#I feel like something looks slightly uncanny but I can't place it

[magicwhiskers29]

first time drawing them oops

[mintmatcha]

"Kenma."

The game buzzes on, the battle music intensifying. The thing his character is facing has changed, taking on its second form as Kenma's character rolls and swings its sword. The man himself is curled into his knees, chest tucked forward in anticipation, like he's about to hop out of his chair.

"Ke-"

"In a second," he cuts you off. His unblinking eyes never leave the screen, peering through his blonde bangs. "I just have to beat this boss."

With a huff, you sink back into your chair.

"Last time you said 'just a second' it took you two days to beat the damn thing," you remind him. "I'm not immortal-- I don't have time to sit around for you."

Frankly, you often forget Kenma is immortal until moments like that. You had always thought that vampires would be menacing or carry some sort of grandeur, but everyone you've met has been so spectacularly normal. Kenma, for instance, seems like every other guy your age: aloof and obsessed with video games.

"Get bitten then," he shrugs. "Kuroo would be happy to."

Your spine trills at the thought of it. When you first met Kuroo, you thought her was odd in the most normal way possible. He was practically nocturnal because he claimed to work remotely overseas, but he still went to bars and played indoor volleyball: average activities for an average man-

Or, that's what you thought, until you learned about the whole vampire thing.

Honestly, it's only made you more attracted to him. The mystery, the danger-- what's not to love? You'd be lying if you said you had never thought of his teeth on you, his hands on your body-

"That's what I wanted to talk about."

Kenma's head whips around. This game doesn't pause; the monster smacks his avatar across the screen.

"You're turning?" His voice is either bright with surprise or shock. You've known Kenma for a while now and you still can't seem to read his motivations. You're not sure why Kuroo incorporated you into the fold of his undead friend group, but here you are, sitting in their living room.

"No, uh-" What you're about to ask suddenly feels silly. "I wanted to... Can I see your teeth?"

Kenma's expression settles and he picks up the controller that you hadn't realized he dropped.

"I died for that?" He flicks the game off. "You could have waited for that. I'll still have teeth in a week."

You have to bit your tongue to stop yourself from losing your mind. Kenma just goes back to gaming, eyes narrowing with effort.

"I could be dead in a week."

"You won't be."

"I could be," you say. "I could have a stroke at any moment."

"You won't." He mashes the buttons extra hard, so hard the plastic creaks. "And if you did, we'd know before you did."

The character dies much earlier than it usually does.

"How would you know if I had a stroke before I did?"

"It smells sour when..." His eyes finally turn your way again. "Whatever. It's fine."

"Fine to touch?" you say.

He beckons you over with a nod of his chin. "Yeah."

Pushing off from your seat, you walk over to where he's sitting. Kenma doesn't bother to stand. He tilts his head back, looking up at you with a slight smile.

Already, you can see them. The sharp, vivid white teeth behind his pale lips. They have the usual shape, but anything uncanny edge makes your skin crawl. It's something you can't quite place, maybe something not there at all.

To get closer, you slide a leg onto his chair, angling yourself over him the best that you can. You're surprised when his hand rests on your thigh for support.

"Don't look so scared," Kenma says, a bit too coy for your liking.

You hadn't realized you'd been making a face at all.

"Just don't bite me."

Kenma opens his mouth and his teeth catch the dim light, strange for how dry his mouth seems to be. His canines are slightly elongated, just a hair more than a usual human. Gingerly, you run your fingers across the front of his teeth, then down to their edges. There's almost a razors edge to them, enough that you can feel the ridges of your fingerprint catching.

"Sharp," you quip. You leave a pause for Kenma to respond, but then you realize he can't, not with his mouth open for you. He just watches you, eyes flickering from one of your eyes to the other.

This isn't intimate, you remind yourself. It's scientific curiosity.

It can't be intimate, because you like Kuroo. Not Kenma. No, you don't like it at all that his hands are around your waist and you're cupping his cheek with your free hand, that his breath somehow smells soothing-

His canines seem longer now. More jagged, sharp. You press the pad of your thumb against it and watch how your skin easily skins in, no resistenxe whatsoever. Then, you pull away. A drop of blood wells up at the spot; there's no pain whatsoever, but the thumb tingles, like menthol and cocaine, riveting and calming all at once.

Kenma leans into the palm of your hand, then cranes his neck ever so slightly to envelop your finger in his lips. It's the most delicate of touches, a ghost of a memory of a kiss, but when he pulls away, crimson has settled into the cracks of his lips.

"Your heart's beating-" his tongue runs over his lower lip. "Really fast."

Kenma pulls you closer, arms now tight around your waist. You don't know when you got so close, when your bodies suddenly were pushed together, but now they are--

and now your finger is in his mouth. The gentle, crushing pressure of suction surprises you, but not more than the desperate whine he makes when blood hits his tongue.

That buzzing had spread up your arm and you can suddenly feel it, feel how your heart runs heavy and fast for him. Kenma's eyes are so lidded, barely open, heavy with want, that you can barely make out how his pupils have narrowed into cat scratch slits.

"Oh," you babble. "Oh, it's--"

"Feels good?" Kenma isn't speaking, but you can hear his voice.

"Y-yeah."

"I can make you feel good." There can't be that much blood from that tiny spot, but Kenma swallows deep as if there is. "Anytime you want."

The plush of his tongue swipes up your digit. Oh, maybe you are bleeding out. Maybe he's killing you. You're hot and cold and weak and strong and, and, and--

"You never have to ask Kuroo for-"

The front door of the apartment slams closed. A familiar set of boisterous laughter echoes through the halls-- Bokuto and Kuroo are hone. When you pull away, Kenma gives no resistance, his eyes still fixated on you.

An unjust guilt rises in your throat. You examine your hand, expecting a torrent of blood, only to be greeted with the smallest blossom on your finger tip.

"Were we supposed to do that?" you whisper.

"It's fine." Kenma adjusts himself in his chair, pulling at his pant legs. "They'll scold me, not you."

That doesn't make you feel better.

"Thanks," you say, awkwardly heading for the door. "For the-- thanks."

"Hey," he's using his real voice this time. You pause, turning back to him to catch his wide, Cheshire grin. "Thanks for the snack."

[wandagcre]

drive you mad (part 2) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You had enough of your complicated relationship with Sam. You’re trying out new coping mechanisms to move on, but sadly, even going on a date with another person didn’t make things better. However, your best friend had too many tricks under her sleeve, willing to try them all to have you again.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, fluff, some of sam's daddy issues, possessive sex, strap-on, subdrop, jealous sam, breeding kink, blow job, dubcon(?), humiliation, fake cum, praise, edging, implied size difference, mentions of violence and stalking, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship, just a lot of reader and sam fucking like rabbits omg, not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 18k+ Note: BEAR WITH ME. I am aware of how much of a lengthy (wink wink) last part this is but I swear things are looking good ;) hope everyone enjoys it!

[ LAST PART of TWO | Previous ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

Apparently, the worst thing that can happen is that your date for tonight shares few similarities with Sam.

You try to be humoured with how it started with your same friend again, it’s like she simply knew what your type was. Your date's name was Lucy and while she didn’t possess the tanned skin that you loved; she was still taller than you, her mother tongue happens to also be Spanish, and she also had an attractive set of thick eyebrows. 

The resemblance in terms of characteristics was uncanny.

At first it felt foreign to you to dive into an established romantic date after a while. Besides the comparisons that your brain kept making, you were also unsure if any of the ones with Sam actually counts. 

Nonetheless, it's been so long since you’ve been into one, you feel like a newborn learning to walk.

To Lucy’s credit, it was an enjoyable experience. She was considerate of your taste, threw you compliments that weren't only out of politeness, and preferred that the two of you decide which place you’ll be more comfortable in. Lucy was specific and admittedly it helped, because you had the tendency to be indecisive. She was chatty and at times it was comical with how she told you little stories that genuinely made you laugh as you dined in an Italian restaurant.

Lucy also took you to an arcade that recently opened. It was creating quite a buzz around, based on how you constantly see teenagers flock enthusiastically in the area. 

Surrounded with glowing lights and bold, colorful neon signs, packed with a variety of games you haven't even seen before. The place was indeed inviting for you to let loose.

“This is cliché. But in a good way. I haven’t been in a place like this for a while now,” you look up to your date who had an unwavering smile.

“See! Clichés can be good! Opens the forgotten memory you once enjoyed.” Lucy beamed at you. “What’s your favorite game to play? I’d have to say I’m great at these things, so we’re totally going to win something by the end!”

“Even the claw machines?” You jab playfully at Lucy's confidence. “Aren't they always rigged? I believe just the same since I never won anything from those things.”

“Can't argue with that. Sometimes it's all about the timing and well, other times, all rigged business as you say. Lucky for you, I happen to be good at this stuff!" Lucy stretched her hands outward, comically, cracking her neck muscles as well. 

You can’t help but snort at the sight. Nerves were slightly put into ease, because tonight was going well. She won you a dolphin stuffed toy and she definitely hard carried the gunning zombie game of two players, where Lucy amusingly acted out as though she was in real despair with your character constantly dying. You had a great time.

Even if Sam continued to ebb in your mind. 

“Lucy, thanks for tonight.” She opened the car door for you and you exhaled with relief because you did enjoy her company. “I had a lot of fun, even if I kept dying on those two player games.”

She leaned on her car, Lucy’s look remained at you. “I did too. I was happy to be accompanied by a beautiful date. Totally worth the coins! But do know that I don’t mind if we do this again…” she extended her hand to yours, silently asking for permission if you’d let her hold you, which you accepted. “And I also won’t mind if you say no. I’ll be a bit bummed, sure, but I can handle it.”

You sense Lucy's nervousness as she fiddles with your hands, head looking down while sporting an upturned mouth. You’re still wearing the jean jacket she lent you from earlier, and insisted that you needed it more because she can handle the cold breeze better.

You loathed to think that maybe, if a specific woman didn’t occupy your mind and body this much—maybe—you’d get a better shot with the lovely woman right in front of you.

“I appreciate how you’ve been so good to me all night,” you tighten your hold, it was softer than what you were looking for. Unaccustomed to the calloused hands you have grown to love over the past few months.

“I sense that there’s a but…”

Then all of a sudden, your phone rings.

It was the devil herself. 

Sam.

Retrieving your phone from your purse, you stared at the screen for a few seconds. Not even debating if you should answer, simply frozen that Sam is calling you. She wasn’t the caller type, knowing that she liked to give head's up before anything. So you thought it must’ve been an emergency if she was this insistent.

Worry filled you. Yet, you don't trust yourself to answer right away, knowing you were bound to embarrass yourself or worse; be easily pulled in by Sam's sweet nothings. She was your weak spot, your ability to say no vanishes with ease.

Taking a peek at your notifications, it only shocked you, seeing that Sam was bombarding you the whole evening. They were sweet first, her usual cheery self, until they got cold for some reason. You stifle an uneasy grimace—hating how this was confusing you to no end.

Pocketing the phone back, you had no energy for this tonight. There’s no escaping this situation or this woman, really. Why did you think it was a good idea in the first place? You decide on calling Sam the next day to get things over with. 

“Are you okay? I don’t mind if you’re going to answer that,” Lucy asks with a comforting smile, gesturing at your phone that rang for the second time.

You shake your head, trying to compose yourself. 

The ringing eventually stopped.

“No. Uh, where was I?” You clear your throat. She looks at you expectantly. “Again, Lucy, it’s been nice. But I think for now all I can handle is… friendship.” you answer in a heartbeat and for a moment, your date was crestfallen at your answer. “But you’re right, you know. Cliches can be nice. I never thought I actually needed this.” It was genuine; not a mere attempt of cheering her up. You didn’t realize until now how you needed to unwind in a way that wasn’t discrete nor foreign.

After a few beats of silence, the woman nodded, perhaps she has accepted her fate for tonight. Lucy bounced back to her unaffected and cheery disposition. Before parting ways, she surprisingly left a soft kiss on your cheek, almost at the corner of your lips. 

“I’m content with the fact that I managed to change your mind over one thing.” Lucy quips and shoots you a playful wink.

You were still blushing at the sudden action but you didn't quip at it, giving back her jacket. “Thank you really. For keeping me warm and making this night wonderful.” Lucy says and waves goodbye one last time to you with a toothy smile on her face. 

Standing from the pavement in front of your apartment, your eyes follow your date’s car as it drives farther away from you. Still stunned and occupied with your own thoughts, you pay no mind to the roaring engine in the streets, at this late hour—thinking it was one of the many overbearing and supercilious owners that likes to boast of their possession.

You rolled your eyes internally, and immediately headed to your apartment. Reaching your room, maybe the only thing you've cleaned up was your hands. Nothing had felt good for the past few days—work was demanding. Sam kept blowing up your phone, but she didn't make any move to come and see you and that bothered you still. 

Even if this date was the most normal you've felt tonight, the exhaustion easily took over your body.

The paranoia comes in waves, surprising you every now and then. Because sometimes, you felt as though eyes were on you.

Mind drifting to Sam again, you wonder what could she be up to these days. What could’ve been the reason for her to call you out of nowhere. Has she missed you this much? Your heart flutters at the thought.

Was it a good thing? To avoid Sam this long even with her small attempts of reaching out?

Of course, it wasn’t. You idiot. Taking off your boots with a resigned sigh, you lazily placed them on the floor. The plushie was still on your other hand and you plopped the dolphin stuffed toy next to you in bed. It was easy to get lost as you laid all comfortable on warm sheets and cold pillows—you're off to la-la-land, dozing off completely into a dreamless state. As your body relaxed, you found it odd how all of a sudden it smells like chemical. 

It was strong and vivid for your taste, that even if your brain sends a jolt of panic, you are numbed—unable to move nor wake up. 

Like a terrible nightmare, it seemingly paralyzed you until you blacked out again and you didn’t have any more time to analyze it further. 

::

How many hours has it been? 

You worry that you’ll miss work. Disoriented, you feel yourself starting to wake up with eyes calibrating as they open. It smells different, though it’s more pleasant; earthly and flowery than the blur of chemical induced you've experienced before. Was it a dream? Your heart started racing—this is definitely not your bedroom. The mattress was softer than yours, the layers of sheets felt gentle against your skin. Not to mention you didn't have this amount of pillows underneath your head, like you were some sort of royalty. The bed was too wide for your limbs that were acquainted with the minimal space you were used to. Then it clicks to you; you are definitely in a different place. 

But wait. 

You've been here before.

In your hazy sight, you yanked on your forearm as your wrists felt oddly sore and prickling your nerves, only to find out the restraints that kept you for god knows how many hours. Your breathing pattern started racing—attempting to shake off the handcuffs. It was tight. You were still wearing your flowy dress as you glanced at your body.

"Good morning, mi amor." says the deep voice that rattled you.

Your sight makes out a figure of a person standing in front of you, ominous, yet had an amused look on her face.

How did you get in here? Into Sam's room?

"Sam? What—?" you rasped out weakly. "I don't… what is this?"

Sam had the audacity to smile through her little contraption. You poor sweet thing, she had anticipated many things; first comes the confusion. 

She’s wearing your favorite shirt, worn out and tightly fitted to her body. With how Sam is built, you fear that the fabric will rip if she keeps on moving. It’s the same one you've lost during senior year and luckily for Sam, she found it in her room during one of your sleepovers and upon finding them, she had no intentions of returning it to you. The timing was perfect, she carried this piece of you as her father left her with no choice but to move away from your town then. Sam stood barefoot and her legs were covered with her silk sleepwear.

"Hush, It's okay, you're okay. You’re safe with me, (y/n/n)." Sam cooed as she sauntered your way, the bed dipping as she gently straddled your legs. It’s the same softly spoken tone you heard many times before, but Sam's actions remain to perplex you. "Relax, you’re at home—with me."

Then comes the panic.

You huff out frustratedly, "What home are you talking about? This isn't my– it isn't–! Fuck, I need you to uncuff me!” with gritted teeth, you try to kick your feet and legs in the air in protest. You didn’t like being forced into this. It was simply insane. Because either way, you were hopelessly drawn and possibly in love with Sam—enough to comply with whatever she desired.

Your wrists tug on the restraints again making them clink against the headboard and to no avail, you weren't able to loosen them up. It was a genuine pair of handcuffs. This wasn't a prank. The terror rapidly coursed through your veins, much more now that you can't move your legs as well, being trapped in Sam's weight.

"But you're with me. I've told you before, I missed having you, I even repeatedly begged you to come back home. You belong here with me."

Sam had wanted to do this hours ago—missing to be in your proximity, evading your space fully. But she knew it'll suffocate you and she couldn't risk putting her favorite pretty girl into a worse spiral of panic attack.

"No, no, no... I was with- this wasn't where I went right after Lucy... I- I got home, my house and I remember sleeping on my bed," Surely you aren't mad. You can recall the events step-by-step, hence this current situation you're in has left you confused. "How did I get here?"

"First, no mentioning of other women when I'm with you. Or ever at all." Sam breaks out a growl. When you gasp, she holds your jaw, tilting them up. Her hold onto you shifts, thumb now soothed your cheeks gently, wiping away the tears you were unknowingly shedding out of panic. "I had to do it my way, mi amor. I'm sorry."

And it swiftly shifts to anger. 

A snarl breaks out of you in the midst of panic. 

But oh, Sam could never hurt you.

"What the fuck is your way, Samantha?!"

Sam believed that you only need a little more push—convincing how perfect the two of you are together. After all, she has waited for you for so long and had expected that your reunion was enough to prove that. She has been so good to you. Sam thought; why did you have to look for more? She can give you everything.

"This right here." Sam quipped airily, a teasing look written on her face. "The last time you were in my bed... you were eager to leave. And you did, abruptly and odd, when I first thought of it. Then, you didn't plan on returning at all. That hurt me so much, (y/n/n)." Sam's gaze changed to hurt, head tilted as the intensity of her doe-eyes bore into yours.

Guilt prickled on your side. While you disapprove of Sam's ways, maybe you could have prevented it—this. Confronted her after what you found out. She's a friend first that you cherished before being entangled intimately. After all, communication also goes both ways. 

"So, you basically took me? Handcuffed me, too. This is kidnapping, you know I could—"

"Report me? If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time. These cops are sloppy and way too easy. But still, they do make a good ear and connection for me, I must say."

You gasp at her implication. You should have expected it.

"Unbelievable. You've gone crazy, Samantha."

Sam shifted her weight, locking your hips with her thighs. Your breath hitched at the force, much more when you felt something hard poking at your pelvis.

"I hate it when you call me that. You're pushing it, baby. First you ignored me and your solution was to go and date someone else? I thought I made myself clear that I didn't like sharing you with anyone else, (y/n/n)?"

You blinked rapidly.

"It- It wasn't like that—"

"No? If it weren't for Tara and Martin giving me a heads up, you would've invited that girl to your house, wouldn't you?" Sam uttered with gritted teeth, "She must’ve done it to spite me. The nerve to leave a lipstick stain on your pretty face, tell me, did she kiss you?" Her thumb swiped your bottom lip, as if to erase the remains of what once laid in there, then up to your cheek but much more firmer than this time. 

Sam was already debating ways on how she will dispose of this Lucy you speak of. Her eyebrows now furrowed and the loving eyes were ripped off, anger fixated on the red mark on your soft cheek.

"What? I don't—no, no, Sam. I'm telling you, it was just a simple date. We only ate at this restaurant and—what does your sister and men have to do with this?" you asked, growing confused even more.

If you loathed how defensive you were, Sam however, took immense pride in it. It just meant that you still cared for her feelings. So, there was something indeed. She wasn’t being delusional all this time—like her father distastefully implied.

Sam cowered onto you lower, her dark hair curtained as you were underneath her. 

"Tara's wife owns the restaurant that you visited last night. As for Martin, well, I ordered him to call me in case something happened. Imagine my surprise when they both did."

He was following this whole time. That explained one of your conundrums of feeling eyes on you these days.

"You've been following me around?"

Sam was immovable, unphased by your words. She didn’t confirm nor deny your implication.

"You've got nothing to worry about. Come on, love — it's me." The pad of her fingertips trace on your features feather-like. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Haven't I made that very clear?" 

You scoffed at her nonchalance. "See, I would have believed you if you didn't take me unwillingly out of my apartment and cuffed me in your bedpost!"

"But I've always wanted to see you tied up like this. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I can recall you getting all flustered when I brought it up before. Wasn't it a confirmation on your end?" Sam had her pearly teeth clamped on her bottom lip. As she dropped the words, your cheeks grew hot. "Call this... me reading between the lines." Sam husked out right on your ear.

"Samantha, you are something else." A strained voice weakly comes out of you. 

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

You rolled your eyes. "'course you will."

Sam hiked up your dress further, exposing your undies. You squirmed at being exposed and she smacked the side of your thigh in return. You yelped as it stung in your skin, throwing your head to the side of the pillow.

"Now, don't put up that attitude with me princesa."

It was embarrassing enough how you're affected with Sam and her way with words. Were you damp in the southern part? She has to stop and not pry further with her advances—or else she'll never live it down.

"I just don't understand how you were so insistent on taking me here," You peer at Sam who had her jaw clenched as she detached her hold to you. "I dunno, we could've talked about this normally. In a space preferably where I’m not restrained like this. Samantha, I mean it. I can't play any more games with you."

Sam raised an eyebrow over your words. A game? She was absolutely displeased with how little you think of her admiration for you. The disbelief was written all over her face. 

She became eerily stoic at your words. You didn’t like being the receiver of her blank expression.

"The last time I did, you were adamant on leaving me. Fully avoiding me right after. You didn’t even pick up my call. And a game? Is that what you think it is? Oh, princesa. You're absolutely driving me up the wall. You're shutting me out, I’m familiar with it.”

You couldn't retort anything back at her words, gulping as you found the truth behind them. Sam was right; you've always wanted to run away from any forms of confrontation. 

You were never good at dealing with them.

Such a poor little thing, Sam thought. This was evidently giving you a whiplash, her attitude and unconventional ways, but she doesn't think she can wait any longer and the unforeseen little date you had last evening just accelerated, no, ruined her plans.

"Was she any good?" Sam lowly questioned with her other hand trailed underneath your dress, running on your upper thighs as she moved back. You shiver at the contact and warmth that spread goosebumps all over your skin.

Sam refused to call this woman by their name, it would make things harder for her. She detests how for a moment, you chose someone else over her.

You helplessly squirmed, making the handcuffs clink repeatedly once again. "She- she was nice—" you truthfully said.

When you wiggled out your legs, Sam overpowered you. She gripped your plush thighs, opened them to have herself placed in between, with your folded legs raised in the air, she took her hips to push them downward to stop you. Her own core met yours and you felt her packing.

"Nngh—!" you heated up, so close from erupting louder. 

And Sam? She hated to see you suppressing them. Especially when you have deprived her of your sweet presence for so long. But she has already learned that loosening up too much wasn't the good approach. She barely knew a lick to romance, not when her upbringing was surrounded by coldness and violence. She thought in realistic terms, the romantic movies that you loved and forced her to see were pathetic. Adorable that you found hope in them, so she gave that formula a shot when she saw you again. 

Only to see that you slipped away from her. It was ineffective, so to say.

Sam decided that she was going to create her own.

"Wrong answer, honey.” she smiled. “You say that yet I can tell you're already wet for me, aren't you?" 

You didn’t like how this turned out as foreplay and what was worse, is how you were enjoying this deep inside. Sam being in tune with your body—she already knew that. You just needed a little more… breaking.

"Fuck off, Sam. Just uncuff me already!"

"Now don't get me started. Say, I'll make a deal with you," Sam combed her fingers through your messy hair. "If you're wet once I inspect you, we'll do things my way. If you aren't– maybe– I will let you go."

Astounded with her proposition, annoyance crept into you. 

"What's so fair about that?"

"The illusion of choice." Sam grinned mischievously. "But you can't possibly be wet aren't you? It's still early in the morning and your words are insisting that you dislike this whole setup." she gestures on your body, huffing at how you're still resisting her.

"You don't own me," you attempted to stand for yourself.

Mirth settled on Sam's features. She tilted her head and an unsettling smile was set on her lips. 

“Haven’t I proved that otherwise from time to time?”

You look away at her crystal clear innuendo. Of course it's Sam. Everything that she did always had you transfixed and mesmerized by her.

"You're just mocking me now. Seriously, maybe if you knew why I pulled away..." you wryly replied. 

"That's the thing, I don't! It frustrates me what I have done wrong," Sam now appeared equally exasperated as you. 

You look at her bewildered. She had the nerve to say all of this, while her eyes were pleading at you. It was jarring to witness her crumble and desperate to seek answers in the softest way she can, while having you handcuffed.

"I heard you! That day, when you cooked for me and wanted me to stay in.” There wasn't going to be another chance if you didn't pour it all right now. With a shaky breath and a lump in your throat, you continue. “I accidentally eavesdropped on your phone call, confirming that you were going to a strip club. I hated that you were fucking around, even when we– whatever we were. I thought it was better to stub it out right after that. Apparently, I’m still not good with keeping things casual.”

Her calloused hands came back to softly soothe your face. You were close to shedding tears as previously.

"But… I've never been with anyone else since we met again." 

"Bullshit." you quickly spat out.

She gave you a stern look. Sam was displeased with how you were denying her. Still, she evens out her breathing, holding back from taking the reins for now.

"I swear on it with a knife on my throat, (y/n/n). I had to go for work reasons. I recently acquired the place so I had to finalize some things. It also helped to muddle our meet-ups in case someone was lurking."

It made you tense up underneath Sam.

"And pray tell, why the hell would someone be lurking at you—better yet, at us?" you curiously asked, worry dripped at your tone.

Sam exhaled, her eyes momentarily shut.

"Because I deal with an under-the-table business, honey." Sam meets your eyes again, holding onto the headboard. "It's the main reason why I had to step up, as I said before. My old man let his temperament slip terribly, fucked up, and I had to take the reigns. That's why I disappeared. I didn't have much choice." She appeared solemn as she admitted the truth you've been longing for. 

Sam leading a mob made so much sense now for you. Always wanting to be discreet, her men tried to blend in—not wanting to stand out, and especially that night where Sam was disoriented and had bruising, injured fists, more times than you can count after your first time seeing them.

The glint of amusement on Sam’s eyes did not go amiss for you as she gently stroked your hair. “Though, I gotta hand it to my old man. I hated how his voice nagged constantly in my head, how he figured out that I had feelings for you then–utilized it to taunt me every time I fucked up.” Sam scrunched her nose. The resentment seeped vividly as she revealed more. “He’ll always say, I can’t see you yet or- or that I don’t deserve you if I can’t defend you—that I’m weak. You were my silver lining, (y/n/n). Still is.” She confessed, stroking your jaw softly as though you were her most prized possession.

Similar to that one night, your affection for Sam overpowered your common sense. You were moved by her words, ached that she had to be tormented at a young age. Feeling bile rising up your throat; you then realize how deep were you enough to be willing to ignore the unconventional and wicked ways of Sam, even if it raised red flags. But it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t posing an immense weight over you.

It was all new information to you. For god’s, she had to kidnap you and cuff you to her bed. You never thought that your sweet Sammy could ever—

"That's... okay- okay. It's a lot to take in," you whispered to Sam who was internally worrying at your response.

Before you can delve more to the sirens threatening to grow louder, Sam scooted her lower body away from gripping you, and now you feel her lips softly yet so eagerly peppering your face with kisses.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I just want you, (y/n/n)." 

She pinched your inner thigh, making your mouth open agape from the shock. Sam took it as her chance to meet your mouth with hers, no hesitation now as she was eager to kiss you. Her lips moved and you tentatively returned the gesture, dancing with familiarity that you didn’t know you badly craved for weeks now.

You groan at the overwhelming feeling of Sam and how she moved against you. Wet and eager sounds of kissing vibrated delectably to your body and it made Sam shift to a hunger and lust fueled kiss.

Soon you were gasping for air. Sam reluctantly pulled away as you did, chasing your lips for more. She was more than pleased to see you equally half-lidded and affected with now swollen lips.

“God, I wanna be inside of you already…” Sam husked out as she swept back her hair. “You’ve made me so desperate, you have no idea.” The ragged breathing made you throb. She moved aside to spread your legs apart and you became wetter at what’s about to happen. Sam quickly placed herself between your legs, now folded up. “Do you wanna feel me?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for Sam. 

She grabbed you by your cheeks, “I need an answer, mi amor.”

“Yes!” you breathed out, nodding dumbly.

Sam grinned wolfishly as your need starts to crack upon the surface. She knew that this irresistible feeling goes both ways. Still, she thrived on seeing this each time, being proved right.

“Arch your back for me.”

As you complied, Sam slithered her own body flushed against yours. It gave her enough space to reach behind to unzip your dress, tugged it down, her look barely faltered with a glint in her eyes. 

She saw your matching jade underwear pieces. Seethe began to bubble inside of Sam as it sinks in that you dressed up too nicely for your date last night. It drove her crazy, how your gorgeous tits were threatening to spill out of its confinement; you were such a sight for her. 

Only for her and it should always stay that way.

She cupped them out of your bra, finally revealing your supple breasts. It only took one glance for her desire to take over and now you’re pressed against Sam. She feels your nipples harden on her as she begins to mark you from your neck, to your sternum, and coated them with her spit as she sucked on them needily. Throughout the process, all you could do was spill moans helplessly, eyes closed and arched your body for her—gladly letting Sam do however she wanted.

Now your body was littered with red and purple marks, some parts glistening with her saliva.

“I want to taste you too, fuck, I don’t know which one I’ll do first.” Sam admitted, voice all raucous. Taking a peek of her needy, doe eyes was enough to make you feel lightheaded. “No more dates with other people alright? So god help me, I’ll fucking behead anyone who dares to.”

You nodded, now eager to comply with Sam as your whole body ached for her. Your green light made her weak in the knees—she worships you. Sam swore that she won’t hesitate to kill more for you, if they cross you or come between the two of you.

Sam pulled you in by gripping your legs, lower body completely arched for your core to meet hers as she knelt at the bed in front of you. She thrusted her hips upward and the dull ache of your pussy throbbing intensified tenfold. She continued teasing you and while your arm and wrists were beginning to ache, knowing you can’t do anything, you started to cry, pleading for the woman to do something.

“Please Sam, can you just– shit, it hurts, I need you… please…”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Sam gently released her hold of you, pulling down her sleepwear and revealed the strap that dangled between her legs. 

You involuntarily widen your legs at the sight. Fuck, you were so ready for her. She smirked at this and tugged your underwear down. Your arousal flowed like crazy, the vivid imagery of your wetness stringing on the fabric of your panties and Sam was intoxicated at it, more so with your heavenly scent.

“Wanna fuck your mouth first, (y/n/n).” 

With no further warning, Sam hovered against you once again, leaving your pussy exposed and being teased with the mere air, feeling yourself drip already at her expensive bed sheets. Strong thighs and muscular lower abdomen peeked through her tight shirt, covering your entire sight. 

Sam tilted her head and you see the mirth on her face. Unexpectedly, she grabbed the middle of the strap’s length and slapped it harshly on your cheek and mouth, barely an ounce of respect. You were a fan of how she loses herself onto you—because of you. 

Body twitching repeatedly, without a doubt, you were craving for more.

“I need my good girl. Come on, open up for me.” Sam orders, probing your mouth open with the tip. Sam’s scent was intoxicating for you, too, with barely space from her core to your face, you almost wanted for her to ride you. Maybe later. “And I need to prep you first.”

Wanting to please her, you met her lust filled gaze and opened your mouth wide, tongue stuck out. She immediately pushed in a few inches, your tongue already swirling around the silicone. It stretched your mouth. With closed eyes you were sucking so eagerly that Sam moaned at each thrust she did, hit the back of your throat that you had to adjust your breathing through your nose–and how you easily complied with no hesitance. You covered it in the slick of your spit until your cheeks hollowed, eager to please even if you were close to gagging. Drool sloppily dripped on corner of your mouth; equally lost as her right now and Sam loved that.

No one and nothing else can compare to this sight.

“Shit, you love me moving like this huh? Being cock drunk, you’re pooling already in my sheets…”

She grunts as she thrusted harder, getting more turned on as the slick wet sounds become aggressively loud in the confines of her bedroom. Sam kept her gaze on you the whole time–loved the sight of your eyes welling up with tears out of pleasure, drooling on the corner of your mouth, and you were releasing throaty moans as she moved on your mouth.

“You missed this, don’t you?” Sam breathily asked, the bed creaked along. “Because I sure did,”

You hummed loud in agreement and this urged Sam to grab the shaft of her strap, with one final thrust, she poked it against your cheek, the head of the cock bulging against it. She groaned at the imagery—ingraining it on her mind. She pulled out with a pop noise and you were already dishevelled.

“Fucking hell, (y/n/n). Not so responsive now are you? Fuck, if my cock was real I would’ve made you swallow my cum already. Spilling them warm on your throat. You would’ve loved that, wouldn’t you?” Sam asked you through her rapid breathing and held you by your cheeks again to fully look at her.

“Yes, yes! I’ll swallow it all. I need you, I always need you, Sam,” you admit with no shame and spread your legs wide once again, your hole soaked and clenching over nothing—all for her.

“Must be your lucky day then. Because this is a cumming strap, mi amor.” 

As your eyes widened, Sam pumped on the shaft, directing it to your mouth that was slightly ajar and you felt liquid oozing on your lips and tongue. She dragged it until spurts were all over your face, torso, and then your lower tummy.

You made sure to put on a show for the woman, seductively licking off the remains of her fake cum, fully immersed as if it was the real thing. Sam groaned and moaned, immediately pulled you for a bruising kiss that made your head spin.

“I know you wanted more but I need you to be patient,” Sam muttered as she pushed your inner thighs outward, positioning herself between you. “Shit, you’re dripping. I was right. Soaking, just like I expected you to be.”

“Yes, yes! But for the love of god, uncuff me, Sam… I want- no- I need to feel all of you,” you begged for her mercy. Sam simply bit your exposed clavicle. As you moaned, the action sent delicious tingles all over her body.

“No, not just yet.”

Sam’s calculations were going well so far, she’s about to have you and then keep you forever. 

There’s no escaping her now.

You whined a bit more as Sam had her grip on the back of your knees, making you fold as she pressed herself beneath you. She held you by the ankle and threw them above her shoulder. Fuck, she’s got you folded. Maybe Sam should’ve let you do some stretching first.

“Need you to take a deep breath for me, pretty girl.” Sam uttered with her voice all gruff, and looking at her, you see the sheer sweat becoming evident on her skin though not as much as yours. “You didn’t like me so much earlier but now, I’m barely in, and your pussy is clenching already?” she mocked you. Her giggling burned your body, you did not expect how enjoyable it was to be ridiculed in this way. “Loosen up for me.”

With a bated breath as you relax your throbbing core, Sam slid her cock further, the head and a few inches entering you with ease than earlier. Sam was keen on looking at your expression and your mouth, in case it was too much for you. She knew it was a new thing for the two of you, she can only imagine that it’ll be a new adjustment compared to her slender fingers.

This was an insane type of stretch for you. The biggest you’ve ever taken.

“See? You’re taking it so well. I’ll make it fit.”

Eventually, it wasn’t enough for Sam as you expected. Drunk with the sight of your pussy swallowing her whole, she picks up her pace and rammed the cock inside of you—full of hunger and determination to see you fall apart; she needs it more than air. 

“Shit! S-Sam, can you just–”

“Shhh. Don’t be so greedy now, where are your manners?”

The curve of the whole shaft inside of you was vivid against your walls, her impatience getting the better of her as the pace was ragged, no longer gradual. It was downright pornographic–you didn’t expect to be this loud and wet. The ache of being deliciously stretched out made your eyes roll back to your head and let out a moan. The sloshing and slapping sounds were too defined for your ears.

“You… you’re going to be the end of me, Sam,” You whisper as you bucked your hips, the squelching of your sopping pussy only motivated Sam to thrust deeper who smiled at your words. 

She waited for you for so long and to finally have you was intoxicating beyond her comprehension. 

“As you are mine,” Sam replied and with a newfound fervor, she began fucking you deep into her mattress, hitting the depths of your soaked pussy. The bed uncontrollably shaking and with her grip on the headboard–you feared that she might actually break it.

“Oh m-mmh! Fuck, oh-Oh my god!” you cried, not even able to ground yourself through holding onto something as you’re still cuffed. 

“Shhh you can take it. Just a little more,”

Your arousal dripped enough to smear itself to Sam’s hips and thighs. She grunts loudly as she fervently pounds the strap on you, "Esto es mia." her accent dripped deliciously and you whimpered, whole back arched, as Sam splayed her hand, pushing the bulge of the strap that appeared on your lower tummy. “You like that baby? Needy little thing, I’m going to fucking breed you until all you can think of is me.” you wish to have your nails dug and scratched over Sam’s muscular back, finding the ideas she kept on seeding onto your dirty mind pleasurable more than ever.

Your stomach twitched like crazy, the tangled coil grew unbearable now for your liking. Both of your muscles burned but it was barely an issue for Sam who was still relentless. 

Just as you were close as Sam hit the right spot, her pounding came into a full halt.

With hazy sight, you try to blink a few times. Sam started to pull out, while you cried, canting your hips to chase more of the strap and she simply took deep breaths. She growled, slapping you harshly by your inner thighs—you yelped unadulteratedly, the sting crossing the line of pain and pleasure. Sam muttered a string of curses in her mother tongue as soon as she saw the strap coated and glistening with your slick.

The tension on your stomach twitched madly in waves. It doesn’t help that your clit was throbbing painfully to reach the needed high. You wail as you turn your head to the side, burrowing to the soft pillows. Your vision turns warped as you grew dizzy, staring at the high ceiling.

The harsh reality sinks in. Like a cold bucket of water spilled onto you, you realize that you’re in Sam’s complete mercy. She makes it known with her giggling that resonated in the spacious room, making you feel humiliated. Though, it oddly adds to the erotic atmosphere. She worked you up–gaping hole still clenching, now onto nothing.

“This is what happens when you do dumb things and deprive me of your pretty self, mi amor.” she smiled and stroked the apple of your cheek, wiping the tears away.

Sam couldn’t wait to fully break you.

::

While previously wallowing in deep yearning and questions, Sam however, took it up a notch. It was terrible; aware of Sam’s tendencies to be rough in bed, nothing had prepared you from yesterday. Her intentions were clearly personal and she took the detachment horrifyingly and dealt with it in unimaginable ways you never thought could happen to you. For gods’s sake, she was following you and not so long ago you were in her bed. Uncertain how you’ll face this mess, there’s one thing that you were sure of: you cannot get enough of Sam. 

Isn’t that terrible?

You woke up gasping for air—your body doesn’t feel like yours. It felt as though you were paralyzed, your motor senses weren’t coordinated as you wanted them to be. It was like being plunged into a body of water for hours, coldness surrounded you and oxygen was scarce, you were completely deprived. Your lungs were clogged up and you didn’t know how to manage the air through your body. Panicking at this, the tears involuntarily well up your eyes, blurring your vision and just in time, someone catches you.

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Warmth covers your body. The soothing voice kept on lulling you to calmness. The grasp was firm on your midsection—continuously rubbing back and forth. It wasn’t like being trapped anymore. “It’s just me, mi amor. It’s Sam—your Sammy. Try to breathe slowly with me, come on baby, you can do it.”

The voice faintly goes through your hearing but it was distinguishable enough. It was still difficult to breathe but being in her proximity, you feel her pattern of breathing. She takes a deep breath and draws out the release just as slow.

“Breathe with me, come on honey,” The voice urges you gently, sweeping the hair away from your face. She anchors you through the turbulent waves. Sam thought; How can you still look so beautiful even at your most vulnerable? If anything, this had made her even more set with her plans—wanting more days of waking up next to you. 

Your breathing was less ragged, albeit still unregulated. 

Sam wanted to see your eyes now, the one that she loves the most, and your subdrop is depriving her of it.

She tries to paint an easy picture for you in hopes of calming you down. “You’re alright. You stayed with me—in my house the whole day. It’s nighttime and nothing bad is going to happen to you. What’s going to happen is that you’ll rest the whole day. I’ll prepare some food, we’ll go for a bubble bath, and reapply a soothing cream to your sore thigh and we can watch some romantic comedies that you like so much—you’d pick the movie, of course.” Sam finishes with a light chuckle.

Finally, the panicking has settled down, her words have lulled you to calm down. You aren't drowning in the vast and deep sea nor restrained like a prisoner. It provided enough details that you didn’t know your mind longed for. 

“Sam,” you drawl out with your hoarse voice. You’re met with the beaming hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners, attentive to your next words. “Fucking warn a girl next time.”

“No promises.” She teases you, nose scrunched and tickling your side lightly.

You fight off a weak smile threatening to spread on your lips. “What do you mean no promises? I don’t think I can walk! Don’t even look smug right now–I mean it.”

The woman in front of you was not guilty at all. Shrugging her shoulder, Sam was seemingly ready to get up.

No!

You shrieked. Panic immediately courses through you, tugging her down harshly to your side once again. Your grasp was in her arm. Why were you so adamant to have her beside you? It was unexplainable but if anything is certain, your body couldn’t handle it if she left you. Not after letting her have her way with you earlier—you refuse to feel disposable, even by the slightest. You wanted more of Sam.

Sam, on the other hand, was shocked at the action but not at the reason. She blamed herself—knowing you were still processing your feelings, how rough she has been—she should have remained gentle, at least for now. Sickeningly, she loved having your attention this way. It felt like a teaser of what was more to come—to eventually have your full devotion; equally as she does to you.

“I’m sorry, honey, I was about to carry you.” Safe with me now. She murmured to no one, soon as you clung to the front of her body, legs wrapped tightly to her waist. Her arms and hands quickly caught you for support. You nuzzled in the crook of her neck, making her shiver delectably more so as you tangle your fingers on her hair—scratching lightly on her scalp. 

Not long after as she started walking, she pressed multiple innocent kisses to the expanse of your neck. Sam sighed. God, everything had to be so addicting about you—even your scent. She gently drops you to the cold marble of her kitchen’s counter and before you could protest, Sam reminds you of the plans she had made for tonight.

You’re surrounded with appliances that you had no idea how to properly pronounce, one that you would’ve only seen in the magazines. She always wanted the best of the best, it seems. Hell, Sam can start a cooking show if she wants to. This part of her house wasn’t too decorated, you noticed, somewhat lifeless. You tuck the observation at the back of your mind, a piece that could be useful later on.

Soon as you settled in, Sam told you that she intends to make an appetizing flatbread and her own concoction of guacamole dip. How she managed to improve her culinary skills in these years remains to surprise you. Younger Sam was already capable of making edible food fixes and some humble meals, but her skills as she made them was evidently different and an upgrade.

Your curious eyes remained at Sam as she moved. Her apron appeared threatening—it read don’t make me poison you! Attached with a kiss mark was ridiculously endearing to you. But also very, very hot. The way Sam tied it around her waist and how it clung to her fit figure. Not to mention, you were rewarded by the sight of Sam’s hair tie momentarily trapped by her teeth then doing a messy half-pony with it. 

She first started with the dough with the trusty rolling pin, her arms flexing and contracting at each force she put into it. The veins were slowly becoming prominent as Sam does her work, the outline of its curves bulging, also making themselves known. Remnants of the powder were a nice touch as she was making a meal for you. 

Don’t even get started with her knife skills. Sam easily chopped through the vegetables, completely hypnotized by the motion, you failed to notice that she was preparing some greens that you personally had a vendetta with. Your eyes were fixated on how she cut through them with much precision and ease. Then, you recall her admission, leading a mob—you can only imagine how swift she must be with her sharps when using them in business situation, the menacing glare and—

What?

Now, you were thoroughly confused.

You gulped and squirmed on your seat. The ache in between your legs made you remember how she deprived you of orgasm previously which was a first. She even promised to breed you. But you didn’t know whether it was an act of mercy, knowing if she pushed you more, you would have spiraled much worse the following hours when you woke up or was it an act to build an excitement through you. 

No wonder, similar to the physical hunger, you found everything in front just as equally gratifying. Even the thought of her malevolent ways, which you initially had conflicting thoughts about. You were still aching and sore, it didn’t help that Sam was quite the eye-candy as she maneuvered in her own space. Shit.

“I know you still don’t like these. I remember you shoving them sneakily on my plate whenever we ate dinner at your house back then.” Sam snapped you out of your…derailing thoughts. Oh, you wanted to be railed, alright. She dusts off her hands on her aprons after washing them. “But you have to eat up your greens, missy. Don’t make me force you.” she quips in a jest, eyes scrunched at you.

“I don’t have much choice, do I.” You deadpan and roll your eyes as Sam hummed, agreeing. “How come you don’t have a personal chef?” 

Might as well shift your thoughts to something else. Admittedly, you also wanted to know more about Sam. After the continuous bombs she had dropped to you as she fucked you to oblivion. 

“Ouch, baby. You haven’t even tasted what I’m cooking and you’re already doubting me?”

You laughed. “No. But I heard it’s what rich folks have. And you must be busy.”

“Not for you, never too busy.” She replied, quickly like it didn’t need much forethought. She shot you a charming smile and proceeded to chop away. Did your heart do the somersaults? Hell yes. You were always puddy when it comes to this woman. “Sometimes I do… but I prefer doing it personally for you. Especially today. But on another occasion, maybe you’ll see my personal chef.”

“Do I sense an early invitation for an indoor date?” you tease her.

Sam nodded her head adorably. “Well, yes, (y/n/n). I thought that was clear already. More things to come.” 

Well, that joke of yours bit you quickly in the ass.

You coughed and turned around to your side to hide how affected you were. This version of your Sammy would need more time to be processed into your consciousness. Few weeks apart and you’re still clammy and hopeless at her forward nature.

“You haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet. For all I know, this feels like another booty call for me.”

“A booty call?”

Okay, maybe that was a bad idea. Sam halted her motions, you flinched in your seat as she spun the knife effortlessly in her fingers, then gripped the knife and pierced it in the chopping board—the sound resonating in the kitchen.

“You are my girlfriend and it better stay that way.” A lilt of aggression and possessiveness dripped in her honeyed voice. She couldn’t stand you doubting more of her actions. Or worse, you mentioning any traces of your past experiences of hooking up with other people. “Like I said, I despise having to share you amongst all things. I thought I made it clear; no talking of other people–more so when you were entangled with them at one point–around me. I absolutely cannot stand it.”

Her jaw grinded as it bothered her. Sam didn’t know whether she should throw up or plan to hunt them all down and slice them all up, gut them up like a fucking fish, as she pays them a little visit. Starting with this Lucy woman you just went on a date with.

Shiver ran through your spine at her tone, coupled with Sam’s harsh parting of your still sore legs, settling between them as yours dangled on the marble counter. You turn into jelly oddly both at Sam’s admission of wanting you—claiming you—and her hand that greedily ran on your ribs, dangerously under your breast, and the other brought up your inner wrist, and pressed a kiss softly.

“I wasn’t– I just wanted to clear this out. It confused me for a while, what we were. I just needed it spelled out. For the sake of my inner peace.” You stammer out and Sam’s features slowly relax to your admission.

“Well, you are mine, mi amor. I’m reiterating that for a million times more until it sinks in to you.”

She professed, tilted her head and leaned to you with no hesitation, and as you met her halfway, one of her hands rested to the side of your head, pulling you for a chaste kiss. You burned for Sam, chased her touch, and the butterflies on your stomach were still there. Not even the little cheek kiss from your date last night could compare by the slightest.

Soon as Sam pulled away, your stomach growled, reminding you of actual hunger. She chuckled upon hearing and quickly resumed her work. 

“I didn’t know you were this…” You stop to find the right words. Sam tilted her head to the side again, always attentive to you. “Passionate.” Possessive, almost. Maybe you would have said that but you didn’t want to break such an intimate air between you. Not when Sam is officially your girlfriend.

Sam however, found it amusing. She’s surprised you barely caught up with her nature. Even in your younger years, she assumes that you only took it as protectiveness. Casualties were barely encountered then because you were attached to the hip, by default nobody wanted to mess with you as everyone was aware of Sam’s intimidating self. She was all talk and bite.

"You can say possessive and I won't be mad. I don't want you holding back to me."

“Okay. I was about to say that. Were you ever like this with other girls?” you timidly ask out of curiosity.

She shook her head. “No, just you.”

Sam clearly remembers this girl from her lacrosse team who wanted to ask you out for homecoming. Unlucky for her, Sam had heard her previously in the locker room, talking about you as they perceived you both in sweet and disgusting ways. 

She mentally agreed with how they recited your beauty out loud. You are definitely a piece of art to Sam. She unashamedly admired you out in the open, but it appeared that you were oblivious to it. But then, they also talked about how you were possibly freaky—your innocent and quiet nature was a mere ploy in their eyes and they would like to tap your ass and ramble more of your curves.

It may or may have not intendedly caused Sam to perfectly stage an accidental scene to break the girl's ankle during one of the practices then sneered for her teammate to 'watch out next time' and 'not even think about you' in the slightest.

“Guess I was indeed full of surprises, hm?” She simply replied, getting a glass and a bottle of your favorite flavor of fruit juice for you.

How did Sam even know that this was your go-to comfort drink?

With wide eyes, you accept it gratefully. 

“Yes, you are.”

Not long after, Sam had finally finished up preparing food for you two. The serving was definitely quite generous. She didn’t hesitate overfilling it with the toppings and sauce. She brought up a piece of her creation in your mouth, which you easily took a bite of. The food and its flavors melted in your tastebuds. You couldn’t help but moan in pure delight.

Sam laughed. “That good?” 

“Shut up.”

“You’re stroking my ego, baby.” She places her palm flat on her chest, seemingly flattered. “Don’t talk with your mouth full—you know this.”

And you? You almost spluttered out the food you were chewing. Sam and her devilish antics will be the end of you.

::

It wasn’t you to be contained in one place. You were always moving, whether there was a force or not. Yet, for the last few days, you manage to be unmovable. Miraculously taking your sweet time with Sam. Time seems to fade when it comes to her. More than anything, you were in disbelief you get to call your long time crush as yours.

The small haven the two of you built for the last few days came to an inevitable end with Sam having to attend to her business matters. 

You were displeased, the bubbling separation anxiety somewhat coming to the surface already. Just before Sam left, she pulled you into a deep make out session, and both of you were getting handsy. Gleaming at the thought of finally getting a sense of release, to your surprise, Sam managed to break away and compose herself—smoothening the material of her dress shirt and fixing up her tie.

To pile more to your frustration, you saw the emerald upholstered chair that Sam shamelessly paid and took when she fucked you senselessly at that lingerie boutique. As expected of the woman, she had it in her placed in the resting area of her house.

Before deciding to explore more of the nooks and crannies of Sam’s home; you eventually noticed the red lights at some corners placed in the bedroom and a brilliant idea popped out in your mind.

You retrieve your phone and dial Sam to confirm and quell your thoughts. 

“Miss me already?”

“Terribly so.” you fiddle with the strings of Sam’s hoodie–the owner giggling to your direct confession. “I just noticed, but are these cameras in your bedroom?” your eyes flit to one to your right. 

Sam cleared her throat. “Before you detest the idea; baby, it’s all for safety. If it makes it all better, I’m the only one with access to the bedroom cameras.”

You almost snorted because of course, she would. 

Audibly, you sighed out of relief with a hand clutched to your chest. “Thank god. ‘cause I was about to touch myself.” 

You’ve dropped the words so casually that Sam for the first time, was out of words. Faintly, you picked up something on the other end, a sound like a clear fall–unbeknownst to you, you have successfully made her flustered beyond her comprehension.

“Sam? Don’t tell me you hung up on me,” you rolled your eyes.

The woman took a deep breath. “No. Still here.”

“Good…” 

Your eyes remained on the camera, giving the best of your pleading eyes–hoping it’ll somehow be visible enough through Sam’s static screen. Hand slithering on your ribs then your covered mounds, making you groan out loud and eventually your fingertips hovered around your pelvis–a flimsy underwear that you Sam chose for you to wear earlier. It was practically see-through. Your body felt feverish, eyes fluttered shut. 

It would be so easy to dip your fingers inside…

You hear Sam growl. “Don’t touch yourself. Not without me there. I swear to god, (y/n/n) I’m not playing with you…”

A whine escaped your lips at her order, actions coming into a full stop. It was no use to sneak off, aware now there’s cameras in her house and Sam was bound to figure it out no matter what. 

It took Sam half an hour to reach you. You’re met with a determined woman, loosening the tie on her neck and unbuttoning her dress shirt halfway as soon as she barged into her bedroom door—while you gasped, looking still the same as Sam last checked on her monitors.

She manhandled your body, as though you weighed nothing. It spurred your libido higher than ever, mouths crashing and Sam devouring you until your lips bleed and bruised. The only thing that came out of your mouth was her name and more moans that echoed beautifully in her room. Bodies flushed together, you grinded in perfect sync, breasts brushing that made you putty. The familiar gliding of her hands soon met your soaked center. Sam slid her long and slender fingers, entering you but not fully. She started to rub circles slowly until you were worked up enough, playing with pressure, she pumped them deep into your throbbing pussy. Sam grunted at the squelching sounds, obsessed with the warmth of your core. You easily took her in, greedily swallowing all of what she can offer to you.

The twitching of your stomach was absurd and seemingly nonstop. Yet again, Sam noticed, and she took out her coated fingers out of your sopping apex. 

“No, not yet princesa.” She devilishly giggled, breathless as you were on top of her lap. You simply cried and squirmed, as the lack of release was making you crazy.  “Give me a good reason,”

Your hips bucked but Sam was moving away. You didn’t like it at all. Surely, you were going to combust if you were deprived of this heaven for much longer.

“Please, I can be good! Sammy… I’d do better!”

How can Sam deny you now? She giggled at your state. Sam had to admit, edging you was a form of sick atonement that she wanted to pull out of you. Forged as a punishment for leaving her dry while she was understanding and patient. Her devotion was clear as a day and you’ve failed to notice that. Yet, it was also a ploy to have you in her orbit, even by sexual means. With a sardonic smile, Sam absolutely had fun with it.

“Now you’re talking. Just like how I want you, (y/n/n).”

With newfound fervor, she resumes her motions to your pulsating and insanely wet pussy. You clenched repeatedly around her digits. It released a throaty moan out of Sam, low and breathy, spurring you to arch your head back. 

“Tell me how much you need me.”

“N-need you… only—s-shit—just you, Sam! Nngh!”

Pride deeply surged on her chest. If it were possible, her love for you only heightened.

“Oh, I love you.” She confessed against your skin. “Cum for me, (y/n/n).”

The endearing look that Sam had in her hazel eyes had made you even more lightheaded as you took a peek at her. She loves you? You couldn’t believe it. Just in time, your body shook in pleasure as finally you were able to cum. With weeks worth of teasing, it definitely scratched an itch but somewhat it wasn’t enough, yet you couldn’t raise your voice for more as it exhausted you. Maybe you should start working on your stamina, you thought. But then again, Sam was insatiable with her teasing and foreplay. She had been sinfully eyeing you and grabbing you so casually without any promise of making you cum.

Your profession of love to Sam came out in a mumble. Of course, it was no-brainer that you reciprocate her love, too. She simply laughed at your state, body slumped and nuzzled on her neck, a gentle kiss pressed out of appreciation for her. Sam held you tighter, combing through your hair that had grown sticky due to sweat, all softly and breathing in your scent. She smiles upon realizing that you used her own shower items instead of yours, one that she provided, knowing which products you used religiously.

As this was happening, Sam bestowed your little date with a gift. A bloody pig head awaits the woman, the item placed not out of her doorstep but rather from the inside. The scene was gory for her or any sane person’s liking. The trail of redness was spread through her floor and has oxidized. It left a stench of rot, that flies were starting to appear in your date’s home. Sam is anything but rude, so her present came along with a note—one that relayed a clear message of threat for the woman to stay away from you and it would be better if she moved away.

Sam would have made her death swift, dealt with it clean this time as she has no longer a message to relay for you, a contradicting safety and fear which she can both offer—all in order to have you. 

Your stunt of touching yourself today effectively reduced Lucy’s sentence. She cut her plans short and had given this woman a second chance and made a simple scare instead of personally gutting her up with ease. Although if she pulled any attempts of challenging her again, Sam would no longer be merciful to her.

::

Another day of Sam giving you a bouquet of flowers. To her surprise, today was different. Soon as you placed them carefully on a vase filled with water, quickly you retrieved your own gift for her. She always gave you something and you wanted her to know how you always thought of her, too.

You handed Sam a dark blue colored mug that was rough around the edges, a proof of your inexperienced clay making. Designed with stars and the waxing crescent as the main subject, the outline is painted in gold. 

“What’s the occasion?” She asked, still in awe.

“Should there be any? It reminded me of you,” You smoothly replied. Her eyes twinkled and it was easy to say that it was a success.

Sam was over the moon. You remembered. Honestly, it was hard not to, because her pillow sheets were still related to the cosmic – only portrayed with much elegant material. Then her ramblings and how Sam would take you out to simply admire the moon at night. As she held your present carefully, you thought now of how it was a fitting symbol for her, with her tendencies of being a night owl and broody. She chuckled at your perception of her. 

“Oh and I’m broody?”

You add, "It makes you hot and mysterious though, don't worry."

“We should watch the night sky sometime again. I missed doing that with you.”

With Sam’s eyes crinkled in delight and her million dollar smile directed at you, caught you in her grasp with your feet in the air—her hold flooding you with warmth and adoration—it wasn’t much work for you to smoothen and forgive her of the previous disagreements you’ve had with the woman. 

She was simply your Sammy, far from the frightening glimpse you’ve seen of her as someone determined and powerful of a mob leader.

::

Somehow, you managed to get back unscathed when you returned to work. With absence equivalent to a honeymoon trip, you didn’t know what excuse the universe had provided over you. You explained a made up family-related emergency problem, even though you haven’t seen them in years, and it worked like a charm on your end. You weren’t fired even with the sudden absence, no resentment in your bosses’ tone, and your coworkers simply wondered and then welcomed you back.

What you did not know was that your absurd omnipotent of a girlfriend conjured something, effective enough not to pull much attention in tying her name with yours. Sam already invested in your company. It was clear for her that you wanted your own thing, getting out of work so quickly. She respected this wish of yours. A negative push from her would have made you shut like a clam and she didn’t want that—not when Sam was making progress already.

Were your spirits lifted? Without a doubt. Luck didn’t strike you this much, so you gladly took it in.

Initially, you planned to go back to your apartment after work then call your girlfriend. You can’t deny that you missed your own space, wondering if it was dust littered already, given your absence for how many days.

Although, a car was already waiting for you outside. 

“After you.” Martin greets you, opening the car in the backseat. You offer him a polite smile. To your surprise, Sam was seated there too. Immediately, you tackle the woman for a tight hug. Sam returns it with a loving smile and you didn’t want to let go of her addicting embrace.

She looked stunning with her navy turtleneck and usual trousers, along with her polished leather shoes. Sam’s attire always complemented her tanned skin that you love so much–especially with the gold accessories that adorned her look. If anything, getting a sight of her energized you and made your mouth water.

She laced your hands together. “How was work?”

“Good as it can get.” You sighed contentedly, head already leaning to Sam’s broad shoulder. “I don’t know what magic you pulled, but I wasn’t berated at all? And this guy from the other cubicle was the only thing that annoyed me by far.”

“What’d he do to you?” Even without looking, you can already see Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You giggle as it wasn’t a serious matter. “Relax. I just couldn’t tune out his singing and humming today. It got on my nerves… he didn’t exactly have the voice of an angel.”

“Oh I’m sorry you had to put up with that?” Sam meekly says in hopes of comforting you and her thumb rubbing on the back of your hand.

“You know I should be the one asking you–how was your day?” you retort. You always wondered how it worked; Sam being a mob boss. She must’ve always been caught in some form of distress.

Sam bit her lip. She looked at the rear view mirror before answering you. There was nothing much to hide at this point.

“Good. Somewhat smooth, no one annoyed me with a shitty singing voice.” She replied in a deadpan which made you laugh. “No one had to face my knife nor my fists, surprisingly.” 

“That for real?” your eyes went wide.

“You asked,” she mumbled. Sam held your hand tighter as though you were going to disappear in thin air. “It’s nothing like a war, (y/n/n). I know your head is getting all creative–but the machine gun out in the open? Not real. Not an efficient way to stay low, either. Sometimes it’s about looking at paperwork and more on discussions. But lately it’s more of in between securing deals, cordially as we can. Then like I said, sometimes… it takes force and grit—in case things go south.”

A pout spreads on your lips. It pulled out a hearty chuckle from Sam. As she suspected, you indeed had a comical imagery of her work. 

What she didn’t know was how you grew into liking the vision of her being stern and domineering. You even thought of her office, how her seat must’ve looked like a throne to sit in. Completely lacking in warmth, assertive, cold and calculated as she gave orders around.

You blurt out, “That’s hot.”

“Hot?” Sam looked at you in disbelief and some flattery. “I didn’t expect that from you, (y/n/n).” an amused smile graced her features.

You simply shrugged and soon yawned.

“When was the last time you had time to rest? You deserve this, mi amor, and so much more. It wouldn’t hurt if you let go once in a while.”

It got you thinking. Sam is right. You weren't used to having this privilege; by means of simply resting and existing in a peaceful space. Always trying to get by, going through the tedious nine-to-five routine. You’re forgetting something but you have already succumbed to the idea that crashing onto your girlfriend’s place (once again) was a given, due to your sleepy state. 

“Before you fall asleep on me, I got you this,” Sam shuffled on her seat as soon as you leaned against the car’s headrest, mindlessly fiddling with the sun pendant placed below your jugular notch. Sam got it for you a while back.

She reached at the back of the car and pulled a gorgeous bouquet arrangement. It was becoming a common occurrence every week, since you managed to make a deal with the woman. You had issues with being spoiled too much and Sam petulantly met you halfway, understood it, even if she acted like a kicked puppy. This was her alternative of spoiling you of love—amongst other things. Sam balanced her unconventional approach of romance through this, willing to give this traditional courting-like gesture another shot, not wanting to be too rough with you as it wasn’t an image she wanted to be fully attached to. 

Another huge motivator for her was the discovery of your admittance when she came up with this unannounced, saying that the first and last time you received them was in high school and it was because of her. Sam can recall the time, unknowingly having missed the sight of you being tongue-tied and absolutely flustered. She loves how you glowed at this little gesture.

And now, Sam is eyeing you between like a meal to devour and the trace of gentleness is found on her hazel eyes, as always. Her fingers cradled under your jaw.

You can get used to this.

:: 

"But I'll miss you. didn't we plan movie night today?" A rare sight of Sam, pouting and tugging you close, was beyond endearing.

You almost felt bad. Pressing your lips against your girlfriend, you then lead her onto a chaste kiss. "I'm skipping just for tonight please? And it's not like I won't miss you too, either. because I certainly will."

"So smooth with your words."

"I've learned from the best."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. She didn't know whether she'd be pleased at this situation or not. Her issue lies from your current outfit, she thought it was too short. It didn’t help you were a walking vixen and dangerously unaware of it. The idea of you prancing around with filthy leering eyes following you all night? It made her blood boil.

That was already a job taken by her and hers alone.

Her grip loosened around your waist, turned into soft caressing. She beams at you, knowing it was your favorite sight and part of her.

"Mmm. Maybe it was bad that you were taking notes. Too much of it I'd say."

Your phone pings again, your friends were already telling you that they're on their way. A part of you detests to be away from Sam – but you think that your memory has gone oddly hazy and you cannot remember the last time you met up with your friends. You get out of your shared room but not without Sam hovering and sending you off with a kiss and personally driving you there.

Meanwhile Sam was somewhat pleased. Sure, she wanted all of your time, but she had to admit how she reveled in the way you have easily forgotten of her obsessive and conniving ways. Your girlfriend wouldn't let you out of her sight, of course. Constantly worried about your safety and a step ahead, decided to plant two men with a set of skills present on the scene; a safety net in case your fun night out changes its course, her gift of necklace served as an audio receiver and the expensive watch had a tracker.

What you hoped to be a good time, ended up on a terrible note. You disagree with your friends as you open up a few more details to them. It was all because of your curfew and they perceived your relationship with Sam as too intense. That was a given, right? It’s a love thing, you suppose. You fiddle with the necklace she gave you, pondering over how as though they didn't see Sam in the same light as you did. She wasn't borderline abusive. In fact, she had been greater than ever to you, more carefree, unrestrained and unfiltered. You feel it too, she was more relaxed and eager to disclose any information you wanted from her.

Now on your fifth drink? Or sixth? You scoffed and giggled. You were bummed because it took Sam a lot of convincing that you were going to be safe. That you had your own pepper spray with you and that nothing can happen with your friends beside you. It was good, refreshing even. Until it wasn’t.

“I’m just saying, you have to watch out for yourself. And we’re here. Anytime.”

“Are you sure you can trust her after that? She seems… pushy. Won’t take a no for an answer.”

“Seems too fast, (y/n). It won’t be bad if you raised your opinions every now and then, you know.”

It echoed once again to you. Sam was the best for you. Everything between you was consensual. You understood her ways, simply because it was how she was made. You can only imagine how several years of being moulded into a domineering leader with a strong gut have drastically shaped her, refusing to think of it further how you weren’t there for her. 

You downed another shot and as you drank away your disappointment of your friends’ criticism of your girlfriend, a greasy man was already eyeing you.

Then you realize Sam's words from one of the nights you spent with her. She was right; these people in your circle wouldn't get it. Not as much as the two of you do.

Upon your realization, a man not so discreetly manoeuvres his way through you. You deny him but he was insistent. It was gross how he was a mouth breather, his stench hovering over you. 

“The more the merrier, baby.” He didn't even believe that you had a girlfriend, in fact, he even grinned disgustingly at this information.

“You have one second before I call the fucking cops.”

“That’s a lame excuse–” He whined, looking away in disbelief thinking you were bluffing. “C’mon, I can make you straight… all it takes is a night with me,”

You took that chance to stealthily use your phone and clicked on speed-dial. You were surprised it connected to Sam instead of the cops. You don’t remember changing it although it was a better alternative, truthfully. With the initial shock, it override the rising suspicion from you; how your girlfriend set it herself.

Some men came over to assess what was happening. The greasy man rambled too much, far from convincing with how visibly uncomfortable you were. Thankfully, they came into your rescue. You hoped they were good guys. So far it seemed promising that they pushed the guy who was making you uncomfortable. They had a strong build and now were exchanging in a verbal disagreement. It was getting heavy that you had to step away and as soon as you bumped from someone at your back; it was your girlfriend, doe eyes swarmed comfort to your body. 

“Get in the car, mi amor. It’s parked at the front. Lock the doors and wait for me there, hm?” She caressed your cheeks. You were clearly shaken up, still Sam was proud of how you nodded and tried your best to look at her. “I’ll handle this.”

Her thumb caressing gently on your hips, you look at her once again, to see not even the situation and what it holds for the man—but to see if she was truly alright. Sam reassures you again that it’ll be alright and focuses again on the man that had been bothering you.

Where the hell were your friends? Sam groaned lowly in frustration. It was good how she decided it was a good idea to wait out for you. Who knows what could have happened. She takes a glance at the man who added rain on your terrible drinking night-out. She lured him out. He was ecstatic, the idiot not even knowing his fate for tonight. Him trying to take advantage of you sealed it for himself. 

Sam already figured that this would be easy, his throws starting on a terrible form, giving away how he didn’t have a proper knowledge of its basics. He might’ve been taller, but his lack of skill proved him to be useless. Sam immediately went for an opening, fist met his face then swoop his feet quite literally which hit his knees badly to the pebbled ground. He groaned out of pain, curses flowing out of his mouth.

“Please! I’ll do anything! Spare me, I haven’t- I didn’t even touch her!” He begged on his now decapacitated knees.

Sam quipped, “Should I be happy about that?”

“N-no, but–”

“You harassed her. Insisted on wanting to fuck her.”

Over a dim corner outside, Sam sighed and took out the silencer concealed in the back of her jeans, and personally shot him right in the head. She liked seeing her power over these people. Always begging for a way out, so desperate.

Her men didn’t even flinch, trained and desensitized. In another vehicle parked near to the scene, a few more men came out of it, dressed for clean up and quickly carried him out for disposal.

She didn't want things to be messy. But she had been listening to your entire conversation; unbeknownst to you that the necklace also served as a down low spy-like device for her. Sam was happy that you were quick to jump in her defense–how you trusted her. Frankly, she was afraid that her attitude and sense of ethics would be something you’d be disgusted with. Being proven otherwise, it warmed her heart, increasing her devotion tenfold if it were even possible at this point. 

It was easy to lure you out of your circle of friends grasp. She thought of some point how useless your friends would be, now that you have her. Sam knows they’ll only add as a burden and mess.

As she drove the two of you back home, her free hand constantly rubbed random patterns on your exposed thigh. The streetlights were just as warm as your girlfriend’s touch. Her constant glances at you each time you were in red light. The reassuring smile that barely left her plump lips. 

When you waited for her – you didn’t even care what could the man from the club could face. Was it terrible that you reveled in the high possibility of him being a dead meat?

One thing for sure is that you only had one good takeaway this evening.

With your parents out of the picture a long time ago, disapproving of your ‘lifestyle’, and siblings being far and preoccupied with their own lives — this was it for you: Sam is your family. Each time an emergency or a milestone happens to your life, only Sam is there for you, without fail.

You only needed her and she was more than enough.

::

"Tara wants to see you." Properly and not from afar as Sam instructed, the voice echoed in her mind. "Not today, because I want you all to myself right now. Some other time, maybe."

Your eyes crinkled. "When have you not? But yeah - I'm totally in. She was practically a baby when I last saw her." Both of you giggled at your remark.

You discovered another room in Sam’s house. Barely gone through all of them, you found out just now how she had a gaming area. Littered in between retro and modern game machines, and how it glowed differently from arcades, made it appear much inviting. Now in low lighting in the afternoon, you ended up playing pool with your girlfriend. It was a game you always sucked at; with your shitty aim and handling. Bad news for you, it’s Sam’s favorite and opposed to you, of course she was great at it.

Terribly cocky too.

Not that you minded, because she was attractive for how she flaunted it. She’s carefree with you, seemingly retracting to her playful self that gave her a youthful joy of a glow. With her dressed up in tight cycling shorts that were covered with a sweater around her midthighs; Sam looked appetizing.

Back to the game, your motor movements suffered. Each time you aim and thrust the pool stick, the ball bounced off like a fish - far from the pocket points. Missing the target was also a common mistake for you.

She laughed. “No, baby, you’re holding it wrong too.”

“How is it any different from yours?” You retort.

“It can be your posture as well and the pressure you apply when hitting. Don’t be mad now.”

Huffing, you were so close to breaking this pool stick. “Maybe if you showed me!” 

Sam chuckled. She liked your adorable scrunch getting all focused to at least score a point. she gets from your behind, bodies now flushed. Her soft chuckling continues as she notices how you stiffened at the contact. It blows her mind, how years ago things were in reverse; it was her who always panicked at your comforting touch. she welcomed it, relishing each second, replaying the memory of times she missed you before meeting again. She beat herself up mentally at how different she should have approached it.

Sam shook her head, focusing on the present. she has you now and it's all that matters.

“You just have to…” She took your forearms in a grasp and smoothly ran them to your hands. “Hold it like that. Your other fingers for balance however, depend on your level of comfort. It’s a matter of practice–which is what we’re doing.”

“Is that so?” You tease her, turning your head enough to meet her face, hooded eyes greeting you. You feel Sam growing breathless much as you do.

Her hazel eyes had a specific glint to them. They beautifully shone and no doubt had a swirl of lust growing bigger onto them. You purse your lips to hide the spreading smile. Instead, you retaliate by leaning over the table exaggeratingly; practically bending over it. Sam could no longer hold back a small moan escaping her mouth.

It was a matter of a different game and Sam decides she’ll humor you.

However, it was proving to be a difficult task. You just had to rub your ass against her hips. Now practically enveloped by her, weight almost all into you. You wiggle a bit more. Then you felt something else. Fuck. Was she…packing?

She had a cocky smile now. It’s been a while since she has used this on you.

 “Mmm, mi amor. And your aim? Don’t push it up like this,” She grabbed your hand to reenact it. The ball thumped as it bounced – showing how you usually hit. More of her weight was on you, her front deliciously pressed on your back. “I noticed you tend to do that.”

“Oh, do I?”

You were playing dumb now. Although, with skins inevitably brushing, it doesn't take long for the two of you to crumble and give in to do something with the tension.

“Fuck this.” Sam muttered, fingers digging on your thighs as she immediately hoisted you up to the pool table. Back of your thigh’s skin rubbed to the rough texture of its surface, somewhat adding to your gnawing hunger.

Sam was bouncing with excitement to take you in here. Mouths crashing in dire need of each other, she explored your mouth as though she hasn’t before, tugging your bottom lip until you tasted iron.

“Oh, oh… god,” you whimper.

Sam gawks at you with darkened eyes. “You think you can tease me like that?”

Your jaw slacked as Sam's teeth sunk in the skin of your neck, far from finished and continued by nibbling with pent up fervor, and the pleasure of her ministrations as the moans rolled off your tongue with ease. Her open mouthed kisses were messy against your skin but nevertheless, you welcomed her through arching your neck to give her more space to paint you red and purple.

Some of the balls clanked as you guys moved desperately, grinding on each other.

“Look at you.” She giggled and had your cheeks on a firm grip. “My pretty girl so eager to get fucked dumbly. Did you feel my cock earlier at your little tease of a show?”

You helplessly looked at her with half-lidded eyes, nodding.

“Yes, please…Sam,”

“Please what?” She mocked you, doe eyes filled with mirth. Her hands slowly moved from your cheek to your neck. Sam gives it a squeeze, making you hum in delight. “I won’t continue if you don’t use your words properly.”

“I…I want you to breed me, like you said months ago,” you murmured and looked away.

Blood rushed in your clit. You were throbbing in need and full of embarrassment. But it was the truth that you wanted to be fulfilled. You didn’t know it caught Sam in a surprise, her joy and libido had gone through the roof.

Sam relishes onto this, a wolfish smile on her features as she takes every inch of your skin with her lips and hands. And you? you can barely keep up, clung onto your girlfriend’s neck to gravitate yourself in the spiraling haze in your head, pretty sounds continuously tumbling off your mouth.

What you want, is what you’ll get.

You managed to take off your top, now almost completely bare in front of your girlfriend.

“Good girl. So, so good. I knew you had it in you, mi amor.” You’re met with Sam’s patronizing smile. You gulp in excitement at the praise she’d given you. “You remember your safe word right?” She asked as her hands wandered, pulling your own shorts down and underwear. As you nodded, a predatory look was fixed on her face. “I’m going to make you forget it, I promise.”

Her irises were ignited with a newfound desire, turned you on your back and bent over as previously, against the pool table.

Sam stroked her strap and adjusted your legs. She wanted you wide and ready. Your slick was smeared on your innermost thighs and some of them formed with strings of your arousal, greeting her as she spread you out. God, she can’t wait to ruin you.

Without warning, the skin of your pulsating hole was being dragged out by the strap's length and all you can do is whimper loudly in complaint. The head teased you a little with her pace agonizingly slow. As she pulled out though it didn't last as she decided to ram the entire length back inside of you, absolutely filling you to the brim. You moaned as it burned inside of you. Sam reach on your tits for balance as she started thrusting, picking up a pace. With all things going on at once, your eyes rolled at the back of your head and face pressed against the rough surface.

"Wait... oh my god, fuck, wait!" You trembled underneath her, your palms outward against her the table, weakly attempting to push away determined Sam. "So- so big, Sammy, I don't... oh! d-don't think, I can't!" You deeply underestimated her cock. But reeling onto it was simply addicting that you felt conflicted.

“You can and you will. You wanted this, didn’t you (y/n/n)?” She mocks you again. Sam was right, you wanted this. “Whoring yourself to me, this is the least you can do. Fucking. Take. It.” Your girlfriend punctuated each of her words with a hard thrust, each time you swore that it went deeper into your walls.

Sam was spurred on with your erotic reactions. She wanted to see your limit, see you truly fall apart. For god’s sake, you were already dripping wet, gushing and smeared all over Sam’s cock and hips. Once she found a rhythm pleasing to you both, she moaned along you as the base also met her clit – sending shocks on her end as well. 

You were so fucked out right now and an orgasm was ripped out of you so suddenly. “Nngh… oh!”

Breath heaving, you felt the wetness run down your legs. Sam slowed her movements and stayed deep inside of your walls. More liquid gushed out of you, mixed with your girlfriend’s fake cum. It felt heavy and so full inside of you that you can’t get enough. It was beyond gratifying and out of body experience.

“Another one, come on. I have to fill you up to the brim,” Sam whispered against your ear, white-hot that it sent shivers down your spine. Your hips surely will bruise after this, as she resumed pounding relentlessly against the fine wood. It also made you embarrassingly more wet, too. Her pounding didn’t falter at all, Sam’s own hips still at work.

“Fuck– I….Ah!” Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Sam took pride in your current state. She gripped you tighter on your lower back and the other firm on the edge of the table. Sheer sweat already covered the two of you and the pool table continued to shake, now no longer in a prim and proper placement; instead it was crooked due to the movements that were forced upon it. You were fucking like animals.

A vast incoherent mumblings came in a slew to you. Your head pressed against the table and tears came out of the corner of your eyes. Your ears weakly register the mean giggling of Sam. The erotic sound of the skin-to-skin slapping continued to fill the space of your room, synchronizing with the creaking sound of the table. With your mouth agape, you felt the shaft being thrusted in a different angle, the cock’s tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. Sam dug so deep into you that it made you dizzy already.

“Gonna fill you up real good,” Sam continued to penetrate you mercilessly, her aggressive and determined grunts vibrating pleasingly to your body and adding to the carnal state both of you were in. It was too easy to sliver her cock in and out of you now, fully lubricated given your sopping core. “My breedable little bitch. Fuck, I’d say you’re meant for this. Meant to take this huge cock, hm?” The stretch had you bucking your hips onto Sam, gyrating along her teasing thrusts in and out. “Tell me how good it feels. How I make you feel so good.” Her honeyed voice taunting you. Begging you.

You envision Sam’s words to your heart. If only it were possible, you wouldn’t mind a single bit of carrying her child. After all, there are countless good qualities that your girlfriend beautifully possesses. 

“You… you feel so fucking good against me,” A strained, throaty moan tumbled out of you. Sam hummed in your validation. “O-only you can have me- do me like this, Sammy…”

With your reassurance, came the rocking feeling of being so full again. Now Sam doesn’t move an inch, refusing to do so and determined to keep all of it plugged inside of you. You’re sure that she has moulded her entire cock out of your warm walls, stretched it out with no hesitation until it explored undiscovered spots from before.

To your shock, Sam flipped you again. It was insane how she recovered so quickly. Almost buck naked she sat now on the pool table and made you come up to ride her properly. She’s met with barely a resistance on your pussy as she easily shoved it up again with no trouble, moaning loudly and growling possessively as the curve of her length faintly made its outline known to your lower tummy’s skin. 

“God you look so beautiful with my cock inside of you.” Her grunts were vivid as Sam’s white hot breath directly hit your ears. You feel your core gush more wetness, body all feverish, loving how she's also desperate and enjoying this much as you do. 

She needs you. She admires you. Sam wants all of you.

You bounced helplessly and cried some more, to the point that your safeword dangerously hovered on the tip of your tongue. Until finally, Sam emptied out her fake cum inside of you – some of them dribbling down and smeared some more. Both of you were heavily breathing and Sam balanced your bodies – yours being slumped and weak against her, breathing ragged and eyelids heavy. You were fully spent and satisfied.

“So beautiful. Are you alright, mi amor?” Sam asked in pure concern. The lust on her eyes slowly dissipated, soft and only focused on your current state.

“Y-yes,”

Then a person barges in. You’re pretty sure that it’s a man who just squealed. He caught the sight of you and your girlfriend in a compromising position. You jump slightly and it was a bad idea, because one: you are naked, and two: Sam was still nestled deep inside of you. She also grunted at your accidental rocking.

Your stomach churned as you and Sam sober up quickly. Of course, you didn't like being seen like this if it weren’t only for Sam’s eyes to perceive you unashamedly. As expected, Sam hurriedly covered you first – fast and most as she can, at least. Your back was turned away from the man who entered the room, facing the wall.

Meanwhile, Sam had her chin tilted up, seemingly exasperated. If it weren't for your comforting touch on her forearm, she's sure of combusting in a messier manner, sporting the intimidating signature look on her demeanor. She almost looked unrecognizable with her cold and unamused gaze.

"I instructed you to knock three times." Sam quipped with a deep voice. “The receiver was also there, was it not? You could have buzzed in and waited outside.”

"Miss Loomis.. I- I- I did, I knocked before—”

Being in closer proximity to her, you felt some wetness gush out of your pussy. Blood rushed on your cheeks, as you made the previously pristine and high-end of a pool table now all messy and coated of your fluid. You caught a sliver of Sam’s defined hipbones and lines in her abdomen were prominent more than ever. She tucked her strap back as she pulled the cycling shorts up as quickly as she could. The room felt still for what feels like hours. 

"And is that enough? I strictly told you to never enter, especially when I’m with my partner."

Sam had a scrutinizing look over him. She’s more than fucking pissed. The mob boss has never seen his face before. It must've been a new recruit. If it were any other mistake, maybe Sam would have spared him. 

But no, he had to walk in while you were naked.

She bent down to reach underneath the pool table. She retrieves a gun. Your eyes widen but she hushes you, reassuring that everything is fine. although her eyes expressed the clear fuming with her jaw clenched, you gulped at the sight. 

Sam scoffed, she hated being messy in front of you. For her, increases the likely of you leaving her. "Don't turn around." She orders you still with gentleness lace on her tone. "I mean it. Just… stay here." 

Okay, you're more than fine with the sight.

Definitely so wet and turned on.

Sam moves and so does the man. Out of the room, you hear a few clicks and the cocking sound of the gun – the metal, spring, and unlocking of the weapon and you don't look further than that. And with the door slightly ajar, there's a loud sound that clearly indicates a shot. It's quick and followed with a heavy thud. A clear shot has been made. Your eyes widened. It rang your ears a little but it soon faded. 

"What the hell was that?"

"He's a dumb one, a new recruit." Your girlfriend replied blankly. She fluidly moves around the room and reaches for her phone, eyes not leaving your naked body. "I need you to do some cleaning up- uh huh. in here, near the living room- second one, yes." Then she quickly hung up.

"I hate being interrupted. He had to ruin it. Almost saw you, too. I'm sorry baby, but I had to finish him off.”

Sam sighed and rubbed her temple. She wasn't a fan of losing control in front of her beloved. Although this one tested her greatly, feeling an immense protectiveness, she didn't like one bit having any of her men seeing you in this vulnerable and naked state. Prancing around normally as though your sight isn't engraved in their filthy little dimwit brains. Now she worried only about your reaction; knowing your initial response was to run away, same as you did after opening up to her even then. She always pulled you close—held you tighter—whenever you did. 

She left a tender kiss behind your ear. You were immediately flooded with comfort. Her touch had a tendency to numb your worries down. It was familiar and gentle. Were you afraid? Surprisingly, you were not.

Out of all times you’ve seen her ‘lose’ it – was seemingly always out of making sure that you're safe, free from worries, gives you enough room as much as she can (knowing that Sam cannot resist invading your personal space) and has done anything to harm you in any way.

Sure, she just killed in front of you. But now, you can care less – knowing what your girlfriend’s nature and work entails. Besides, she has done it in your honor. In a twisted way, you interpreted it as a sign of her unwavering commitment to you; that you’ve always been a family to her – one that she plans on building one with, anyway. So instead, you reach to cradle Sam’s cheek and pressed a lingering kiss on her irresistible burgundy lips.

“You have me, always. Don’t worry.” You profess to her - a promise you intend to keep.

Sam grinned, visibly relaxing. Finally you fully understood her viewpoint.

Does it make you equally sick? Who the hell knows.

taglist: @not-alesha, @women-lover-kisser , @bluetreecloud20 , @danniackerman , @natsbraids , @melissabarreraswife , @bratydoll , @fantasylandbitch , @rocknr0ll , @mokotodenis123 , @deliriosinrose , @red1culous , @jennasoneanonly , @gaylorvader , @pixielovers2account **i can't tag others? :[

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[urhoneycombwitch]

Hello baby happy high night!!! I would like to make a request for your horniest roommate!eddie thots plzz I can't stop thinking about him. Just the dynamic and all the sexual tension and the not-fucking and the wanting to fuck... I'm drooling...

I keep imagining like a really intense earnest conversation with him and reader about like their sexual preferences in a totally casual way with no ulterior motives because friends talk about that stuff right?? 👀 Is this anything? 👀👀

foreword: oh this is absolutely something. thanks for sparking this blurb anon!! 

cw: no actual smut but discussions of sex + kinks + masturbation, implied plus sized Reader with breasts, Eddie + R are in an established (but secret) situationship, (also a secret are the) feelings. 

wc: 1.2k

There’s this sketchy metal ladder in your apartment building on the top floor, leads right to the roof- no one ever uses it ‘cuz it’s really out of the way and looks super unsafe. But ever since Eddie broke out his toolkit and reinforced the bars and screws, it’s been the gateway to a perfect little summer escape.

Sitting on your loungers with paperbacks, flipping over every few minutes to distribute the golden sun evenly between your front and back- you and Eddie are having a rare, peaceful afternoon. Just the two of you, overlooking the city from your probably-illegal hangout spot, basking in just your underthings (it’s hot, and you’ll both tan better, and besides, no one around to stare except each other).

After finishing another chapter, you push yourself to sit up, lying on your stomach and leaning into your forearms to peer at Eddie through the dark tint of your sunglasses. “Hey. Have you ever tried anal?”

Eddie’s unphased, well used to the way you tend to pick up threads of conversation with startling randomness. He raises a dark brow over the rim of his own tortoiseshell sunglasses, sprawled content on his back, hands folded atop his bare stomach. 

Hums, thoughtfully, before rolling his head lazily towards your lounger- “Yeah. On someone else, no- but on me, yeah.”

Interest piqued, you lean forward further, the soft slopes of your breasts spilling slightly out of the cups of your bra but uncaring as you press, “Wait, really? Was it… like, you got pegged? Or was it a-”

“Buttplug,” Eddie confirms, head lolling back into place. Chocolate curls with a golden-light lustre shift over his shoulders- freckle-smattered from all the sunbathing- as he returns, casually, “And you?”

“Nah.” You poke a finger between the threaded plastic of the lounger beneath the length of your prone body. “I mean, I’ve never been into anal- not really my thing- but, uh, pegging. Yeah. I can get into that.”

“Me too.” Eddie blows out a mournful sigh. “Not really a first-date type of conversation, though, and that’s all I seem to be having these days.”

“How about choking?” You want to keep focused on the subject before it gets hijacked with another existential spiral about your on-the-rocks love lives. 

“Yep. And before you ask- both done to me, and done to a partner. Check and check.” His head rolls back towards you, an invitation to share.

“Choking is cool.” Your finger breaks through the thin plastic, a perfect hole punched in the shape of your index left behind. “I prefer to be the one doing it, though. More control that way.”

Eddie nods to show he’s listening. His hand slips to his thigh, pulling at the hem of his swimsuit shorts. “Yeah, sure. Makes sense.”

A beat. And then, in the uncanny way of people who spend too much time together, you and Eddie both say the same thing at the same time.

“What else are you into?”

Another beat, and then you both crack up, loud guffaws and cackles as Eddie’s teeth flash white and you reach for your water glass with fingers shaky from laughter, feeling suddenly overheated. 

“You first,” Eddie says, playing the part of gentlemen, a twinkle of leftover amusement still evident in his voice.

“Um.” The water glass clinks as you set it back down, touching your lips to the back of your hand before answering. “I like my nipples being sucked on. Played with. They’re sensitive, so… I get a lot out of it.”

Eddie’s gone very still, and you’d almost wonder if he's fallen asleep if not for his chest rising in fast rhythm. He clears his throat, nostrils flaring with a quick breath. “Oh. Right. That’s… great. Good for you.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes, taking sick pleasure in seeing some of his bravado be melted away with just a few words. “Your turn to answer.”

“Nipples-” it’s almost comical how quickly he speaks, and then stops himself, like that’s been the only thing on his mind and he accidentally let it out. “Uh. I mean. I like nipples, too.”

Eddie’s your favorite bear to poke at. After crossing your legs at the ankle, you kick them up behind you, coquettish and simpering. “Yeah? Like, you like your nipples being played with, or someone else’s-”

“Fucking christ.” Eddie shoves the flat of his hands underneath his glasses, scrubbing down his face before sitting up- pointedly turned away from you, feet planted on the roof over the side of his lounger as he hunches forward. “Any of it. All of it. Yours, mine, whoever the hell else wants to join. I feel like I’m burning up.”

“Poor thing.” You stretch to run a sympathetic hand down Eddie’s curved spine, fingers dancing on the constellations of freckles and black ink. “I think you should cool off inside, for a bit. Maybe release some steam in your bedroom before I get back?”

“You know what I think?” Eddie’s words sound half-squeezed, wrung out more the further south your hand travels. “I think you might be the devil. Or some sort of witch. Haven’t decided yet.”

“Keep brainstorming, pal.” With one last stroke to the planes of his muscles, you ease yourself back into lying face-down, settling your forehead into the flat of your crossed arms. “I’ll be down in ten. Don’t come without me.”

Eddie freezes, hand floating in mid-air over the book between his feet. He recovers in an impressive three seconds, resuming the collection of his things- book, towel that gets slung low around his waist, your now-empty water glass. 

“Make it a quick ten, would ya.” He knows you’ll probably make it twenty, now, just to torture him, but Eddie can’t hold back the words as the last of his head disappears in his ladder descent.

There’s no one to hear but you huff, anyway. In an impressive three whole minutes, you’ll be skittering down the ladder after Eddie, diving into your vibrator drawer first thing. 

It’s like the apartment contractors purposefully designed the thin insulation to give future roommates an audience; every gasp, every whimper, every wet noise of his fist on his cock or your fingers plunging into yourself- heard clear as day through the shared wall. Something that started out as accidental voyeurism has now morphed into ritual, sacred and shared nearly every night. 

Unconsciously, your thighs squeeze together at the memories rushing hot through your bloodstream. 

You might need to leave the roof, soon- you think you might be burning up.

[potato-frenzy]

"You can't keep food down....... because you can feel it digesting?" Ford speaks slowly, careful whilst folding wirey limbs up off the floor of the latrine. Eternally concerned at the way Bill's joints overextend in this shape, he wonders what the rationale in giving him such a dysfunctional body was. As far as he understands, this is meant to be part of his former friend's(possibly rekindled, he's not sure) rehabilitation. Perhaps navigating a less than ideal health situation is part of that? Or it could an adjustment period?

Bill remains dead weight, letting his head loll with an uncomfortable looking arch to his neck over Ford's arm. His voice sounding appropriately strangled as he speaks from such an awkward angle. "My brain apparently can't handle the awareness of such an inefficient breakdown of fuel........."

Ford sighs gruffly as he settles Bill back into the berth the formerly multidimensional being is occupying for the interim. Even in a solidly human form, there's still something uncanny, somehow slightly inhuman about Bill. The subtle glow of his sclera in the dim light of the cabin, the reactive slits to his pupils, joints that bend too far, etc. Even as he looks at him now, the curve of Bill's spine is hunched into a shape that is nearly exaggerated with his too long legs pulled to his chin. "Humans aren't generally aware of that particular process, my would be tyrant. Besides, you've nearly passed out just from standing up twice this week. If it weren't too risky, I'd convince Stan to let us drive into town to see a doctor."

Bill makes an unhappy sound that is nearly a growl, mostly a grumble, slightly a gurgle. The low light from the lantern on the wall plays across the shaggy blonde hair that this corporeal came with as it falls into those glowing eyes. Mere firefly light colored slits in the shadows while Bill squirms. "Everything fucking sucks, Sixer ........this body is brand new and it's already falling apart......I think I'm dying........."

"You're not dying, Bill. At least not yet." Ford leans against the frame of the berth, grunting softly as his joints protest. He looks down at the miserable creature before him and in his care, ill-fittingly clothed in his own apparel. "You've only been here a few weeks and while you have lost some weight, the vomiting hasn't become life threatening. The fainting could be attributed to that anyway. I've been formulating some theories though."

"Oh joy, theories. What has my great wise one deduced from my useless human form's failure to function?" Bill's feet thump the wall as he attempts fruitlessly to stretch in the tiny berth.

Ford doesn't like the odd quality that human vocal cords bring to Bill's voice, making it sound flat and featureless. Or perhaps, he was just too used to the sound of a voice beyond human capability. The rich and layered tones and pitches that were just barely outside of his mind's ability to grasp. This voice felt so small, so digestible to mortal senses.

Another sigh, pushing his glasses aside to rub his eyes tiredly, Ford begins slowly. "At first I didn't think I could ascribe normal human body processes to you. But as time has passed, Stan pointed out to me that your body is functioning like a regular human. Albeit a regular human with health issues. Apparently he's seen it before."

Ford idly begins to pet Bill's hair, the texture something between a myriad of different textures. Impossible to place it as it seems to float from certain viewpoints. It's as fascinating as it is frustrating. Ford's caught himself reaching for it more than once in the time he's been here.

Bill never makes comment on it.

"Your immune system seems confused and your vascular system over reactive. And factoring in how unnaturally flexible you are...... you've said you're overly aware of everything happening in your body-"

"It's getting easier to ignore if that makes a difference."

"It does, thank you my m- my mortal ward. Ahem, there's a number of conditions that can cause such things to occur in a body. It could be something like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome or Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. A proper doctor would need to run tests but it's very likely. We might also just need to keep trying to help you keep food and water down until you're used to human body processes."

Ford looks down at Bill then, seeing two faintly glowing slit pupiled eyes blinking up at him in the low light should be more disconcerting than it is. Which is to say that it is oddly comforting, knowing that Bill has been peacefully listening like he did all those years ago. The now solidly human shaped creature looking up at him, curled up in HIS berth on the Stan O'War II, wearing HIS clothes. A comfortable T-shirt with a silly cartoon on it that Soos gifted him, a grey cardigan with sleeves that keep slipping over Bill's long spidery hands and hangs down to his thighs.

The pants had to be procured for him, fished out of a donation bin on the interstate. Not quite long enough to cover Bill's boney ankles but fit comfortably around equally boney hips, it didn't help that he had no ass to speak of though. A tote with clothes collected from the neighbors had made Bill a few outfits that made him fit to be seen in polite company was stashed in a storage locker on the ship. But no matter what the day held, Bill managed to change into some of Ford's clothes when the opportunity arose.

Ford tried not to look too deeply into it but there was that niggling thought some measure of the same regard he used to hold for his multidimensional muse may still be returned. He didn't let himself linger on the possibility too much, especially with Bill in such a vulnerable state.

Besides, Bill's current form looked barely a few years older than Wendy at present. Considering anything untoward sat uncomfortably in his stomach with such youth looking up at him.

-------------------------------------------------------

Excuse me while I just dump this here and run. Legit I don't even go here but this mental image possessed me and I had to write it down. I think Bill getting put in a meat suit purgatory would be made all the better by having a chronic illness come free with the body.

[dearggntlereader]

could I get an SEX ON THE BEACH🩱with JJ Maybank? Love your fics btw <33

"you feel my heart? That's how much you affect me, my love"

This turned into a bit more angst than fluff but I hope you like it anyway<3

You don't know how long the guy in front of you has been talking, you don't know his name or if he's a kook or pogue, all you know is JJ and some kook girl have been talking for exactly 3 minutes and 37 seconds and she's already feeling up his arms, squeezing his bicep and leaning closer while he smiles.

The guy in front of you chuckles and you turn to look up at him, laughing along a bit longer and louder than necessary. He really isn't unattractive, broad, lean shoulders and a pearly white smile.

His dark hair falls into his face and you carefully start playing with it, stepping closer to him. His hair is soft but thinner and straighter than JJ's. Longer, too. Something in your stomach churns when you remember that someone else gets to touch JJ's waves right now.

His hair always reminded you of the sand on the beach and nights spent giggling in the water. Of long summer days and the anecdotes and lectures Pope shares while you try to fall asleep on JJ's shoulder.

This Guy's hair makes you think of how little he looks like JJ. Sharp and piercing eyes instead of soft, loving ones and an almost uncanny perfect smile instead of the crooked grin you love so much.

You're about to pull him in to kiss you anyway, he's been looking at your lips on and off for the last minute, to forget. Then someone presses into your back, pushing you harshly against the uncanny guy. You turn, ready to get an apology just to be met with sandy hair and loving eyes getting pulled away from you by previous kook girl.

You only now notice her frankly ridiculous heels on the literal beach and a short and mean laugh bubbles out of you as you look at him.

"Watch it, your girl might stumble, " you mumble, scoffing.

JJ stops letting himself get pulled away to assumingly get a blowjob and glares at you instead. "Better than your Friend here about to start pulling out his cock right here and now." He turns to uncanny guy and grins at him the way he only does when someone steals something from him, mean and possessive. "You seem desperate, man"

Still facing the guy, his eyes flick to yours something you can't place passing through them as he flexes his hand.

The guy behind you tries to push past you but you're faster. JJ groans, holding his red cheek where your hand harshly met his face just a second ago. "You're acting like you weren't about to get your meat bitten off by Blondie over here!!" you scream hiss.

The last time you two lashed out at each other like this was when JJ tried to stop you from going outside in a dress with the legit smallest neckline ever. Still, he made a huge deal out of it and you never solved that fight. Just bounced back two days later. You always do.

"Like you could do better," he yelled.

You're fully ready to bite back something when his words fully hit you. It might be stupid but it's in this moment that you realize JJ will never want you.

You couldn't do better, because he wouldn't want you to.

Your eyes glaze over and you simply turn and leave, stumbling over the sand and towards the chateau, pushing past people. You ignore the people staring at you and let your eyes wander over the waves crashing against the shore.

You don't hear his steps following behind you but you know he's there when you feel his hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him with a soft smile. You've memorized his hand without even knowing. The rough skin and slightly crooked pinky.

"What's wrong, baby?" His voice is unbearably soft as he tips his head down to catch your eyes.

Anger flares up in you at the way he pretends nothing happened but the wave of desperation and sadness brought up by your year-long yearning overshadows it.

Your voice wobbles as you ask him, "Why don't you ever care?"

His eyes are filled with worry and confusion as he grabs both of your shoulders and steps closer. "I do care! I care so much about you, princess"

You flinch at the Nickname.

It's hard to explain what you're feeling, but you do your best anyway. You couldn't stop the messy words from falling out of your mouth if you wanted to.

"I just- I love you JJ."

You can't look at him, scared of his reaction, as you blubber out how you've liked him for so long and he so obviously doesn't, how he's never jealous, never affected.

When you finish it's scarily quiet, you stopped hearing the noise of the party and the only thing accompanying you two is the water as it glistens under the moonlight.

It's quiet until he grabs and kisses you.

He gently tips up your face but you can't process the way he looks at you before his Lips are on you.

Suddenly everything in you is loud and screaming in a weird, tingly way. Yet, so perfect. Your waist burns as he grabs it to pull you closer and you let out a soft sigh when you let your hands fall into his hair.

Softly your body calms down until you settle, with the help of JJ's thumb circling your skin over and over.

You pull back slowly and he follows you, as if hypnotized. His fingers close around yours and he softly takes one of your hands out of his hair and places it on his chest. "you feel my heart? That's how much you affect me, love"

follower event

[eliasmelody]

PART 3!

Tag: Lily x f!reader (platonic), Florian x f!reader, Joseph x f!reader, Jack x f!reader, maid reader

Warning: grammar & spelling, check endnote for more translation.

INTRO:

The manor loomed in the distance, its silhouette hidden by thick mist. Occasionally, events would unfold within its walls, an enigma that few could comprehend. To survivors, they were a cruel mockery; to hunters, it was nothing more than a meaningless occurrence. Yet, no one understood the manor’s logic. All they could do was follow, drawn by its unrelenting pull.

✦.─────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ─────────── .✦

Cheerleader - Lily Barriere (platonic)

You're doing your best to ensure the Valentine event runs smoothly. The food preparations are nearly done, but the decorations... You let out a sigh as you survey the mess Victor, the dog, made in his panic from the noise. Fortunately, it's nothing you can't handle.

"Is this okay?" Lily's voice rings out, full of excitement. Her enthusiasm shines through, as she eagerly looks at the decorations. With her background as a cheerleader, which you doubt sometimes, her energy is infectious, and she's more than happy to pitch in and help.

"A little higher, Lily." You say, pointing toward the spot on the wall.

"Sure thing!!" Lily said with a confident smile, holding the banner up. "There!! What do you think?"

You smile and give her a thumbs up. "Perfect."

Lily grins even wider, absolutely proud of herself and her accomplishment.

"Hell yeah!!" She exclaims enthusiastically, nodding in agreement. She’s clearly having a blast, so much so that she gets a little too excited and jumps off the ladder.

"Catch!" She yells, her arms flailing as she leaps toward you.

You quickly reach out, barely managing to catch her before she tumbles to the floor. “Whoa, Lily!"

You scold, a little shaken but trying to keep your tone firm. "What was that? You could've hurt yourself!"

Lily grins mischievously, hands on her hips. "I want a reward!" She says, her playful tone adding to the fun atmosphere.

You sigh fondly, shaking your head with a smile. "Of course you do." You sigh, knowing Lily's never short on creative requests.

Lily’s eyes light up at your response, and she taps her chin thoughtfully, pretending to ponder the question even though she’s clearly already got something in mind.

"Hm… well. Since I helped with all the decorating … I think I deserve something special!" She says, her grin growing mischievous. "Why don’t you give me a piggyback ride?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Haha... No." you say, amused but firm.

Lily pouts dramatically, crossing her arms. "Come on! You owe me after all that hard work!" She protests.

You raise an eyebrow at her challenge. "Oh yeah? Then who ate the last brownie when clearly I put a note?"

Lily freezes, her confident grin faltering for a moment as she nervously glances away. "Uh..." She quickly recovers with a sheepish chuckle.

You sigh and shake your head fondly, giving in to her antics. "How about melon cream soda?"

Lily's eyes light up at the suggestion.

"Now you're talking!"

"But no piggyback ride"

"Awww"

Fire investigator - Florian

This man... always appears with that uncanny smile. There was something unsettling about him, something that didn't quite fit with the sharpness of his eyes or the cold precision of his movements. A perfect mask, belying the secrets buried beneath.

Florian volunteered to help with the preparations, just like Lily. Moving heavy crates was no challenge for him, his strength apparent in every effortless motion.

He placed the box down carefully at its destination, then turned back to face you. "Need any more help?"

You shake your head. "That'll be all."

He paused, as if sensing your gaze, and turned slightly, his smile still intact. "Is something wrong?"

You gulp and shake your head, avoiding his gaze. After a moment of silence, you force yourself to speak. "You look… good... in your new outfit." The words feel awkward, leaving a strange taste in your mouth.

He widens his eyes slightly, just enough to be noticeable, as if your words caught him off guard. For a brief moment, his smile falters, but only for an instant before it returns, even more controlled than before. "How kind of you to say."

You smile nervously, the tension in the air thickening as you try to maintain composure. "I-I didn’t mean to make things awkward."

He steps a little closer, his presence almost suffocating now. "You didn't." His voice carried an oddly soothing tone, though something about it sent a chill down your spine.

You nod shyly and take a hurried step back. "Ah, well, thank you for your hel—"

Thud

You accidentally bump into a stack of crates, and a loud clatter echoes through the room as they begin to topple.

Before you can react, Florian is right there, his hand steadying the crates with ease. "Careful." He says, his voice smooth, as he fixes them in place.

"T-thank you." You stammer, your face flushing, trying to regain your composure.

His eyes linger on you, a glint of satisfaction flickering in their depths as he watches your reaction. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his lips, as if pleased by the circumstances. "You’re welcome." He says softly, his voice smooth and deliberate

Under the weight of his stare, your heart races. "If you ever need anything else," His words almost whisper. "Don't hesitate to ask."

You nod quickly, still feeling the tension in the air, make your way away from him.

Once you’re out of sight, Florian stands still for a moment, his smile slowly fading. He raises a hand to his face, his fingers brushing over his lips as a subtle flush spreads across his cheeks.

Photographer - Joseph Desaulnier

Joseph looks up and smiles at you, his eyes sweeping over you. He sets his camera aside and stands up, taking a step closer.

"Ah, there you are." He says, his voice low and almost husk. "You look lovely."

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, caught off guard by his unexpected compliment. You were simply wandering around, never expecting him to call for you. And now, standing before him in your plain maid uniform, you feel a little self-conscious, especially when compared to how effortlessly put together he looks.

"Thank you..." You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Joseph doesn’t seem to notice or care about your doubts. His gaze is still locked on you, scanning every detail of your form with an intensity that leaves you feeling exposed.

"Are you ready to begin?" His smile turns sly, voice is playful, but there's a certain mischief in his eyes that makes you wonder just what he’s planning.

"Ready for what?" You ask, your heart pounding in your chest, uncertainty thick in your voice as you try to make sense of his intentions.

Joseph steps closer, his presence overwhelming. His hand gently lifts your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. His touch is surprisingly gentle, yet there's an undeniable weight to it.

"The photoshoot, mon amour." He murmurs, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable sense of authority. "You agreed to be my muse for tonight, remember?"

"Oh." A mix of confusion and nervousness settles in your chest, and you blink, trying to recall the moment, but your mind feels a bit hazy. "I did?"

Joseph’s smile widens, and he steps a little closer, his gaze soft yet intense. "Oui, mon trésor" He says, his voice warm but teasing.

"But shouldn’t you be taking pictures of the others?" You ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice as you glance around.

Joseph gives a small, knowing smile and steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I already took some" He says smoothly, his voice calm and reassuring. "But at this moment, it is you upon whom I wish to focus."

He reaches out his hand, offering it to you like a true gentleman, his fingers extended with a subtle, inviting gesture. His gaze remains steady, filled with a quiet confidence as he waits for you to take his hand.

You hesitate again but taking a deep breath, you take his hand, your fingers slowly intertwining with his. His grasp is firm but gentle, his hand warm against yours.

"There you go." He muttered, his voice soft and soothing. "No need to be nervous, mon amour. I'll take good care of you."

The Ripper - Jack

You let out a sigh of relief as you finally catch Wick's dog after an hour of chasing. Gently cradling the little creature in your hands, you guess you have to hold it until Victor gets back.

"This is... the event, huh?" A voice echoed beside you, tinged with amusement.

You widen your eyes, not expecting to see him so soon. "Oh, Mr. Ripper."

In front of you stands the famous hunter. Jack raises an eyebrow, a curious expression settling on his face as you falter.

"Mr...?" He turns to face you completely, a playful glint in his eyes.

"And Ripper? No, no, my dear." Jack says smoothly, his tone warm yet laced with something playful, almost teasing. He lets the words hang in the air, as if savoring the moment. "I thought we already talked about this."

"Ah, I kinda forgot..." Your voice barely whispers, the heat creeping up your neck and spreading across your face.

Jack's smirk deepens, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark as he watches your reaction.

"Forgetful, are we?" He murmurs, his voice low, drawing closer. The space between you feels charged with tension, your heart pounding louder with each passing second. He leans in just a little more, his face dangerously close now, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

"I suppose I'll have to remind you” He says softly, his breath brushing against your skin. There's a dangerous edge to his words, a hint of something more, and you can’t tell if it’s a challenge or a promise.

Your heart skipped, panic setting in. You pushed at his shoulder, stammering. "Oh no, no, no. No need!” A forced smile tried to hide your flustered nerves, though it was clear from your expression.

Jack chuckled softly, leaning back with a knowing grin. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, as if he were taking in every detail with a mix of amusement and something darker. The weight of his gaze lingered a little too long, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Mind if I pet?" The words hung in the air, his eyes never leaving you as if waiting for a reaction.

You tilt your head, glancing down at the dog in your arms, whose eyes were locked on Jack. "Oh... sure, I guess?"

You were expecting him to reach down and pet the dog, but instead, to your surprise, he reached out and gently ruffled your hair. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through you, leaving you frozen for a moment as his mischievous grin only grew wider. You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Good girl." Jack murmured with a smirk, his voice low and teasing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instantly regretted how flustered you felt.

✦.─────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ─────────── .✦

mon amour = my love

Oui, mon trésor = Yes, my treasure

Source: idea from “"IDV x The Chara cafe collaboration" (None of the pictures are mine)

[a-random-weeb]

Hii can I request chuuya with a fem s/o who tried escaping from him but got into a car accident and got memory loss?

i assume you meant Yandere Chuuya so...

I know the so hospital thing isn't exactly how that works, they don't just release you immediately... But it was convenient towards this fic so....

Actually, nothing in this fic is canon irl (yes, I need to touch grass), but it's the magical world of ✨Chuuya✨ anyway

Warnings: blood, dead bodies, mentions of kidnapping, Yandere themes and anything else that comes in a Yandere fic.

Disclaimer: as great as yandere is in fanfiction it's important to remember this stuff is not romantic irl (unless it's Chuuya irl then he can do whatever he wants to me)

----------------------------------------------------------

"Who are you?" You tilt your head like a confused child at the short, red head before you.

"Y-you don't remember me?" His eyes widden in shock as he looks down at you lying in the hospital bed.

"um- well- look look familiar, I guess...? Sorry.." you stutter an apology. Chuuya sighs, figuring this might a perfect opportunity.

"You got hit by a car and have a amnesia! I'm your boyfriend, remember?" He pretends to be worried, but the excitement you could believe his lie is too good.

"My boyfriend...? How long have I known you?"

"A few years," he shrugs, pecking your lips. "You'll be realised from the hospital tomorrow, then we can go home!"

"But... I know where I live, if you're insinuating I live with you."

"You only recently moved in, I don't expect you to remember." He begins to lose his patience. You simply nod,

"Ok..." You give in, an eerie feeling nagging at you.

The next day, things go pretty smoothly. Chuuya takes you to his penthouse, where you realise a bunch of your stuff is there. Maybe you really did live with him... You explore his large penthouse, finding the place to be incredibly familiar, yet... You had an uncanny feeling in your gut, telling you to run, to get as far away as possible, and you wondered why. You're thoughts are interrupted as Chuuya hugs your waist from behind,

"Hey princess..." he kisses your neck. you giggle, finding yourself to actually be attracted to him.

"Oh! Speaking of which, where did I work? How much rent do I pay?" You ask, trying to rack your brain for where you could've worked to possibly help him afford such a nice place.

"You were a stay-at-home girlfriend."

"I can't imagine myself being a stay-at-home girlfriend..."

"You didn't cook or clean, I did, and will continue to do so."

"What?" You tilt your head in confusion, "What did I do then?"

"Be pretty." Chuuya shrugs. Your eyebrows furrow, completely dumbfounded.

"There's gotta be something I can do!" The short chihuahua (I'm not sorry) shakes his head, going back to kissing your neck. You squirm a little in his embrace. There's that gut feeling again, screaming at you to run.

You can barely remember your mom or dad, let alone your family. Every time you try to ask Chuuya, he dodges the question. You could vaguely remember where you lived before, but you don't remember the address or even the house number! You could barely remember anything, your so-called 'boyfriend', your family, some words, or even a lot of stuff about yourself! You desperately try to get information from Chuuya, but he won't do anything but beat around the bush. Eventually, you give up. You were bound to find out eventually... Right...?

As you look around the slightly familiar penthouse, you find a locked room, and there's a weird stench emitting from said area. The key to the room sits in the keyhole, almost begging to be opened.

"You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat..." You try to convince yourself it's a horrible idea. But then again, you live here... Shouldn't you know? The curiousity overwhelms you. With a slight turn if the key, you crack open the door, careful to be as quiet as possible. You close it softly behind you as to not alert Chuuya you could be in here, incase he doesn't want you around the room. Your eyes widden in horror and shock as you flip on the lights only to find the room covered in blood, bodies you recognise to be your mom and dad, and other familiar bodies you assume to be your family and friends are scattered throughout the room. All of them look recently beaten to death. Salty tears stream down your face, as you begin to gag at the sight. You swallow your puke, hoping to leave no evidence you were in here, after all, if he doesn't know you were in here then you can escape. You turn to exit the room, only to find Chuuya waiting on the other side of the door with a maniacal look.

"I was hoping to dispose of their bodies before you could discover them, but I guess it's too late." He sighs. You back away into the room, tripping on a body. You're left covered in blood as he approaches you. Fear engulfs your mind as you look for any other means of escape. Scurrying to your feet, you try to run out the door, only to have your body pressed to his.

"How cute, you're all panicked and covered in blood. Unfortunately I can't let you leave... I love you... I need you... You're mine..."

[roseeyes]

Hey guys so this is part two to the Logan slow burn I was really excited to keep working on this so let me know if I should make more anyways here we go

Logan grumbled to himself, a low growl resonating in his throat as he tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. The place was quiet, except for the faint sounds of movement from the other side of the apartment. He had agreed to take on a roommate—a necessity driven more by his need for privacy rather than any particular desire for companionship.

The door to the bedroom creaked open, and Logan saw her. She was in her early twenties, with an air of effortless grace and warmth. Her name was Y/N, and she had a serene presence that seemed to balance out Logan's gruff demeanor. She looked up from her book, her eyes meeting his with a curious glint.

"Morning," Logan grumbled, shuffling into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. "You sleep okay?"

Y/N nodded, her smile radiating a sense of calm. "Morning, Logan. Yeah, I slept fine. How about you?"

"Can't complain," he muttered, though his gruff exterior softened slightly. "The place is small, but it'll do."

Y/N chuckled softly, her laughter like a soothing melody in the otherwise tense environment. "It’s cozy. Besides, it’s only temporary, right?"

Logan grunted in agreement and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. He wasn’t much for talking, preferring the solitude of his thoughts, but he had to admit—Y/N’s presence was a refreshing change from the usual. She was easy to talk to, and her calm demeanor seemed to smooth out the rough edges of his own personality.

Weeks passed, and Logan found himself adjusting to the new arrangement better than he’d anticipated. Y/N was a great roommate—neat, respectful, and with an uncanny ability to make small talk that somehow made him feel more at ease. They would chat over coffee, share the occasional meal, and watch TV together, though Logan was usually grumbling about the shows she picked.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Logan returned home to find Y/N sitting at the kitchen table, her face illuminated by the soft light of a lamp. She was engrossed in a novel, but she looked up as he entered, her eyes filled with concern.

“Rough day?” she asked softly.

Logan shrugged, trying to brush off the discomfort of the day’s battles. “You could say that.”

Without a word, Y/N stood up and began preparing tea, her movements graceful and soothing. Logan watched her for a moment, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and it both comforted and unsettled him.

“Tea’s almost ready,” Y/N said, glancing back with a gentle smile. “It’s chamomile. Thought it might help you unwind.”

Logan sat at the table, feeling the weight of his weariness lift slightly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As they sat together, sipping tea and talking about mundane things, Logan realized how much he had come to enjoy these moments. Y/N had a way of making the world feel a little less heavy, and for someone like him, who had always carried his burdens alone, it was a rare and precious gift.

Months turned into a comfortable routine. Logan found himself looking forward to coming home, not just for the solace of his own space but for Y/N’s company. They had developed a friendship that was both grounding and exhilarating. Logan, who had always been guarded, found himself opening up more, sharing stories from his past and even some of his struggles. Y/N listened with genuine interest and empathy, never pushing but always present.

One evening, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, Logan noticed how close they had become. Y/N was nestled beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, and it was strangely comforting. The movie played on, but Logan’s mind was elsewhere, lost in the realization that his feelings for Y/N had deepened into something more than just friendship.

He shifted slightly, causing Y/N to stir. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat. “Logan? Is everything okay?”

Logan hesitated, his usual confidence wavering as he tried to find the right words. “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say…”

Before he could continue, Y/N placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready.”

The simple gesture, combined with her understanding, made Logan’s heart ache with emotions he wasn’t used to confronting. He took a deep breath, his rough exterior momentarily giving way to vulnerability. “I care about you, Y/N. More than I thought I could.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she moved closer, her hand still resting on his arm. “I care about you too, Logan. A lot.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Logan, usually so self-contained and stoic, found himself opening up to the possibility of something more. It was a new and frightening territory, but with Y/N by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope.

As the days went by, Logan and Y/N’s relationship deepened. They spent more time together, both in their apartment and out in the city. Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, and Logan found himself falling for Y/N in ways he had never imagined.

One crisp autumn evening, Logan and Y/N took a stroll through Central Park, the city lights casting a warm glow over the trees. They walked in comfortable silence, each step a testament to their growing connection. As they reached a quiet spot by a serene lake, Logan stopped and turned to face Y/N.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft but earnest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what we have.”

Y/N looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and hope. “And what have you been thinking?”

Logan took a deep breath, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that I want you in it. I care about you more than I ever thought possible.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with emotion, and she reached out to take his hand. “Logan, I’ve never met anyone like you. You’ve shown me a side of life I never knew existed. I want to be with you, too.”

The words were simple, but they held a depth of feeling that transcended any grand gestures. Logan pulled Y/N into a gentle embrace, his heart swelling with a love he had fought so hard to keep at bay.

As they stood there, holding each other against the backdrop of the city, Logan realized that he had finally found something worth fighting for—a love that was both unexpected and profoundly real. And in Y/N’s arms, he knew that he had finally found a place where he truly belonged.

Hey guys so idk if Wade is gonna be in it anymore but if you wan more of this let me know if I should write more

Xoxo

[noxer]

«Unmasked»

Okay, i'm gonna try. I hope this is not that bad. Uhh, Soundwave/Blaster, some sort of fluff, something about a border where masks don't matter anymore, so it doesn't matter whether the mask is off or not, so why bother taking it off at all?

/awkward curtsy/

______________________________

"Question: Blaster wants to see Soundwave's face?"

It wasn't a question Soundwave would have asked under normal circumstances, but he had to admit that their situation was never normal. It also definitely didn't get easier with the onset of... the truce (he can't bring himself to say the word "peace", and it's not even a matter of Decepticon pride, it's just... it was difficult to realize until now). An intimacy that oscillates on the border with invasive, an understanding that could usually be shared only with own reflection, this whole set of things that does not allow one to relate each other to the usual one-sided categories of “enemies”, “friends” or “lovers”. This is difficult, there is not enough intelligence and experience here, you need faith in your own actions, hope for a favorable outcome, everything that the third-in-command did not have the right to rely on.

However, this is not the only reason. The thing is, Soundwave basically never asks questions. He doesn't need it. He always knows the answer in advance, relying on his own espionage skills or slightly more straightforward telepathy. But he doesn't want to read Blaster's mind right now. Perhaps later, when he gives an answer, and Soundwave can understand how ready he is to lie to him.

In addition, direct questions are much simpler and more effective than trying to unravel other bot's hints, semi-gestures and EMF’s vibrations, small signals emanating from the body, like a special type of code. Soundwave is a master codebreaker, but even he makes mistakes, and this is not a situation where he wants to make a one.

That's why he asks.

Blaster turns his head towards him, looking interested with bright blue optics. An almost tangible curiosity emanates from his body, mixed with playfulness and something less understandable. The Autobot is intelligent, although not the type of intelligence that any Decepticon is accustomed to. There is no cunning in him, no ability to anticipate someone else's shot before it leaves a hole in your back, no tenacious paranoid attentiveness. However, Blaster was not so easily fooled. He has cracked his codes, exposed false broadcasts and lured data out of databases for centuries. The fool couldn't handle this. The fool would have died on the day of his appointment as an officer. Blaster was no fool. Emotions might cloud his vision at times, but at the same time they gave him insight that was only occasionally surpassed by his own uncanny empathy.

Soundwave doesn't know what Blaster will answer, but he already knows that the answer will not disappoint him.

“I don’t know,” the Autobot’s deep voice purrs with attractive vibrations, “Do you want me to see?”

Soundwave's spark ignites. As he had expected, the other person's answer was extremely... interesting.

Blaster knows him. He knows from so many facets, in some places, perhaps understanding more about him than Soundwave himself understood. This happens when your lives repeatedly find themselves in each other's hands in so many different ways. One secret more, one secret less, it wouldn't matter anymore, not for them. But still...

He moves closer, enough to touch another bot, feeling the static spark between the bright scarlet plates and his own fingers. Blaster's hand almost simultaneously touches his mask. And nothing more. Soundwave feels the warm weight, the texture of worn metal and the faint electricity, but that's about it. There is not a single attempt to open hidden locks or remove the mask. Just a gentle, comforting touch.

He would allow his face to be revealed. He would.

But he's glad he doesn't have to.

He's glad that his secrets can remain secrets without tarnishing what was between him and Blaster (whatever that was after all).

Soundwave leans closer to the palm, absorbing its soft warmth under the autobot's quiet laughter.

[k0k0-library]

It’s a big universe, but my love for you is bigger than that(MDNI)

Fandom: Transformers (all series maybe)

Warnings: potential use of y\n, major character death, hurt, the big dead, racism, canibalism as a for to express one’s love and affection, sex, emetophilia, sex again - but on a dead body

Pairing: F! reader x Optimus Prime

After millennia of fighting the Decepticons, after loosing loved ones and worlds and planets to the brutal hand of the soul harvester, Optimus laid content. For the first time in a very long while, he could breath in the air of a foreign world, air that he didn’t really need to survive but air that he still loved to feel in his metalic lungs, without the possibility of Megatron attacking. His optics were scanning the surroundings lazily, stopping when they made notice of you approaching with a very disgusted and terrified expression on your face.

He couldn’t understand the reason why you looked at him with such disdain as he did only what you told him to: kill Megatron. Yes, he took the liberty of bringing his lifeless carcass in the room that you share, placing it in-so-not-subtly on the berth. As a human, it was normal for you to feel terrified when you saw a cadaver, but to see your lover laying in bed next to the lifeless body of his arch-nemesis was completely something else.

“What’s wrong, sweet-spark? I just thought you’d like a little gift-“

“Optimus… this is fucked up in more than one way. This is madness,” Madness? You accused the mech that you loved of madness! No, no my dear. This. Is. Cybertronian. Love. To kill ones enemy, to present them to your lover is a gesture of such deep intimacy, that it can bring overloading by just imagining it.

"I often forget humans barely court during their coupling. Appologies, my sweetest spark"

That voice, that fucking deep, rumbling humm of his spark drawing you in closer and close. You were terrified, yet you still seeked his warmth. It was a most uncanny feeling, the love you felt for Optimus.

The giant, which you thought was gentle, scooped you in his hands, holding you up to his masked face. The battered metal of his servos was cold, and hard; but you could see that he was being as gentle as he could when handling you.

"Do not be afraid, my spark. He is no longer in this realm..." Optimus emphasisez his words by guiding one of his servos to Megatron's chassis and ripping off the Decepticon's crest without a flinch. Even you knew that this action should've hurt Megatron immensely. Seeing the ex-dictator so innert, so dead was something that made your insides churn.

"Optimus... I'm not feeling well-" He kissed you hungrily, the slight taste of your vomit in your mouth not stopping him. He didn't care, even if you were to puke right in that moment.

"Hm? Are you unwell, my love?" He asked softly, tossing the ripped-off crest somewhere next to the berth. "I can take care of you in ways that will make you scream for me~"

His servo shifted slightly to hold you in a mating press in his palm, the other ripping away your lower garments, exposing your overly wet pussy to him. "You are unwell yet you are aroused. Humans... I will never understand them-" The metal plates of his mask moved back with a slight hiss, his whole face visible now. Optimus brought his intake closer to you, and for a moment, you could've sworn you felt a warm breath hit your clit.

"I don't think this is a good idea-"

"Hush, child!" His voice was rougher than usual. You knew you needed to shut up and be his little fuck toy whenever he was like this. We can't have him hurt his unobedient sweetspark now, can we?

A moment in which you weren't paying attention was all it took for the old mech to glide his glossa on your skin, the tip aiming for your vagina. Optimus kept laping at your sensitive skin, drinking in your wetness and the sounds you made. Were they out of pleasure, out of protest? Both, maybe. But you couldn't deny that his ministrations made you forget about the cadaver next to you for a bit.

As your hands tried to grip at his digits for some kind of support, your eyes darted down and saw the lifeless body of Megatron; just as you were coming too. Poetic, right? A cruel joke played by fate, ain't it? Petrified, that's what you were left as when he slowly pulled away and smiled.

"Still unwell, my sweet-"

"Get rid of him. He's creeping me out"

Well you see, you snapped at him. And he doesnt like people snapping at him. Optimus was a forgiving mech to his lover, and only chuckeled at your distressed, placing a kiss in between your legs. "And here I thought I could propose you something interesting in berth"

You were a curious being, really. And had odd taste in men... you were together with a giant alien robot for fuck's sake. That's when you felt a weird sensation in your back; he let you freefall for a sacond before catching you and laughing. The humm of his spark an echo that accompanied his voice. "You are adorable, my love"

Terrified. Again, but now for another reason. The tough reminder that your lover can end your life just like that, from a silly game of his...

The Autobot leader did something weird at least and dowright insane at best. He placed you over Magatron's chassis. It was frigid. Cybertronians are cold since they are made of metal, but he was freezing. Or it? Was he even considered a person now that his spark was snuffled? An object?

"Optimus!"

"Hush, my sweet spark, relax and enjoy yourself" He groaned. You could hear his interface panels depressurise to leave space for his spike to harden. His spark began to rise its unbeat rythm, the matrix in his chassis emanating an even louder humm, a warmer ray, almost like a swarm of wasps that was ready to strike (or like a very old gaming laptop that is trying to turn on with the power of friendship).

It wasn't long until his spike was rubbing against the wet folds of your vagina. "Optimus! Please-"

"I know. I will not hurt you, Y/N"

He always kept his promises. He never hurt you during intimacy until now, and today was not going to be any different you hoped. The cold, sticky pre-transfluid that leaked out covered the entirety of your pussy and coated your thihghs.

You whimpered and sobbed in pleasure, pressing yourself harder against the cadaver of the former decepticon dictator. Your boobs were pressed tightly against the frigid metal, sending shivers down your spine, as Optimus kept prodding you. He wasn't going to put it in, right?!

Wrong. Very wrong. The tip of his spike entered you almost forcefully, earning a sharp scream from you and a sorry excuse of an attempt to get away, to make his spike exit you. Yet, he held you in place. "Stop being so loud, my love. I will be gentle" He groaned loudly. The warm tightness of your pussy around the tip of his spike made the mech overload in you almost instantly.

"Please pull out!" You sobbed out as his lukewarm transfluid kept pouring in, filling you to the brim. It was an odd feeling. You wanted him to pull out, to relief the pressure his fluid made in you...

"You are devine, Y/N. Only mine...~" Optimus finally pulled out of you with a moan, letting the fluid pour out of your stretched your hole like a fountain. "If you were Cybertronian, I would've eatten that pussy until you begged me to stop. And I mean it literally-"

"Canibalism....?"

"It is an intimate act between lovers, not something condamnable like it is for your people. To feel the other with you, in you...~"

"Optimus...?"

"Yes?"

"Next time you want to surprise me... buy me a cat"

[justanotherblogger]

Shadow Trails ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-- TW kinda detailed gore/violence and death ahead --

The being got pelted with rain as it walked along the sidewalk, trying to find some proper shelter. The rain never ended as it shivered in its torn clothing.

It briefly inspected its surroundings as it walked, seeing how the rain turns yellow and sizzles when it touches anything. Its brown clothes started to gain small burns from the downpour after a while.

The sidewalks were cracked with unknown stains, burns, and fluids stuck in the gutters. These discolored the puddles and small streams from the storm, making everything seem polluted and unsavory.

Everything else looked like your average town back in New Oreans, but something was off about this place. Everything seemed uncanny. Where small details should be, there were slights in what its memory provided.

It eventually found something when it passed a boarded up speakeasy with the name 113 Club. It had an alley with stone steps leading up to a side door, with a small awning it could probably fit under.

It immeadietly ran towards the awning before crouching down at the top of the stairs, barely staying out of the acid.

As soon as it no longer felt the burning sensation, it sagged onto the stairs slightly. It started to breathe slower and closed its eyes for a second of rest.

Then it opened its eyes again, seeing this place now with focused vision. It now realized what it had found odd about the place. The building had sharper angles and desigbs than what it had remebered, with many shades of red and black coloring the entire area.

Even the plants and sky were red from what it could see through the storm clouds. The clouds themselves seemed darker than usually possible, not even mentioning the precipitation that came from them.

It leaned back onto the locked door, feeling the rough wood and peeling paint against its back. It tilted its head up, looking towards the clouds.

'How did I wind up... here?' It thought. Closing its eyes, it tried to recall the events leading up to this, but all it turned up was blurry visions and static.

The being tilted its head down in thought, trying to think of anything from before it got stuck in this place. But its mind seemed scattered; as only bits came back to it.

It started to get irritated. 'Why can't I remember anything. What... happened to me.' The rain seemed to fall harder, hissing as it hit the ground more and more, becoming unbearable to the beings' sensitive ears.

It huffed, putting its head in its arms. Gritting its teeth, it tried to think back again. Anything to try and-

*BANG*

The being snaps its head up, ears flicking in alert. It looked to the sky.

*BANG*

Lightning strikes the open street, thunder crackling to life a second later. Its pupils turn to pinpricks, with the shadows lashing out, tearing up the wall behind it.

But the being didn't notice, as that strike finally jogged its memory.

A gunshot. It remembered a gunshot.

It... He was running. From who, he didn't know. He could only feel his shoes imprinting onto the soil as he fled.

He remembers hunting dogs barking in the background as he tried to escape; bullets flying past his head as he weaved through the dense forest.

His pursuer was never far behind, though, as the noise of the dogs seemed to only get closer and closer at every second.

He ran and lightly jumped over the protruding roots and shrubs that covered the familiar forest floor, some lowering or diverting their branches to make an easier path.

But the pursuer was never slowed down, it seemed, as the weighted steps of the hunter were still heard behind him.

Even when he was weaving between thick trunks and sheltered by the shadows cast by the moon, the hunter never let up. He supposed he could respect the tenacity.

Bullets often shot into nearby trees, throwing debris in every direction. He occasionally got nicked in the neck, arms, and torso, but nothing was too severe; he had to keep running anyway.

Yelling could suddenly be heard, curses of every scale being spat out in anger alongside the furious howels of those beasts the sloppy hunter had brought with him.

A certain click from reloading was all he got before he had to dodge again, bullets whistling by as he laughed at the absurdity, the noise echoing through the trees.

His grin grew as the soil turned to mud: signifying that the bayou was getting close. The smell of musk and stale water filled his nose as a strong breeze blew throughout.

His dress shoes were probably completely ruined by now: the mud sticking to his soles. The ground is now filled with small, muddy puddles as he kept going deeper and deeper into his bayou.

He could feel his power slowly growing; shadows flickering at the edges of his vision. Water splashed up to his pant cuff as he crashed through progressively bigger puddles.

Almost there. Another bullet whistled by his head, lodging into a tree a couple of inches away from his head. Just a bit more.

The footsteps behind him suddenly became silent. A sense of unease filled him as he continued his pace. He wasn't going to stop just because some Joe decided to-

*BANG*

White hot pain suddenly shot up from his left calf, causing his leg to collapse at the shock. He quickly had a face full of dirt, his brown framed glasses shattered on the ground.

What just happened.

He felt blood slowly run down his leg and onto the ground. He tried to stand up, but shots of pain from his leg quickly threw him back down again. Ha! It'll take more than that to keep me-

The world started to spin around him, the shadows from the trees growing in size as he failed to pull himself forward.

Then thosewretched dogs found him; they rushed at him with immense speed.

He felt the teeth sinking into his flesh, tearing out the muscles with ease, taking chunks out at a time. The pain flashed up in waves as he felt more and more blood flow down his limbs and soak into the mud.

He clenched his jaw, throwing his body, trying to get the dogs off of him. With the little strength he had, he was able to pull out a knife from his belt and slash one of the beasts across the stomach.

It fell back, and he focused his slashes onto the second dog. He was able to strike two of its legs before it finally staggered away. He took a quick breath, the comforting smell of murky water and moss helping clear his head slightly.

The mud stuck to his skin as he crawled forward. He was so close now. He just needed a bit further. He needed to get to the water.

He dug his hands deep into the earth, pulling himself forward again. But the pain from everything became too much; his vision becoming cloudy from the blood loss.

The blood created a dark trail as it colored the soil he was laying on, the deeper slashes on his left arm giving most of the scarlet liquid away. The scratches and bites on his body became almost unnoticeable.

He could barely see the swamp up ahead. The still water brought back some determination as he tried to crawl through the pain.

But he was never that lucky.

He remembers the boots stepping in the mud behind him, leisurely walking up behind, the hunter taking his precious time, as to drag on this entire dabacol.

He couldn't see the pursuer clearly, as his glasses werent for nothing and the blood loss obviously did some things to his vision. The hunter had pulled him to lay on his back, staring him down.

The hunter suddenly stepped onto his right leg, using his full weight until the bone snapped. He never screamed, though. Only an annoying grin plastered on his face with bloody teeth.

He cackled once again. That was a good show. A daring chase throughout his home territory, real riveting! He saw how the shadows crept in on the man, who stared at his face unknowingly.

His grin stretched farther. Oh, he had the urge to laugh right again! But, he couldn't without it becoming repetitive-

*Snap!*

A branch cracked in the forest. The shadows scurried away as the hunter jerked violently, seemingly out of whatever trance he was in.

The grinning man quickly looked to the sound. A deer stood tall bathed in moonlight. Staring at the duo with blackened eyes. His eyes widened.

The man had barely any time to react before cold metal collided with his temple, pushing his head back into the cold, smooth mud.

*BANG*

Another strike of lightning, the thunder echoing through the alleyway. It was farther away this time. The rain had let up a bit since he had been, well, reminiscing.

His breathing was heavy, body now rigid from the rain, mostly. He stared at the downpore; wondering. 'I... died.'

He closed his eyes once again, the notion absurd enough to be featured on one of those radionovelas he'd heard about.

'Beloved radio host, actually the Bayou Butcher of New Orleans, killed in bayou where he buried his victims!' He could imagine. He huffed out a shallow laugh.

The acid rain had let up almost entirely, leaving the slight smell in the air after a downpour. He looked out to the street again, seeing all the boarded up doors and windows and cracks on the buildings. His stomach twisted.

He huffed before standing up once again and walking back out onto the street. He smoothly jumped over any overturned concrete or piece of rubbish in his way, as he went in a random direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hotel had been going a bit slower than Charlie would have liked. A week after that incident on 666 News and not even one sinner had come asking for more details!

She even got Husk to help remodel the hotel a bit. Even if there was more green and purple than she would've liked in certain rooms.

Angel complained about the noise, saying he needed his beauty rest in order to keep the bucks flowing in. That caused Husk to mutter something she couldn't hear, and all of a sudden, she had to tear the two away from each other before furniture went flying.

They stayed away from each other the rest of the remodeling process.

Nifty also helped in the past week! Just, eh, in her own way. She was always skittering around the halls, stabbing the carpet after any remaining bugs. There was never any lasting damage to the floor, though, and all the dust and cobwebs were gone!

Now, besides remodeling, Charlie made many different posters for the hotel down in the lobby, just to stick all around Pentagram City and get the word out.

She obviously gave her drawing expertise to the design, but she almost always forgot to put the actual contact information, focused on the happy picture. So, she asked for help from Alastor, and he agreed! He never left the front desk, though; drawing and sketching on the bar counter.

However, he always forgot to put her phone number on there and kept writing 'Hazbin Hotel' instead of Happy Hotel. Whenever she asked, he just said, "I would never endorse those frivilous, jumbled picture cards! Anywho, the name is for your branding! No sinner with self-respect would go to any establishment called the 'Happy Hotel'. The other name fits the image of this city much better!"

She never really got what he meant by that. This was a place to help sinners gain happiness and reform from their sins to stop the extermination! But, she didn't change any posters out of politeness.

Vaggie was annoyed at her decision and started to grimace at the front desk whenever she passed through the lobby. She told Charlie that he was mocking them, but Charlie saw the effort Alastor put in to color and draw each poster for her.

So, when all of them were done, she called everyone to come to the lobby lounge for an important discussion.

"Ok! So, the hotel has been up for a bit, and no one seems to have noticed our hotel yet." Charlie starts, matter-of-factly to the group of people in the lobby.

Angel snickered at his perch on the love seat, with Husk giving a skeptical expression towards Charlie on the armchair.

Vaggie clenched her fists, narrowing her eyes beside Charlie, who seemed undisturbed by the feedback. "Now, I have made pairs to go out and put up posters up in the streets for the hotel. I will also be counting this as a bonding activity!"

Charlie poofed up some flashcards from a wave of her hand. "I'll list the pairs, and then each pair can go grab a stack to stick onto windows, walls, or electric poles." Charlie stated. "And only those things." Vaggie then emphasized.

A scoff from Angel is all they got in response.

"Ok, so the pairs start with me and Nifty, Husk and Vaggie, and lastly, Angel and Alastor." She read flipping through the index cards.

No groans sounded, so Charlie took that as a win, but Alastor did speak up. "Charlie dear, I'm afraid that at least one of us should stay at the hotel. To make sure no sinner tries anything while we're away."

"Oh, uh, that's a good point..." Charlie seems to think it over. Vaggie started to open her mouth, but Alastor cut her off.

"Well my dear, I think the best course for us is to leave the staff out of this little excursion." He casually suggested, eyes intently focusing on the glass he was cleaning.

"That does make sense... ok, that means that only two pairs will go out to put up fliers today. Vaggie and Husk can go to the west side, and I am now with Angel in the east side since Al and Nifty will stay at the hotel. Any objections?" Charlie asks.

No one put up any major fuss about the pairings, mainly waiting for Charlie to continue. Charlie seemed pleased with the results.

"Ok then! Let's go out and put up some posters, people!"

Previous II Next II Start

[shaingles]

Overtime

Characters involved: 🐏 (Osric), 🗡️ (Midas), 🐰 (Shylok)

"Archons damn this." An angry grunt leaves Midas's throat as he struggles to fix the drain under the bathroom sink. He has been doing work all day, cleaning the gutter, fixing the rooftop, greasing the door AND cabinet hinges, and so many other things that make him think Shylok purposefully broke or wore down just to get him to do work. He sits up, wiping his hands with a rag before massaging his sore arms.

"Hey, big guy," Osric's voice catches Midas's attention, making him smile. He walks in with tall glasses of lemonade in hand. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good, I guess..." He takes a glass, gulping down the sweet citrus drink before placing the cup beside him. "Actually, no, not really."

"No?" Osric tilts his head, sitting before him on the floor. "What's wrong?"

"A lot of things have been... bothering me lately." His finger caresses the cold glass as he looks away. "For the past week or so, I've been seeing you and Shylok... close with each other and..." He trails off a bit, wincing before asking, "Are... are you two a thing, or something?"

"What??" Osric laughs, clearing his throat to stifle it. "No, me and Shylok aren't "A thing." We're friends."

Midas's eyebrows furrow, letting the information settle before asking: "So... why are you so... kissy and huggy with him... and, to an extent, me?"

"Because I love both of you. You two are my best friends. Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. It's just... You allow him to kiss you on the cheek... And you always hug and kiss him back. It feels... weird. I'm just not used to it, I guess."

Empathy spreads across Osric's face as he studies his expression. "I mean, if you want to kiss me, you can. I won't mind."

Midas's face flushes pink at his proposal, being at a loss for words. "I— Um—"

"I mean, where Shylok and I are from, affection and the expression of it isn't exclusive to lovers," Osric rambles, crisscrossing his legs. "Friends, like me and him, feel comfortable enough being affectionate with one another, just as I feel comfortable doing it with you... But I understand if you don't like it." He softly smiles at Midas, his sheep ears flicking gingerly.

"No, I'm cool with it, I just need to... adjust to it, okay? I'll be alright." He tries to force a smile but he fails.

Osric notices, his ear twitching as he leans forward a bit. "Is that the only problem?"

"No..." He sighs, shaking his head. "Another thing is that... Shylok has been on my ass ever since he and I met. He keeps judging me and treating me like an annoying pest."

"... I'm sorry." Osric frowns, his ears drooping slightly.

"Don't apologize, especially not on his behalf." He finishes his lemonade before standing up and stretching. Osric stands up as well, taking the empty glass from him.

"If you want me to help with anything, don't be afraid to ask, alright?"

"Thank you. You're too sweet." He can't help but smile, especially at how his ears move against his dark, coily hair. His mood brightens for a moment, feeling better until a soft knock on the door frame catches his attention.

"Osric," Shylok speaks, causing Osric to flinch and almost drop the cups in his hand. Even if the rabbit-eared man isn't looking at Midas, he can still feel an aura of judgment burning through him. "Head to the study room for your check-up." his voice is soft and quiet, which irritates Midas more.

Osric nods, handing him the full glass of lemonade. "I made this for you, by the way."

"Thank you. Take it with you and put it on my desk."

Osric nods before leaving. Alone with Shylok, Midas tenses up, preparing himself for whatever he might say. Shylok, instead studies the scene, looking at the open drain before his eyes connect with Midas. Despite the height difference, Midas feels smaller than Shylok. It reminds him of the times Boss or Lady Isa looked at him, the uncanny resemblance making him uneasy.

"How's the work going?" He sounds sincere, but that doesn't make Midas feel any better.

"Um... It's alright. I'm almost done with this drain."

"Hmm..." Shylok caresses his beard as he looks at it.

"What? What's with you pondering?" Midas can't help but feel the need to defend himself, even if he hasn't said anything.

"Calm down." Shylok crosses his arms as he glares at him. "I'm just surveying the pipe. You know, you don't have to constantly be on edge."

"Well, it's hard not to when you're always assuming the worst of me." His voice grows harsh as he glares back, needing to assert himself.

"Now's not the time for this," Shylok sighs. "I don't have time to argue with you. Just fix the drain, then go fix the bookshelf. One of the shelves is lopsided."

Shylok leaves, closing the door behind him. "Prick," Midas grumbles, wanting to destroy the sink instead just to spite the rabbit alchemist, but he knows he can't. Not because Shylok would most likely use his powers on him, but because he doesn't want to disappoint Osric. He returns to the sink, dreading to fix the shelf as he works.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Universe 180330: Android

Summary: Gabriel decides to tell Adrien the truth about Hawkmoth while Adrien stumbles onto a truth of his own.

---------------------

There was no blood.

Skin, or what should have been skin, peeled back to reveal metal bones and veins of wire.

"Kid..."

Adrien pulled on the fake tissue. Watching as the biomimicry of his internal structure flexed in response to the pain that didn't come.

"Kid!"

He remembered his fifth birthday. Standing on the chair to blow out his candles because his body was too small. Remembered when he peeled off the tux that was squeezing him because he'd grown too big for it. Adrien remembered his childhood...

Didn't he?

"Adrien!"

His eyes snapped into focus. Plagg trying to pry his fingers away from the flap of fake skin that Adrien was pulling, pulling, pull-

Adrien let go and collapsed to his knees. Whatever technology he was made out of already working to repair him. The numbness fading and a burning itch taking it's place.

Fake pain. To prevent... damage.

A paw was placed on his cheek. Big green eyes gazing into his. Moisture congealed on the surface of his optical receptors. Simulating tears.

"P-Plagg?" His voice broke. "D-does this mean I c-can't be Chat Noir anymore?"

Plagg's tail stilled. "... You're not getting rid of me that easily," he promised.

Adrien nodded as his artificial heart slowed. The servos in his legs taking a long time to reboot.

---------------------

Gabriel stared at images of the silver ring on his son's finger.

The shape was uncanny.

The people in charge of Adrien's photoshoots reported that he often disappeared when there was an akuma... Not that that said much, considering.

But there was also the Simon Says incident. One of his many blunders.

Chat Noir's temper reminded him so vividly of Emilie.

Gabriel straightened his back. No use wondering. He made his way quickly to Adrien's room and threw open the door without knocking.

"Adrien, I have something important to-"

His son's room was empty.

"What!? Nathalie!"

Nathalie and the bodyguard Gabriel was starting to think was slightly overrated rushed to him at his yell.

"Where is my son!? Find him!" Gabriel snapped.

----------------------

Adrien didn't remember when Solitude first came out.

Understandable. He wasn't "born" yet. But that did mean that this film was the only recording of his mother that wasn't carefully curated for his consumption.

He wasn't sure what he was hoping to glean from it but... "Having a mechanical brain that records everything has to be good for something," he thought aloud.

"Like sniffing out that one bit of cheese that's gotten too rotten?" Plagg asked.

Translation: finding a clue about how much of his "life" actually happened.

"Is there such a thing as too rotten with you?" Adrien deflected with a smile instead.

"You'd be surprised." Plagg hid as they came into view of the movie theater.

--------------------

Gabriel suddenly remembered that Adrien had come into his office earlier that day to ask for something... But Gabriel was too engrossed in the question of Chat Noir to pay attention to him.

What ... What was Adrien feeling when he came in?

He should know. The Butterfly made him know. Always. He couldn't turn it off.

But he could shut it out...

Suddenly the idea of akumatizing his son's bodyguard no longer felt like the smart move.

Gabriel ignored Nooroo's questioning look as he stopped fidgeting with the Butterfly brooch and reattached his tie. Activating the hidden elevator to decend from his lair.

He dialed the bodyguard and waited for the answering click. "I know where he is. Let him finish watching the film then escort him back once it ends."

Hanging up, Gabriel gazed up at the portrait of his comatose wife.

---------------------

Adrien wiped at his photo receptors as the credits rolled.

The film was a passion project between friends with too much money. Which showed in clunky dialogue and weird scene transitions. And yet... Maman was an amazing actress. Embodying the isolation someone could feel even while surrounded by people.

The servos in his fingers whirled as his digits approximated a fist. It wasn't fair. Adrien didn't even have a heart just simulated responses.

It shouldn't hurt this much to see himself reflected in his mother's character.

His facial recognition detected the Gorilla a few rows behind him as Adrien stood. Here to guard Father's favorite toy.

Adrien barely acknowledged him as he walked back to the vehicle. Logic algorithms malfunctioning as he was temporarily overcome with the desire to have been born a car.

--------------------

Gabriel stared at the expressionless mask of his son's face. Adrien had his mother's eyes. Gabriel had insisted on getting the color just right.

"Adrien-" Gabriel cleared his throat. "There is something I have to tell you."

"I'm not real."

"...What?"

Adrien's optical receptors simulated the reddening response as internal moisturizer was released. He walked up to one of the statues in his maker's office and punched the stone as hard as he could. Cracks spiderwebbing from the impact.

"Adrien!"

Pulling back his fist Adrien's optical receptors focused on the joints of his digits. "I'm not real."

"No!" Gabriel grabbed his son's hand. Fingers ghosting over his knuckles where synthetic flesh revealed metal bones. Hands freezing as realization hit him like a meteorite. "...How long?"

"Long enough." Adrien snatched his hand out of Gabriel's grasp as he stepped back.

"Adrien... son-"

"Don't." The tears in his eyes started to spill over. "Don't call me that. I'm not your son. You don't see me as a son. I'm just your fancy doll-"

"That's not true!" Gabriel insisted. "You mean everything to me!"

"Oh, yeah?" Adrien scowled. "Then how come you're never around!? How come I need an appointment just to ask if I can see Maman's movie!? How come I can't call you dad!?" Adrien's words echoed in the high walls of the mansion as his voice rose.

"... Nooroo, transforme-moi."

Adrien scrambled back. "No. No!"

"You are so much like your mother," Hawkmoth said, eyes gentle. "She wanted a son so badly before the end. So I moved heaven and earth to build her one. When we made you I wanted you to be just like her." His transformation fell as he reached out a hand to caress Adrien's cheek.

His son flinched from his touch.

... Gabriel let his hand fall. "You gave her such life Adrien. You gave her years the doctors said she didn't have because she wanted to spend more time with you."

For over a decade she clung to life for you. Developing plans and perfecting your future bodies so it would be like you were growing up like any other child."

"Astro Boy... She called me Astro Boy."

"Yes," Gabriel laughed. "She said it was my fault. For infecting her with my sense of humor."

"... Why?" Adrien asked, a thousand questions in a single word.

"I... I had to get her back. It wasn't fair! To take her from us when we had so much left to do! I... See her in you. Some days so strongly it hurts and I couldn't-" Gabriel took a shakey breath. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you. Any of it."

Adrien wiped at the tears in his eyes. Heart drumming in his chest. "So... I'm just a pet robot that looks too much like your wife."

"No! Adrien, no! I-"

"I'll be in my room." Adrien ran out of his father's office.

Leaving Gabriel alone. Like he had done so many times before.

-----------------------

Things were... Awkward after that.

Not least because Gabriel actually showed up for meals and attempted to engage with Adrien's questions about his own nature.

"How come I get hungry?"

"Some of your synthetic components require organic fuel."

"Is that why you control my diet so much."

"Well, yes."

"I want to know what I shouldn't be eating. And why. It's my body. I should be the one to decide what goes in it."

"Nathalie will give you a list."

"... Does she know?"

"...Yes."

Adrien stood abruptly, breakfast half eaten. "Excuse me, Father. I'm late for school."

Gabriel did not point out that he was in fact an hour early.

---------------------

"How old was my first body."

"About three years. That is also the amount of time you spent in it before we transferred your consciousness to your five year old form."

"...How does it work?"

Gabriel shifted awkwardly. "Your old body is connected to your new one and-"

Adrien shook his head. "No, I mean, how am I built?"

In retrospect Adrien should've known seeing his past selves was going to be super creepy.

Even creepier than seeing his future body suspended in a fluid solution. His synthetic skin only grown down to the first abdomen. Leaving his gut and legs' inner workings exposed. The metal-synth musculature was a lot more anatomical than Adrien thought it would be.

It was a strangely comforting thought. That his future body would be even more human than his current one. Almost enough to offset the odd feeling of watching yourself sleep.

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Every iteration is more advanced than the last. We may even be able to eliminate the filter problem with feathers in your adult self."

"I was wondering about that." Actually, Adrien was wondering if he could get abs in his next body but was too self conscious to ask.

--------------------

Learning about himself was so distracting that it took Adrien a while to notice that Hawkmoth hadn't sent out an akuma since Gabriel revealed himself.

Or maybe he was simply avoiding having to deal with it. Adrien thought as he walked to his father's office. It was past the time Gabriel was usually busy with work but...

"Adrien. It's late. Isn't it a school night?"

"It's not that late," Adrien muttered, ignoring the silly warm feeling in his chest. "Father... You haven't akumatized anyone in a while."

Gabriel paused. His fingers saved his work and exited out of the program before giving his son his full attention. "I... Realized that I could only keep going as Hawkmoth... if I ignored your pain."

"... Oh."

Gabriel removed his tie and stared at the broach.

Nooroo floated out of his hiding place. "Master?"

"Hello," Adrien stepped closer as he held out his pinky finger for the kwami to shake. "What's your name?"

"I am Nooroo. Pleasure to meet you properly, Adrien." Nooroo shook Adrien's offered pinky with his own appendage.

"Is he what empowers the Miraculous?" Adrien asked, hand gliding over Plagg's hiding place.

"... What do you really want to ask me, Adrien?"

Adrien took a deep breath. "Don't you think it's time Nooroo went back to his own family?"

Gabriel stilled. "You... Want me to give them my Miraculous?"

"Please, dad!" Adrien walked up to his maker and held his hand in both of his.

He looked down at his son's pleading eyes. He could see it. Eventually, the temptation would be too great. The pain of this moment would fade among the sea of his grief and he would fall back into old habits.

And his son would suffer again.

Gabriel let go of the Butterfly and let it fall into Adrien's hands. "O-okay," he breathed. "Okay."

Relief bloomed on Adrien's face as he wrapped his arms around his dad. Gabriel returning the embrace.

--------------------

"Dude, I can't believe you're a robot!"

Adrien's face fell.

"That's so cool!"

His head snapped up to find Nino's eyes sparkling in awe.

"Y-you don't think it's weird?"

"Eh," Nino wrapped an arm around Adrien's shoulders. "Normal's overrated."

Adrien smiled shyly. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Hey," Nino moved so his hands were on Adrien's shoulders and he was looking his best friend straight in the eye. "I get it. I still haven't come out to my parents even though I know they'll be chill about me being bi. You've got nothing to be sorry about my dude. I'm- I'm glad you told me.

Adrien wiped the blurryness out of his eyes. "Y-yeah."

Nino grinned "Now, c'mon bro! What kinda superpowers you got?"

"Well..." Adrien eyed the desk Nino had snuck into the boiler room. Carefully grabbing the edges to distribute it's weight more evenly. Lifting with his legs Adrien held the thing over his head.

Nino's eyes tried to pop out of his head. "Oh that is sick bro!"

Adrien set down the desk and rubbed the back of his neck. Smiling at Nino's reaction.

They fist bumped as the bell rang. Hurrying to class. Adrien felt so much lighter. He might not have revealed himself as Chat Noir but this... This was good.

He'd talk to Markov later. See if his... Compatriot? Could shed some light on being a robot. Who knows? Adrien grinned. He might even pick up a new trick or two.

[corpocyborg]

On an actual Wednesday, no less. 😂

Tagged by @merge-conflict! Thank you so much for the tag!

Once again I will be sharing from the next chapter of Before the Event Horizon, called "Hall of Mirrors" and featuring the reason that the chapter has that title.😈

Abernathy had a curious look in her eye. She almost seemed as though she was slightly amused. "I used to think he lacked nuance." V realized that Abernathy respected Jenkins more for having bested her than she did V for not having tried. She knew this because, in her place, she'd have felt exactly the same way. Unexpectedly, she was filled with anger. "You'll never be free, you know! Whatever it is you've done, you're better off just admitting to it. If you don't, he'll own you forever." "'Forever' is a tricky word, V. What goes up comes down eventually." Abernathy gestured a rising and falling motion with her hand. "Assuming your little theory were true, I'd already have contingencies in place to erode the impact of any supposed blackmail. The longer Arthur waited to reveal his intel, the greedier he got in trying to see how much he could milk out of me before he pulled the trigger, the more he'd find his leverage shrinking in his hands until it was nothing. All I would need would be time." V felt the uncanny sensation that she was listening to a recording of herself. "So what happens to me now?"

And, as a bonus, here's a bit from the next chapter of Beyond the Event Horizon, called "New Future Weapon."

V had the sense that something wasn't right here. She readjusted the pillow. "Why didn't Alt shred me?" she asked nervously.  "You think everything's about you?" "She shredded every engram in Mikoshi except me. How is that not about me?" Johnny scoffed. "Still failing to see the bigger picture, huh?" "Does she think I'll help her win?" V demanded. "Because if so, she's a fucking gonk. I'm going to destroy her and every other rogue AI on the net." "You're playing for a side that lost long before you even entered the field." His image flickered, and he disappeared and reappeared standing over V. "Don't tell me you can't feel it. The fear and desperation oozing out of all your friends."  "That was before they created me." "Right. You're their new weapon. Their last hope." He vanished again, and this time when he reappeared, he was giant. He hovered in the air just like Alt had when V first met her. "You really want to know why Alt left you behind? Arasaka thinks you're their weapon, but you're a trap, V. A ticking time bomb. And when you blow up, down goes the tower you hold so dear."

And... for my tags... I will add @ghostoffuturespast and @luvwich and @fereldanwench. (I know you've all done this recently though, so feel free to ignore this if you don't want to share any more content).

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 23 of the Bedlam au!

X

The Other Baron freezes and Haru twists her hands free. The immobilising reaction in her limbs have slackened, and she almost stumbles in surprise, only to be steadied by Other Muta's paw upon her shoulder.

Ah, right.

She'd almost forgotten the rest of the Other Bureau, and she tenses, bracing for the ensuing argument.

"I have to go home, Muta."

"I know, Chicky." He sounds different – tired, and Haru realises she can't remember the last time she heard Other Muta being anything but cheerfully upbeat. He looks drained now, slightly stooped like a puppet with its strings loosened. "Hey, birdbrain, we good to go?"

Other Toto tilts his head, watching something beyond the Bureau balcony windows. "There's two of them this time, enough to keep him occupied for longer this time, but not by much. If she's going, you'd better make it now."

Other Muta glances to the Other Baron. The Creation's head is tilted, as if caught mid-thought, but the brows continue to twitch. Occasionally a finger will flicker.

Haru is sure she sees the ghost of a smile catch on the corner of his lips.

"No time for dilly-dallying, Chicky; time to skedaddle," Other Muta prompts, and propels her in the direction of the Bureau doors.

Haru can't help it; she cranes her neck back to catch another glimpse of the Other Baron. "What's happening to him? It's not the same as my freezing, is it?"

"Nah," Other Muta dismisses. The doors swing shut behind them, closing off Haru's view. "He's just got too many plates in the air at once, and this one's taking all his focus."

"What plate – oh."

Between Toto's column and the archway out, there is a giant ball, seemingly woven of silk thread, or perhaps wool. At Haru's current diminished size, it could hold at least three of her comfortably, and even as she watches, more strands slither across the surface. Within, lights shimmer.

"What's that?"

"The reason you're getting outta here." Other Muta steers her towards the archway which will lead her back to her world. "But we ain't got long before – oh, sh–"

"GET BACK HERE!"

The Other Baron erupts through the Bureau doors, moving with unnatural speed with legs longer than Haru remembers. His face looks different – and not just with the unfamiliar rage – but not in any way Haru wants to get closer to see.

Haru tries to stumble to the archway, to her portal home, but Other Muta's paw on her shoulder holds her in place. The tiredness she'd seen earlier in him has vanished; back is that undaunted cheerfulness that now sets her nerves on edge. It feels artificial, in a way she'd never noticed before.

"Where do you think you're going, Chicky?"

She squirms in his grip, just enough to meet his uncanny smile. "Home, Muta, please–"

Her voice catches as she spots the threads, silver and sliver-thin, rising from him. Like silk, or cobwebs...

Or puppet strings.

She drops a hand into her bag, but the action is sluggish, struggling as another immobilising spell creeps through her – but now she can see the web she's snagged against, trapping her in place.

The Other Baron has slowed, the rage replaced by reassurance of his trapped companion prey, and yet there is still an ugliness to his emotions. "Do you really think you can just leave, Miss Haru? After all the time you've spent here? After all the effort I've put in?"

Only Haru's fingers are free, and they scrabble at the contents of her bag. "What are you?" she rasps through numbed lips.

"Why, I'm your friend, Miss Haru. I'm the Baron you wanted." He approaches, and his limbs grow long and thin – they had always been gaunt, but now they are beyond skeletal. His hands become nothing but claws. "Don't you recognise me?"

"I think I would remember wishing for this," she hisses, and her fingers find purchase on her penknife. She slices through the web mooring her hand. Her arm judders free and snaps more of the threads anchoring her, the knife severing what didn't immediately give, and she hears the not-Baron give an unholy screech.

She doesn't afford him a glance – she doesn't have the time and, anyway, she can clearly hear his frantic approach – and she sweeps her penknife up, cleaving the web binding Other Muta's paw.

His grip loosens, and Haru stumbles back. Just a few more steps – the archway home is so close – and her legs snag against more cobwebs. She slips. She sees Other Muta's paw come for her again – she slashes with the knife – misses – and finally she glimpses the terrible, furious form of the not-Baron, sunken face and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth –

Other Muta's paw snags the lapels of her coat. A smile – small and lopsided – ghosts across his face.

"Don't come back, Chicky."

And he pushes her through the archway.

Just before the portal swallows her up, she sees another burst of light from the silk sphere. Within, she glimpses two humanoid silhouettes, and then she is stumbling out onto into her world.

She spins around, but the doorway is already gone. Instead, her Sanctuary lies open before her, empty and quiet.