#doing this with my fic because metal keeps losing over and over again

[neoncherryblossom]

Sonic: You can be whatever you want to be! You don't need to keep fighting me, or anyone! When we get rid of that code, you can just be happy- Metal Sonic: I'll be happy when I win. Sonic: No you won't! If I'm dead, you have nothing to live for- Metal Sonic: Exactly. No reason to keep going.

(Because the cycle will always repeat again and again and again and again. Peace comes when the cycle breaks.

Peace comes with the death of us both.)

[not-neverland06]

we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off. 

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you. 

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now. 

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day. 

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back. 

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore. 

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container. 

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile. 

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore. 

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water. 

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches. 

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have. 

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now. 

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him. 

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you. 

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go. 

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him. 

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions. 

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction. 

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones. 

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode. 

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter. 

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional. 

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out. 

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control. 

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look. 

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you. 

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no. 

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up. 

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open. 

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others. 

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?” 

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him. 

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding. 

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike. 

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying. 

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd. 

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids. 

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you. 

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character. 

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button. 

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases. 

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest. 

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place. 

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out. 

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves. 

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper. 

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life. 

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths. 

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you. 

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around. 

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long. 

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon. 

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach. 

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love. 

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face. 

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on. 

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was. 

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated. 

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows. 

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.” 

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front. 

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention. 

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you. 

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks. 

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.” 

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out. 

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times. 

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up. 

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you. 

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself. 

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name. 

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain. 

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do. 

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours. 

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you. 

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other. 

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before. 

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped. 

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless. 

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long. 

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson. 

nsfw warning under the cut! 

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. 

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned. 

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations. 

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her. 

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that. 

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind. 

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?” 

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me. 

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother? 

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to. 

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

-

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls. 

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it. 

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste. 

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro. 

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her. 

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze. 

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well. 

Let me put on a show for you, daddy. 

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss. 

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features. 

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

-

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always. 

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny. 

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar. 

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

-

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you. 

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas. 

-

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot. 

Tap tap. 

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies. 

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

-

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.” 

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker. 

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?” 

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly. 

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips. 

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

-

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any. 

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season. 

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one! 

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on. 

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?” 

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim. 

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.” 

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?” 

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.” 

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.” 

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?” 

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.” 

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity. 

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass. 

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.” 

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree. 

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say? 

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

-

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten? 

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung. 

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.” 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action. 

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.” 

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you. 

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.” 

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

-

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.” 

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

-

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval. 

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs. 

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss. 

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door. 

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff. 

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?” 

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too. 

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by. 

“What are you doing here?” 

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair. 

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?” 

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything. 

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a  bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress. 

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens.. 

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm. 

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God. 

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze. 

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit. 

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck. 

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

-

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack. 

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?” 

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection. 

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?” 

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.” 

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

-

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work. 

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?” 

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly. 

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.” 

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.” 

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

-

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower. 

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.” 

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?” 

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up. 

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would. 

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go. 

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you. 

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements. 

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down. 

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.” 

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper. 

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap. 

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.” 

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily. 

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible. 

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

-

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities. 

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant. 

You’d be a fool to deny. 

So, you accept. 

-

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next. 

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you. 

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it. 

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you. 

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change. 

I love you. 

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off.  You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.” 

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that. 

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral. 

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame. 

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you. 

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them. 

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak. 

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying. 

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down. 

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place. 

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots? 

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt. 

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care? 

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues. 

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down. 

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way. 

You’re screwed up and brilliant. 

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression. 

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror. 

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[melodygatesauthor]

The Only One

Dark - Duke Leto Atreides X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

The duke needs an heir, or Caladan will fall under the rule of his enemies. There's one woman is capable of saving the planet...she's the only one.

Tags/Warnings

Disclaimers: This fic does not comply with canon, throw everything you thought you knew about the Dune lore out the window. The duke is (in my opinion) in character for this situation, despite the obsessive tendencies. There is heavy non-con in this fic, it's not for everyone. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing in fanfiction, please keep on scrolling thanks. NSFW, non-con, rape, kidnapping, sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, lactation kink, pregnancy, blood kink, cockwarming, forced pregnancy, non-consensual bondage, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, body worship, pregnant sex, oral sex (f receiving), Dark fic, Dark Duke Leto Atreides. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 6k

Prelude

After many years of trying for an heir, Duke Leto has begun to give up hope. Without an heir, the emperor threatens to give away his birthright, strip him of his title, and hand Caladan to his enemies. He has been given only one final year to produce a son who will carry on his family name. While searching for someone who could give him what he needs, he happens upon a mysterious woman. The strange woman tells of a prophecy, one that Leto takes very seriously, because he has no other choice. "In a village, not far from here, my lord, there's a girl. She is not of noble birth, but I have seen her future, and she will give you many sons." Duke Leto, a kind and gentle man, would never hurt someone so innocent on purpose, but when faced with the choice of taking you, or losing Caladan to those who meant to oppress it, he must set aside his morality for the greater good...

The duke entered his chambers where you were suspended from the lofty ceiling, as he’d requested his men to do once they found you. A warm smile spread across his face at the sight of you, so beautiful, so scared. Leto stepped forward, nearly jumping when your head shot up and your tear-stained eyes locked on with his. He held one hand behind his back in a regal manner, holding the other out to touch your cheek as he closed in on you slowly.

“W-wh…” you cleared your throat, “where…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of your beautiful face, “you’re safe now. There’s no need to panic.”

Despite his words, it was clear you were terrified, struggling to breath in a normal, even heave. No matter the fear you displayed in your eyes, the duke’s expression remained calm, and filled with adoration.

“I know you’re frightened. It is…expected,” he said softly, standing up straight and casually walking to his wardrobe. “Would you care for some wine perhaps? Or I can call for the doctor, he could provide you with a mild sedative?”

He turned to look at you, your head was hung downward once again, naked body trembling and rattling the chains that held you in place. He wasn’t a cruel man, though he suspected you thought he was. He’d never done something like this before, sending his guards out to retrieve a young woman to keep in his chambers indefinitely. A nearly inaudible sob escaped your lips.

“No need to cry my dear, you’re not in any danger,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal piercing through the room. “In fact, you’re going to be very well taken care of here. Do you have any idea just how lucky you are?”

You cried harder, sobs becoming even louder as you looked up at him again. He removed his shirt, revealing his warm, sunkissed skin. It was hard to tell, but he appeared handsome through the blur of your tears. You dropped your head again, your neck aching from the position you were in. Your arms were pinned behind your back, body bent forward at the hips, leaving your rear exposed and open. Your thighs ached, legs spread wide, forced open by a metal pole secured between your knees. The ache in your chest from your labored breathing was horrid enough, only made worse by the chains wrapped around you, keeping your torso held upward and parallel to the stone floor.

“You don’t even realize that you are the most important piece to maintaining our way of life of Caladan,” he continued, removing his pants completely and letting them fall to the ground. “I have been unable to find anyone compatible. Perhaps it’s that my genetics are too much for the average woman to carry to term.” He stepped closer to you, cock bobbing heavily with every stride. “But you’re not average, are you my dear?”

“P-please,” you croaked, “I…I…”

“No no, not another word. You’re frightened now, yes, but you’ll soon realize the important work that you were made for,” he walked past you, running his hand along your arm and to your hip as he did. “The important job you’ll be doing for me…”

You whimpered, struggling slightly against your restraints but to no avail. The duke used to pride himself on being an honorable man, and even in this morally reprehensible moment, he felt justified in his actions. He didn’t always like what his duty called him to do, but knowing it was for the greater good, he would do almost anything.

“You see my dear,” he cooed, “you were found for me, a beautiful, fertile woman who is prophesied to give me many children…” he leaned into your ear, “many.” His tone turned to a low rumble. “So even though this may seem sudden, you will realize with time that you’re fulfilling your purpose…your destiny.”

His right palm splayed over the globe of your cheek, moving toward where your body was spread in two. He didn’t like hearing you cry, but he knew it was inevitable. No normal girl would consent to being abducted and restrained in a man’s bedroom, not even the duke’s bedroom. He saw your puckered hole, and he pressed his index finger to it gently, inciting a gasp from you, followed by the rattling of the chains. You cried out, begging him to release you, but your wails fell on deaf ears.

“I know you care about Caladan, our people. I know you care about the Atreides legacy, and you know…” he spit between your crack, letting his warm saliva trickle from your rim down between your folds, “you know I need a strong, healthy heir.”

Leto positioned himself behind you, using his hand to fist the fat tip of his cock at your glistening entrance. The metal pole keeping your legs spread for him creaked with tension as you struggled to close your thighs, a pointless endeavor. He sighed heavily, gliding his head between each crevice of your pretty little cunt, making himself slick with your arousal.

“You must think me to be a cruel man, but you’re mistaken darling. I don’t want to hurt you, and if you’ll relax this will be much less painful for you.” His breath was ragged with an almost animalistic desire. “You must understand, however, that I care far too much about the future of my people not to provide them with an Atreides heir.”

No matter how hard you tried to escape the flesh splitting thrust of his wide girth, your attempts were futile. A pained scream echoed off the walls of his chambers, followed shortly by the warmth of your blood against his thighs as he slapped them against yours loudly. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wanted to get your first time over with, and not drag it out any longer than necessary. He slowed down after a moment, once your screaming turned to soft whimpers.

“You’re doing so well…” he huffed through his nostrils harshly “…I know this isn’t easy for you,” Leto leaned forward, grabbing one of your hanging breasts in his large hand, pinching the nipple gently, “b-but your body was built for this…it was built for me…”

“No, n-no…” you trailed off, feeling your head fall back down, neck aching still from the strain. A small moan left your lips, despite your attempts to keep it in.

“O-oh sweetheart is…is it starting to feel good?” The roll of his hips remained at a steady pace. “That’s wonderful, it will help with the pain, and your time will be more enjoyable for you if you can gain some pleasure from this as well, I don’t want you to feel misery if I can help it.”

“S-stop, please, my lord…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, continuing to palm at your breast.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the soft skin of your spine. He could feel your tied-back hands fidgeting against his ribcage. His free hand moved to your left hip, holding it tightly to angle himself deeper.

“I’m going to fill you with every bit of me , every-single-drop,” he punctuated each word with a harder thrust. “I need to make sure you get it all, need to make sure it takes…mmph!”

Surely your noisy whimpers could be heard in the halls, yet no one came to help you. They all knew what was happening in there. You were to be the mother of the next Atreides heir. You would be made to bear child after child for the legacy obsessed duke. A breeding vessel for a desperate nobleman, torn between his kind nature and his need for the security and wellbeing of his people.

“The emperor will take everything I have if I can't secure my bloodline. He’ll give it t-to the…” he whimpered and gulped deeply, “Harkonnens, and I can’t let that happen to my people.”

You could hear nothing over your whimpers save for the wet slapping of his skin against yours as his pace quickened. You didn’t know what he was going on about - destiny, legacy, an Atreides heir? - He snapped forward again, a gravelly rumble falling from his chest. He moved to an upright position, letting your breast hang loosely once more. You wailed loudly, the feeling of his thick fingers leaving their impressions in the flesh of your hip.

“M-my lord, my lord…it hurts so…s-so-much-s-sir!”

“I know, but you’re taking me so well anyway aren’t you?” He looked down where your puffy little hole swallowed his crimson painted cock. “Look at that.”

His index finger touched where you were stretched around him, that little bit of skin that held onto his cock like it never meant to let go. You whimpered, chains rattling around you as your body involuntarily moved, only serving to sink you down further on his length once more. He could hear you hyperventilating, a panic-stricken whine punching out of your chest that he felt a tad guilty for inciting.

Until he remembered what your purpose was…the reason he’d had you brought to his castle in the first place.

He reached an arm around your leg, sinking the pad of his finger into the wet, bloody mess between the slippery lips of your cunt. In the sea of your arousal, he found the swollen bud that made your walls flutter around him. You gasped, and seemingly on their own, his hips slid forward, chasing that delicious feeling of your body finally accepting him, pulling him deeper inside.

“You like that don’t you?” He bit his lip, a breathy chuckle escaping through his teeth with the knowledge that he’d found a way to settle your terror, if only for a moment. “I promise, no matter how terrible this may be, that I won’t allow you to stay like this…and-s-suffer-oh-my…”

He felt your body squeezing tighter, walls contracting around his cock. He thrust forward again, shuddering at the way you were taking him, pulling him deeper, like your body was begging for his cum, like you needed him to feed your hole until you were stuffed and overflowing.

“Mmm-m-my-lord…p-please–”

Your tone was different now, more sultry and full of desire. It was good to hear you like that, moaning instead of crying, grunting with pleasure instead of pain. This would be so much better for you once you gave in, he knew that much. He could give you everything: make your body shake with orgasm after orgasm, clothes made from the finest silks, and comforts that were reserved for only the lords and ladies of Caladan.

“Your pleas don’t go unnoticed sweetheart, don’t think me cruel, I wouldn’t do this if the circumstances were different,” he huffed, breathing becoming more ragged with every glide of his hips. “I need you…Caladan needs you–needs-you-full-ah!”

The smooth roll of his hips slowed as his seed spilled into you. You felt it, warm and slick as it coated your insides white. You felt a sensation you’d never felt, rolling over your entire body and pooling in your core, causing your legs to shake and your mind to go blank. It was euphoric; a reprieve from the pain you’d endured for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than several minutes.

Leto felt your pussy walls squeezing, crushing down over his girth in waves while you moaned. What a sweet sound, one that made him feel mental relief that he’d given you something in return for your suffering. His finger slowed around your hardened clit, letting you come down slowly from your high.

As your pleasured whines subsided, you thought he would remove himself from you, letting your hole relax after such an ordeal, but he didn’t. The duke stayed there, hips pressed flush against your rear, making no motion to release you from his hold. You moved slightly, but he gripped tightly on your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“No, no darling, no.” His voice was calm but raspy, still settling after his climax. “I’m going to stay like this for a moment longer, just to make sure it takes. We wouldn’t want to waste it.”

He looked down, seeing the way your body had bled on his, coating his pubic hair in a deep red shade. He felt for you, truly he did, but once you realized what an honor it was to be in your position, he knew you’d find it was worth the sacrifice. Your breathing was slowing, going back to normal, and after several moments he pulled back, letting his limp cock fall from where it had torn you open. 

You groaned, feeling yourself become empty all at once. Your head hung down, neck finally too tired to hold it up any longer. You heard the duke tsk behind you, his palms pressing against your cheeks and spreading them further. The sound of dripping cum on the floor echoed through the room.

“Let’s keep it all inside, sweet one, I need you to give me a son,” he pushed his spend back inside you with his finger, what little was still there and had not fallen to the floor.

You winced and hissed, the metal holding you in place rattling once more. His thick middle-finger slid in deep, Leto shuddered as your hole clenched in response. He could hear you crying, a soft, defeated sound he wished one day would stop. But he couldn’t expect that from you, not now as he broke you in for the first time. He expected you would be like this for a while until you were used to him, used to his size, used to the way he kept you as full as possible, as often as possible.

“Your body handled me very, very well darling,” he said, idly fingering you as he spoke, continuing to push his spend back inside you. “Looks like I’ve made quite the mess of you, but don’t worry, I’ll have you cleaned up in a moment.”

He kept true to his word, once he was thoroughly satisied he’d kept his cum in you long enough, the duke turned onto his back, positioned himself between your thighs, and propped himself up on his elbows so his lips could reach your cunt with ease. A gasp shot from your lungs, the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your sore folds bringing comfort to the ache. You moaned, a sound that represented more than just sexual pleasure, but a sound that told him you were at least accepting your fate…for the moment.

He was right, there was no more fighting, and it was clear your words weren’t going to change his goal oriented mind. His desire to have an heir was stronger than his desire to act honorably. His tongue went flat, you felt it soothing the tear of your hymen, then dragging upward and flicking once it reached the peak of your folds. You exhaled a sigh, cunt throbbing in response to the way he lapped at you masterfully.

“You know not many,” he kissed your pussy lips, “can say,” another peck, “they’ve been lucky enough to carry such an important role for Caladan. Even I’m not as important as you are right now.”

His hand reached up and pressed against your stomach while his mouth continued to melt into your cunt, soothing you even more as he cleaned you. He never felt such pride as he did in that moment, knowing that this was a good effort, even if it didn’t take. The sheer amount that he ate from you, in combination with his already discarded seed on the floor underneath him, gave the duke a sense of relief to know that he was producing sufficiently on his end. It wouldn’t take long for you to give him a healthy child, if you were indeed the girl the old woman had told him about.

You whimpered still when his tongue would touch your wound, though it was always followed with the relief of him dragging it over your clit. He slurped quietly as he continued, not making an indication that he would be stopping any time soon, despite the likelihood of you being clean already. The hand on your stomach moved, reaching up and cupping your breast, holding it and squeezing softly.

“Oh, my lord, y-yes…”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the heat pooling at the base of your abdomen once again. Was it even worth trying to deny the way it felt? He was the Duke of Caladan after all. If he wanted a hundred concubines tied up to his ceiling he could take them, and no one would stop him. You should be grateful it was he who took you, and not someone who might’ve been much more cruel in their claiming of your body.

He hummed into your folds, breathing heavily through his nose as he did. His hand slid over to your waist, gripping around you and holding tight. The vibration from his moans, and the brush of his peppery beard against your thighs was causing your body to near release once more. That would only be the second time in your life that you’d felt it, and you wanted it more than you could bear.

“Mm, let yourself go my dear, I only want you to feel good from now on, now that I broke you in a little.”

His mouth never left your cunt as he spoke, his words only serving to draw your next climax from your body faster. You felt it fall over you, warm and heavy, making your body melt once more, going limp save for the involuntary crashing of your walls around the emptiness the duke had left behind. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were fully satisfied, head hanging down again and breathing returned to normal. 

With a grunt he rose from beneath you. You heard him padding on his bare feet to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. If you turned your head just a little you could see him, much clearer now than before. He looked at you as he put a loose cotton shirt over his shoulders, then leaning down to pull his trousers over his legs.

“You’re simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a gentle baritone, moving back to kneel in front of you. “I do not kneel for many, but I’ll kneel for the mother of my children.”

You strained your neck to look at him once again. He cupped your cheeks to help you, seeing your struggle and feeling sorry for the part he played in your suffering. He kissed your forehead, feeling the salt from your sweaty brow upon his lips.

“I’ll return every day, at least until I’m sure you’re pregnant,” his lips curled into a compassionate smirk, “then I’ll let you rest while your belly grows.”

He stood, striding to the washroom and leaving you hanging there, like a prized animal on display. Before long, the same men who’d captured you returned, undoing most of your bonds, save for the ones holding your hands behind your back. They weren’t rough, just like before when they’d abducted you. You felt your entire body sigh, your bones and muscles feeling relieved to fall back into place. 

You weren’t sure when exactly you’d conceived. It must’ve happened at some point between that first time when he tore you apart, and the following month when your period didn’t arrive when it should’ve. By then you’d become, not unlike, a piece of furniture in Duke Leto’s chambers, restraints much less restrictive and painful than your first meeting. Only a week after he’d broken you, you’d become more willing for him, crying less when he came to take you. 

“I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, despite your situation, and since you’ve become so compliant, I think I can afford to make you more comfortable,” he’d explained.

And so he had you moved to the bed. Though you weren’t completely free. That was a risk the duke could not afford. So he had metal cuffs around your wrists, and chains that connected them to the stone wall behind the bed. You could move easier, but you could never leave.

When another week went by, two weeks after your torment began, he was swelling with pride, seeing you spreading your legs upon his entry into his chambers without prompt. You said you appreciated the silken evening dress he’d had the servants craft for you, the one that fell open on either side of your hips when you presented your cunt to him. He wasn’t supposed to love you - it wasn’t necessary for him to love you - but he felt himself overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t contain every time he saw you.

Three weeks after that first meeting, you kissed him. It was clear he’d been holding back, allowing you to maintain some level of autonomy, despite having taken your body for himself so many times. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force you to be intimate with him if that wasn’t what you wished.

So it was a shock when he was several moments into fucking you, cock sliding wetly along your walls in a desperation to fill you with him again, and you grabbed his face on either side. His hooded eyes shot up, meeting with yours but then quickly flicking down to see your precious lips closing in. You closed your eyes, and so did he, and everything seemed to slow down for a moment, including the pace that he thrust into you.

The slow roll of his hips was heavenly, and was soon accompanied by the feeling of his hand on the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss, gliding his tongue inside your mouth so he could taste you. The duke filled you faster than ever that night, being so engulfed in the moment that he couldn’t hold on any longer.

And now, it was just over a month beyond your arrival to Castle Caladan, you were sitting with the physician while he examined you, confirming that yours and the duke’s efforts had been fruitful.

The way Leto looked at you in that moment, was a look you’d never seen before. His dark brows turned up and stitched together, soft lips parted just before a smirk curled over them. He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, the glossy sheen of tears apparent in his eyes.

“After years of trying to produce an heir, I finally found a perfect vessel, such a precious thing,” he cooed, touching your stomach before leaning in and finding your lips with his own. “My most wonderful treasure.”

Leto heard nothing else as the doctor murmured about you, voice seeming background to where his focus lied. Part of him was still shocked that the old woman was right. She told him in his search of her prophecy that you, a normal village girl, would produce many sons for him, and she was right. 

That night, the duke did everything he could for you. His kisses were softer, less desperate and more deliberate. His hands didn’t grab your flesh as a means to hold you, but rather to feel you. And when he sunk his cock into you, he did so in a way that emphasized your pleasure over his own, angling for those spots that made your body quiver.

You may not have been of noble birth, but to the duke, that night you were his empress. There wasn’t an inch of your skin that hadn’t been brushed by the coarse hair of his bearded chin. He worshiped you, giving you an evening dedicated to only your satisfaction.

For many weeks he would come into his chambers and ramble on about how proud he was, and how well you were doing. He would whisper the most depraved, while beautiful, things in your ear about how the people of Caladan owed you their lives, and how he couldn’t wait until it was time to breed you all over again. All of that praise was nothing though, not compared to the way he looked at you after coming back from his trip to Arrakis.

When he walked into his chambers, and you were there on his bed, only a couple short months away from birth, he stopped dead in his tracks. He felt like the words were trapped in his throat, and his feet were stuck to the floor. All he could do was stare, and take in the beauty before him. You were simply radiant, pregnant belly full with his son, his heir; swelling breasts nearly spilling out of your dress.

Once he found the ability to move again he slowly walked over to you, taking off his coat as he sat beside you.

“Look at you…” his voice trailed off.

“Hello my lord,” you greeted softly.

His hand reached for yours, and he was quickly reminded that you’d been a captive there, metal cuffs still wrapped around your wrists, rattling as he held you. He felt a pang in his chest, wanting desperately to release you. Every time the thought crossed his mind though, he worried you would run. You didn’t seem like you would try to leave, having become much more docile since your arrival months ago. There was also the glaring fact that you were pregnant, and it wouldn’t be easy for you to get away even if you managed to pass every one of the guards who might see you before reaching the doors of Leto’s home.

There was always that small chance though, no matter how slim, that you would leave. It was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

He looked back at your body, eyes wide and trained on your stomach. The duke leaned in, kissing just above your navel, a satisfied hum escaping his lungs as he did. It was hard not to like him, and that was what you hated about him the most. The man was dedicated to his people, to his title, and his legacy more than anything. The longer you were around him, and the more time you’d spent under his care, the more you’d begun to understand your purpose within his walls.

The idea of the Harkonnens, or any other house for that matter, claiming the right to Caladan, should House Atreides produce no heir, was a frightful one. He broke you from your thoughts, eyes trailing up your chest and to your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, he looked so handsome, lips slightly parted with a few stray hairs falling into his dark eyes. Despite holding you captive for the sole purpose of breeding an heir from you, you’d begun to fall for Leto Atreides, against all odds.

“My sweet girl, my darling, you’re doing so well, growing my child in your womb. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to give me a son, to give House Atreides its heir,” he whispered, cupping your cheek, bringing his forehead to yours. “I’ve been disappointed so many times.”

“Thank you my lo-”

“No sweetheart, no, shh…” he pressed a finger to your lips gently before replacing it with a tender kiss, “you should be worshiped by Caladan, it's people…I want to worship you.”

His hand grabbed at your waist, pulling you against him into a deeper kiss. You felt his growing arousal against your thigh, followed by an involuntary rut of his hips. You whined, trying not to be bothered by the incessant ache in your chest, your engorged tits becoming too heavy and painful to bear. It was hard to focus on the duke’s soothing touch when you felt such discomfort.

He stopped kissing you, looking at you with concern, “are you alright sweet one?” His eyes trailed to your tits, “are they sore? Oh you poor thing.”

You nodded and whimpered, wincing as he pulled one of your straps down and pulled a heavy breast from its confines. Your puffy nipple had a bead of white sitting on it, threatening to trickle down the mound. His pink tongue darted out, lapping up the milk that nearly fell from your breast, and humming in approval of its taste.

“Let me help you my dear,” he said softly, leaning in and latching his mouth over your chest.

You gasped at first, the coarse brush of his beard stinging against the sensitive skin, but it very quickly gave way to a much better, more soothing sensation. You sighed in relief, feeling him suckling at your flesh, drawing out the milk that had been causing your breasts to swell beyond belief. He moaned against your skin, rolling his hips idly as he did. This was very unusual for him, to be so needy and desperate for you, clinging onto your body the way he was.

In the past, Leto would’ve just taken you if he wanted to, but with your body so soft and full with his child, he would resist. Of course he knew you could take it, you weren’t made of glass, but he wanted to give you nothing but comfort, emptying you instead of filling you with more than he already had in the past. He felt your hand reach up and grab the back of his head, delicate fingers massaging between his peppery locks.

“Mm, my darling, so sweet,” he muttered against your tit, a little milk dribbling down his lips.

You felt his hips moving more, now more deliberate before, as though he were accepting of his primal urges to find release, rather than suppress it, but still unwilling to ask you for help.

“It’s alright my lord, you haven’t…mmph…you haven’t been satisfied in some time. Do what you must.”

Even though he was trying to remain stoic and refined, your permission was all he needed to throw all that aside. With his free hand he tugged at his belt, keeping his lips pursed around your nipple as he did. You heard the unmistakable clanking and rattling metal as he found success, pulling the leather from the loops and tossing it to the ground. His dexterous fingers then made quick work of his pants, pulling them to his thighs.

Leto Atreides was a nobleman, not one to give in to such animalistic delights so easily, but something about drinking from your chest, and how perfect you were serving him and his house with your pregnancy made him feral for you. His hands were shaking as he tried to bring his cock to your hole. He’d done it so many times before, why was he struggling now?

“Sir…” you pushed him off your breast, biting your lip at the sight of him as he looked up at you.

His eyes were hooded, milk-drunk and heavy. The lips that had been suckling for a while were now pink, puffy, and covered in a white, glossy sheen. You lifted your leg, sliding yourself into a position that you were both parallel to one another. You wrapped your leg around his hip, angling his fat tip to your slippery entrance.

“You’re too precious, too g-good…oh…” His hips stuttered forward, opening you wide around his cock once again.

You hadn’t been with him in so long, your body had nearly forgotten how to take him. You winced, needing to readjust once again, but he was patient, holding himself flush against your hips while your walls moved aside for his girth. He let out, what sounded like, a low growl as he mouthed at your neglected tit. His hips remained in place, making no attempt to retreat, nor to glide in further. His cock rested there contentedly, throbbing every now and then.

He gulped, humming into your breast as he drank more, the ache in your chest slowly subsiding with every moment that passed. Eventually he moved his hips lazily, pulling back after a time before rolling back forward.

What the duke was feeling with you in that moment was more than a simple sex act. What he felt now was comfort, his cock buried in your soaking, slippery heat, and his lips pursed around your nipple. Leto swirled his tongue in a slow roll over your peaked mound, taking a moment to inhale several shaky breaths before going in for more.

The way he drew more and more milk out of you was causing your body to relax further, your walls becoming more open to his slow movements and deep strokes. A low moan escaped you, forcing his eyes to shoot up, still so dark in their feral hunger. You tugged his hair, forcing him to pull off your breast with a loud pop. Without hesitation, you kissed him, filling your mouth with a combination of your sweet fluids and the duke’s own signature taste 

“You’re like no other. Not a day goes by that I don’t want to hold you close sweetheart…”

He brushed his nose against yours, eyes moving slowly from your lips, to your eyes, and back again. A swell of emotion poured through him, his desires going beyond just wanting to give you his seed, but it was something more. Your last name…it was wrong. He never wanted to take a wife, in fact, he’d vowed never to do such a thing, but you’d changed the very fiber of his being from the moment he’d found you.

“After my son is born, I’ll give you the best gift I can, the only gift I can give a woman of such importance…oh my…g…”

The duke lost himself, holding you tightly against him, though careful not to squeeze against your stomach too harshly. His choked moans vibrated against your chest while he filled you, pumping your body with his cum once again. You felt your own climax wash over your body, inspired by his own, drawing everything it could from him as it did, both of you a trembling, moaning mess.

He sighed with contentment after his mind cleared. He looked at you once more. 

“I’m going to keep you,” he kissed your lips breathlessly, “I’m going to keep you here with me. I’m going to give you my name, and until the day I die you’ll be mine, my precious thing.” He pecked you again, and then pressed his lips to your stomach.

“I can’t wait to have your name, sir, and to be able to walk around the castle freely,” you said softly.

Leto’s blood ran cold. 

Walk around freely…

Perhaps you’d misunderstood him, in fact, he was certain of it. He could see how his words may have been misconstrued. Evidently he would need to be more clear with you. The duke’s gaze darkened when he looked back into your eyes.

“My sweet girl.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead. “Until the day you are barren, I cannot risk any harm to you, nor your body.” His words were chilling, but his gaze was warm. 

“You’ll never leave this room, so long as I can help it.”

Duke Leto Atreides Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

HiHIHI HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GOOD DAY JUST WANTED TO SAY I LOVE YOUR WORKS

I just binge read every single one of your Boothill fics and they all got me kicking my feet and everything!! I love how you write him and Ore is so cute I could actually explode 💥💥💥

Take your time or you can choose to ignore but can I have a request of Ore going missing (it's very small if I recall, so I kinda imagine it getting stuck under the couch or something) and just Boothill helping to look for it? TYSM IF YOU DO!

thank you so much for reading and enjoying my content!! I honestly dont know if i'll ever be able to write a boothill fic without making the reader some sort of mechanic. i may just stop breathing if i try- you can pry mechanic reader out of my cold dead hands

[1k w.count]

but just imagine, boothill isn't even on planet. he's off somewhere else when his phone starts pinging like nuts. back to back messages and before his text-to-voice can kick in, it starts blaring with phone calls.

"dadgummit..! who in the-" boothill huffs and puff as he fishes his phone from the space beside him where he had left it charging. his irritation all but simmered down when he saw your contact name flash across his screen.

...sugar is calling...

one his brows quirk up and he almost frowns at the incoming call. the hell is this? you never call him. like ever. you dont really call anyone really- more of a messaging kindof person. not to say he wasn't thrilled to hear from you though.

"is blowin' up my phone a new hobby of yours or somethin'?" boothill doesn't bother with a hello when he answers. neither do you.

"i can't find it!" you screech into the receiver. the feedback from the call's inital pick up and your yelling has the cowboy pulling his phone from his ear with a wince. beside the feedback shot into his eardrum, the sound of something metal being... knocked over...? also enters his head.

"sugar, you know i aint got a clue what you're talkin' about. i'm not in your star system right now," boothill tries to reason. you sound pretty distressed all things considered. so, he should at least hear you out. if all else, he can turn this ship around and speed it back to you.

he hears you whine; a whine that soon escalates into a full-on frustrated groan. oh. you were definitely upset about something. the only other times he's heard you like this is when a project isn't working out at any angle at all and you're one step away from throwing it out the window.

"it's ore." your voice is muffled behind your hand as you speak. "i lost it." you sound so pitiful as you confess your shame in losing the small robot companion boothill had brought back for you a while ago now. "i took my eyes off it for two seconds- and it was just... gone!" ore was so small; it should be common knowledge that the robot can hide just about anywhere it can squeeze itself into- but it usually trails around after you like a lost puppy! so, you've gotten sloppy at keeping an eye on it.

"you're blowin' up my phone because you lost track of your lil' assistant robot?" on one hand, boothill feels a little flattered that you feel like you can call him for stuff like this. the stuff that isn't really life threatening or to only deliver horribly, dire news. just something that's more or less inconvenient. on the other? he's almost annoyed because what if he was in the middle of a bounty? he isn't... but what if.

eh, whatever, he wouldn't be mad even if that were the case.

"look," boothill swallows back a chuckle and forces out a sigh, "i'm sure it ain't far. lil' guy never wanders off too far from you. just sit tight and it'll right back come to you."

"but what if it doesn't? what if ore's like lost-lost. like super lost? i can't just-"

"sugar," boothill interrupts you. "remind me again who programmed it?"

theres a beat of silence. "me."

"uh-huh, that's right. and didn't that very same you also program him with the maps of locations you frequent, like your shop?"

"i did."

"and why's that, sugar?" boothill has taken to plopping himself down in one of the chairs in his ship. luckily the spacecraft has an auto-pilot function as well as a cruise function when he was preoccupied- like now- or when he wasn't on an active job. there's a smirk on his face. he wonders if you can hear it through your slight panic.

"so that if it got lost... it'd know the way back."

"bingo," boothill snaps his free fingers together. "so, just calm down."

the phone call lasts not too much longer. a few more worried words from you, as well as a slight pout that you had lost what he had given you which almost made his systems overheat. with a few more reassurances that ore would make its way back to your loving palms sooner than you'd think, the call ends.

the galaxy ranger laughs when he finally see's just how many messages you spammed him with before deciding to just call him. there was wayyy too many. he wishes he was more tech-smart so he could screenshot the damage and send it to you as a tease.

still, despite the absurdity of it all, boothill was glad you called. even though you were frantic, he was happy to hear your voice. then he huffs and deflates in his chair, knees spread apart and back slouched low against the back. if he still had human bones, his spine would surley disapprove of such a position.

now he just misses you. dammit.

two system hours later, his phone pings. another message from you with a picture attatched.

[sugar]: he crawled up under the workshop sofa and got stuck in a spring. i finally heard him beeping after i stopped tossing things around [image attached] [sugar]: might install a tracking program

boothill chuckles softly as he looks at the photo of you. soot and oil splotch on your nose and cheeks from whatever you were tinkering with that day. your googles were around your neck and he was glad to see you were still using them as you should be. on your shoulder was ore. hooked into its safety carabiner and using its little, metal arms to hug to your cheek. its digital expression was scrunched up with fake, pixeled tears.

damn. boothill really wishes he was more tech-savvy now. i mean come one! what kind of cyborg can be nearly all robot, know how to steer and command a spaceship and still not know how to change a phone's background!

next time he's by the express, he'll have to ask dan heng.

[luvrxbunny]

nightmare

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader 

Prompt: Knife Play(?)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (uneducated description of) ptsd, dub-con(?), a bit of dry humping, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: hi guys! woohoo! my first bucky fic! i’ve literally been in love with him since 5th grade- uh once again i don't think i’d call this knife play really..? the knife is there but no one is really turned on by it per se 

You can feel him thrashing beside you and your heart is breaking as you slowly wake. This happens once in a blue moon but it’s always bad when it does. You blink clarity into your eyes and look over at Bucky. His hands are gripping the sheets like his life depends on it, his shirt is almost soaked through with sweat and his hair is sticking to his forehead. You sit on your shins and watch him sadly for a little bit, you’re not supposed to wake him up but you still do, every time. He always remembers the dreams no matter what so you’d rather cut it short and deal with the consequences than let him suffer through the entire memory or terror he’s going through. 

You place your hand on the middle of his chest for a moment, feeling his heartbeat to try and gauge how bad the nightmare was but instead, he woke up. All you see is a blur of movements as Bucky grabs his knife from under his pillow and flips you both over, pinning you to the bed. You instantly straighten your legs, wrap them around his waist, and try to pull his hips away from yours, you try to twist him, squeeze hard enough to hurt him- something. But nothing happens, not a twitch in his features or even a grunt of pain. 

You scan his eyes and can tell he’s gone, he’s not in the room with you, you have no clue where he is but he looks so scared. He has his metal hand on your shoulder, pinning you to the bed and his flesh hand is holding the knife to your throat- but he looks more scared than you. “James?” His roaming eyes snap back to yours, and his grip on the knife tightens with a furrow of his brows. “Bucky?” You try, and his head tilts with fluttering eyes, he takes a shaky breath and adjusts his grip on the knife again. His breathing speeds up a bit and his eyes lose focus again, his hand starts to tighten on your shoulder and the knife is trembling at your neck. You lift the hand of the pinned shoulder to caress his forearm, hopefully soothing him and it pulls him from wherever he was with a gasp. The shoulder plates of his arm whir and re-adjust as his gaze zeros in on your touch. 

His gaze is confused and questioning, like he can’t figure out why he likes your touch. His eyes flicker to yours for a second and you see him flicker within them, seeing you for a moment before going blank and unfocused again. “Baby?” You try as your other hand reaches for his face slowly, he jerks the knife against your neck as a warning but there’s no fire behind his eyes, still that same scared gaze. You smile at him softly and continue your hand’s path to his cheek.  “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

You keep your gaze light, trying to drain all the love you have into this look, hoping he can see it, or feel it. He sucks in a quick and trembling breath of air and his body twitches into yours, pressing as much as he can against you. You can see an internal battle in his eyes as his body slowly relaxes against yours, tensing and twitching before he finally settles. The position is a bit… Your legs are spread under him, pinned open just by the size of his thighs and how his legs are spread. You try to ignore the fact that his dick is pressed into you because this isn’t the time. His face is still in front of you because he’s still holding himself up with the hand on your shoulder. You smile at him again and he breathes out a shaky breath and his face falls for a moment. His hand leaves your shoulder for the bed quickly and he tightens his grip on the knife before lowering himself to you, his head almost resting on your stomach as he keeps his gaze on you. 

His entire weight is on you now and you can’t help the sigh you let out, you’ve asked him to do this so many times, and your heart can’t help but flutter, that in a state like this- he still has you in his head, whether he realizes it or not. You beam at him and he gives you a soft, confused look. You try to reach for him, give him a kiss- at least on the cheek, but his hand reaches under you, shoots for your head, and grips your hair, stopping you from getting too close. His lips are twitching in a snarl, and he shakes his head at you stiffly. 

After you get over the initial shock and pain of his grip you smile at him again, genuine because he could’ve used the knife, he could’ve gotten up again and slammed you into the bed before you even blink, but he didn’t. You nod at him. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You slowly slide your hands to the top of his head, his eyes don't leave yours and you can watch the fear rise in them the closer your hands get. Once you bury your fingers in his hair- something you do quite often in the position- he moves his entire body closer, sliding up your body so his head is more resting on your chest, his hips are pushing your legs off the bed a bit and he breathes out a whisper of a whimper as he presses his head up to your hands. 

You smile and press your fingertips into his head, massaging his scalp until his head rests back on your chest. He still has his eyes on you, with his chin digging into you painfully but you can push it aside to give him what he needs. His eyes begin to look more like Bucky, like he’s slowly but surely returning to you. Your muscles get a bit tired from the massaging so you switch to scratching after a little while and he really likes it. He breathes in a comically large gasp and finally takes the knife away from your throat, dropping it on the ground before digging into the mattress beneath you and wrapping around your waist, pressing your body to his. 

You’re smiling fondly at his obvious struggle to keep his eyes open, something Bucky usually doesn’t fight. His eyebrows twitch as he fights his heavy lids, his hand tensing its grip on your hair when he relaxes into you a little too much. You’re content to do this, you can bring Bucky back like this, no matter how long it takes. Your smile widens further and he gives you that barely audible whimper before his eyes slip shut, finally giving himself over to the feelings you’re giving him. 

You watch him like that for a little bit, his features the most relaxed than you’d seen yet, and his breathing only stuttering every once in a while. You almost fell asleep, soothed by your motions in his hair but he tenses up again, his shaky breath shooting out of his nose and his arm tightens around you before his hips scoot up, pressing his fully hard cock into you. 

You whimper out a gasp at the feeling and his eyes shoot open. They look like Bucky but his hand is still firmly planted in your hair as his hips stutter a grind against yours. His eyes are apologetic and begging, his hips jerk into yours every time his tip catches on your clit and you have to hold back a moan. 

Is this okay? He’s not technically in his right state of mind… right?

He lets out a sound- somewhere between a sob and a moan before letting your hair go and pushing himself up to a hover above you, pulling his hips away from yours and you try to ignore the ache between your legs as he looks into your eyes. “Please.” He spits the words out like they burn in his mouth, strained and rushed with a pitiful expression, akin to one of a kicked puppy. His eyes unfocus for a moment before meeting yours again and they look like Bucky, they’re also overflowing with guilt.

He pulls away, sitting back on his calves and shaking his head, whispering apologies frantically. You’re not listening though, you gather all the strength you have, lock your legs around his waist, and tense your stomach, attempting a sit-up to get yourself close enough to kiss him. It stops his apologizing and his hands reflexively reach for you, helping you up without question. Once you’re in his lap, you assault his lips with yours, whimpering and moaning into them, appreciative that he’s back but also insanely worked up from the entire previous interaction. He pushes you away softly and you fight the urge to roll your eyes, already knowing he’s going to give you his whole martyr spiel. “No. Baby, you’re just hyped up on adrenaline. You’ll be upset la-”

You lean back in, groan against his lips, and cup the sides of his face before pulling back to look into his eyes. You give him the most pure, and honest tone you can when you speak. “I’m just happy you’re okay, my love.” His face crumples in a broken expression as he starts his apologies again only to be shushed softly by you as you reconnect your lips to his. He whimpers softly into it and places a hand behind your head, pressing you into him as your hips begin to rock over his bulge. You listen to his breathing pick up and his hand slides down to your hips, giving them a squeeze like a warning but you don’t listen. You continue your pace, slow and almost teasing as his cock rubs over your clit again.

His heavy breaths begin to border on moans before he pulls away, his hand moving from behind your head to the bed, behind you as he leans forward and begins to rock his hips into you. Your head falls back with a moan as you wrap your hands around his neck, both of your hips moving in sync. He can cum like this, you know he can, you plan for him too but he lays you on the bed slowly and kisses you. “I want- I want more.” He wants more, he knows he doesn’t need more but he wants it, and who are you to deny him?

You nod but your hips never stop moving, even as he takes his naked cock out of his pants you grind yourself into it with a moan that matches his as the fabric of your panties abuses his sensitive shaft. He uses his metal hand to pin your hips to the bed, a bit more roughly than he intended and his head snaps back to yours, you can see an apology forming on his lips but you silence it with a kiss and reach down to line him up with your entrance. He whines into your mouth as you work him in, his hand leaves his cock to cup your face as you kiss him, letting you guide his cock in all on your own. 

Once you’ve got him in he pulls away from your lips for the sight, he brings down the hand that was cupping your face to play with your clit so he can watch you clench around him. Luckily for him, the action turned you on so much that he also gets to watch your pussy push a load of your juices onto his cock. He takes a sharp but deep breath, his expression almost offended as arousal flares through his body. He meets your gaze before crawling up your body again, a pained expression on his face as his cock slides against your walls, already pulsing inside you. 

You reach out for him, digging your fingers into his hair again as you pull him to your face, wrapping your legs tightly around him and holding him as close as you can as he pumps into you. His arms are both beside your face, caging you in, giving you nowhere to turn your head so your eyes can’t leave his. His eyes stay on yours as his hips grind into yours, he’s panting against you, moaning when you can’t help but clench around him. You can feel his cock twitching inside you already and it helps the coil tighten in your stomach. 

You bite your lip behind your fond smile at him as one hand leaves his hair to toy with your clit. You clench around him with a moan once you start moving your fingers over the bud and he gives you a look of ‘how could you?’ before one hand grips your jaw and the other slides down to meet your hand and swats it away gently. His eyes get hazy and his jaw goes slack as he feels how your little button is pulsing under his thick fingers, his cock twitches inside you again and he gets to work. His fingers move over your clit so fast it almost feels like too much when paired with his cock plunging into you, teasing your G-Spot every time it does.

Your hands tighten in his hair painfully when he- as though he could read your mind- adjusts his hips, moving them so that his tip hits your G-Spot head-on every time he plunges into you. Your toes curl behind his back and you give a sobbing moan of his name against his lips, his eyes close and his head lowers to rest against yours as his cock throbs inside you. “You’re killing me, sugar.”

You squeeze around him at the pet name and he whimpers devastatingly. “M’gonna fuckin’ cum.” His hand leaves your jaw to cradle your head, resting on the top- a habit he acquired when you kept bumping your head into the headboard. “Please tell me you’re close.” He whines against your lips. His eyes are shut tight, his muscles tense and you can hear his arm groaning as he clenches his fist above your head while his hips stutter into you. You nod immediately, the coil in your stomach breaking at his obvious desperation. 

You flutter beautifully around him, his eyes roll back under his lids as you moan into each other. His other hand leaves your clit to frame your face again as he lowers his pelvis to yours, grinding his thick patch of hair against your pulsing clit. He groans and presses his lips to yours as his cock unloads inside you, filling you to the brim and just making his thrusts messier. His lips separate from yours and he mutters desperately against you. “I love you, I love you so much, sugar. S- So good t’me.” His voice pitches up into a whine as his body shudders against you before pushing another rope of cum into you. Your hips lift off the bed to grind into his the same time his hips jerk into you, intensifying both your orgasms. 

Your bodies are shaking against each other as you come down, letting little ripples of pleasure flow through the both of you as his cock softens inside you. Neither of you make any moves to reposition or remove him so you fall asleep like that. No nightmares take Bucky this time. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[dissociation-station123]

Small teaser:

I have been drafting a slowish burn fan-fic for Sylus from Love and Deep Space. I could not get the whole biker Sylus imagery out of my head so I wrote this! Please enjoy!

~

“Want to get out of here?” Sylus asks, seeing your frustration with the crowd of people. You simply nod now nonverbal from being a bit overwhelmed. He takes your hand and guides you effortlessly around the throngs of people.

The cool air hits your overheated cheeks and you sigh content, now that you both are outside. “Want to go for a ride? The weather is perfect.” You imagine a nice drive with the windows down as the scenery passes by and it sounds like a wonderful idea so again you nod in agreement. He grins as he begins walking towards the small parking lot.

You are looking for a sleek muscle or possible luxury car based on his outward appearance. Expensive because he loves flashing that little black card around you as if it makes a difference.

He surprises you when he stops in front of a dark gray motorcycle instead. “Ooo no.” You shout on impulse, backing away slowly. Sylus still has your hand and yanks you forward.

“Don’t tell me you're scared.” He chuckles condescendingly with a cocky expression. You glare up at him and it only makes him laugh harder.

“Not scared. Just a logical person.” You grit your teeth in aggravation. He lets go of your hand only to pull out a helmet. “There is nothing to protect you.”

He takes hold of your shoulder and you tense. He leans in inches from your face with that staple fox-like smirk. His thumb swipes across your chin, you are momentarily stunned by his closeness.

“This will protect you sweetie.” Before you realize what is happening or could protest he shoves the helmet on your head, quickly strapping the chin strap in a fluid motion.

You begin cursing him to the fullest but your voice is muffled by the helmet. He nods as if he is listening yet it was obvious he heard nothing.

“Are you done throwing a tantrum?” You punch his shoulder and he is unbothered. “I promise to keep you safe. Come on live a little will ya. Aren’t you tired of playing it safe all the time?”

You really were. You were tired and slowly losing your mind over time. The same monotonous schedule over and over again. When you grow quiet he assumes your defeat.

“That’s it.” He purrs, leading you closer to the chunk of metal before you. “See this strap here. Don’t use it to hold on unless you want to bounce around. Cling to me instead. Got it?”

He takes your silence for understanding. “When I turn, lean with me. Or else we may become unbalanced and die in a fiery crash. Ready sweetie?” He does not pause for your consideration. You are lifted up and placed on the back, even as you claw to stay on the ground.

You grumble as he towers over you. He lifts the visor staring down at you. “I do need your consent.” Sylus waits as you ponder your decision. There is no huff of inpatients or teasing.

Your heart is racing at the idea of riding on this bike. You are scared there is no denying that. Yet his words from before ring true once again. You always walk on the line. You made sure to stay unnoticed until he saw you. “Alright let's do this.” You say with bated breath.

A beaming smile overtakes his face. His eyes glint with excitement. “So brave. I’m proud of you.” You fight the urge to spew insults as he pushes down the visor of the helmet once again. A part of you gushes at his praise and that annoys you.

You gulp as he throws his leg over the motorcycle. He looks back and you give him a shaky thumbs up causing him to chuckle as he places the key in the ignition.

He turns the key and the bike roars to life beneath you. Immediately you place your arms around him tightly. With the deafening growl you don’t hear him laugh, you just feel his chest vibrate against your touch. You can tell he is amused by your clingy ness before he even starts moving.

You shriek like a banshee when he pulls out of the parking space. Your own startled scream echoing within the confines of the helmet. You squeeze your eyes shut in panic. He causally pats your hand but it does not help calm you, not one bit.

You take in a deep breath still unable to pry yourself from his body as he turns onto the street. Sylus does not speed off at top speeds like you expect him to. He maintains a safe momentum down the road allowing you to take some control of your anxiety.

You begin repeating his instructions: hold onto him; when he turns lean with him to avoid crashing. This helps you to relax your chaotic thoughts of immediate death.

You slowly open your eyes and take in the scenery. The block was full of people clamoring from one bar to the next. You watched as their heads turned to get a glimpse of him as he drove by. Without even trying he is the center of attention.

Sylus taps your arm and motions for you to look forward. A sharp turn is quickly approaching and you nod your head in understanding. You grasp onto his waist and ready yourself to follow his motion.

You are hyper aware of his body as you lean against him. Completely focused on mimicking his posture. You follow his lead as it moves slightly to the left.

A jolt of excitement rushes through you as you zip through the curve. You giggle as the bike easily hugs the road. A sense of euphoria replaces the fear and you realize you are enjoying yourself.

So much so that you whine a bit when he is forced to stop at a red light. Once stopped you feel his hand glide to your thigh. He gives it a sharp squeeze and you jump in surprise. He turns and mouths, “Good job.”

The loud thumping from your chest due to the adrenaline travels lower. The steady hum under you, his fingers still wrapped around you, it is intoxicating. Sylus is dangerous in many ways. Like many dangerous things you could see yourself becoming addicted.

Before you could come to any realizations the light turns green and the bike takes off once again. Sylus releases his hold on your upper thigh and points forward.

A few miles a head lay two choices. You could remain riding on the back roads through downtown at a leisurely pace. OR you could merge onto the highway, a much more risky proposition. You weren’t sure why this simple decision felt so important. Stay safe or take a risk.

Overcome by the thrill of your first ride and feeling more rebellious you lean up against him. You nervously let go of his waist to point in the direction of the highway. His eyebrow raises, but he smirks.

You nod confirming your decision and you gasp as he squeezes your thigh once again. “My brave girl.” You couldn’t hear his words, the engine was too loud, but you read his lips. Your spine tingled and you were ready to embrace the chaos. Chaos did not seem so bad if Sylus was by your side.

[genevievefangirl]

Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics - PART 4

For all caveats/rules/backstory, please read the Master Post

Halcyon Days By: cordelianoir @cordelia-noir Rating: T Tags: AU - Modern Setting, AU - High School, AU - Heartstopper, Protective Charles, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: There were a lot of reasons why Charles Rowland had changed schools. His suffering grades, constant reprimands over being out of dress code and the school’s growing suspicions about his home life were only some of the reasons why Charles’ mother enrolled him in boarding school for sixth form. There was really only one problem… well two problems, maybe three. ------------ When Cricket-star Charles transfers to St. Hilarion's, he urgently needs a Latin tutor. Enter Edwin Payne, a language genius but not very popular. As the two become friends, the past rears its head in ugly ways. Can the two navigate such a new, odd-couple friendship in the face of their pasts? And what happens if that friendship starts to blossom into more? My Notes: The most adorable (yet sometimes dark) boarding school AU there is! I think I speak for a lot of us in the fandom when I say this fic warms my heart. I'm not usually a fluff person, but this fic balences the fluff with the hurt very well. I highly recommend if you haven't read it already

half of my soul, as the poets say By: thegirlofthorns @edwinspaynes Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, gravestones Summary: Edwin existed, just as Charles had. Charles, who occupied a space in loving memory. A much-deserved space – Edwin would have wanted it no other way – but the core of him wanted to scream that he had been here, too. He never would be again, but he had lived, and he had breathed and laughed and moved with too much frippery and frill to continue on breathing, and he had been a whole person, once. And it had not mattered. So looked at CHARLES ROWLAND through tears, allowed himself to. Even Charles's hammer on metal on stone was not enough to dull the pain, but it was enough to remind him that he was still here, even if he was no longer living. It was an awful sound, a jarring sound, and tears shone in Charles’s eyes as he focused intently on carving out the A in his surname, but it was something. They were there, together, and they were feeling. - Or, Charles finds Edwin's unmarked grave and will, in the lightest of terms, not be having it. My Notes: I love Charles being angry at the world for how Edwin died and how little anyone cared about him. This fic expands on that and the epithet that Charles puts on Edwin's gravestone is perfection.

head in the clouds but my gravity's centered By: shadowquill17 @shadowquill17 Rating: T Tags: Feelings Realization, Love Confessions, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Charles touched Edwin’s face when they were in Hell, and it made them both feel better. So of course he keeps doing it. And of course it escalates. My Notes: Who doesn't love some intimate face touching from their best mate? I think this is a great tactic to use to pull Edwin out of his own head lol

Heaven To No One Else But Me By: coloursflyaway @coloursflyaway Rating: T Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization Summary: We would like to offer you a gift, Edwin Payne, the entity says, and holds out its hand; Charles has to force himself to stay put and not step between it and Edwin, because it feels like danger, even if it shouldn’t. The entity wouldn’t hurt Edwin, he tells himself, and he knows it’s true, it’s just that it is so powerful that even the slightest touch is terrifying and Charles is terrified about losing Edwin all the time anyway. “Why me?”, Edwin asks, head raised high and the entity’s light reflecting off his skin in a way that makes it look like porcelain, fragile and translucent and beautiful, “Why not Charles?” There is nothing we could offer Charles Rowland to take his pain away, the entity says and its voice rings out in Charles’ head. But you, we could erase yours. If you wish us to. Edwin gets the opportunity to go back in time and change his life so he will never have to go to Hell, but price of it is losing Charles; Charles can only stand next to him and wait for his decision. My Notes: Edwin sees flashes of the life he could have while Charles just stands by thinking Edwin is going to leave him. It is so painful, but also so good.

hell or high water - Series By: oddessea @oddessea Rating: T Tags: AU - Different First Meeting, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: Together - After decades of searching for a way out of Hell between being eaten by a large spider made of baby dolls, Edwin Payne is ready to try anything. When he finds a torture chamber in an out-of-the way part of the Doll House, he meets a boy his age named Charles Rowland. But, more importantly, he realizes that he might not be the only one who doesn't belong in Hell, and that, maybe, escaping is easier when you aren't alone. Feel - Every good detective agency needs an office, and every good detective needs a break. After escaping from Hell, Edwin and Charles want nothing more than to have a nice, long rest. Charles worries that something irreparable has been done to him by his time in Hell, but he can't worry about that now. The Dead Boy Detectives have their first case, and if they solve it, they may just earn their very own office and, hopefully, somewhere safe for them to land. My Notes: The boys meeting in Hell greatly shifts their bond and dynamic in this fic and I LOVE IT! They are so attached to each other and I can't! Like you think they are codependent in canon? Read this!

holding on to patience (like a sunrise) By: toomoon (jjjat3am) @toomoonfic Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Getting Together Summary: In the aftermath of their appointment to the Lost and Found Department, Charles and Edwin's hug lingers. or, 5 times Charles touched Edwin, and one time Edwin touched him first. My Note: We can all agree that hug in ep 8 was great right? Well here's a fic expanding on their various touches after that!

I dont think I could stand to be (Where You Dont See Me) By: BadBoyDeanAsf @thepopsicle Rating: T Tags: Protective Charles Rowland, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Trauma, PTSD Summary: So Charles decides then and there with his eyes boring into the image of a woman who couldn’t have possibly been half as lucky as them that he would confess to Edwin. He wasn’t sure when or even how but he knows without a doubt that his partner deserved to know he was loved, that his feelings weren’t unrequited. - Six months after the events of S1 canon, the boys are trying to return to normal in London and deal with their own struggles. Edwin is fighting the grief of losing Niko and Charles struggles between worrying for Edwin and attempting to unpack his feelings. My Note: Charles worries so much about Edwin in this one that it makes my heart hurt. He just wants Edwin to be well again and takes him to see some art to try and make him feel better and it turns into some deep thoughts.

I Turned Back One Last Time (just to prove you were there) By: isnt_that_wizard @skateboardtotheheart Rating: T Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Protective Charles Rowland, Touching, Touch Starved, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Summary: Since they'd fallen out of hell, the Night Nurse slamming the door on the awful baby doll demon behind them, Charles had been itching to touch Edwin. And it wasn't like his usual touch-oriented personality just wishing to have some sort of contact. He could control that easily enough after all this time. No, this was something different. This felt like a desperation. A need to be in Edwin's personal space, to keep his hands on him. He wanted to wrap his best friend in a hug and never let go, he wanted to sit as close as possible as they heard a new case. He wanted to take Niko’s place as she grabbed Edwin's hand to drag him to watch another one of her shows. He wanted to tuck Edwin against him as they sat on the couch. He would wrap an arm around Crystal and wish it was Edwin, who was merely across the room. --- After Hell, Charles is terrified of letting Edwin out of his reach for fear that he might get taken away again. He is, of course, being very subtle in his attempts to keep Edwin close. or a series of moments when charles can't stop touching edwin to remind himself that he's real and safe, until it all finally catches up to him and he snaps My Note: Charles is freaking out in this and the tension is palatable. In particular the end of chapter 2 into the beginning of chapter 3 gives me such strong emotions. I have reread this one so many times

i’d be the choiceless hope in grief [that drove him underground] By: Laney_Rockin @laney-rockin Rating: T Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Hell, Unhappy Ending, Angst, Orpheus and Eurydice, Love Confessions, Time Loop Summary: Charles had a bad feeling that when Edwin stopped running up those spiral stairs the first time something terrible would occur. An awful gnawing feeling deep within that he chalked up to a ghostly intuition. If he was alive he'd think it was a stomachache, almost on the edge of making him sick. He hated when he was right. ---- Or: Charles becomes much more like Orpheus than he'd like. Edwin doesn't blame him for it. He doesn't think he ever could. My Notes: We love Hell time loops! But also you want sad? Here you go. This line in particular sticks with me, I love it so much. (spoilers ahead!) - "I said the ending was tragic, not that the love Orpheus and Eurydice had for each other was. In fact, it was perhaps the greatest part of the story. Eurydice holds no ill will towards her husband even as she dies a second time. Knowing and comforted in the fact that she was utterly adored by him."

If I could hold you for a minute By: HistoriaGloria @historia-gloria Rating: G Tags: Case Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: "For as vicious as it can be for ghosts, iron is not as common as you would think. It is rare, in Edwin’s experience, that the supernatural forces they are dealing with actually know that iron hurts as much as it does. Rare, but not rare enough." Charles is hurt on a case, leaving Edwin and Crystal to pick up the pieces. My Notes: The fight scene in this fic really stands out, it is super well done. And Crystal gets to help the boys!

[quicktosimp]

I Fucking Hate You

A/N: Welcome back to Day 4 of Survive the Night! And happy 4th of July!!! To celebrate the fourth, I decided to go with the American man of the hour! This is the most tame out of my fics, but I still hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Hate Sex, Sub!Quaritch, Mean!Reader, Slapping, Degradation, Manipulation, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Kuru Play, Scent Kink

Being stuck in a giant blue body was the last thing I wanted. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have always been on the side of the Na’vi, no matter what, but I had no interest in becoming one. I was completely satisfied as a human and planned on dying as a human. I guess I got what I wanted; somehow, I died, and they decided to put me in this body full-time. Fucking sucks, but what can I do about it.

Funny enough, I figured that if I died, it’d be due to the bastards finding out I’ve been ratting them out to the natives this whole time, but I don’t think they’d waste a couple of billion on a traitor.

So not only do I have to continue living on this hell planet, I got saddled with Lucifer himself, fucking Colonel Miles Quaritch. After getting our new bodies, the doctors ordered mandatory physical rehab until we could prove ourselves in the field. Of course, that means sparing, and because I am now a part of ‘Deja Blu,’ as we’re so aptly named, I can’t help but roll my eyes every time I think about that god-awful name; that means that I’m under the head bitches command. Fuck I hate listening to that pompous jackass. He’s always on my ass, and I don’t mean in the ‘he scrutinizes my every decision’ type of way; I mean he follows me everywhere, gives me the best gear, refuses to let anyone talk back to me, and no one else is allowed to spar with me. Maybe I wouldn’t hate it as much if it weren't for the fact that he holds back the entire time. I can’t even get a decent exercise out of him!

I huffed as I waited in the training room, the large sparring mat in the middle of the floor. I had kicked off my shoes a while ago, tapping my barefoot impatiently, waiting for his royal highness to arrive.

After 43 minutes of waiting, the metal doors finally swooshed open, and there he was, sauntering in with that damn grin on his face, looking like the cat who caught the canary.

“Sorry about that, Darlin’, got held up by the general; you know how she can get,” He grinned, stepping onto the mat.

I rolled my eyes as my bare feet padded on the metal floor, the mat a welcome feeling from the stark cold, “Let’s just get to work,” I mumbled lazily. 

Quaritch’s eyes flashed with glee as he readied himself on the mat, eagerly meeting me in the middle. “You’re always such an eager thing,” he said quickly, getting into position on the mat.

I match his stance, widening my legs and bringing my arms up to my chest, with Quaritch being taller than me, most attacks will come from above, so keeping my hand up will keep me more protected.

Already irritated from waiting, I struck first, quickly jabbing at his neck, wanting this over with. Unfortunately, Quaritch dogges, sidestepping me and aiming for my middle; I pivot around, keeping him directly in front of me. I used the momentum to drive my right foot into his knee, landing a solid hit; he stumbled back, and using the chance, I aimed two hits on his stomach. He caught the first hand, but the second sent him to the ground.

I growled lowly, my tail flickering irritably behind me. I know he can fight better than this; I’ve seen him.

“Can’t you do any fucking better than that?” I snapped, returning to the middle of the mat, ready to go again. 

Quaritch stands and follows me to the middle. “As you wish, Sweetheart,” he drawls. His face looks serious, but the way his ears perk up, I knew he is pleased.

I growled and went again.

We did this again and again and again.

Never once did I lose. By now, I was hissing and spitting at Quaritch, pissed that he never once actually fought me. 

“Can you do anything right, you fucking bitch?” I snarled, uppercutting his face sending him to the ground. 

Quaritch lays there panting, his eyes blown wide, as blood drips from his nose, “I dunno Doll, seems we’re having a good time right now,” He smiled softly at me.

I scoff, turning away from him, “Like I can have fun with you, such a useless fuck.”

He scrambled off the mat, trying to catch up with me, “Don’t be like that; I was just trying to have a good time with you,” He gently grabbed my arm as he pleaded with me.

“Oh yes, I just love having my time wasted when I could be sparing with anyone else. Mansk has been interested, and I’d probably learn something from him, unlike you,” I commented in an overly sweet tone, not letting his grip slow me.

I had to hold back my smirk; I knew mentioning Mansk would get his attention. Qauritch turned me around, grabbing both my arms, refusing to let me leave.

His ears pinned back as Quaritch looked at me pleadingly, “I’m sorry, Darlin’, don’t leave; I shouldn’ have messed with ya like that. I just wanted to have some time with ya,” He quickly tried to plead his case. 

I rolled my eyes, refusing to look at him, “I could have done something productive, yet instead, I was stuck with your uselessness. You’re supposed to be a Colonel, yet you can’t even spar properly. Seriously, why do I even bother with you?”

Quaritch bit his lip as he tried to think of something to say, “You’re just so pretty I can’t even think about markin’ such a cute face. I hate the idea of you getting hurt.” 

I slowly leaned back, making him think that I was walking away.

“No, no, no, please don’t go! Let me make it up to ya,” His grip tightened slightly; still afraid of grabbing me too hard, he refused to leave a single mark on my body.

I raised my eyebrow as I looked at him from the side, “And how do you plan on making it up to me?”

Quaritch’s breathing quickened as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, his hands caressing my arms as he slides down until he rested at my hips. He rests his head on my stomach, “Would this be good for you?”

I huff dramatically as if this isn’t exactly what I wanted, “Let’s see if you can actually please me,” I cross my arms over my chest. 

His shoulders drop as if I had just released all of his anxiety. My shirt had ridden up during our sparring, leaving some of my blue skin exposed to Quaritch; he slowly started to kiss the skin, open-mouthed and wet, gently sucking on each spot. 

I’m careful not to show that I was enjoying it; I can’t let him have an easy time after the shit he pulled earlier. I looked away, not bothering to have him in my sight.

Quaritch’s large hands start to massage my hips, gently pulling the fabric of my pants down, giving him more skin to suckle on.

This goes on for a little while. I indulge him in worshiping my body, but I want more. I grab the base of his queue, tugging it, “I’m getting bored,” I explain dully.

A loud groan left his lips as I pulled on the most sensitive part of his anatomy. Quaritch’s instincts should be screaming at him to move, to remove the pain away from a crucial part of his body, yet he doesn’t fight me for one second. Instead, he looks at me with devotion.’

“‘M sorry, Doll,” He moaned, slowly unzipping my pants.

The bothersome material drops to the floor, and carefully Quaritch helps me step out on each side, relieving me of the damned fabric. As usual, I forgo any underwear; the natives have it right, the less clothing, the better; everything the humans make here is fucking awful on my skin. 

My slit was already slightly relaxed from his attention earlier; small droplets of slick escaped me. They didn’t go far; as Quaritch’s tongue lapped them up, the sound that came out of him was primal; he placed his nose right at my slit and breathed deeply. The fucking slut always does this. He’s such a scent freak. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Darlin’, you always smell so good,” His words of praise sounded through the room.

I scoffed lightly as I gave another sharp tug to his queue, “What did I just say about being bored?” 

Quaritch’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, “Oh fuck,” His voice came out in a timber moan, but finally he did something. He stuck out his tongue, using the flat of it to lick from the bottom of my slit to the top. 

I lean my head back and close my eyes, enjoying the new attention. He continues to slowly lap at my slit, easing it open more. The gentle waves of pleasure were nice; glad that he’s good at this; it’s the only damn thing he’s good at.

Quaritch slowly pulls away, “Darlin’, would you mind-”

I snarl as I tug his queue, pulling his head at an awkward angle, a small hiss leaving his lips from the stabbing pain in his skull.

“I do, in fact, mind you wasted my time and my attention, and now you think you can ask something for me when the only thing you can do right is give me a little bit of pleasure? Fuck you’re useless; at least Sully could make me cum over and over again, yet here I am, settling for your mouth.” I growled.

My words cut Quaritch as they always do, his eyes widening, looking like I had betrayed him, but I smirked as I spotted his pants; through the tan fabric, there was a wet spot forming from where his cock was attempting to escape his own slit.

“Alway’s a fucking masochist; I wonder what the general would think knowing her prized Colonel is nothing more than a slut who likes being degraded.” I forced his head back to my slit, not leaving any room for him to move, “Now, do your fucking job before I decide to report your behavior.”

I could see the panic building in him; if I were to go to her bitchyness, all our little escapades would have to stop. Quaritch knows that I can easily replace him, and I wouldn’t think twice about him, but I am his fucking world. I am his goddess on this forsaken planet; losing me would devastate him, and he would lose his very self. 

His mouth resumed with vigor, licking my slit, trying to open me up for more. The fear in his eyes brought heat to my slit, causing slick to leak out, making a mess all over Quaritch’s face. He sucks the flesh into his mouth, forcing the skin to swell from the blood flow.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” I moaned, grinding my hips into his face. 

He moaned in response to me, and he started to roll his hips, wanting stimulation but knowing that I didn’t permit him to touch. His free hand traveled from my hip to my slit, easily sliding a finger into my wetness, my inner tendrils eagerly wrapping around his finger. A soft sigh left my lips, his finger curling inside me, stimulating my insides. Quaritch never stopped his work with his mouth, eagerly slurping up my slick and sticking his tongue inside, searching for more.

“More,” I growled lightly, rocking my hips.

Quaritch eagerly complied, slipping another finger inside me, the two wiggling and spreading around, my inner tendrils trying to curl around both of them while trying to bring them closer, my body not understanding that I couldn’t get sperm from them. All that my body longs for. 

Come on, fuck yes,” I whined, the coil in my stomach tightening as he slipped in another finger; my legs started to shake as I came, stars spotted across my vision as I grabbed Quaritch’s shoulder for support, slick gushed out of my covering his shirt and soaking the material.

Quaritch helps me ride out my high, his lips and fingers slowing before removing them. I work on catching my breath; as I step back, looking down, all I can see is pure love in his eyes.

He smiles softly at me, proud of what he did for me, “You feelin’ better, Darlin’?”

I nod my head sharply, not wanting to answer him.

His smile falters as he looks up hesitantly, “Darlin’, you know that I lo-”

I quickly shut him up as my hand meets his face. My palm is stinging as his face is snapped to the side.

I look him dead in the eye, void of any emotion, “No, you don’t. Don’t you ever fucking say that again.” 

I turned around, grabbing my pants along the way, knowing I left him there dejected on the floor.

Of course, I know this; this is how I leave him every time.

Banner by: @cafekitsune

Taglist: @xylianasblog, @eywaite, @hotdsworld, @tallulah477

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 23 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3319 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

Finally, I spotted him, chilling on a couch in the corner, rocking a beer and a smoke as his serious eyes stared at me. My heart tightened seeing him like that; normally, when he saw me, it meant smiles and a hug. Now, however, he just watched me, his cool blue eyes meeting mine from across the room. I held his gaze for a while, my face turning a bit warm as we looked at each other. Heart skipping a beat, I wondered: was he gonna brush me off? Stand up and bail, pretending I wasn’t even there?

✦ summary: Reuniting with James forces Nore to confront the complicated feelings that arose after their kiss.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle, drinking, smoking, recreational drug use

✦ a/n: Hello! I'm finally on Christmas break and have lots of free time, so I'm trying to write as much as I can! I'm really glad I could post this chapter before the end of the year, and I hope it won't take me too long to post the next ones :) We're on the final half of the story, and things will get a bit more intense from now on. So, how do you think James and Nore are gonna deal with their feelings from now on? I'm really excited to write about it! Thank you so much for reading, feedback is welcome and motivates me a lot! ❤

✧ I want to be the girl with the most cake / He only loves those things because he loves to see them break / I fake it so real, I am beyond fake / And someday, you will ache like I ache ✧

It didn't take too long for me to catch up with my friends again. Just a bit over two weeks post-Leanne's birthday bash, Cliff gave me a ring with some exciting news: the band had landed a gig at a renowned venue in Los Angeles, and if the first show drew a good crowd, there was talk of a repeat performance to wrap up the year.

I hadn’t crossed paths with James since he had kissed me; gotta admit, the idea of facing him after all that had happened had me feeling a bit uneasy. But I was hopeful that, when the time came, we could have a conversation about it. I just hoped we could keep our friendship. There were many things I could handle, but losing him for good was not something I was ready for.

The band needed to fill the place, so Cliff asked if I could bring someone along. I ended up inviting Pat, my friend from the record store, to join me at the show. I mean, asking Dave was out of the question; as time went by, he was getting more and more bitter every time Metallica came up. Even though he wasn't thrilled about me going to the show, having a companion seemed to ease his mood a bit. Ever since I came home with a bruised hand from having to defend myself, he seemed to gradually become more protective and concerned every day. I knew he'd rather I not navigate crowded spots alone, especially at a metal show. But, when it came to Metallica, his wounded pride still had the upper hand.

I met up with Pat right outside the record store before the gig, so we could go to the venue together. She greeted me with the biggest smile, her blonde locks and blue eyes all dazzling.

"I'm so stoked!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing with happiness as I handed her the ticket and the backstage pass. "I've never had backstage access before. This is gonna be rad!"

"Yeah, it's cool. But don't expect anything too fancy; we usually just score some drinks and access to the dressing room," I said, throwing out a strained smile. I tried not to let the nerves creep in about seeing James again, but now that showtime was approaching, my anxiety was cranking up by the minute.

"Oh, don't be a buzzkill," she pouted. "You’re in a bad mood today? Aren't you happy to see your friends?"

"Sorry, Pat. I'm just kinda on edge," I replied with a sigh. Despite really liking Pat, I wasn't up for diving into the whole James-kiss situation with anyone. Truth is, I had been mulling over it way more than I'd like. Couldn't wait to clear the air with James once and for all.

We rolled up a bit later to the venue, and there was already a decent line of fans. It always blew my mind how they had just dropped their first album not long ago but were pulling in a hype crowd that was growing by the day. I could sense the West Coast getting too cramped for whatever they were cookin' up. And, like always, no need to wait in line for us; the IDs whisked us straight backstage, where the guys were getting their act together, getting stage-ready, and already a bit toasted.

I couldn't really zone in on the whole scene that kicked off with Lars, Kirk, and Cliff swooping in for the welcome party; drinks were handed out, cigs were fired up, and Lars, as usual, threw in his cheeky comments ('hey, your friend's a total babe!'). But honestly, none of that was grabbing my full attention. My eyes were on a mission, desperately looking for the only person I wanted to see. No matter how much I tried to fool myself, all I cared about was making sure things were cool between James and me.

Finally, I spotted him, chilling on a couch in the corner, rocking a beer and a smoke as his serious eyes stared at me. My heart tightened seeing him like that; normally, when he saw me, it meant smiles and a hug. Now, however, he just watched me, his cool blue eyes meeting mine from across the room. I held his gaze for a while, my face turning a bit warm as we looked at each other. Heart skipping a beat, I wondered: was he gonna brush me off? Stand up and bail, pretending I wasn’t even there?

Instead, he just got up, strolled over, and handed me the beer bottle.

“Want some?” he asked, throwing a faint smile my way. I blinked, kinda surprised. The way he talked, it was like nothing had happened. Like he never had kissed me. Like I never had bolted out of Joe's kitchen, leaving him all alone.

But, hey, wasn’t that exactly what I wanted? For things to be normal again. For us to stick to being friends, no drama.

“Of course. You ever see me turn down a beer?” I replied with a grin. He let out a soft chuckle and handed over the bottle, his cold fingers brushing mine for the briefest fraction of a second before he brought the cig back to his mouth.

Before long, the venue staff gave us the heads up that the show was about to kick off. The guys wrapped up their final checks, and Pat and I joined them, enjoying a beer by the stage. Pat was all hyped about it; even though she didn't know the band, she was really getting into the music, full of the enthusiasm you'd expect from a dedicated fan. As for me, I was a bit more reserved this time. Don't get me wrong, I was always happy to catch up with my friends, but I couldn't ignore how uneasy I felt, especially when I noticed James's glances, splitting his attention between the crowd and shooting looks my way, a silent storm brewing in his blue gaze.

After the concert wrapped up, he handed his guitar over to a puzzled Kirk, not even bothering to look at him. He headed my way, big steps and a bit of annoyance wrinkling his forehead; at that point, I was almost sure he was going to cup my face in his hands and kiss me again. The idea had my face turning hot, my heart racing, and the palms of my hands getting sticky with nervous sweat, recalling the feel of his lips on mine. Instead of that, he just stopped and locked eyes with me for a moment, carefully studying my face before saying:

“So? How was the show?”

“It was awesome! You guys rock, I loved it!” Pat exclaimed, all excited, breaking the momentary electricity that had arisen between us two. James raised an eyebrow, curious, as if just now realizing she was there, and shot me a puzzled look. I just shrugged, wearing a slight smile.

"It was killer, like always," I said with a grin, and he shot one right back at me. There it was — the familiar, genuine smile I'd been missing all night. I couldn’t help but feel relief wash all over me when I saw it.

We wrapped up the night at some random downtown bar. Most of the time, I stuck with Pat since she only knew me there. A couple of beers, a joint, and watching her all hyped up did the trick; I started to unwind, and soon enough, I was enjoying the night with a lightness I hadn't felt in ages. Had a cig between my lips, just chilling and keeping an eye on the guys from a distance. Cliff and Kirk were deep into some serious chat, sharing a joint. Lars and James had found some fans from the show, cracking up and talking loudly while passing around a bottle of vodka.

"Can I ask you something?" Pat threw out. I shifted my gaze from the scene, catching her curious, kinda fuzzy look — probably thanks to a bit of the booze. Before I could even answer, she kept going: "What's the deal with you and James?"

"Me... and James?" I raised my eyebrows, totally caught off guard. She nodded, a little smile playing on her lips. "We're... We're friends."

"And that's it?" She raised an eyebrow, and I furrowed my brow.

"Of course, that's it, Pat! You know I'm dating Dave."

"Yeah, I know. It's just..." She started, letting her eyes wander over to Lars and James before turning back to me with a mischievous grin. "He's quite the looker. Mind if I flirt with him a bit? Just for fun, you know."

I blinked, caught off guard, and then burst into laughter, my face heating up in a mix of surprise and confusion. Out of all the scenarios playing in my head for that night, Pat showing interest in James was definitely not on the list.

“Sure, why not,” I said, and she shot me a smile before strutting in the direction of James and Lars. I watched her go, a little smirk on my face, a tiny pang of envy sneaking into my chest. Maybe life would be more of a breeze if I could summon that kind of confidence in myself so easily.

"So now you're playing matchmaker?" I heard Cliff's familiar voice, and I looked up to meet his brown eyes staring at me. I grinned as he lit a cigarette, handing it to me before popping the top of the beer can he had in his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Never been better. And you?"

"Are you sure?" he raised an eyebrow. "Last time I saw you, you weren't very happy."

"Yeah, felt a bit down after... you know, what happened," I confessed with a sigh. "But I think that's all settled now, isn't it?"

Cliff didn't seem entirely convinced. He took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke billowing out before he reached out to me. I took the cigarette from between his fingers, bringing it to my lips.

"I thought James liked you," he commented, his attentive gaze fixed on my face. I shrugged.

"Maybe he does. But you know I have a boyfriend, Cliff. Maybe it's good for him to be distracted by some other girl for a bit," I said, and Cliff snorted.

"Not even you believe that, Nore."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think? Are you sure about what you're doing, throwing your friend at him like this? Or will you regret it later?"

"Why would I regret it?" I furrowed my brow, then stared at him defiantly. "I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"If you say so," he shrugged, taking the cigarette back from my hand.

I watched him walk away with a frown, scanning the area for James, my stomach churning uncomfortably when I couldn't find him anywhere.

We bounced out of the bar late at night, still riding high on excitement and energy, a bit too drunk but not giving a damn about it. Lucky for us, the guys were staying at a friend's house nearby, and a quick call to Pat's dad had us sorted for a ride home from their place. I said my goodbyes to the guys and enjoyed the cruise home. Pat, usually a chatterbox, was oddly quiet on the drive. When I nudged her about James, she blushed so hard I couldn't help but crack up.

When I got home, I made a beeline for the shower. The hot water washed away the remnants of the night's boozing, helping me unwind and finally realize how tired I was. I slipped into my PJs, hopping into bed next to a knocked-out Dave.

I let out a soft chuckle when his arms wrapped around me, his lips landing on my neck. It was like he had a sixth sense that woke him up the moment I was back, even from the deepest sleep. Like he just knew I was nearby. How could I think of anyone else when Dave loved me like this?

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice all sleepy, planting a kiss on my shoulder.

“Hey,” I replied with a smile, turning in bed to face him. I swept his ginger hair away from his face, and he grumbled before pulling me closer, burying his face in my neck.

"Missed you tonight," he murmured, his raspy voice making me shiver in the best way. "Glad you're back."

"Course, I'm back," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. "We’re not gonna fight tonight, right?"

"Hmm..." he grumbled, his lips making their way up my neck until they met mine. His hands grabbed my waist as he settled on top of me. "No fights... got something else in mind."

I laughed into his kiss, my face warming as he turned up the intensity, making my whole body heat up. In that moment, wrapped up in his arms, I was sure I was loved. I was sure he loved me. And that was, and always would be, enough. 

Or, at least, that's what I told myself.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

[skellymom]

UNTITLED FIC SNIPPET

CROSSHAIR x READER NON GENDER

Background: Crosshair brainrot stuck in my head. Reader helps The Batch rescue Cross, Omega, and Tech from Mt Tantiss only to get separated from the group and have to make their escape...then losing track of everyone for a long extended period of time. Reader and Cross have navigate living with each other on the stolen Imperial ship with the hope you can find your clone family again.

Word count: 325

No warnings, just angst and fluff

The open air market on some back water Outer Rim moon provided a distraction. The textile stand caught your eye. Beautiful scarves...you picked up a jet black one with fine silver metallic strands running through it.

"Good choice. It compliments your hair." The elderly shop keep stepped from behind a long quilt hanging behind the counter.

"Marv! Are you flirting again?" An older woman approached playfully teasing her husband.

"Now why would I do that when I have you, my sweet Meileroon? Besides, here's their partner now."

Crosshair sauntered up to the counter, amused at the comment.

"Hello honey" He teased.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his "greeting." "What do you think of this scarf?"

"Hmm, not really my style." Cross reached down to pull another from under the pile. "Now this one..."

This scarf was rusty red with fine intermittent off-white paired stripes dispersed through it. Crosshair draped it around his neck. "What do you think?"

The blood drained from your face.

"No..." You dropped the scarf and hurried away from the stand.

*************

Cross caught up to you a few moments later...still wearing that damned scarf.

"Care to explain?"

Grabbing the fabric in your fist. "That's HIS scarf...NOT YOURS!

Cross softened. Not a trace of snark on his face. "You were in love with Hunter?"

"We are STILL in a relationship, Crosshair! Just because Hunter and I are apart doesn't mean that ended."

Crosshair stared directly into your eyes with such an intensity...it was difficult to keep eye contact.

"So...I complicate those feelings." It wasn't a question. He didn't need to ask. He KNEW.

You noticed his eyes changed from brown to grey in this perfect light. The light of the sun setting on this backwater moon. Almost the exact color gray of his brother's eyes.

You sighed deeply, letting go of the scarf. Your hand dropping to rest, open palmed on Crosshair's chest.

He stepped closer, placing his warm hand over yours...

**************

Yes...I have several other fics that I MUST WRITE more chapters to/finish...but this MAN...what is happening to me??? Dammit Crosshair...you Silver Vixen...haunting me with your snarkiness and slutty skinny getaway sticks...

...I've got the fever...FOR MORE CROSSHAIR!

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

@fionajames @thecoffeelorian @genericficerblog @crosshairs-right-nut @arctrooper69 @littlefeatherr @askyourfox

I need to tag more people, but wanted to rush this out before leaving for Tuesday Trivia Night with friends! PLEASE message me or let me know if you want on the taglist! Thanks!!!

[mushroommanstan]

Man-child’s best friend

Shigaraki and a dog comfort fic.

No smut or anything, just wholesome. Please read and maybe tell me stuff to add onto it!

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Ok so I know we in the Shigaraki simp nation have had a common theme within our separate, yet similar, Shigaraki comfort aus. But today I dare to break away from the usual, if not for a little while. Today I present an AU not with a loving girlfriend giving Shig the love he needs, but instead, a cute little puppy dog.

I really encourage you guys to ask me suggestions and prompts for this. I want this to be a series or something because I think the ideas so cute! Don’t let this flop ;-;

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Cheap metal crashing into cheap metal was the only thing Shigaraki was able to intentionally cause that day. It was amazing, really, how a plan can fail that miserably. Literally every stage of the mission had gone wrong, all because some green haired prick gave some cheesy speech about friendship and got everyone riled up.

And even now, the soda can he kicked had some left over syrup still in it, causing the sticky concoction to land on and stain his already blood-stained shoes.

Psht. Friends. What does HE know about friends? I mean, his best friends an asshole, and his other best friend keeps rejecting Togas advances. Not that he cares, the brat. Yeah, friends are dumb. Why would he need friends? No, he’s glad. He’s glad he doesn’t have friends that’ll just someday betray him.

Yeah, he’s so glad he can feel his eyes sting with happiness. Tears of joy, obviously. He doesn’t need support, he doesn’t need someone to be there when he’s down, he doesn’t need any of the other shitty things friends do that the broccoli headed bitch talked about. He has sensei, he has Kurogiri, and he has his “family.” That’s more than enough.

…..

Fuck. It’s just not fair. He doesn’t need friends but he can’t deny that it doesn’t sound appealing. Why do snot nosed brats get to have them and he doesn’t? That’s not fair! Where’s his friends? Huh? Where’s his?

His foot suddenly collided with something unrecognizable. It was soft, organic, fuzzy, the feeling made him jolt back as he took his hand away from his eyes to see whatever it was that felt disturbing him was a good idea.

There, on the ground, was some dirty little mutt, wagging its tail obnoxiously fast and holding the can of soda he had previously kicked in its mouth. It looked at him expectantly.

“What?”

There was no answer, only the uncomfortable silence as it was looking at him with some irresistible, pleading expression… ugh, he knows there’s a phrase for it… uhh guppy frog eyes? Pruppy log eyes? Pruppy is that even a word…. Whatever that’s not important. He just wished the mutt would stop looking at him like that.

“WHAT?!” He yelled, losing his temper.

The can clattered to the ground as the doggie barked back at him playfully, mimicking his volume.

Shigaraki growled picking up said can and chucking it back from whence it came. The dog yipped obediently, bounding off towards the direction he threw. Fuck, finally, he’s alone. He’s glad the mutt left before he had to-

He’s stopped again by the dog, this time by it spitting out the same can at his feet enthusiastically. Huh.

Shigaraki picked it up again and threw it, noticeably less aggressively, and watched as it happily bounded too and fro with the can, waiting eagerly for him to do it again. So he did. Then again and again as he watched the dog twirl and pounce with excitement.

Before he knew it, he found himself caught up in a game of fetch, cheering as it continued to retrieve the can without fail. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until someone else started coming towards him.

“Hey! What’re you doing with my dog?”

What WAS he doing with the dog? Why was he… smiling? I mean, he wasn’t happy… was he? That doesn’t make sense. He’s never happy. So the unfamiliar warmth in his chest is obviously something else. Yeah, and the smiling, well that was obviously just a muscle reaction from the stench of the nearby dumpsters. Obviously.

“I said, what are you doing with my dog freak?”

Shigaraki crouched, snapping his fingers a little to get the pups attention before scooping it up. It wiggled in his grasp affectionately, attempting to lick his face with every movement causing Shigaraki to chuckle. When he heard himself doing that he was filled with disgust.

“Uh, yeah sorry I-haha, stop it!-I saw this dog and I don’t know one thing led to another and I guess I lost track of time… playing… with it…”

Shigarakis smile fell at his own confession. Playing. He was playing with the damn mutt. Fuck, who was he? What is he doing? He’s Shigaraki Tomura damn it! Infamous super villain not some little kid! He can’t be seen frolicking with puppies!

“Oh, playing with it? Mmm, ok.” The owner looked… disappointed. Weird.

“Uh, here” he said, unceremoniously trying to shove the pup into his hands but finding trouble as it struggled. It whined and scraped at him arms, scurrying back into his grasp as he tried to give it to the real owner.

He grunted with effort, the dirt and filth clinging to the pups fur rubbing onto his skin and making him scowl. After a moment, the owner sighed, reaching over and grabbing the yelping dog.

“Ugh. Finally.” The owner sighed. “You didn’t feed him anything did you?”

“Uh, no?” It was then that Shigaraki noticed the pups ribs pressing against its skin. “Maybe you should.”

The owner cackled. “Hah, good one. Yeah maybe I’ll let him sleep inside too when it rains!”

“……what?”

The owner gasped. “Oh, you haven’t heard? I’m starting a dog fighting ring!” He happily boasted to Shig, looking like a little girl talking about her upcoming birthday party. “So, you know, I gotta keep ‘em mad so they want to fight! What do you think? Is it time to file the teeth down into points?”

File the teeth into points? What the fuck?! I mean… seriously, what the fuck?!

For a moment, Shigaraki said nothing. Staring back and forth between him and the dog while masking his blooming rage with an impressive poker face.

“Can I see the mutt again?”

“Oh, yeah, sure! Here.” He handed off the enthusiastic puppy, who eagerly took the opportunity to jump back into Shigarakis arms.

“Perfect.” Shigaraki held the dog up before him, looking head to toe-bean. “Hmmm yup. This dogs gonna have a much better time without you.”

The guy chuckled nervously. “W-what do you mean?”

Shigaraki couldn’t hold back his smile anymore, lips spreading into a malicious grin. “I tell ya I really needed this. I had a shit day, you know?” Shigaraki took a step forward, and the guy took a step back.

“It’s always refreshing when I find some asshole that I can teach a lesson.”

He took another step forward, the guy another step back. “W-w-what do you mean? This isn’t funny!!”

Shigaraki giggled. “It’s a little funny! I mean, what are the chances that you, a dog abusing asshat would run into me? Shigaraki Tomura! Dog lover!”

His eyes widened with recognition. “N-no!” Tears welled up as he was backed up against the alley wall. Dead end.

Shigaraki pulled father out of his pocket and put it on, shattering any false hopes of this still being a prank. “Yes!”

“P-p-please don’t kill me! I-“ but Shigaraki had heard enough. He’s already pressed his hand into the man’s chest, watching with glee as he coughed up blood and bile as his body rotted away. The familiar crimson syrup spilled out as more parts of him succumbed to decomposition like a line of dominoes.

Shigaraki loved that face. That’s the face of someone who would wail out in pain if they could, but alas, his lungs were one of the first things to go.

Then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and the man was reduced to nothing more than a foul smelling, murky red puddle.

Shigaraki smiled, looking down to the puppy who had seemingly calmed down as it rested its head into Shigarakis chest comfortably. Cute.

Gently, the pup was lowered to the ground, when, having felt the cold gravel of the floor, promptly jumped back into Shigarakis arms.

“What?”

The dog looked up at him expectantly again.

“Ok. Yeah. I said I was a dog lover. I heard it too ok? But that doesn’t mean anything! … I mean sure, I killed your owner so you wouldn’t have anywhere to go, and sure you’re still a puppy and wouldn’t know how to fend for yourself. And you’re dirty… and hungry… and… cold.” Shigaraki frowned, staring down at the dog sympathetically before growling in frustration.

“Well what do you want me to do? Huh? You can’t live with me!” He shouted, looking down at the dog like he was expecting a verbal response.

The dog gave him the look, the same one that got him into this mess to begin with. And deep down, he had to admit he felt his icy, frost-bitten heart thaw, just a little.

“Tch! Fine! Whatever. You can stay with me. But you better not stink up the place. And don’t bite… actually no, do bite people. Especially Dabi.”

The pup wagged its tail enthusiastically, licking his face before forcefully climbing into his hoodie.

“Hey! Careful!”

Before the dog could fall Shigaraki put his hands into his pocket and pushed his hoodie against his chest, creating a little foothold for the doggie, who then popped his head and paws out of the hem of his hoodie.

Once everything settled, Shigaraki gently rested his chin against the dogs head, the furry munchkin being a little too snuggly and comfortable for his own good. And to his own surprise, he smiled again. Genuinely. Wholesomely. He didn’t know why but… he was happy.

He had to admit, maybe the green haired brat was onto something with that whole friends bullshit. Maybe he finally found his.

Maybe the world isn’t so bad now that he doesn’t have to go through it alone.

[diazheartsbuckley]

Fuck It Friday 👀

Yall I am off for the next three weeks and I got up early with my girlfriend and I just whipped nearly 6k words for the omegaverse office romance fic 🥹 Hopefully I’ll be able to continue at this rate and finish this fic before I have school again 🤞🏻

I was tagged by the ever lovely @wikiangela @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples and @daffi-990 💋

(Story and tags under cut because this one is long and heavy 🫢)

Unexpectedly, his father grabs his right wrist hard and almost forcefully, making Buck’s body freeze on the spot and he’s pulled back into a feeling that he hasn’t wanted to feel since he was 13 and reached puberty.

The feeling of apparently being the biggest disappointment of his parents life because he turned out to be an omega. He was always small but his parents were hoping and praying that it would somehow magically change over night. But then he experienced his first heat and it was painful, embarrassing and uncomfortable. Yet not more uncomfortable than his parents who from that moment on kept reminding him that he was worth nothing to this family, that he would never be able to carry on the Buckley legacy because when he would marry, he would take another man’s name instead of giving it. How he wasn’t normal for being an omega, how he would always stand out in a crowd and that life would be made indefinitely harder for him - just because of the way that he was born.

Well, he didn’t fucking ask for it.

Hot tears threaten to fall as his father just stares at him, not a soul in sight but he keeps his back straightened, not allowing his true feelings to show but once again, his omega is trying to get out. “You’re not married. How surprising. Who would even want you? You’re damaged goods” His father gestures towards his stomach and Buck can feel his lip quivering, biting down on it so hard that a faint metallic taste starts to spread in his mouth.

“I can’t believe that you would do this to yourself. Why would you make yourself stand out even more? If you’re going to be a whore, then at least protect yourself” His dad continues his rant, fingers boring into the side of Buck’s wrist. He wants to retract it, to pull it closer to himself and to protect himself, to protect the baby but he can’t. He can’t do anything else than just take it.

“Do you even know who the father is, Evan? Do you?” His father yanks at his wrist, making Buck whimper in both pain and surprise, unable to keep the tears at bay, he lets them fall as he stares at the ground. “Answer me. Right. Now” His father raises his voice and Buck can feel his body shake, threatening to send him into a panic attack and so he finally nods.

“Y-...yes” is the first word out of his mouth in what feels like an eternity. The pressure from his fathers grip seems to loosen but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before he grips onto it so tightly that he can feel the blood flow slowly being cut off, whitening his entire hand.

“Does he know that you’re pregnant? Did you tell him? Or are you just going to keep that to yourself like you did with us? Does he even love the baby? Did you ask if he wanted this baby without being married?” There’s so many questions out of his dads mouth that he barely has time to register them all in his brain. “Actually, I’m surprised that someone was able to spend enough time with you to get you into this mess. You’re such a disappointment to this family, Evan. Ungrateful and unlovable”

And then it finally sets in. Buck is able to rip his hand from his fathers grip, almost losing his balance as he does so but manages to steady himself. With a breaking but somehow firm voice, he says “He doesn’t know. And that’s because of you. Because I was so afraid of this, of disappointing you again but you know what?”. He stops to take a deep breath in, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“This baby is so loved and cared for. I love him and his other father loves him just as much, if not more than me. And you fucking broke me. I have hated myself for years because of you! I haven’t told the baby’s father that it’s his baby. I’ve lied to him because of you! Because I know what you would think of me, I know-... I know that you hate me but someone does love me. And someone loves this baby in the ways that you should have loved me!”

Tagging!! @disasterbuckdiaz @watchyourbuck @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @cal-daisies-and-briars @butraura @spotsandsocks @athenagranted @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @thewolvesof1998 @devirnis @captain-hen @lover-of-mine @fionaswhvre @jesuisici33 @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings 🦋💗

[kc5rings]

If you're doing the sticker prompts I rolled 1 for Nian

I more intended it as a game for folks who want a prompt for themselves for art or fic, but luck is on your side because I happened to be thinking about Nian already this morning after seeing some metal gear that made me insane

(Not taking any other prompts at the moment but the game is here if anyone wants to use it for themselves)

Under the cut: Chastity, heat reference, improper use of medical equipment, improper definitions of medical equipment, Nian Gets Trolled.png

“I should have figured when Hibiscus messaged me to come drag you out of medical that it would be something ridiculous like this.”

Nian crossed her arms, grinning and unrepentant, as ever immune to Lava’s scathing reprimands.

“All I’m saying, is you’d think an open minded medical facility like Rhodes Island would be a little more receptive to a holistic, non medication approach to a very common medical concern for many of its op-“

Lava cut into Nian’s speech before she wound herself up into full pitch mode, leaning heavily on her cane with one hand while gesturing vaguely at what Nian was wearing.

“Is that what we’re calling….. all this then?”

Far from being deterred Nian’s grin only widened as she did a little turn to make sure Lava got a good look, which she happily did, taking a moment to appreciate forge hewn muscle before sighing and taking in Nian’s “outfit”

Her regular clothing had been discarded the moment Lava had shut the door to her quarters, Nian having been in a hurry to show off her latest project. Across her chest was a tight band of steel, with a cup covering the entirety of each breast. Continuing down from there revealed a steel waist corset cinched reasonably tight, though Lava couldn’t begin to imagine how that was accomplished with metal.

Finally, there was the belt.

Just a bit below the edge of the corset sat the waist band of what could only be described as what it was, a chastity belt. Perfectly shaped to fit the lines of Nian’s body, with a ring in the waistband to settle at the thick base of Nian’s tail, a sturdy, contoured, front shield and capped off by a pair of wide metal bands on her thighs. As with the rest of the ensemble it was all secured with ornate locks and polished to a near mirror shine.

Lava pinched the bridge of her nose

“Nian, this is obviously fetishwe-“

“Medical aids, Lil Lava, please”

“Not calling it that.”

Despite her curt tone Lava knew this was a losing battle, once Nian had a concept she wanted to talk about she refused to let it go until someone heard her out and that someone was usually Lava

“Fine. I’ll bite.”

“Promise?”

“Just make your pitch Nian. How is any of this possibly medical?”

Lava could swear she saw a literal flame in Nian’s eye for a moment before Nian gave her an overly dramatic bow, setting the many locks adorning her accessories jingling

“It’d be my pleasure. Ya see I’ve done my research and found that a sizable number of Terran species experience heat, now heat is the common term for-“

“I know what heat is Nian, you know I do.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll skip ahead.”

Nian made a placating gesture and rolled on with her pitch, pointing to each relevant piece of gear as she went

“The cups on the top prevent contact with sensitive nipples even during rigorous activity or while laden with equipment, the front shield prevents contact that might worsen symptoms and splits at the back for comfort, the bands on the thighs and tail help keep everything in place and secure. Obviously it’s all padded, every measure had been taken to ensure both comfort and hygiene during long term wear while-“

“And the corset? What “medical” benefit is that providing”

Nian flashed her teeth again, despite her protests Lava was an excellent “yes and” partner when she felt like it, and now Nian had gotten her to play.

“Well you see.” Nian drew herself up to her full height, head and shoulders over Lava to the point she almost loomed.

“They are great for your posture.”

Lava rolled her eyes, sure that Nian was familiar enough with the movement that she’d recognize it even with Lava wearing her visor

“Right. Well putting aside the frankly astounding number of ethical problems with all of that, it still wouldn’t work here at Rhodes.”

Nian tilted her head, curious.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

It was Lava’s turn to grin, she knew she was playing Nian’s game now, no helping that. But they’d been at this for years and Lava had gotten very good at playing.

“Haven’t you ever seen the combat logs of some of our operators once they get riled up in a fight? That pretty belt of yours wouldn’t last a second against someone like operator Horn in heat, no chance in hell”

“Lil Lava you wound me! In my pride as an artisan no less.” Using her tail Nian fished something out of her pile of discarded clothes and with a flick, sent something through the air at Lava. “Catch.”

Lava snatched the object with one hand before taking a moment to look it over. “Key” would be an accurate description but a very reductive one, the body of the key was cylindrical, with the teeth numbering in the dozens all around its circumference. Stranger though, was the fact that as Lava stared at the key it’s teeth became less defined and fuzzy, seeming to almost move.

“Give me fifty years and I *might* be able to produce that same exact key from memory, anybody who’s not me though? No chance.” Only Nian could make admitting she couldn’t do something in less than fifty years sound like a boast. “And that’s not all.”

Nian lifted one clawed finger up for Lava to see, the tip glowing forge hot after a moments concentration, and reached down to drag it up the front shield of the belt. Lava winced at the terrible screech and sparks the contact made, but when Nian finished her little display the belt hadn’t even lost its shine. “I built this piece as sturdy as I can make something, trust me when I say that without that exact key it’s not going anywhere.”

“….. Ok I’ll admit it, that’s pretty impressive.” Lava had seen Nian shape ingots by hand and shear chunks off of them with those same claws, that belt really was something else.

Lava pocketed the key.

From the same pocket she’d stored the key in Lava produced a small injection gun, with casual ease she reached out and pressed it against the exposed skin of Nian’s hip, right in the gap between the bottom of the corset and the top of the belt and pulled the trigger.

Nian, for her part, made no move to stop Lava and barely reacted to the injection. Lava had the basic medical training afforded to all higher level Rhodes Island operators and had long since become adept in administering her own meds so Nian hardly felt a thing.

Aside from a sudden burning curiosity.

“What was-“

“Highly concentrated heat inducer.” Lava let the now empty injector clatter onto a nearby table. “Gavial slipped it to me when I was coming to get you, mentioned something about how she owed you a prize after handing her a string of losses and that because you never had a proper physical she had to take a “Gavial Guess” at the dosage.”

Lava took advantage of a rare moment of stunned Nian silence to close the gap between them. “You’re so sure this stuff is a good answer to heat? Fine, but you’re doing the testing. Be sure to record your findings while I’m gone.”

Lava allowed herself a smile only after turning away from Nian’s dumbfounded expression, trying to process what had just happened. Only the last word of “gone” snapped her out of it. “Wait, what do mean by “gone” Lil Lava?”

Lava tossed a hand up in farewell as she headed out the door. “Oh didn’t I mention? I’m leading an away mission of new recruits later today, shouldn’t be gone more than three weeks, probably.”

With that, Lava turned down the hallway, the staccato rhythm of her cane on metal flooring slowly growing distant. Leaving Nian reeling.

“Ok Lil Lava I get it, you got me fair and square this time, you can come back now!” The only answer Nian received was a sudden involuntary muscle clench, a spike in temperature and sweat slowly beading on her brow.

“L-Lava?!”

[sobri-k-eyt]

Ninjago Fic (Roselock AU)

Posting some Ninjago stuff here! This is something written for one of @roselock22's AMAZING AU's! Go check them out! ------------------------------------------------------------------- She was just about sick of losing. She was Personal Integration Xenagogue Android Labile, not some mere voice-controlled vacuum. She was complex, and near human if not higher. She was more knowledgeable and made to be versatile and learning. She had been built by the great Cyrus Borg, and had only created her own path from there. She formed digital worlds and untold stories.

But yet, she couldn’t seem to outthink a human child. Disregarding the fact that she craved to be human, it was still a solid blow onto her pride, and a dent in her confidence about her skills. She growled at the small-cat-boy-human-thing threateningly, her voice modulating in her frustration.

“How are you doing this!” she shouted, accusatorily pointing a metal hand at the blue man, her eyes glowing with emotion.

It was something the Ninja did, and if she had decided to program it into herself, well, who was going to say. Because she was that advanced and human. And yet... Jay gave a simple smug grin back, his lips curled upwards and his eyes half-lidded. He smirked, and if Pixal had functioning blood and arteries, it would certainly be boiling.

“How do you keep winning!” she shouted, punctuating each word with a stab at the table. Jay’s blue eyes winded and stared at her, but his insufferable smile never changed. “I am the most advanced A.I. in the entire world! I nearly took over the world, and would and could have done so if I didn’t develop morals! I built my own body, I’ve ruled over Ninjago, so why in the world do you keep beating me at a foolish computer game?”

“Pix, you get so worked up over this!” he laughed, the points of sharpened teeth peeking from his grinning wide smile. His hair bounced up, shaking with his laughter. His eyes crinkled. “That’s half the fun of it!”

] “It’s not fun to me.” she huffed, sitting back down with finality. She glanced back to her mind’s eye and the tablet in front of her, piecing over the meticulous code. There hadn’t been any holes in it she had thought, no real way to win the game. Yet, he always just. Kept. Winning???

Humans.

Pixal kept her physical eyes open, but vanished into the digital world, analyzing both her tablet and the digital realm she had formed. She strolled through the miles of code, hands up and she traced over each line. Jay looked at her innocently, but that innocence was all a lie. He was a menace. She turned back, and shook her hand at him again, modifying the metal to form a bladed weapon with an energy blaster. “I will find out how you keep doing this Walker,” she swore. “And I won’t forget.” “Sure ya won’t Pix. Again, that’s the fun of it.” he giggled in response, “Sure ya won’t Pix. Again, that’s the fun of it.” he giggled in response, tone excited yet not over the top, and she relaxed, feeling her mouth quirk up around the edges.(edited)

She was still irritated, and her pride still relatively damaged, but maybe it wasn’t all that bad, she mused.

It was good, harmless fun, and a decent learning experience as she adjusted her skills. This was what friends and colleagues did after all. Pixal guessed how she could see how this was fun after all. It was definitely more fun for him, but there was a bit of enjoyment as she worked out the puzzles and how to improve.

She looked at Jay again, and his innocent face, about to offer a compromising smile, but paused. It was…too innocent. She felt an impending sense of doom, the ways his eyes were so big and adorable, and his smile all too sweet for her to believe it. She’d dealt with him for too long to know what that look meant. She glanced at the code, and gasped in horror of the cat videos that now replaced large chunks of it, all mewling and whining.

GIFS now filled the entirety of her vision, the code now wiggling around like little bugs. He was a menace, and absolutely just as bad as she thought. If not worse “Walkerrrrrr!” She got up and ran after him, the human cackling maniacally as he fled, little blue sparks jumping off of him excitedly. The blue-clad ninja pushed away the tablet, tucking it into a spot of his gi before taking off, seeing the annoyed panic in Pixal’s face. He’d been found out. He saluted and then proceeded to race through the long halls, his body leaping with a bit of panicked excitement.

She ran after him, legs pumping and pounding against the ground in a singular motion, and now, she was sure that if she had a heart, it would certainly be pumping. Her eyes glittered with emotion. What one, she wasn’t sure. Be it anger, frustration, or righteous humor, it was a mixed back. She felt a smile grow on her face. So this was what it was like to be human.

It had been a few weeks since Pixal had joined the Ninja, rejecting the Overlord in favor of the “good” side. He was flawed, and she finally could see how she had been tricked, and had nearly destroyed them all. So far, there was a bit of an awkward air from her, a sense of shame and embarrassment. After all, how do you apologize for accidental intended genocide and removal of free will? She had meant the best, and some of them knew that, but it was still a bit different to say “I forgive you” and take you into the fold than really doing it. For the moment, she was trying not to be too weird, though it was a bit odd when you knew all about them, and they really didn’t. Jay mostly trusted her, so that was definitely the best. He’d challenged her at mind and code games, and that certainly…occupied her time.

At the moment, she was helping around the Bounty as the Ninja trained, working on the delicate software with her advanced systems. Pixal stared at the Bounty’s systems and diagnostics, busying herself as she went over it. She waved her hands, familiarizing herself with the nice mix of old and new systems. She hoped to exponentially increase security and ease of access for those who would navigate the system. Despite being an incredibly advanced AI, and near human, it still felt nice to have a purpose. That was something both designs had in common. She just hoped it could be seen that way. She didn’t want to just be a mere robot with a command and output. Pixal glanced at a particular sector, a slight frown on her face. She adjusted a code or two, tightening the system’s security, her body plugged into the updated system. She smiled after, satisfied with her work.

The android, or really, whatever she was, desperately wanted to be more. She couldn’t be compared to a robot, and even AI couldn’t exactly contribute to who she was. She was so much more. But others saw her differently in part of her metal exterior. It was evil to think of her as a pure evil and logical machine than something (someone) more. She hoped she was at least human enough, and human enough that other people saw that she meant well. Pixal closed her physical eyes and entered the Digispace to assess her handiwork, as it was affectionately named. Rows of code and lines surrounded her. To most others it would be chaos and overwhelming, but it was a first or second language to her. It rose above and around her. She ran her hands through, running simulations and testing their strength. She was certain of them, but it was always good to check after all. Perfect.

Pixal opened her physical eyes, exiting the Digispace, and disconnected herself mostly from the Bounty’s systems. Mission Accomplished.

Next goal, friendship.

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Thanks for reading!

[axailslink]

I almost killed him

Shuri Udaku x poc FEM reader

Rewrite

Summary: you followed Shuri into her battle with Namor refusing to leave her side when you see she's losing you jump in head first. Talk about in the name of love. Dumbass.

Snippet from the fic: “ "Utata wam, umnakwetho, umama wam. (My father, my brother, my mother.) Please good, Bast do not take her too. Don't you dare. Please heal her she's too strong to die... She's. She's too loved" ”

The fight between Namor and Shuri has become tiring to watch so without hesitation you join in taking a few painful blows however Namor's interest is mostly Shuri. He could care less of your existence as he tosses you to the ground as if you weigh nothing and raises his fist to strike you but Shuri finds herself in front of you her suit taking the impact causing it to glow purple. Namor's tired you can see it and he too knows as he pushes you and Shuri into a boulder you manage to break from his grip while Shuri continues to fight him. You need to give Shuri the upper hand even weakened he's still strong as hell. So you grab a piece of the destroyed fighter with the intention to stab him while he isn't looking but it's as if the man has eyes in the back of his head because he pushes Shuri so hard into the boulder that she's gasping for air and he quickly turns his attention back to you kicking you in your gut and snatching the piece of metal turning it to Shuri. You aren't sure what takes over your mind at this moment it's like everything is paused before you. It's a moment to think but you don't need it as you push Shuri to the ground hard without realizing you're taking her place until the metal spear tears through your armor and pierces your skin instead of hers.

You gasp holding the spear not daring to move it knowing you'll surely bleed out instead you keep it still while glancing at Shuri who's teary-eyed as she attacks Namor. You don't get to see much of the fight that she has in her after seeing you hurt as your vision blurs and you start to blank out due to the lack of blood.

~~~~~~~~

You wake to a bright light causing you to slowly and carefully turn on your side to avoid it. Shuri's voice echoes from a distance letting you know she isn't far but the pain in her wavering voice breaks you as she speaks in a rambling pattern.

"Utata wam, umnakwetho, umama wam. (My father, my brother, my mother.) Please good, Bast do not take her too. Don't you dare. Please heal her she's too strong to die... She's. She's too loved" the voice of Okoye is no surprise "Shuri she's fine" Nakia's voice is a surprise though "she's stable and her vitals are fine. Shuri she's fine." The whimper in Shuri's voice before she speaks urges you to stand and find her. The sound and tone of her voice says enough. She's terrified of losing you. "But she's not fine! She's laying on my table! I saw my brother like this I refuse to see her like this too!"

You carefully make your way to the place of her voice holding your side carefully as you do so. When you finally reach the main room of the lab you speak just a bit above a whisper because that's all you can muster up "Shuri my love you're yelling."

Shuri's glance at you should be hopeful maybe even happy but she immediately breaks down. Every tear she's held in since you were impaled comes pouring down her face but her concern for you stays her top priority "you... You need to lie down and rest" you shake your head and lean against one of her lab tables. "NO. I need to comfort my wife" Shuri shakes her head as her cold hands grab hold of your face "usisidenge! (Stupid!) Njani ukuba ube sisibhanxa? (How can you be so stupid?" You nod in agreement because she's absolutely right what you did was indeed stupid as hell you could have made better decisions but if given the chance to do it over you'd still choose to jump in front of that spear. "I know I know incredibly stupid but I'd do it again."

"Don't say that"

"I will do it again this-" you point to your covered wound "-this is nothing but a scratch compared to what I'll endure for you."

Suddenly Okoye and Nakia's presence starts to seem a bit worrying to you Shuri needs all the privacy she can get "do you two mind?" They both share glances before making their exit.

Your attention is on them as they both leave while Shuri has seemed to calm down a bit being able to talk without her voice breaking since she first brought you home. "Just don't die. Please. I can't take it my love I can't I don't know who I'll become if Bast takes another person from me. I'll go mad if I lose you." You nod "I know Shuri but I'm not going anywhere we still have a lot of time ahead of us I still have to be crowned and you still want a daughter and we have time to reach those goals. Stop talking like that. It's scaring me." Shuri nods slowly as she grabs you in a tight hug you ignore the pain searing through your side as you hug her back.

Shuri pulls away but keeps you close "I don't mean to scare you but I was truthful when I said I don't know what I'll do if one more person is taken from me... I almost killed him. After you blacked out so did I and I didn't come to until I had him as he had you except my claws were in his body. I was going to kill him I wa-" you grab hold of her hands and shake your head seeing how worked up she is "but you didn't... Did you?" she sighs "no of course not but only because I saw you bleeding out. You were the only thing stopping me from committing murder. I'd kill for you. You do know that?" You nod "of course but you don't have to I want these pretty hands to stay as clean as they can. You don't need any... More blood on your hands." You kiss her hands gently before pulling away completely and heading towards the elevator.

"Where are you going you need to r-" you turn on your heel and take in Shuri's appearance she hasn't bathed and she still has dried blood on her hands "to our bedroom you need to shower and I need to rest I do hope you're following behind I will need comfort... I don't like sleeping alone." Shuri smiles and nods "you wish you could have our bed to yourself." You hum as you wait for Shuri and you don't have to wait long "Griot turn off the lights." You feel Shuri pick you up and you just smile "I can walk."

"You winced in pain when I hugged you earlier. I notice when you smile differently don't try to lie to me Y/n. I'll always notice." She isn't lying she pays more attention to you than you think but that's what you love about her.

A/n: I felt like rewriting this. I don't know why I just did so please enjoy it.

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