but to sedate her without any thought? It doesn’t matter that it’s standard protocol for prisoners, you’re his omega. However, every alarm in his head rings immediately that he can not show any ripple of emotion or he may very well never see his omega again. He won’t make the same mistake again – not for a third time.

“Geneva will be the next center of operations for current projects?” he asks.

“Correct. Early calculations project that this base can be functional again in four to five months, and we’ll evaluate whether projects will move back, or continue in Geneva and other bases in the region and clear the way for new initiatives here. We thought you would want to see evidence and damages yourself here first, which is why I didn’t redirect you once we had entered the first recovery stages after clearing all immediate threats, Captain.”

“The logical call,” he agrees.

Four and a half hours later, he touches down in Geneva, but it’s another two hours before he can escape all the protocol and regrouping strategy conversations. Within ten minutes after that, he’s in the new living quarters assigned to him on the Swiss base.

And there you are. Haphazardly deposited on the bed, but there all the same. He lets out a breath as he closes the door behind him. It locks automatically. He drops his pack on the couch and then makes his way to you. He rights your body, laying you fully across the bed and straightening your limbs. He removes your shoes and tucks a pillow beneath your head. He could smell you immediately on entering the quarters, but handling your body now confirms you’re dangerously close to breaking into your heat a day earlier than you were supposed to. He has no doubt it’s due to the distress of the day. That spike of fear and adrenaline he felt earlier had to have been you moments before you were sedated for transport.

He examines your neck, but sees no evidence of an injection, which leaves sedation by inhalation. In a situation where they needed efficiency and couldn’t chance a miscalculation of precision, it was the logical move. It also narrows things down to one of two compounds currently in use for inhaled sedation, which he appreciates.

Then he sees the bloom of a bruise forming already on your arm just above the elbow, and his brow furrows. He will review the footage and he will find out who did this to you.

Satisfied in general over your state – even breathing and no other visible injuries – he turns his attention to the new living quarters. It’s still a studio set up, but moderately larger than the Turin facility. There he’d been assigned quarters for an individual, and this is clearly one of the units designed for Hydra personnel with a partner. A marked difference here is an area that is sectioned off as a study with a desk and a bookshelf. There are already some books there, but empty shelves that can be filled as well.

There’s a decently sized case on the table in the kitchenette area. Inside is a selection of personal effects transported here from Turin, likely collected after the initial evacuation of personnel, but delivered here in those first two hours while he was in the strategy meetings upon arrival. There are a few items of his clothing, a modest selection of the wardrobe he’d arranged for you, toiletries, and even your small accumulation of books.

He has just finished unpacking the case when he can sense you stirring on the bed. A moment later he feels the spike of unease and tension as you register the new surroundings, sitting up on the bed, but he’s already approaching you.

He can feel the diminution of your nerves when your eyes land on him, but he sees the initial wave of relief in your eyes that you also try and stamp away in an instant.

He sits cautiously but with no apology on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Where are we?”

“A new facility.”

Your eyes study him for a moment. He knows you’re assessing that his answer means he won’t give you details. “Still in Europe?”

He nods.

“How long since the former facility was compromised?” you ask.

He smirks. You were always intelligent – not that it would have been difficult to figure out, but he’s proud of how quickly your mind works.

You huff at his hesitation and roll your eyes. “If you think I’ll use the information to try and figure out where we might be, I don’t know where we started, so it won’t be of any use to me, I’m just hungry and want to know how much time I’ve lost.”

“It’s been somewhere between seven to eight hours.”

He reaches for his communications tablet and quickly orders a standard meal for each of you to be delivered as he hasn’t eaten much either.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” you break the silence again. “Bucky found me.”

He hadn’t planned to tell you, but he won’t lie to you. “Yes”

“He’ll find me again. He said that wherever I went, he would find me.”

“Oh, I know.” His stare is back on you. “That’s the entire point. I need the Soldat.”

The silence that builds between you two is full of anger on your side. There’s nothing else for him to explain, but he’s curious to see how long you’ll keep this moment stretching on before ending it or saying something else.

But it grows more and more uncomfortable, and you try not to fidget. You’ve never been one to fidget, and certainly not over these past few weeks at any point around him. Then he notices the beads of perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Your heat, Omega.”

“My heat, not yours.”

“Sure,” he laughs cruelly. He reaches out to touch your cheek, somewhat patronizingly.

“Don’t touch me!” you snarl and snap your jaws at him, causing him to withdraw his hand immediately. “I don’t need you.”

“Fine.” He stands and retreats, not because he fears you in the slightest, but because he won’t fight your petulance, not when he has better things he can do at least for now. “Face your heat alone, Omega.”

He leaves, hearing you let out another impatient huff just as the door closes behind him.

He leaves you in pursuit of one of the data analysis rooms. If you’re going to be difficult and refuse him, he can do better things with his time until you’re ready to bend and keen for him. Once there, he logs into the system and pulls up the footage from Turin. He watches every frame of the Winter Soldier’s attack on the facility. It was shown earlier when he was meeting with the Hydra officers in debriefing the attack, but now he can study it alone in its entirety, moving from camera to camera outside, and then through each hallway and room without commentary from anyone else, able to slow down and rewind each moment as he sees fit.

It’s masterful.

And he looks directly at cameras after many of the kills. Twenty-two casualties and only six injuries? That’s intentional. He knows the Soldat could have executed this more quietly, and that’s evident in how he exits when he realizes you’ve been moved. From that point, his exit strategy has him engaging with almost no one, but setting fires and explosions, leaving enough damage in his wake to send his message.

It’s effective.

Steve narrows the block of time from the incident on the base and watches additional footage from the same ten-minute period. It’s every frame of the footage related to your acquisition, sedation, and transport from the base. He is interested in discovering just how the Soldat knew when to retreat, and he leaves notes in his log and in addition to drafting and sending a memo with some of his theories and observations to his primary liaison and a few of the officers on the taskforce. But his primary objective was to figure out who handled you so roughly, and he does. They will be dealt with later. He can’t expose such a personally driven need to deal out punishment.

While he’s been gone he’s felt the tenor of your emotions tugging at him – not tugging insistently, and with how tightly you’ve tried to control and suppress your emotions over the past few weeks, this must mean you’re battling to keep things at bay, pushed beneath the surface. As soon as he enters, he clocks the spiking fluctuations of your hormones. Since returning with you from Wakanda, he’s read extensively over the heat cycles, and this situation gives all the signs that you’re vacillating precaiously between falling into either a standard heat or a dry heat. You’re trying to stave off the heat as long as possible, but it will come, and if you fight it too hard, it will be a dry heat, which will be physically and mentally painful for you and difficult for him to navigate with you. He needs to edge you carefully from that tipping point of the dry heat.

You’re sitting at the table, having polished off one of the meals already and eating the last bits of the other one. It looks like they were boxes with sandwiches, fruit, and vegetables. You’ve left the celery from both servings. He smirks, but he’s glad you’ve eaten. That’s a good sign.

In another attempt at normalcy, desperate to keep things at bay, you push the chair out across the table from you with your foot, nodding for him to sit. You try and engage him in completely normal lines of conversation. He knows what you’re doing. He’ll entertain it for at least a little while so he can assess more of your state and how he should handle it.

He’s more concerned with watching you than listening to what you’re saying. You stand to refill your cup with water, and he follows you to the sink. He reaches into the cupboard and gets a glass of his own, encroaching somewhat into your space very casually. It doesn’t put you on edge, so he eases even closer, as you continue to talk. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans in to fill his cup with the tap. There’s a slight hitch in your breathing at his proximity. He pushes the teasing of his closeness even more, moving his hand down your arm and resting it on the counter next to yours.

“I know what you need, Omega,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

He can feel you do everything you can to remain still.

But then you turn your head ever so slightly toward him. “The last time you touched me, you humiliated me.” Your voice is flat.

He doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move.

Finally, you ask, “What did they do to you?” your voice barely above a whisper.

The dangerous question comes out of nowhere, and the surge of emotion it evokes in him is immediate. He growls, whipping away, not even thinking before he slams his fists on the table. It splits in two clean pieces. He grabs one before it even falls to the floor and throws it against the wall, smashing it, splinters flying.

He turns back, advancing on you, and you’re already trembling. He doesn’t relent, forcing you up against the wall, caging you in. He pounds his fist into the wall right above your head, and you close your eyes, afraid to move. He can smell the fear in your scent now, but there can be no confusion here.

“No, Omega,” he speaks low, and his other hand moves lightning fast to grip your chin. He can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers. “Look at me.” You open your eyes. “We aren’t doing that.”

He leaves a beat of silence between you.

“Do you understand?”

You nod.

He drops your chin, then grips the neck of your shirt and yanks, ripping the fabric down the front and jerking you forward, making you bump into his chest. He picks you up and hauls you across the room with a few furious strides to drop you onto one of the armchairs.

You right yourself in the seat as he steps back, but only an arm’s length away. He doesn’t have to use his alpha voice or say the words. He knows the look he gives you communicates his instruction: stay put, don’t move.

He slowly undresses, unfastening, unbuckling, unzipping. He places each article of his dark tactical suit in an orderly pile on the coffee table. It’s purposeful, this tactic. The onset of your heat is only a moment away. You’ve been doing everything in your power to stave it off. Part of him clocks this enormous show of strength and sees it for more than stubbornness, recognizing the discipline and power within you. But this has gone on long enough, he needs you to finally tumble over the edge, and he will push you if he must.

He watches you watching him as he reveals each expanse of naked flesh – arms and torso, legs, and finally his loins when he slips off his boxer briefs. He’s hard for you, of course he is, the pheromones have been flooding out of you, and he wasn’t tempted to touch you in Turin, but now it’s all he can think about. He wants your body supple and pliant, submissive beneath him. He stands above you, looming, imposing – he knows he is, and he wants you to feel that he can do this – and pumps his cock slowly with his own fist.

He does it a few more times, watching you watch him. He sees the small ripple of a shudder you can’t suppress when your breath hitches.

“Undress,” he commands.

Your jaw ticks up. He knows you don’t like it – he felt it the first time he gave you an alpha command, and he hasn’t again until this moment. You look down as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra and slide it off, dropping it to the floor. You stubbornly refuse to meet his eye since he’s making you do this – he knows it. You hook your thumbs into your waistband, and you push your leggings and underwear down in a slight huff.

“Spread your legs,” he issues another command.

You do, still refusing to meet his eye. Part of it is the irritation over the commands, but he knows part of it is also the trepidation still pulsing through you. He doesn’t want to make this easy for you, but he doesn’t want you to suffer the agony of a dry heat where you’ll be agitated, devoid of slick, in pain, and distressed.

He sinks to his knees between your parted thighs, but now you can’t help but look at him staking his claim there so close to your exposed core. He can see you have a million questions in your eyes, it’s the most you’ve allowed him to glimpse of you – the real you – these past weeks.

He lowers his head, keeping his eyes on yours, and licks a slow, broad stripe from the side of your knee along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can feel you tense and hold your breath. And he stops inches from your warm cunt, pulling back and kneeling back on his heels.

You whimper.

He knows he has you now.

“Touch yourself, Omega,” he doles out the third command. He knows how he wants this to play out.

“Don’t make me,” you plead, but your hands are already slowly moving to your center.

“Do it,” he barks, and you flinch.

There’s a little bit of slick between your pussy lips, and he watches you trace a finger slowly over your folds, up and down. You drop your head down and to the side, refusing once more to look at him.

“Omega, have you ever experienced the pain of a dry heat?”

You huff.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want him!” you blurt, and you certainly must not have meant to say it out loud because your hands immediately fly to cover your mouth and your eyes flash to him in fear. And anger. Both are there.

He growls and surges forward to claim your clit between his lips, clamping his hands at the juncture of your thighs to keep your legs open. He sucks hard and flicks his tongue angrily over the little bundle of nerves, drawing a cry from you immediately. Your hands push at his head, but there’s no match for his strength, and he holds your pelvis firmly to his face.

“No, no, no,” you murmur, starting to cry.

He keeps up the furious sucking and flicking, and it’s less than a minute before he feels your whole body seize up, frozen as the first orgasm crashes down on you. Slick begins to seep out in abundance, and he hums in approval, but he doesn’t relent, only changes his tactics. He flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, letting his tongue slip between your folds and into your hole every two or three licks. It’s less frenzied, but no less insistent, and he rips a second orgasm from you easily. He hums in approval as this time that blissful wave forces you to throw your head and shoulders back, and you land against the back of the armchair, clutching at the rim of it next to your head.

But he won’t relent yet.

He reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his hand, and you moan and push your chest forward for him, head still thrown back, and he imagines your eyes must be shut. He squeezes your breast, then tweaks your nipple, and your breath hitches. He presses his mouth back to your folds and works his lips over your puffy, engorged clit, working slowly this time. He draws his hand away from your breast, and then he slides the fingers that just tweaked your nipple into your tight heat. He pumps slowly, and your hand moves to the back of his head, applying insistent pressure there. He crooks the fingers and strokes along your front wall, and he knows he finds the spot of your undoing when your legs abruptly shift, the left lengthening out, and your right hitching up over his shoulder to press into his back. He doesn’t change a thing now, sucking, pressing. He knows you’re on your way, but he will not hasten this. He wants you to feel every drawn out moment of this – some but not enough of what you need.

Paying attention to every breath above him, every movement of your body, and especially the way your muscles start to squeeze around the fingers he has inside you, he stops just short of your third orgasm.

You whine in protest, but he pushes himself up to stand above you. He grabs your waist and hauls you easily with his preternatural strength up and over his shoulder. You claw at his back, but it’s only a few quick steps for him to be able to throw you down onto the bed.

Your fear from his outburst is long gone, and the face you turn up at him is angry, and you snarl, quickly kneeling up on the bed.

He grasps your chin in his slick-covered hand and looks into your face. “You will beg for me, and only then will I consider whether or not I will touch you again or let you suffer.”

He drops your chin and is already turning away, but you’re lightning fast in reaching for his wrist.

He stops and only inclines his head part of the way to look back at you.

“Take me,” you plead, voice stronger than he expected.

He furrows his brow.

“Please,” you implore.

He turns fully back to you. Perhaps he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. You’d always been adaptable and clever, and rarely stubborn to your own detriment. You had been stubbornly trying to hold the heat at bay, dangerously so to tempt the dry heat, but he knows this is an extreme circumstance for you, and with the tide turned yet again, he was almost impressed that you had so quickly determined it was worth it to take what you needed.

“Then present,” he says simply.

You turn, moving up to the middle of the bed, but close to the headboard, and kneel on all fours.

He climbs up behind you.

You drop down to your elbows, subjecting yourself to him, omega to alpha.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the angry red tip up and down your slick folds. You whimper, and he sees the small shiver that runs down your spine. He sinks his thick length into your tight heat, and you both groan as he fills you for the first time. He doesn’t move once his hips are finally flush against your ass. He breathes in and out, in and out, and watches your measured breaths as well.

He did not know it would be like this.

He reaches forward, grips your shoulder, and pulls you up and back towards him. Your hands move to reach out to steady yourself on the headboard. He presses his fingers into that juncture at your neck where he claimed you, and you keen, throwing your head back. He leans forward and while his right hand stays anchored at your hip, his left strokes that bite again, then moves to hold the front of your neck as he leans down and forward over you. You look up at him, he looks down at you. “You’re fucking mine, Omega,” he growls, your eyes locked.

“Yes, Alpha.”

Then he feels you rock your hips back against his. He smooths his hand down your neck, then presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine,” he says again, imprinting the words against your skin.

Then he pulls back and thrusts into you. A few thrusts like that, but as you begin to keen for him, begging for more, he has to drop back and grip your hips with both hands to fuck you. You both come twice – once quickly, and once more very slowly – before you’re boneless beneath him, and he forces you down to the mattress, shifting you to your side and drawing you up against his chest. You whine, but he strokes your arm and promises he’ll give you more once you sleep.

While you sleep in his arms, sticky and sweaty, his mind goes to work.  

It’s not long before you wake again, and you two truly fuck, carnal bleeding with a few moments that are too tender for either of you to acknowledge. But his stamina outmatches yours and he has you exhausted and sleeping again before long.

He’s never taken care of an omega in heat before, and it’s all-consuming, but he stays focused. When you’re awake, he plies your body with pleasure until you cry, keen, moan, scream aloud and silently, and it goes on and off again between sex and sleep all through the day. He’s prepared for your reluctance during the first high phase of the heat to eat or drink anything, but he slips you bits of fruit and nuts as he can, gets you to greedily gulp water only after he pushes it your way insistently. You want his cock, not hydration or nutrition.

A little before midnight the second night, you stretch and yawn waking from another of your short sleeps, and then you roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. He’s been rooting through some of the cupboards, taking stock of what’s there, and he finishes quickly and follows you into the bathroom after he hears you flush the toilet and then turn on the showerhead. You’re slipping into the shower when he enters the bathroom, and he’s there in time for you to give the silent invitation for him to join you – the expectation, even.

You’re still in heat, but craving a shower lets him know you’ll have enough of your mind back for what needs to happen now.

Things are tenuous, but there’s no denying that this heat has changed things for both of you. He claimed you in Wakanda, but the two of you have bonded through the first thirty hours of this heat in ways neither of you thought possible.

He takes the lathered-up sponge you place in his hands, and he washes your body carefully. Then you take it back, soap it up again, and run it over his skin with the same kind of attention.

He washes your hair, you rinse away the suds, and then he pulls you flush against him. You take his hardening cock in your hand and pump shamelessly. He groans appreciatively, than pushes your back up against the tiles, moves your hands away, and pulls your leg up around his waist so he can enter you. You clutch at his shoulders for stability and moan. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, but he speaks just loud enough for you to hear, “This is the only place I’m sure no one will hear us, but they also need to have no reason to question what’s happening if they’re monitoring.” He moves his hips back and then pumps slowly into you again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you moan, “more, Alpha.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, though he knows you can’t see it. He tongues his bite at your neck, and you whimper. He gives you another thrust, and you keen.

“I won’t have you anywhere near these Hydra personnel anymore. I don’t trust them.”

The surprised noise that escapes your throat is slightly distressed, and so he speeds up his thrusts a little. “My heat,” you whisper.

“The heat cycle is the only time no one expects me to be anywhere or respond to anyone unless there’s complete catastrophe, and I already reported the onset of your heat last night. They won’t disturb us for a few more days, and they will not expect us to attempt to leave our quarters let alone the facility. If we can manage to get out unnoticed, we will have enough of a head start on time to lose them completely.”

You remain quiet.

“Omega?”

“And go where?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

You push his face away from your neck and push at his chest. “I’m still nothing more than your bait?”

He growls and turns you around so your chest and face are pressed up against the wall.

“I’m still your alpha, and yes my end game is still to draw out the Soldat.”

“Why?”

“I need him.”

He nudges your legs apart and enters you from behind, and you groan as he fills you.

He pulls back, about to enter you again, but then you turn your head, and gasp, “Wait,” in a tone that’s different enough that he does, brow furrowing as he meets your eyes.

“Omega?”

“Tell me what happened to Sam, to you, and I promise I’ll go with you willingly.”

He didn’t think you knew Sam had been with him.

You reach for his head and urge him back to the cradle of your neck.

With more than your words and the gentle action, you’re also entreating him through the bond, he can feel it. It’s powerful. And so he tells you. It only takes him two sentences to tell you what you need to know. Tears stream down your face, and he fucks you then, the fucking he needs for him, not you, but you allow him to take.

go immediately to part three: Carving Through the Dark

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

[bi-bard]

I need to say something before I post the masterlist of the Unreal Unearth writing challenge...

"Unknown/Nth" and "First Light" were planned very carefully. It was very intentional and I am very proud of it.

I just needed to say that so y'all knew how clever I was.

[sofullofloveicould]

march writing challenge 2023 - day 20

a song that makes you believe in love

Even if I had to leave Heaven, I would still fly down to you. Teeth bared, arms open. 

You are wretched.

A goddess in red, shattered between my teeth like hard candy. I would look in the mirror, and see the proof of our sin, let it water the gardens of Eden. 

I could work your screams like magic, weave them in a tapestry to keep me warm under the stars. I would sleep on the steps to your palace, and wait for my time. There are rings on your fingers, the kind that work around my neck in sleep. 

I will slip into you like a blanket, your taste and feel, and it will feel like coming home. I will run from God for it, I will leave my wings for you. 

Darling, you’re the devil I know and the angel I love, you’re the love held just behind my heart. I do not need to be loved by you, merely being close is enough. I am filled to the point of bursting with your lonesome. 

I have come to be lonesome with you, by day or by night, in a million stolen moments. I would run with you, away from salvation and into your open arms, holding my innocence by the neck. We could choke her out together, and drink her screams like the blood of God. 

We would pretend it was more than wine in a chalice, and I could drink it from you instead and have it be real. 

I cannot bear to be apart from you, and we will nurse every second from the Mother, and we would die together and live together until the air goes cold. I am the serpent in the apple tree, and we could tear into the sweet flesh, we could taste a forbidden taste, and we could run together, out past the wood and the world, and that fatal picnic could be out last. 

A poisoned apple is still a sweet one until the last bite, and you may find it rotted from the core. But it is love, true as the sea, whole as a life with you in it. 

Our hands fit together like they were meant to, and our bodies fit in that secret way bodies do, like a sock to a babe’s foot. 

We are tragic, a winter storm through the desert, we are a twin pair of birds, a flock of our own, twin bullets arcing through an acid night. 

But it cannot be anything but precious, not with your lips so sweet my teeth must be rotting, falling out, and I know you would still love the gummy mess of me, so rich and fattened on your love. 

When I have turned my back on sainthood, run from nirvana to the pounding of drums, there will be a spot for me, warmed by your breath, nestled in the corner of your heart. 

It is a fleshy, predictable, human thing, and it beats to the same rhythm as mine, one that aches and weeps and begs. 

We both know it, and when we fall, we could be as tired as the wind of blowing, but we would find each other again, and again, until the leaves under our feet rot to nothing, and the nightime bleeds into our veins. 

Sacrificial lambs to the slaughter, the sky to earth, me to you, we are drawn by an invisible hand, pulled by the same string we will tie ourselves up with, and we will die still together.  If there is a sword to which you wish to fall, find me first. You will know where to search for me, I will be where barley sours to beer, where the gardens of Eden hide, for a world without you is not one at all. 

[silken-moonlight]

Older Alpha and Human Waitress / Moodboard and playlist

Desmond Lyall

We already had an introductory post for Desmond; however, I wanted to write a little more about him. Desmond's family had been...tense. His father was a man of sternness and coldness; weakness was not tolerated in his house. In the werewolf community, this is viewed as toxic Alpha family behavior. His mother was no different. With both his parents alphas and raised with the same mindset, it had been a difficult environment to grow up in. Desmond was the golden child; he was expected to be perfect. He managed to become a somewhat good person still. His younger brother, William, was not as fortunate. He suffered under the reign of his parents. Back then, Desmond had viewed him as weak. Like his parents, he was disappointed in his brother and his rebellious behavior.

Nowadays, Desmond has matured as a person. Being the Alpha of his pack has made him view things differently. Many challenges and changes have occurred for him over the years. He has come to put his own needs behind everyone else's. He occasionally takes time for himself, but that has become rare. He overworks himself to the point that his beta, Isaac, is concerned about his physical and mental health. He has changed, becoming awfully similar to his father, and he hates that but cannot help it. He is complex and has so many layers that somebody would need to free him. He himself would never find peace on his own; somebody has to guide him.

His greatest and deepest desire is to feel cared for. He wants to be weak, even if he could never admit that. He yearns for something, something that is just his own. He yearns for love and warmth, gentle touches and silly moments. These songs shall display him a little better

The reader/ you

Disclaimer: This is how I imagined the reader. How you imagine them or if you imagine yourself is your Business. This is just 'my' view, please don't see this as Set thing how you should imagine the reader/you.

A little background for the reader: She still lives with her parents, who are both chronically ill. Her parents need her in their lives, and the reader loves her parents; however, their care and constant needs can be suffocating. Sometimes she feels like there is no way out, and she feels guilty for thinking this, since she would do anything for her family. She has lost many friends over this, and the friends that have stayed use her as a free therapist. She has sometimes lost her sense of self, and a deep exhaustion has settled into her. While she always tries to be happy and carefree, sometimes her exhaustion and sadness peak through. She loves to care for others, but it will be her eventual end if no one begins to take care of her.

She is happiest outdoors with her dogs, loving nature and books. She goes skinny-dipping in any river or pond she finds, unafraid of any animals and wanting to befriend every animal in her path. A wild child, as her parents call her, she is difficult to catch. A soul pure and good, her energy is addictive, but many drain her energy.

A/N: This was a lot of fun to do. I love making stuff like this. I hope you liked it too! I thought at first to make a pintrest Board and Spotify playlist. Though I find this solutiin a bit better. How did you like it?