#or at least told i would be taking a break from everything

[katboykirby]

Everyone's making great points about Beel and Belphie, although I do have to say something about Mammon (this is a good-faith argument, dw)

There's definitely a point where you could say that all of the brothers are at least somewhat compelled by their sins, but it's simply not true that Mammon specifically is some kind of exception who's sin is so unique that he literally can't control himself.

Because...he can control himself. We've seen him do this in the games many, many times. How often have Lucifer or Barbatos told him "don't you dare even think about taking that" and Mammon immediately bailing on whatever scheme he was cooking up? He also consciously avoids stealing anything from MC 99% of the time, and goes after his brothers' things instead (because he's a huge simp) and that's a choice he makes intentionally.

Mammon can definitely control his sin, and we see him do so very often. Whenever he scams people or goes gambling or comes up with a scheme to steal stuff, it's very intentional and deliberate. It's actually one of Mammon's defining character traits - his actions look selfish and scummy on the surface (and they often are) but he puts way more thought and effort into his heists than people realise. Everything is premeditated, everything is consciously planned, and he's a surprisingly good strategist as long as it has to do with stealing and theft. His brothers, and the other characters, have been caught off guard by how resourceful and meticulous Mammon can be. Because they believed that he was just an impulsive thief, and it was a surprise to learn that he isn't.

That's why we've had multiple scenes where Lucifer tells him "I wish you would put all that effort and planning into your schoolwork" or "why can't you use your brain for something good instead of petty theft?"

The reason his brothers aren't as forgiving with Mammon is because they know he does that shit to them on purpose. Beel often can't help eating too much, and Belphie can't stop himself from passing out, but Mammon can absolutely control himself. He just makes the deliberate choice to steal their stuff anyway.

As we've seen in the games multiple times, Mammon is more than capable of targeting other people besides his brothers, going gambling at casinos or horse races, scamming people online, etc etc. He doesn't HAVE to go out of his way to break into his brothers' rooms and steal their personal, valuable belongings. But he does it anyway. Just like when his debts screw him over and he lands in hot water, he doesn't HAVE to drag his brothers down with him (when they were totally uninvolved and had nothing to do with his scams) but he does it anyway. Like the Summer Lantern Festival and original Bunny Boys event stories - Mammon easily could have worked off his debts by himself. But he went behind his brothers' backs and sold them all out as well, forcing them (and MC) to work off his debts too.

This isn't me shitting on Mammon or claiming that he's a bad character or anything like that. I love Mammon, including his shithead behaviour. He's a selfish jerk and I love that. I love that these characters have depth and flaws and negative qualities, not just because they're demons (so it's natural for them) but because it makes them interesting and fun. They aren't one dimensional. The fact that Mammon chooses to be a thieving dick to his family so often makes it all the more significant whenever he chooses NOT to target them. It makes it hit even harder when he makes the conscious choice to help his brothers out and be kind to them instead. That's why they're always so surprised (positively) when he genuinely helps them.

If you think about it, the twins are the ones who suffer the most with their sins. The other brothers know how to control their sins well, especially Satan, he can keep his wrath at bay, or calm himself: because they can control their emotions, since their sins are mostly related/correlated to one or to a feeling, not to a physical need, like the twins. Beel is hungry all the time, and Belphie is tired most of it. It’s not like Beel can supress his hunger, he can try, but it wouldn’t work. He will eventually have to eat; same thing happens with Belphie, he can’t help but feel sleepy, and the only solution to it is to sleep. For example, Mammon isn’t greedy all the time, his sin is “activated” when something triggers it - opportunity makes the thief - but we cannot say the same for the twins. Thoughts? :c

[gay-dorito-dust]

Are you taking requests for kraven? Maybe dating hcs where reader is lowkey insane?

Reader might come off a little more deranged/ morbidly curious rather than insane. But yeah enjoy whether this was.

You came across as a typical upstanding citizen of society, nothing out of the ordinary but not everything about you was ordinary when animals -whom are good judges of character- were adamant in avoiding you, running away as fast as they could if you were nearby and or show hostility towards you in hopes that you’d leave them alone.

You unsettled them as you were silent chaos waiting to break out, other people just get an unnerving feeling about you that they’re quick to dismiss when you show them a side that’ll make them less skeptical of your true nature. It was rather easy to fool others by putting on a charade that they can digest.

Sergei -upon first meeting- had a feeling that something was off about you as his eyes took you in, you looked normal but yet something within him told him to be weary of the fire within your eyes as you smiled at him.

Then again your meeting came at a time where one thing and one thing only was preoccupying his mind, so human interaction with anyone that could potentially get hurt by his father’s associates was far removed from his mind as he was quick to pick up where he had left off.

But it wouldn’t be long before you were too deeply involved with his plot against his father and you would have to remain close by the burly man for your own safety in fear that his fathers men would come back and finish the job that they should’ve beforehand.

However you seemed unfazed by all the violence and blood that came from Sergei’s lifestyle, almost coming across as numb when you saw how he’d tear through people as though they were nothing, your eyes would be wide slightly in morbid fascination at how effortlessly limbs were torn off and sent flying elsewhere.

Had it been anyone else would’ve ran away and seek for shelter for their own safety, get away from all the chaos and destruction happening before you. But you were a little different as you would only sit yourself down on a nearby surface and watch Sergei go to work in awe of how truly violent one man could be to cause so much bloodshed.

Sergei would naturally be a little pissed that you were so close to the violence, so close to getting hurt and looking about as unbothered as you were being told something that didn’t affect you directly. Like nothing truly disturbed you because you’ve already seen your fair share of chaos and carnage in comparison to a normal civilian.

It was eyebrow raising to say the least but your safety was his bigger concern as he held you by your shoulders and looked at you with wild eyes, expecting you to flinch but you didn’t, if anything you only smiled at the man as you hugged him tight; not caring for the blood that stained him as you knew simple but effective methods to get rid of such a stubborn substance.

‘You could’ve gotten hurt.’ He tell you.

‘No I wouldn’t.’ You replied so certainly, a little too calm for someone who’s seen people die before their eyes. ‘I have you.’ You added.

‘You act unfazed by such displays of violence,’ Sergei starts, ‘I wonder why, you don’t seem to have any background in anything that could have you withstanding the sight of a man with his entrails hanging out.’

You merely shrugged. ‘I might just have a strong stomach and the idea that you know so much about me and my background should off put me from you as being creepy, but I kind of admire a man who wants to learn all about his prey before pursing them in a hunt.’ You cackled as you messed with the fur lining of his coat.

Sergei removed your hand from his coat, holding them in his own as your fingers caressed the bruised and bloody knuckles tenderly. ‘Having a strong stomach is one thing love but your reaction alludes to a darker side of you that I have yet to see, almost as if the thrill of the hunt excites you along with the harm it causes others too.’ He adds in a low whisper as though he finally had you figured out, his eyes narrowed by his hold on you was still gentle and protective as though he was trying to protect you from your darkest version of yourself.

You pecked his lips innocently. ‘The hunt does thrill me, though only when I get to see you at what you claim as your worst and still feel nothing but love and affection for you my beloved Sergei.’ You tell him as you squeezed his hands, memorising their roughness and each individual callousness they had with the idea of worshiping a man of such raw power and strength. ‘You’ve always fascinated me, and you only continue to fascinate me even more.’

‘I’m not safe company.’ He tried to tells you.

‘I don’t care whether your safe company or not, they’re going to come after me regardless if you explained that I have no ties with you, and this-‘ you gesture to the dead bodies nearby. ‘Will only tell them that there is something between us. A connection that they can exploit to their advantage against you, so if anything I’m in safer company with you than without you.’ You replied.

Sergei knew you were right, the damage was already done and more people will only be after you and him because of it. However this doesn’t solve the itching feeling that he got from that darkness within your heart, that curious nature that you possessed that could borderline dangerous.

Who was he romantically involved with and why did it send his senses haywire into whether keep you safe from that inner darkness or keep himself away from that very same thing?

[steddieas-shegoes]

still believe

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'santa'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 985 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, mall santa, fluff

🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻

The line is wrapped around the building, which is exactly what Steve warned him about.

Steve insisted they go the first week that Santa was at the mall, but Eddie insisted they wait. It didn’t feel right to see Santa before December even started.

Then they got so busy with hockey practices and the baby and-

“How much longer?” Rory asks. She isn’t quite groaning yet, but Eddie knows she doesn’t have much more patience.

Steve is bouncing Sawyer in his arms, raising his brows at Eddie. The I told you so doesn’t need to be said out loud for him to know that’s what he’s thinking.

He tried to time it perfectly between Steve getting off of work, Sawyer’s next feeding time, and their own dinner time, but now…

They’re looking at a catastrophic failure on his part.

Sawyer’s only four months old, and he’s on a very strict schedule. He’s a perfect baby, sleeps almost entirely through the night, only cries when he needs to be changed, and loves when Rory holds him. But if he doesn’t eat on time? Everyone suffers.

They have at least an hour in this line still and they have roughly 20 minutes before Sawyer’s due for a bottle. They have them in the diaper bag, of course, enough formula already measured out for two bottles and a bottle of water just in case.

“Can’t we go to another Santa?” She asks when no one answers her.

“What do you mean? This is the only Santa.” Steve stops bouncing as he speaks, and Eddie feels sweaty all of a sudden. They both thought Rory still believed in Santa. Sure, she was a little old for it, but last year she’d gotten into a fight with a kid at school because she still believed.

“Dad.” Rory gives him one of her be serious looks. “Every mall has one. The real Santa has to stay in the North Pole.”

Steve’s shoulders relax, but Eddie feels another moment of panic. Rory does still believe in Santa. It’s fine, it’s actually great. But a small part of him hoped that maybe she’d just casually stopped believing. Maybe then it would be easier for Steve to accept that their little girl isn’t so little anymore.

“Right,” Steve smiles at her. “But we’re already in line here, so we should just stay.”

Rory sighs, but doesn’t argue.

Sawyer coos in Steve’s arms. Steve smiles down at him and bounces him again.

“You can’t wait to meet Santa, huh buddy?” Steve asks him.

Sawyer’s way too young to understand what he’s asking, but he still gives a gummy smile. He’s got Chrissy’s nose, but it’s a perfect combination with Eddie’s everything else. They all joked that Eddie might as well have carried and birthed him for how much he looks like him already.

“Does Santa already know that Sawyer’s been good?” Rory asks.

“Babies are always on the nice list until they can walk and talk. Then, they have to behave just like all the bigger kids,” Steve explains. “Santa already knows Sawyer’s good.”

“But what if Sawyer was bad?”

“Well, do you��think he’s been bad?” Eddie asks, taking Sawyer from Steve to give him a break.

“He did puke on my shirt last week,” Rory’s face twists with disgust. “And he pooped through his diaper that one time and it got on the car seat.”

Eddie’s doing his best not to laugh. “Those are accidents, though. It doesn’t make him a bad kid.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rory sighs. She looks around the people in front of them as they take a few steps forward. “Maybe we can skip Santa this year? Since he knows we’ve both been good.”

Steve shakes his head. “We wanted to get a family picture, remember?”

“But it’s not even the real Santa!” Rory exclaims, loud enough that the people in front of them turn and scowl at them. Steve sends them an apologetic look and kneels down so he can get on Rory’s level.

“Listen green bean, you remember when you were really little and thought this was the real Santa?” She nods. “A lot of these kids still think that and we can’t ruin it for them. Plus, they’re handing out candy canes, look!”

One of the employees dressed as an elf is walking down the line offering candy canes. A perfect distraction for kids growing impatient in line.

Sawyer gurgles and then lets out a tiny whine. Eddie checks the time on the phone and gives Steve a look.

Steve wordlessly opens the diaper bag to get the bottle ready and Rory rocks on her feet as she waits for the elf to bring her a candy cane. Eddie pokes at Sawyer’s cheek, and his tummy, and his arm, making him let out little bursts of noises that are nearly giggles.

“Not too much longer,” Eddie whispers to the baby in his arms, hopeful that he’s right.

****

Nearly an hour later, they have Sawyer propped in Santa’s lap and Rory standing next to him, talking a mile a minute about her list. They manage to get a great picture– a small miracle considering Sawyer was due for a nap– and head out, not wanting to hold up the line more than it already has been.

As they leave, Rory tugs on Eddie’s jacket and comes to a stop. Steve is too busy babbling at Sawyer to notice.

“Daddy, I lied,” she says and Eddie’s gut clenches. “I know Santa isn’t real. But dad loves Christmas and it would hurt his feelings. And now Sawyer can believe in Santa so I have to pretend.”

Eddie loves this girl. She has always been wise beyond her years, which is why her believing in Santa at this age seemed ludicrous to him.

He hugs her tight and kisses the top of her head. “You’re a good kid, little one.”

[sir-sunawani]

Starling

Omegaverse

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Inspired by @hannahbarberra162's Emperor's Prize

CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni

Chapter 4: Punishment

The older gentleman that measures you has such an air of professionalism, you don’t even care you’re almost completely naked. Save for a pair of ill-fitting underwear, you have on nothing else. He lets you stand near the fireplace and works quickly, stating numbers to a younger assistant who has kept his back turned since you were requested to disrobe.

Crocodile watches the whole thing, he may be working at his desk no one doubts he is paying due attention to the process.

“All done. You may redress, young Miss, thank you.” He instructs with a small bow before gathering his things. “I’ll have a catalogue brought in and you can choose what you like.”

You freeze, the large shirt you’d been wearing falling into place only because of how large it is.

“Choose?” You question, looking from a seemingly disinterested Crocodile to the tailor. “I will have options?”

The sound of Crocodile’s pen stops, the tailor going pale at the sudden silence. Something about it unnerves you too, but you aren’t sure why.

“Yes.” Crocodile answers for him, taking a deep drag of his cigar before letting out a long trail of smoke. “You may choose whatever you want.”

Logically you understood what that meant, but you were struggling with the practice of it. You’d never decided something for yourself. Your attendants dressed you, and your clothes were decided by someone beyond even them. Your meals, your breaks, when you slept - you existed within the borders someone else set.

The only thing you ever had the right to enforce was that no one was allowed to touch you. Even the tailor had taken care to barely even graze your skin with his gloves despite the closeness with which he worked.

You decided not to overthink it, and sat down near the fire when the tailor returned with a catalog.

“If you have any questions, I am at your service, Miss.” he says, stepping back and letting you have some space.

You sit and flip through the catalog. There are all sorts of items listed, from uniforms to evening wear. When you reach the accessories, gloves and the like, you go back to the start.

“Do you have things that are easy to put on?” You question as flatly as you can. Asking a question at all feels demeaning, but you don’t want to pick something with complicated clasps on accident.

“Yes Miss. There are a couple sundresses available, which are generally just pulled on over one’s head. Button-up shirts have easily accessible buttons down the front of the garment, you may like those as well.” He turns the pages of the catalog slowly, pointing out various items.

He speaks evenly and carefully, nothing given away in his tone if your questions are absurd or not. It puts you at ease, and you realize after some time that you must have demanded this man’s attention for at least an hour, and he never faltered. With clothes decided he steps over to Crocodile’s desk, and the two finalize things.

You’d chosen two sundresses, two pants and two shirts. The tailor told you that undergarments would be provided and you decided not to point out that while you knew what under clothes were, it’d been so long since you’d been permitted to wear any you weren’t sure you wanted to.

The whole affair started after lunch, and was done by dinner.

For you the day had been long, aside from eating and dealing with the tailor you did nothing else but lounge on the small couch and watch the fire. You didn’t want to walk the grounds in nothing but his shirt, and you didn’t even really want to leave the room in the first place. It was comfortable now that you’d gotten used to it.

Since he took his meals at his desk, you took yours in the room as well. People came in and out in a near steady stream - the only break for him had been while you were being measured.

“After dinner, you’ll have your lesson.” He says when no one else is left in the room with you.

“My lesson?” You question and feel yourself stiffen as you remember before he says it.

“Proper and efficient hygiene.” He answers flatly.

“Right, I… I mean, I didn’t do anything today, I’m hardly in need of a shower.” It’s a weak argument, but you don’t want the eight foot tall alpha to be in the shower with you again. His scent has been enough from this distance.

“You’ll still do it.” He asserts. You should let it drop there, you know, but something coils between your legs at the idea of him being naked again, and it makes you nervous.

“You’ll be standing outside and in-instructing me?” You know the answer before you ask, but you can’t help it.

“No. Tonight I will be cleaning you. Tomorrow you will repeat what I’ve done.” You can hear a tinge of irritation in his voice, or maybe you imagine it. He sounds irritated randomly throughout the day as it is.

“It wouldn’t be very efficient.” You barely say the words, and Crocodile doesn’t even acknowledge what you know he heard. You hear him get up, but you don’t want this. It felt far less humiliating to have the attendants clean you, than it feels to have someone teach you something you should know.

And you do know it. You know what is done and how, you just haven’t had to do it yourself.

“I’m not even dirty it-!” You suck in a breath as your wine glass is lifted and splashed into your face. There’s silence between you and Crocodile, who is carefully and with graceful practice, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm.

“Wuh-why?” You manage to ask, red wine dripping down your skin.

“You needed a reason.” He says curtly. “Now you’ve ruined my shirt, stained my sofa, and wasted my time. You will be punished, and then you will be cleaned.”

“Punished?! You’re the one who threw the wine around!” You shout, pointing at him and watching in slow horror as the wet sleeve of your shirt whips around and flicks wine onto his vest.

“I’m… sorry, I’m sorry, I did not mean to do that, I -.” Panic rises up in your voice, but he cuts you and your panic off.

“You are my guest, and have been treated as such.” His voice has an edge that sits at your throat. “And to repay that, you act like a spoiled brat.”

“I’m sorry, I am, I’m sorry, I-.”

“Silence.” He snarls and you press your lips together. You weren’t ever punished, you didn’t know what to expect. You were sure he wasn’t going to kill you, and it was unlikely he was mar you in some way. You were too valuable, but you didn’t know what a pirate and an alpha would do to you.

“If you do as you’re told, it will go better for you. Take off that ruined shirt and stand by my desk.” He commands and you do as you’re told.

Crocodile walks over and opens his door just a little, saying something to someone outside it before closing it and locking it.

“Put your hands flat on the desk and bend over.” He orders, and you do as you’re told, or you think you have. He presses you down until your chest is flush against the desk and waits until you put your palms flat against the desk.

“If you remove your hands from my desk, I will carry you out of this room and take you into one of the big tents.” He explains, hand still in the middle of your back. “Hundreds of pirates will watch me continue your punishment. Do you understand?”

“No,” you cry, fear starting to overtake you. “No I don’t know what a punishment is, I don’t understand!” Sobbing you keep your hands on the desk. “My hands, my hands stay on the desk!” You almost whimper the words, smacking your hands on the desk. “I understand that.”

You hear a metallic sound, thin metal against thin metal and realize he’s removing his belt. “Spread your legs and lift your ass. I’ll show you what a punishment can be.” He commands.

You do as he asks, stomach in knots, body shivering. You’re afraid you’re going to throw up onto his desk and if you do that it’ll just be worse. You’re already staining pages with tears and the wine that was in your hair.

“Please, I’m sorry,” you can barely form the words against tears and fear, but it doesn’t matter. The leather of his doubled over belt cuts through the air and bites into the curve of your ass, licking a painful strip against your skin. You shriek, more from surprise and fear than the actual pain, and he pushes you harshly back against the desk.

“HANDS.” He growls, and you put them on the desk, shivering and sobbing. “It’s alright. You didn’t know, and it took you by surprise.” He admits, his own hand almost soothing against your back until you calm down a little.

“But now you know. Keep your hands in place.” He warns.

 Crocodile’s POV

Fuck, you smelled delicious once you became afraid. Your scent was good all the time as far as he was concerned, but right now you were divine. He wanted to shove his tongue into your cunt and taste the scent that was driving him half mad right now.

He brings the belt down a second time, eyes focused on the impact of leather against your skin. He wanted to make your ass red and puffy, but he didn’t want to risk any cuts or other more permanent marks. Your flawless skin was going to stay like that until he sank his teeth into your neck.

You were going to be his. You already were, you just didn’t know it yet. You were his the second Buggy had the intelligence to bring you to him. He would have to reward the idiot clown.

He pauses after the third strike, setting the belt down and putting his hand on your ass.

“Tell me why you’re being punished.” He says, his voice almost tender compared to earlier.

You sob and hiccup, this new experience for you is more fear than pain. He’s sure you know what punishment is as a concept, but it’s very possible this was your first direct experience of it.

“I… I got wine on your vuh-vest.” The scent rolling off you has his pants uncomfortably tight. He wants to split you in half with his cock, burying his knot into your cunt until his own spend bubbles out past the tight fit.

He smacks your ass with his bare hand, delighting in the feel of your skin, hot against his palm. You yelp, keeping your hands on the desk. He appreciated your fear of the tent - he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

“And?”

“And… and I was a buh-bad guest. I’m sorry.” You cry.

“Good girl.” He says. “You learned, and this is so you don’t forget. Be sure to say thank you after each one.” He warns.

Your POV

His hand lands, sharp and heavy against your ass cheek, the impact stings.

“Four!” You cry.

“One.” He corrects. “Don’t worry about before now.”

Sniffling you nod. His voice had been so gentle once you admitted your mistakes that you didn’t want him to talk to you the other way again. That was scary, this was reassuring.

Another heavy smack on the opposite side.

“Two,” you gasp as he grabs your stinging cheek in his massive hand, squeezing it. The pleasure from the massage chases behind the harsh sting and addles your mind.

“You won’t be a bad guest again, right?” He questions, punctuating it with another slap. Shaking your head you count out, the sound turning into a soft mewl as he grabs your cheek again.

He repeats the action, but after you count you can’t stop the breathy, “No,” that slips between your lips.

“No?” He inquires, a dangerous tone in his voice. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“No! No, I - I mean… I …” you almost start crying again. “I… It feels weird.”

He slaps your ass cheeks in quick succession, raining down blows so fast it is impossible for you to count. Just as it starts to really hurt he stops, grabbing one red and stinging ass cheek and forcing a sound out of you, that you hadn’t expected to make.

The lascivious sound is unmistakable.

“I’m sorry!” Panic rises in your throat, but Crocodile just turns you over, laying you on your back, your legs dangling off his desk.

The look on his face has you frozen in place. He looks like he’s going to eat you. The golden amber eyes are slit tight, burning as they look down at you.

“You’re turned on?”

“I’m sorry!” You cry, tears running down the side of your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t - I couldn’t - I learned, I swear I learned! I didn’t know, I -!”

Crocodile’s POV

His hand over your mouth quiets you. You shiver beneath him, the look on his face sending an odd heat through your body and once you calm down a little he moves his hand away from your mouth.

“You’re going to get your wish,” he says, his voice dripping with restraint. “But only because it may be after midnight before I’m sated.”

He pushes your leg up onto the desk, pining it in place with his hook. You scream, covering your mouth as you realize he hasn’t impaled you, just restrained your leg with his hook. Terror is making your scent stronger and he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs your other leg by the ankle and pulls you open, exposing your dripping cunt to the air. The smell puts visions in his head of him truly devouring you like a small shivering rabbit.

“No, no please!” Panic claws at your voice and you put your hands over your mound. “Don’t-don’t! You’ll-you’ll lose money if you take it! I won’t-.”

“Silence.” He forces it upon you and you fall silent, hands still covering yourself. “Move. Your. Hands.”

Your face flushes down to your shoulders, but you do as he commands.

“What value you have to the gods doesn’t matter to me.” He says, kneeling down between your legs. “They’re beneath me, so it only matters what worth you have to me.”

The tip of his nose grazes the hair of your pussy, and he breathes in deep, letting the sweet scent soak his lungs before his tongue parts your labia and the tip flicks against your clit. You tense and squeak, unable to close your legs, body shivering for all manner of reasons.

The taste of you is a delight he couldn’t dare name, but the single lick isn’t nearly enough. You’re going to enjoy what he’s going to do to you, even if you haven’t been good enough to truly earn it yet.

Your POV

The first gentle lick sends a jolt through you, but you don’t have time to say anything before his mouth begins to devour you again. His lips press in deep, parting yours and letting his thick tongue press against the slick between your folds. The hot wet muscle sends a strange sensation through you, and you squirm uselessly against his hold on you.

“What - wait, I - whaaaaaat’s this?” You whine, as he licks heavy against your clit.

“Consider it part of your punishment.” He grumbles into your skin. His voice is soothing to your ears, but his actions have you on edge.

Another heavy lick and you can’t stop yourself as your body rolls from the pleasure that ripples through you. Crocodile growls when you move, but doesn’t stop licking your cunt. You reach out, putting your hands into his hair and the growl shifts into a purr.

The new sound relaxes you from head to toe, and with less energy spent on holding you down Crocodile focuses on eating you out. Hungry lips and a heavy tongue urge more and more slick from you, and drag thick, heady panting moans from you.

The airy moans falling from your lips turn into whines as the pleasure builds. You’re squirming beneath him, but since you’re holding onto his hair you’re not squirming away from him.

“Please, please,” you huff, feeling a delicious pleasure coil between your thighs. You’d never orgasmed before. You’d come close, but you weren’t permitted that kind of pleasure outside of your heats, and during them you couldn’t attain it by yourself.

What you knew well was the climb to that elusive precipice.

“I’m close, I’m close, please, please, I’m sorry, please let me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t - won’t argue again, please, please!” You cry, your body shivering as he brings you closer and closer.

Just before you tip over the edge, Crocodile shifts, plunging his thick tongue into your vagina. He releases your ankle and rolls his thumb against your clit as his tongue curls inside you.

An unintelligible sound is ripped from your lips as pleasure pulls taut every muscle in your body. You can feel yourself throbbing against his thick tongue, each twitch of your own body sending another merciless jolt of pleasure through you.

Crocodile doesn’t stop. Some addled part of your brain thinks that’s fitting, but it does you no good as your overstimulated body jerks and curls.

“Please,” the word shivers from your lips as Crocodile withdraws his tongue from your twitching cunt.

“One more.” He husks, eyes soft and out of focus. “You taste even better than you smell, little starling, and I will drink once more at least.”

He pushes your leg back again, engulfing your breast with his hand and holding you in place as he licks heavy into your slit. All you can do is hold onto his arm as he drinks his fill bringing you to the edge a second time.

This orgasm soaks into your body, making your heart rush even as your muscles seem to relax against it. The pleasure rolls your eyes back and loosens your grip on his arm, letting him press your body into an immovable hold even more than before. Sweat begins to slick your skin and his tongue moves away from your cunt, licking the salt and thin sheen from the crease of your hips.

“Cr-Crocodile… please,” you paw at his arm as he licks up the backside of your thigh.

“Mercy then, perhaps.” He purrs, and his teeth look so sharp, and his eyes look so reptilian, and the scent of sand and honey that surrounds him is thick and sticky, and you can almost feel it pulling your cunt open for him.

“Now there is plenty of reason to wash you.”

[renatogpadilla]

The One Where She Comes Clean.

It took Lux a full 3 seconds to process what she had just heard.

She had wondered, despite her best intentions what could her friend have possibly seen in that harrowing vision that had made her break the way she had...

Losing a daughter would do it.

Isha... Not-Isha kept going.

"She wasn't mine," She sobbed out between tired tears "but... But she was mine, you know...? She came... into my life at my lowest p-point... And for seven m-months... S-seven beautiful months, she... she made it so... so b-bright! My Isha.... my.... my p-perfect, beautiful baby girl!"

She couldn't hold it in any longer. Lux hugged her friend, both of their eyes filled with tears, as she sobbed into her arms.

They didn't know how long they'd stayed like that. It didn't matter. Eventually, the tears stopped... slowly. Her eyes were burning. Everything hurt.

Jinx managed to talk. "I... Listen, Lux. You saved me too. In more ways than one... And I want to be honest with you. If anyone knows, I want it to be you... but...." How do you even start?

"If you're not there yet, I understand. I won't push. When you're ready, I'll be here." Jinx wondered if Lux was this sincere all the time or if she just put on a pretty face for her... Either way, she couldn't have asked for a better friend right now.

"I think I genuinely don't deserve a friend like you." Jinx meant that. She really didn't deserve her.

"Well, suck it up, Firework." Lux had to push that out of her throat. She just told you about her dead daughter and you're trying out nicknames?! "You're stuck with me. And I don't plan on leaving you alone."

"...Firework?" She could not let Lux know how much she actually liked that. She had an image, dammit!

"Hey, you call me 'Flashlight'!" It wasn't a chuckle so much as a sputtered breath that left her mouth, but the feeling came across.

"Okay, fine. That's fair." Something in her still feared telling Lux everything...

She didn't know where to go from here... Lux was staying the night. Should she offer tea? She didn't have cookies or anything. She should have had cookies! What kind of witch didn't have cookies to lure children into the woods with?! She had to step her game up when she stopped feeling so depressed...

"But... If not your birth name" Which was a shame, because Lux found 'Powder' really cute "and not your other name... What do I call you?"

And here she had to take a gamble... In her mind, she was praying to Janna or whatever other spirit could hear that the name of the most wanted criminal in Piltover-Zaun hadn't reached Demacia... Or at least not Lux.

She wanted to be honest. But she had to brace herself first. "I can be... completely truthful with you, right?"

"Always. I'm almost offended you even had to ask!"

"Heh... I know. Listen, Flashlight. There's a part of me that's terrified to tell you."

"...Why?" Oh, did Lux want an answer to that question?

"Because..." Just say it. She took a deep breath. "Because you've told me your story. And I'm afraid that... I'm scared that if I tell you..." You wouldn't come see me anymore? You would hate me?

"You'd have to take the first step for once?" Lux didn't mean for it to be a jab, but she wanted to get out of the depression, by whatever way she could, and this girl needed to get this out.

"I'm afraid that you'd be too... Familiar with me." She could think of no other word to describe it. She was kinda glad she couldn't. "You... Um..."

"Go on, friend." And she said it so sincerely that Jinx felt her heart grow a size... She swore those eyes got bigger the longer they stared at her. "I'm not leaving."

She dared to hope. "You promise...?"

Lux actually stood up from the couch. Jinx could tell she was sore from the fight still, but she didn't let it show. And then she took a knee and put one hand over hers and another over her heart.

"I," she said, and she put the weight of the world into her words "Luxanna Crownguard, swear on my honor as a Noble, as a servant of the Crown of Demacia, on my Knighthood and on my light as a Mage, that I will not desert you. I will not run from who you are. I will not judge or hate you for what you have been through. On our friendship and on the joy you've brought me... Lest I be struck dead by the gods themselves."

Tiny lights floated around them. Lux wanted to make sure she knew she meant business. What a dramatic little lady she'd let in her hut! Welp, she'd done it now... Fuck it.

"Whatever happens now, you asked for it."

Lux just nodded her head and smiled. One more deep breath.

"You know Piltover?" She started. Might as well match her dramatics if she was going to tell her.

"The City of Progress. I've heard of the place, but I've never been..."

"Well, you'll hear a lot of stories about it. About how they have the most beautiful skyline and how their technology is second to none... It's alright. They're good, I guess. But what they won't tell you is that their glorious city sits on top of another. One that breathes the refuse of their engines. The smog of their factories... The dust beneath their boot. This is the city of Zaun. And I used to call it home."

Lux was sitting fully cross-legged on the floor now, looking up at her like she was her favorite teacher... Or like a child, hearing a new story for the first time. Jinx realized she missed being a storyteller. She liked that the theatrics she could weave into stories didn't require several hours of explosive safety prep... Like she'd ever cared about the safety prep!

"And even in this veritable hive of scum and villainy, where the air was thick with smoke and drug lords named 'Chembarons' ran the streets, there was a still a little corner of light: A section of the city, marshalled by a man named Vander. My dad. This place was called The Lanes, and smack dab in the middle of them, there was a quaint little bar called The Last Drop... And in that bar lived Vander and a gang of kids. There were four of us: There was Mylo, Claggor... my sister Violet... 'Vi'. And me. Powder. And we spent our days gathering scrap for dad to sell and keep the bar afloat... Well, at least that's what we thought. Looking back, he probably just gave us that idea so we'd feel important. Petty heists here and there, nothing too crazy. Mylo could pick any lock, Claggor was big and smart, always a step ahead of everyone else and the one who always knew the getaway route... Vi could punch like hell and I had my little gadgets. None of them worked as intended, but I was getting somewhere." She nodded her head at Pow-Pow and Fishbones on the floor. "That's one thing I can proudly say I got much better at."

"Question!" Said Lux. She actually raised her hand, the darling! "If there were just those four of you, then... Where does Ekko come in?"

Leave it to Miss 'Repressed Fairytale Princess' to immediately ask about her crush. Good to know Lux had her priorities straight!

"He hung around on occasion. He was more Benzo's kid than Vander's. He usually tipped us off to jobs the gang and I could pull. He was small and could get in anywhere if you stopped paying attention to him... He did stay with us for some time, learning how to fight with Vi... Dancing to the jukebox with me..." She had to take a moment. "You know, I don't think I ever noticed how much Ekko made me feel like a kid until you made me bring him up." He really had been there the whole time... Looking back, that crush he'd had on her was so incredibly obvious that she should have noticed, kid or not. That boy was smitten!

"Sounds like you were getting there by yourself already."

"I might've been, Flashlight... Anyhow, it was Ekko that tipped us off to the biggest heist of all. Some big-shot academy nerd over at Piltover had gotten his hands on something incredibly valuable, and now we were going to strike it rich..."

She told her about the heist on Jayce's house in detail, and while she did so, it occurred to Jinx in this moment of retrospection, that she had never actually met Jayce Talis!

The Man of Progress himself! The Father of HexTech! She'd just... stolen his marbles (and his sandwich) and ran! He made Vi those overdesigned bitch-mittens and she'd never even seen the guy outside of a couple posters or ostentatious mugs!

She wondered where he was now and if he had made it out of the scuffle with Noxus alive. After all, if he hadn't dabbled with the Arcane, she wouldn't be who she was...

Lux was completely enamoured by the story. The little band of ruffians braving the top of society to put food on the table... It was inspiring! It made her think of the struggle Mages faced now in Demacia. And Powder (she'd call her that for now, until she got a name.) had been a fighter since the beginning! And now what a woman she'd become! She could make gadgets that could bring down demons from actual Hell and explosions that outshined the moon! As far as she was concerned, she could have been anything but chose to live as a witch of the woods for the vibes!

She admired her more with every bit of her story she learned...

Little by little, Jinx told her overenthusiastic Demacian friend how everything had been downhill from the moment they'd robbed Jayce's place. The Piltie Enforcers that had killed her and Vi's biological parents now flooded the underground, looking to make an example of the undercity for what they had finally perceived to be an excuse...

She slowed down on the details after a while... And eventually, she told her about the night the rest told her to stay behind...

"I should have stayed behind... Looking back I notice that Vi was just trying her best to keep me safe. But then, I just wanted to be useful. So I went anyway... And I took a new toy with me. Filled to the brim with those magic marbles we stole. It was my biggest bomb ever. And it was gonna get them all out."

Lux could tell by her tone that it was not gonna go that way. She got up and sat on the couch with her. She'd put some tea on after she got done with this part. If she wasn't in shambles by then.

"I got there to see my friends, my sister and my dad pinned down through a small window. They'd run rampant and clobbered everyone that got in their way... Now it was my turn to help. Well... I set the little bomb through the window and let it walk off into the fray." Jinx had to stop for a moment. Lux could see in her eyes that what happened next would be heavy... Maybe she should do it now.

"Tea, friend?" She offered.

"Yes. Please. A lot. I... I think I'm going to need it..." Fuck, she missed coffee sometimes.

Lux put the kettle on. If you could call that ramshackle mechanical contraption a 'kettle'.

"If you need to stop, I understand."

"I think if I don't get it out now, I never will." Jinx owed her the truth after tonight. "I... Be patient with me? Please?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask."

Careful, Jinx. She's about to make you believe in kindness again...

While the water boiled, Lux sat down next to her friend. She made some little light balls float around them and dance a little. Nothing too crazy... It was nice that she'd managed to control her powers to the point of making little magic lanterns, but she wanted to try something new now. Something simple, for her.

"You know." Lux started "When I blasted that monster today, I felt something I'd never felt before. Like, I connected to light in a way I'd never understood... Like I could almost talk to it."

"Now who's got voices in her head?" Oh, good. Powder was making jokes now! That was great! A bit of the gloom of the night was starting to dissipate at last...

Lux shot her a playful glare and continued. "Anyways, now that I see it in that light, heh, I was wondering what would happen if I just... Asked nicely."

As she said that, she waved her hand in front of one of the little light motes she'd made... And a few seconds later, it slowly changed. From yellow, to green, to a lighter tone. A red... A purple... Until finally, a light, magical blue floated in front of them. Slowly, all the little lights changed, one by one, lighting up the hut in a blue hue that reminded her of her friend's beautiful fireworks.

She turned to look at the not-a-witch... and she saw tear roll down her face.

"It's beautiful, Flashlight." Jinx had had pretty lights lit for her before (albeit more dangerous and rebellious ones) but this was so... soft. So caring and genuinely precious... This was a gift. "I'm proud of you, for what it's worth. And I'm glad you're here."

"It's worth the world, mon ami." She leaned in close to the little sphere of light. "Thank you!" She whispered. And the little lantern glowed a little brighter. Jinx knew it was just Lux making it 'answer', but she still let herself get lost in the magic for a moment...

She drank her tea slowly... Calm your nerves. Eventually, she put her cup down and resumed her story, the new mood lighting actually calming her down a bit more than she thought. "Well, I was right about one thing: That really was the best bomb I'd ever made. So much so that even I didn't expect it to go off so... effectively. The blast sent me flying onto the street... As well as the entire building."

She'd expected, deep down, that a blue glow would make it harder to tell Lux how the bomb she'd used had killed two of her friends and her father, made her sister hate her for a decade and taken down the entire building with gods-know-how-many people still inside, but if anything, it was comforting to see a blue glow that didn't mean somebody wouldn't see tomorrow for once...

As she continued telling Lux what she'd done, she felt a pain growing on her chest. "This is it!" she thought. "If she can still care for you after she finds out you blew up children then she's sticking around for good."

"There were five of us when that explosion went off... but when the smoke cleared, it was just Vi and me." She lamented. Some days she wondered what Mylo and Claggor would have said about the life she'd led. Would they have come with her? Would they have fought against her? Would they have joined Ekko's Firelights and stayed out of it until it was their problem? Whatever the outcome, a part of her would have still cared. She'd always care. That was her own jinx. "I killed them all, Lux. I killed Mylo and Claggor and dad... And when Violet realized what happened, she... she said something. She called me something that would shape who I'd be forever. A name I took for myself the day... the night 'Powder' died. And she did die in that blast. I just didn't know it until my sister told me to my face."

She was too afraid to look at Lux. She wasn't saying anything, so maybe she was trying to process just who she'd been friends with this whole time... Jinx continued before one of them got cold feet.

"Shortly after, she was sent to jail. Pilties needed someone to blame and I was in the wind. My other dad had found me and taken me in after Vi and I fought. A crime lord named 'Silco'. The man who kept the Chembarons in check. He nurtured my curiosity. Kept me safe from the gangs... From myself. He never blamed me for what I'd done. He'd been Vander's friend before everything. I'd killed his friend, and he didn't blame me! Eventually, I grew up to be his number one closer. His little Boogeyman that exploded his enemies. And he had enemies, Lux! After Vander was gone he practically ran The Lanes, if not all of Zaun! He was a force to be reckoned with... And I was the little monster he had to make sure people stayed in line. I spent years killing my way out of facing my trauma, hearing the voices of my dead friends in my head, building my gadgets, blowing people up without a shred of remorse... Seeing my sister's face in the people I gunned down. I hated her, Lux. For years, I thought she'd left me to rot... I didn't know she'd been taken... I didn't know she still loved me. And, to be honest... Outside of Silco trying his best to be a crime lord and a part-time dad... I..." This was something she had never admitted to anyone. People who knew her could see it, of course, but she'd never said it out loud... "I didn't think I could be loved. I didn't think I deserved to be loved." And some days, when things get really rough, I still don't.

Warmth was the first feeling. Like a loving little oven had started microwaving her from the side. And when she turned, Lux was holding her tight. Her hands were glowing. Her face too! Her whole skin, dimly lit, warming up Jinx's body... She hadn't noticed she was cold. Lux just held her. And something about it melted in her heart.

"It wasn't your fault."

Those were the first words that came out of Lux's mouth.

It was words Powder had wanted to hear her entire life.

She held her back. The warmth in her chest felt like a knot that had strangled her soul for ages had finally been undone. She allowed herself to sob as Lux kept talking, and she couldn't see her face, but she knew she was crying too. The lights turned yellow again. Warm and welcoming. Like a hug. Like a home.

"You were a child. You tried to help. You didn't know. It wasn't your fault, Powder. That night, that life, will never be your fault! Okay? And if anyone ever blames you for it, I'll light them up myself!"

And for the first time, she believed it.

Her eyes were dry at this point... She was out of tears. And that was okay. It was her that kissed Lux's cheek this time. She'd never really been known to be tender, but her Flashlight had earned it. She could be soft for one person, she thought. As a treat. For both of us.

They pulled apart.

"Thank you, Flashlight. But... Not 'Powder'." She'd made up her mind now. If anything happened to Lux, she would burn Demacia to the ground. "And... not 'Isha' either."

"Alright then." Lux wiped her eyes and stretched out a hand. She wanted to know everything about this person now. "Hello, miss. I'm Luxanna. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jinx chuckled. She took her hand in hers. "Believe me, the pleasure is absolutely all mine, Luxanna." And she meant that with her whole heart...

"My name is Jinx."

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: The Waves

Here's the logline: a hero flits between universes where everything is different and yet all characters recur. The love interest is the same, whether she's a pirate captain, a cubicle worker, a bard, whatever. The villain is the same, whether he's a rear admiral, a corporate tyrant, or an evil overlord.

Multiverse stories are often about the path not traveled, the way that the world might be different. This would be a story about commonality, everything staying the same.

So there are some number of stories being told here, and the shape of all of them is exactly identical, all hitting the beats at the same time. A death in one means a death in the other, but our protagonist is only in one place at a time, so we see each beat only once and infer the rest. A car chase in one story is a ship chase in another. The climactic battle where soldiers crash against the castle walls becomes a climactic battle where the pirate horde smashes against the walls of a fort, and that turns into a modern cityscape where rioters smash against the walls of a towering skyscraper.

My vision here is that we do grand changes as we move between stories, only to find that everything is equivalent.

So what do you do with this? What's this sort of structure for? What cool stories or scenes does it lend itself to?

My first thought is to break it, naturally. If there are five or six realities that we're cycling through, maybe our protagonist can get just one of them onto a different track, one where fate has something else in store. I don't know how you would do this, there's this neat scene in my head where we go "all is lost -> all is lost -> all is lost -> all is ... wait, what's that?!".

My second thought is that having multiple realities moving in perfect synchronicity with each other allows for a way to really underscore a character, say something about them with thick red marker. The elemental thing that's supposed to define a tragedy is that the bad ending is something that came from within the character, right? Something that they could have stopped, if only they had been a different kind of person. The seeds of their downfall laying within them. So isn't there something nice about seeing that this is invariant? That the worlds are different, circumstances are different, but the choices are the same? You'd have to be incredibly careful with this (and the whole thing, really), because I think in constructing different parallels you might end up with something that the audience doesn't consider parallel. But it could work, layering the emotional beats on top of each other.

My third thought is what I think should have been my first thought: the story is one about mastery, coming to know and understand the rules, "winning" across all realities because of understanding, ideally with some kind of character synthesis along the way. I think this is ... well, difficult, given the rules as I've been talking about them. If there's a "twist", then it should be a twist that happens across all realities simultaneously. If there's something gained or lost, it should always have a parallel. I cannot immediately think of some clever way of breaking this system - something that the reader would understand to be clever or at least worthwhile. (I say reader, but this would be better in a visual medium.) Maybe "breaking it" in a different way is the ideal, pulling the realities into each other, swapping conceits and genres. But this, too, would take a lot of planning to pull off, and you'd need to be careful about these set pieces.

So if I were serious about this (which I'm not, this is pitchposting,) I would start out with our characters, then build some worlds around them, trying for maximum variation in those worlds. The plotting is also pretty vital, particularly the "standard" plot whether you're going to break that or not. I do really like the idea of having a single "mundane" world, a place of office buildings and stakes that are measured in lunch breaks and water cooler conversations. I want the swings to be extreme, but the parallels blindingly obvious when they're put in front of you.

To be clear, I'm not sure that this structure/gimmick could actually work. In a text medium, which is what I primarily work with, I think you'd have to spend too much time on blocking and descriptions and detail whenever you switched realities. Switching scenes can be rough even in the best of circumstances.

But it's an idea that I've had rolling around in my head, and if I can't do something with it, then I hope it can at least spark something in someone else.

[drhannahasher]

@hopefulprotect

I get it. I really do, Will, and for what it's worth, I am sorry that I left that way... Especially for ghosting you afterwards. As much as I didn't want to admit that Dr. Charles was right about me replacing drugs with you, that's exactly what I was doing. Don't get me wrong, my feelings for you were real... I was completely in love with you, Will, but because I didn't give myself the necessary time to recover from my drug addiction before we started dating, without realizing it, I used you as a form of dependency... Meaning, when we had that fight, I wasn't strong enough in my sobriety to handle it, and I OD'ed, as a result. I knew in my heart that if I stayed in Chicago, that would continue happening, so I left... I knew if I told you in advance that I was leaving, I'd take one look at you and I'd change my mind, though because I never wanted to leave you, Will. Ultimately I knew I needed to make a clean break or I'd never succeed in healing... sobriety... getting clean... or any of it. {Realizing I was oversharing now because I was nervous... Nervous to be back... Nervous about being here with Will... All of it} I'm good now though. I promise. I'm clean, healthy, and sober. I'm strong enough to be here. {I said the words out loud. I was confident Will already believed that about me, but for some reason I still felt the need to say it. By now I glanced back down at my menu as I considered the contents} Everything sounds good... This is going to be a tough decision. {Biting down gently on my bottom lip as I tried to at least narrow it down to a couple of menu items before I'd choose one from that smaller list} What about you? What are you leaning toward getting?

continued

@drhannahasher

It was a big ask; a beg even for Hannah to overcome her struggles to come into Med to help me. And honestly thinking back to the call I had the low expectations she’d answer or yet come for my benefit. Hannah made it clear over a year ago when she left Chicago she left us, left me behind. It took the hold of constant rejected calls and unanswered messages to understand to see the bigger picture. She wanted nothing to do with me; she had tossed me aside when she had her relapse. And it stung; I cared I wanted to help her. I believed in her when she thought the worse version of herself. I saw the good in her; and yeah I wanted to keep her off the wagon, I knew what I was getting myself into when I fell for her. I knew she past; the struggles, but I also saw how strong she was. 

Hannah wasn’t how everyone perceived her after the accident; after being seen as a drug addict, after she left town. I believed she’d find what she was searching for. Even if it never included me. I had Jay on my back teasing about the pinning love I lost, as if he had something to say, given the fact he was not so subtle pinning for his partner might I add. Let’s just say our nights of going out for a drink had become quite frequent. But today wasn’t about my feelings, or my lack of covering what i felt for the blonde. It was about Alyssa a friend who I cared for. And her unborn child; her husband was on another table; one Ethan was working to fix, but my priority was in Hannah’s gallery because even if she didn’t want my support in the OR I was going to be in the gallery to oversea the process, I would never forgive myself if I never showed up. I was scared for Alyssa my childhood friend, but I knew the consequences if Hannah had messed up; not that I believed she would. 

Because I knew the female; she had skill, she worked with grace, which was only confirmed as I stood in the gallery. I glanced to the prying eyes of the residents; of interns who only knew of Hannah Asher through the whispers. But I saw Hannah first hand and I wanted to be proud of her. But her last comment stood in my head. “ Reunite you with Alyssa and the baby.” What does that mean? I had rack my mind on it. I was probably coming off as dumb now, but right now I was confused. Did Hannah think Alyssa and I were..? Did she believe I was the dad because of how far I fought for Alyssa? The questions kept looping around in my mind. And honestly I wouldn’t blame the blonde if she assumed. I did fight for Alyssa, I fought to get her the best care. The only OB I trusted to care for her. She was a friend someone I’d always go to bat for. But did I want to be with Alyssa? No of course not. Once a crush but now I was happy with being a doctor, of being the caring surgeon; the one that oversteps on almost every occasion. 

Hand rested on the wall; eyes glued to the scene. Hannah was working against her own OR, she was preparing to close up when it happened. She lost the stats, the baby was at risk, and Alyssa the blood flow was subsiding, I felt the lump that formed in my throat, and I knew the way her own staff spoke to her. No belief at all. I felt the rage, the anger coursing through my body. She was alone; and man it took every fiber in my body not to run down there; not to intervene, because I knew Hannah she was strong and brave, but she also felt the way people saw her. An addict. She probably wanted to run and never turn back. My heart ached for her, but I wanted to respect her boundaries which was me staying far from the OR. So I stayed in the gallery; I held my breath waiting; but by the end of the surgery I felt pride, I let out the exhale of relief i had been holding. She did it; the baby was okay, and Alyssa she was stable, I felt like I might cry over how phenomenal she was. I was proud of her; and that’s why I released my hold of the wall and I turned to leave the gallery. 

Each step I went with ease, as he walked the stairs, until I reached the ground floor. Will had made his way to the scrub room; where he knew he’d find her; as he pushed through the door he paused wanting to admire her handy work, the surgeon she was. 

“ I knew I put my faith in the right person, You did good. I don’t care what any one in that OR says, you showed what you are capable of.” And Will meant each word; as if it was close to his chest.

[j-crow]

crying and weeping pathetically I MISS MY POOKIEEEEEE 💔💔

[medicinemane]

It's amazing how quickly you can make someone turn on your company by making a stupid and insulting move

Force me to go through the front door and scan my card when I have backdoor business that never needed a card before (what? ...I was going to somehow... sneak in and... purchase things with a borrowed card? ...which I totally can't do from the front door after scanning it?)

Or like... twitterify your layout right after your users give you a bunch of money just cause they like you, and then refuse to walk it back

...or all the other things companies do that just kinda piss people off and then they refuse to acknowledge maybe it sucks and is stupid cause "hey, the customers didn't leave"... yeah... yet

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

You’re My Baby Too

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none

You'd think that the second pregnancy would be a breeze. You already know everything about how it goes, how to prepare, what to expect, but in your case, your second pregnancy was dreadful.

First trimester, horrible nausea, you spent half your time over the toilet with Lando holding your hair. Your baby boy was so much bigger than Isla it made your back hurt like crazy all the time, and the worst thing of all was that your baby boy didn't wanna come out.

You prayed you wouldn't give birth before Lando finished the season, so when the season ended you were relieved. But then your due date passed, and nothing happened. Then five days passed after your due date, nothing again. 10 days after your due date - the baby just doesn't wanna come out.

You were frustrated, exhausted, and tired of being pregnant. You just wanted to be able to see your feet again and be able to get up off the couch without Lando having to pull your hand.

"It's because you make such a good home for him he doesn't wanna come out, love." Lando tried to calm you down in a nice way, not even realizing that he irritated you with that because he's been saying that for the last 10 days and your nerves have become very thin hearing it.

"I swear, if you say that one more time.." You barked rolling your eyes at him while holding your still very pregnant belly.

"I'm sorry, I'll shut up.."

“Thank you.” You glared at him.

He didn't hold it against you for your brazen response because he understood that it had become too much for you. Lately, he's been walking on eggshells around you because everything has been annoying you, and he didn't want to be the one to contribute to that.

When the twelfth day passed since your due date, you realized that too much time had passed and you even started to worry a little that something was wrong. So Lando decided to take you to the hospital, where you very clearly told the doctor that you weren't leaving the place until you gave birth.

You thought that by some miracle, as soon as you stepped into the hospital, labor would start and you would just pop the baby out and everything would be over in less than two hours just like it was with Isla, but of course that wasn't the case with this baby.

"I think we have no other choice but to induce the labor." The doctor said.

"Okay, how long does it take?" You asked. "Is it like natural labor or?"

"Induced labor can last from a few hours to a few days, it depends. It's most often completed within 12 to 18 hours from the start of the procedure."

"Oh my God" You sighed in despair with tears in your eyes and Lando immediately squeezed your hand to offer you at least some comfort.

"Does it hurt more than a normal birth?" Lando was very concerned about how painful it would be for you. While you were giving birth to Isla, Lando was of course by your side, and even though it was much shorter and easier, he was still terribly shaken to see the pain you went through.

"I don't want to discourage you and scare you right from the start, but many women have said that induced labor is more painful."

And boy oh boy was it painful.

When they gave you the drip to induce contractions, that's when the real agony began. The drip makes contractions stronger and more frequent and you can't even begin to explain what you'd compare that pain to.

You were sweating.

Crying.

Gripping the sides of the bed and Lando's hand, which at one point you thought you were going to break.

You honestly felt like dying. What was supposed to be the most beautiful experience of your life was quickly turning into a nightmare.

Lando was heartbroken seeing you like this. He was putting cold compresses on you, hugging you, kissing you, comforting you, begging you to endure this.

"I'm so sorry baby, I wish I could go through this instead of you. I'm so sorry."

He didn't leave you for a second, except when you caught a 5-minute break from the contractions and managed to close your eyes for at least a moment and calm down. Lando said he had to go to the bathroom.

He lied actually. Instead he went to the hallway outside your room where his parents were patiently waiting. By the look on his face, Cisca and Adam could see that Lando was not well and that he himself was traumatized.

Lando didn't say anything, he just hugged Cisca and buried his face in her neck, soaking her shoulder with tears.

"I'm so fucking scared for her. It wasn't like this the first time." Lando cried quietly.

"Oh honey, y/n's going to be alright, I promise you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but soon this will pass and you'll be going home with your baby." Cisca comforted trying to lift his spirits. "Honey, you need to get yourself together, alright? She needs you right now and you need to be there for her."

When labor finally began after 14 long hours, you were running out of strength. You were so exhausted that you weren't sure if you would be able to push the baby out.

"Push y/n, push!" The doctor encouraged.

"I c-can't" You cried breathing rapidly. "Lando, I can't do it.."

"Come on baby, you can, I know you can. Just a little bit more and it's done, I promise. You've got this" He was pushing your hair out of your face, holding your hand, and holding your leg at the same time.

"Come on, push, push! I can see the head!"

Finally, the baby's cry was heard and soon the baby boy was on your chest. As soon as you saw him, all the pain instantly vanished.

He was so perfect. So worth it.

Lando couldn't contain his emotions as he rested his head on your shoulder, carefully observing his baby.

Later that day, when everything had calmed down, Lando was still there by your side. He couldn't be separated from you nor did he want to. His gaze shifted between you and the baby watching you both sleep peacefully.

He was tired too. He didn't really remember the last time he slept, but he knew you had it worse than him anyway, so he didn't even think of complaining.

"Lan?"

"Hey, love" His face lit up when you opened your eyes. When he saw you smile, it brought energy back to him. He took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Did you get some rest?"

"I did, why didn't you?" You asked him when you saw the huge dark circles under his eyes and the same clothes from the day before yesterday. "Baby, please go home, I know you're exhausted too."

"The only way I'm getting out of here is with you two."

You didn't want to argue with him because you knew it was pointless. You were just grateful that he was there and that he was yours.

"My pretty, pretty girl. I'm so proud of you." Lando said softly caressing your cheek and looking into your tired eyes. "I love you so much you know that, right?"

"I know, I can feel it. I love you too, so much." You say before kissing him. "Where are our kids?"

"This little guy is sleeping here without a care in the world."

"And Isla? She didn't come with your parents?"

"No, I told them not to bring her because I knew you'd get too emotional if you saw her, and I wanted you to rest as much as possible."

"You should've told them to bring her, I really miss her and I can't wait for her to meet her brother." You said, but you could still see the worry in Lando's eyes. "I'm fine, Lan, I promise."

"We're done with the kids. Our family is complete now."

"Lan.." You chuckled.

"No, I'm serious. I never want to see you go through so much pain again. It's been so hard to watch you like that and not be able to do anything and I'm not putting you through it again. "

"It was worth it tho. Look at him, he's so perfect. I'd do it all over again for our baby"

"I know, I know, but you're my baby too." No matter how many children you have, his protective attitude towards you will never change.

"Oh, love.." You pulled his hand to get up from the chair and come sit on the bed next to you so you can cuddle up next to him.

"I can't wait to take you home, both of you." He said quietly kissing your forehead.

You rested your head on his chest, knowing that wherever you are, as long as he's there, everything is fine.

[quickdeaths]

"I'm aware that it doesn't matter to Future Foundation, Miss Nevermind, but it matters to me." Shinobu let out a soft sigh. "I don't wish to make myself out to be your protector, or someone to whom you owe anything." That wasn't how she thought, and it was important to impress that upon Sonia. Shinobu had her vanity and her arrogance still, in some places, but to be so self-aggrandizing at this point in her life was unlike her. "But, if the rest of my organization is indifferent, and the world you're soon to inhabit is against you, then, I'd rather you have at least one person on your side."

Her hands were holding hers softly, and what Shinobu wanted to do was slip one of her own from Sonia's grasp, and gently cradle the side of her face. This was the woman who was so resigned to everything in her future? The woman who believed that she deserved everything awful that happened to her? The woman who looked in the mirror and saw in it nothing good reflected back? Were it not so serious a moment, Shinobu might have found it humorous enough to laugh, in their own fragile way.

No, Sonia Nevermind had always been a good person, and Shinobu had known that from the night they'd first met. What other explanation was there for her attempting to extract such a promise? They were friends, perhaps, but Shinobu knew they couldn't be equals, not so long as she was a Future Foundation agent. If Sonia resented her for her freedom and position, Shinobu could never have blamed her. But instead, she sat beside her, urging her to reach out and take happiness for herself. It was earnest and genuine. The least Shinobu could give her in return was the same genuine sentiment, even if there were truths she couldn't speak.

Softly, she squeezed Sonia's hand as she once again looked at her, gazing into Sonia's cool blue eyes without blinking. Her own eyes were intense, Shinobu was sure, as they always were, but she tried to keep her expression as gentle as she could to properly convey her feelings. "You're kind to care so much about my well-being, and my future. Thank you, Miss Nevermind. Truly." It was a gift for another person to be worried about her, to consider her feelings and her desires, even when they might have conflicted with Sonia's own.

The truth was that there was nothing else she wanted. There was no career that suited them, and no home to return to. The family estate could have been destroyed, and were it not, then her pond was rotten with the corpses of her pets and the winds had scattered the rock garden sand such that it would take days to fix. So many of her friends were long-dead, and both her mentor and her girlfriend had been killed recently too. There was nothing back there for her except an empty apartment too large for one lonely woman.

Not that she'd say as much, of course. She'd told Sonia of her life before, but right now, there was no reason to make her feel guilty due to the state of things. Instead, they just nodded. "Alright, Miss Nevermind. I promise." Still looking at her, they gave her hands another small squeeze. "In the event that I decide that I no longer with to be with you in Novoselic, I'll put in my request to leave immediately." That day would not come - Shinobu was sure of it. It was a promise easy to make with that in mind, secure in the knowledge that the thing she would want most in this world would be to be at Sonia's side.

Only then did Shinobu break eye contact, gently bringing her hand away from Sonia's, and standing up from her seat. "But, it's been a long night, Miss Nevermind, and I imagine we might both be up a while longer with all the excitement that's gone on." The movie was still running, but even if it was quite cute, Shinobu had since stopped paying close attention. She supposed that was only natural when Sonia was being rather earnest and charming beside her, instead. "Can I get you something to drink, or, can I make you something to eat that's a little more substantial than popcorn?"

Shinobu insisted she'd thought it through, but Sonia wasn't convinced. She'd considered the logic of it, yes, and providing some comfort to her, a queen of a nation who didn't deserve it. But that was all, and it wasn't the whole picture as far as Sonia was concerned. "Well, I am not going to doubt your physical and mental capabilities for the job, that is not my place to say," She began carefully. She wasn't wrong: it wasn't the place of any of the former Remnants to speak out against the Future Foundation. Barring Hajime who, no matter the member of the Future Foundation he faced, could find fault in their line of thinking. Probably why Naegi alone handled him, Sonia supposed.

Still, it only felt strange to be asked such a thing because, at the end of the day, she wouldn't have a say in it. She'd be assigned someone to fulfill their duties first and foremost to the Future Foundation, not to her, and be the only person from the Japanese headquarters who would dare make the journey to Novoselic. A place where, if she understood the coverage from the papers, had begun to thoroughly renounce their interest in Japanese culture in favor of European traditions. Ones that didn't glorify the former Princess, now Queen Sonia, but European traditions nonetheless. Most of the Japanese expats who had survived The Tragedy in Novoselic faced constant hostility from the native citizens. Even those who simply looked Japanese but weren't were subject to discrimination, according to reports.

Shinobu couldn't look at her. Just as well, she was difficult to look at after The Tragedy, and maybe she was beginning to realize just how dire a future was being sentenced to Novoselic with a known mass murderer. And if she couldn't say it, it would be up to Sonia to do so. With a deep sigh, in the most diplomatic fashion she could.

"I do not think it will matter much to the Future Foundation if the person sent to accompany me is sympathetic or not. As long as I stay alive and fulfill my country's and the Future Foundation's conditions," Sonia admitted. That was truly too optimistic for the likes of the organization, considering Sonia's happiness and interests in it all. "I just don't know if you've really considered the extent of what you're suggesting, Yaguchi. I meant what I said, I certainly don't object to your company and do like having you around, but you must consider the long-term implications."

"For all that you have suffered, you are a hero in this Tragedy. Japan, and the majority of the world, acknowledge you with the utmost praise and respect. You helped save millions of lives and, in that, you have a whole life ahead of you now."

Sonia paused for a sip of now-lukewarm tea. It was the most she'd said in quite some time, and after the birthing of the kittens she was feeling fatigued herself (though nothing compared to the mother cat, of course). "You can do anything you want: have a career, even something you hadn't considered whilst at Hope's Peak. Have a wife. Have a family. The world has changed, Yaguchi, and you can have whatever life you wish. You don't have to be condemned to a cold, crumbling castle for the rest of your life the way I must, married to one of the last surviving aristocrats that my country and the Future Foundation have selected for me so I may keep the royal lineage intact. I just..."

She set down her mug, wondering the best way to phrase it. With a small shake of her head, she reached over to take both of Yaguchi's hands in her own: if the other woman wouldn't look at her, she'd ensure she'd pay attention to her words regardless. "I just do not want you to sentence yourself to a small, sheltered life, one that is always in danger because of me. I will not object to you accompanying me but the moment you wish to leave, you must put in a transfer and leave Novoselic. I would never hold it against you. I want you to live, Yaguchi, and have a life you make for yourself. All of us former remnants, we will never have that. And we do not wish that fate on anyone. I certainly don't wish that for you, a prison sentence of an existence. Will you promise me that? That you will leave when you want to go somewhere else?"

[natlovesls2]

Never Really Over

Lando Norris x Sainz! Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: 18+ MDNI, one bed trope/ forced proximity but barely, slight fake dating, alcohol mentioned/ used, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, small amounts of angst, minimal swearing, talks of marriage and children, please let me know if I missed any

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 3.8k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Lando had broken up though decided it was best that no one knew. Max and Kelly's wedding forces you to come together, making it hard to disguise your true feelings. What can possibly go wrong?

.ೃ࿐request: found here

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

It was difficult being an open book while simultaneously attempting to hide your break up from not only your brother, but anyone who had been invested in seeing the relationship prosper. More often than not you found yourself having to make up answers to questions pertaining to the subject or switch the topic all together. And even if the news of the breakup did somehow come out, you weren’t sure how you’d explain the situation that led to it. The memories of that night were hazy to say the least. 

You could faintly remember the fuzzy feeling of alcohol and the buzz of music around you that night. There was no doubt that you had been out at some party or club, as you often found yourself at one. Though everything beyond that felt like a badly painted watercolor portrait; the colors, or events in this case, bleeding together into a cruel image of that night. 

“What are you saying?” he asked, voice cracking as he searched your face for an answer. The words coming from your mouth slurred but determined. 

“I’m not an idiot, Lando. What else would you be doing when you go out to celebrate your wins for races I didn't attend?”

“You think I’m cheating on you? This is what this whole thing is about?” his voice raised with slight anger. 

“Yeah,” you raised your voice back at him. You wanted to blame the sudden burst of jealousy completely on the alcohol, but you knew that would be a lie, there had always been an insecure pit in your stomach that had only been growing since you began dating. “You’re an attractive, famous athlete. It would be weird if you weren’t.”

“What's the point of being in a relationship if you can’t trust me?”

“The door is wide open, Lando. No one is holding you here by force,” you hadn’t meant those words, but they couldn’t be taken back. 

“Is that what you want? You want to break up?” you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone answer his question. “Fine,” he whispered, running a hand over his face, pacing around the hotel room, “Alright.”

The only memory that seemed to feel concrete and not muddled by all the drinks of the night prior, was the moment you woke up the following day. The sloppily written note on a receipt from some club letting you know that he had left per your request. And even though he didn’t explicitly say things were over, it wasn’t difficult to understand what the note was implying. Beside the fact that you two no longer interacted as a couple, everything else seemed normal, especially to those who didn’t pry beyond surface level. It was for good reason that you two did this; Carlos would have taken your side regardless of the situation, and you didn’t want to be the root cause of a possible falling out. Maybe that's why you didn’t blame Max and Kelly when they told you that you would be sharing a room with Lando for their wedding. 

You had somehow arrived before Lando, taking that time to unpack and mentally prepare to be in such an intimate space with him after such a long time apart. Things were definitely going to be awkward; you were certain you would have to tell everyone the truth about the status of your relationship. It was becoming increasingly clear to you that lying to everyone hadn’t been the best idea. But telling the truth now, when it had been months of lying, was certain to dampen the vibe of the next few days and put a rift between everyone involved. So as Lando walked into the room you couldn't stop yourself from blurting out your disapproval. 

“We can’t possibly tell them the truth– it would ruin everything, and I refuse to ruin Max and Kelly’s wedding week.” 

He stared blankly at you, shutting the door and placing his suitcase beside it, “Jesus, could you give a man a few seconds. I’ve just barely walked through the door.” You ran a nervous hand through your hair, pacing across the expanse of the room. How could he look so calm about this, you envied how well he played things off. No matter how much things truly affected him, he always had to have an obnoxious nonchalant air to him. “You’re making me dizzy,” he let out a slight chuckle that made your eye twitch.

“I’m sorry for being the only one concerned over this, Lando.” 

“More like paranoid. Relax, there's nothing to be concerned about,” he said with a light shrug, throwing himself onto the only bed. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a reminder of how difficult it would be to ignore him over the next couple of days. 

“What are we going to do about that?” you asked, nodding towards the bed a tense expression plastered on your usually calm face. 

“We’re adults, sharing a bed isn’t a big deal, right?”

“Not a big deal at all,” you agreed, letting out a shaky breath attempting to calm your nerves. He nodded, giving you an awkward smile– the only sign of the emotions he was hiding behind his mask. For a moment you were sure he was just as concerned as you were, if not more.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

Rehearsal dinners, a momentous event for any wedding. Sure, the actual wedding ceremony and reception are consequential, but the rehearsal dinner sets the tone for those two. Landos presence alone hand you high strung, now add the high stake of this fake commitment you both had. The clamminess of your hands increased tenfold as you sat beside him, occasionally giving a small smile as Lando conversed with those around you. The conversations around you seemed to fade as you focused on the napkin in front of you. Its stark whiteness against the deep colors of the tableware around it making it stand out. It almost felt like the napkin was taunting you, as if saying, “You’re not fooling anyone, you two stand out as much as I do in this sea of real couples.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks you from across the table, face etched into a mix of concern and suspicion. Your silence throughout this whole ordeal becoming a clear indicator that something was wrong. 

“Hm?”

“I asked if you're okay,” he repeated, eyes glancing between you and Lando. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded with a shaky smile. 

Carlos' eyes narrowed at you, clearly not buying your answer, he seemed to want to say more but hesitated. Lando quickly intercepted the conversation moving on to a topic he could easily control. 

“How much do you want to bet that Max will cry tomorrow?” Lando asked, a playful smirk making its way onto his face, “I say he starts crying as soon as he gets ready for the ceremony.” 

“I bet you’ll cry more at your wedding,” Carlos says smiling at you and Lando, it's clear he's fond of the idea of a wedding between his sister and close friend. 

“Yeah, probably, but we have a few more years until we even start worrying about that,” Lando placed a hand behind your chair, his fingers gently grazing the exposed skin of your back. 

“You didn’t deny the idea of a wedding, does that mean you plan to marry my sister?”

“Let's slow down, mate. I'm not going to deny or admit anything,” Lando let out a laugh, tracing soft shapes onto your shoulder. For once his words and actions didn’t feel forced, as if this were second nature to him. It was almost impossible to tell if he was being truthful in his response or if it was all part of the act. You stared at the half empty glass of wine in front of you, hands moving on their own accord to bring the glass to your lips allowing you to nearly down it all in one go. You were going to need a lot more to drink if you were going to sell the act.

Maybe you had underestimated how much you had to drink or perhaps everything was becoming too hard to control. You felt Landos arm wrap around your waist as he guided you back to your shared room, whispering about something you had done though you didn’t catch what he said and you could hardly remember the rest of the dinner. 

“You’re a lightweight,” Lando sighed as he sat you at the edge of the bed, kneeling down to unstrap your heels. His touch against your bare ankle felt nothing short of electric, something so intense and mind numbing. 

“I’ve missed you,” you drunkenly admit, running your foot against his chest. 

His grip on your ankle tightens in an attempt to hinder your movement, “hm,” he hums out as a response, impulsively lifting your leg up to press a small kiss to the inside of your ankle. The familiar pressure of his lips against your skin erupts your skin in goosebumps. 

“We’re more in love than ever before,” you say, giving Lando one of the most sincere smiles he's seen from you in a while, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as you talked to Kelly, “Right, Lando?”

“Absolutely madly in love,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. He hadn't expected you to move and plant your lips against his in a sloppy drunk kiss, drawing laughs from those around you. 

His lips continue to travel up your calf, his eyes trained on your face to catch any glimpse of change in your expression. He pushes you down against the bed, hovering over you, “You’re drunk,” he lets out a sigh, resting his head in the crook of our neck. 

“And?”

“We shouldn’t do this while you're drunk– I refuse to do this while you're drunk,” Lando whispers, unsure if he's trying to convince you or himself, “I don’t want you to regret this when you're sober, and it's just wrong.”

You grab his face, pulling him away from his hiding spot in your neck. You stare at him for a while before bringing his face closer to your own, gently meeting your lips in a surprisingly fluid kiss. 

Lando quickly pulls away, standing from his spot on top of you, “No, not while you’re… like that,” he rubs a hand on his face, gesturing frustratedly at you. He grabs a pillow and a sheet from the bed, laying on the decently sized couch in the room deciding it would be better to sleep away from you– considering the state you were in. 

The blinding light coming from the window awoke you the following morning, your pulsating headache the only reminder of the night before. Lando was already awake, still laying on the couch typing away on his phone. He seemed to feel your gaze on him, “How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up to get a better look at you, his voice filled with slight concern.

“I’ve felt better, can’t remember shit,” you admit, placing a hand on your forehead as if it would do anything to calm the pulsing headache. 

“That's probably for the better,” he stares at you longingly, it's clear that he does remember whatever happened at the rehearsal dinner and your shared room, “we should begin getting ready, we can’t be late to Max and Kellys big day.” You wanted to press him for answers, force him to reveal the source of his distant attitude, but decided against it. Things couldn’t get more tense between you, especially not tonight.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful, Max had indeed cried almost as soon as Kelly began to make her way towards him. And even now as they sat together at the wedding reception you could catch the hint of a happy tear poke its way out of his eyes. 

You felt Landos hand slip around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. He had remained by your side since the wedding ceremony, refusing to leave you for even a second. His actions felt less forced than they had previously felt. And as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear bits and pieces of the day prior began to escape the floodgates of your mind. 

You let out a small giggle as Lando whispered into your ear, “stop it, you’re not acting like yourself. They’ll catch on,” his breath tickling you. 

“I just love you so much,” you whispered back, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, giggling to yourself like a child. You’d never been big on PDA but in your drunken state you couldn’t seem to keep your hands and lips off of Lando. 

“You too are adorable, as in love as when you first started dating– perhaps even more in love,” Alexandra said from beside Charles, smiling between you and Lando. 

“Our love has definitely grown. We’re going to get married and have kids,” you leaned into Landos touch, your smile widening at Alexandra's words. 

“Okay, you've had way too much to drink– I think it's time to go to bed. We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Lando announced to the table, shaking his head with a nervous laugh. 

“Oh we’re sure you're gonna go to bed,” Daniel teased, causing the table to erupt in laughter.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando asked, concern written all over his face, his eyes dancing across your face. 

“Yeah.”

“You spaced out, didn’t even react to what I said.”

“What did you say?” you asked, finally snapping out of the memory of the night prior. 

He stared at you, his face still overtaken with concern, “I said, we sold the lie pretty good…” he whispered. If you didn’t know better you'd think he was upset, upset that it was all a show. For a moment he frowned, quickly smiling again, “Lets go dance,” he grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor. 

Lando placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him, moving you both to the rhythm of the song. He smiled tenderly at you, and everything began to blur into a confusing mess. You weren’t sure what was real and what was a lie fabricated to convince everyone that you were still madly in love. He played the role of loving boyfriend so well that you were beginning to fall for the charade too, you were starting to believe that he still loved you and had never stopped. 

Your head found its way to his chest, resting there as if it were its official home. The both of you continued to silently sway to the music. The world around you seemed to disappear, almost as if you were the only ones that mattered at that moment. It was confusing how you felt so connected to him yet so far.

 Lando rested his shin atop your head for a moment. He straightened out his back, bringing your dancing to a halt, hand reaching to grasp your chin so that you were staring at him. “Please tell me you’re not faking it,” he whispered, his eyes desperately searching yours, “tell you still love me. That you’ve meant every fleeting touch, every stolen glance, every kiss you’ve given me this weekend… please.”

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or his words that made the room around you spin, forcing you to grasp onto the jacket of his suit to stabilize yourself. The music you were dancing to just a moment ago now a murmured buzz in your ear. You wanted to be truthful, to admit that you had never stopped loving him and possibly never would. The look of desperation on his face urging you to confess your soul to him. “Of course I love you” you finally said aloud for the first time in months, relief instantly flooding his face. 

Lando cupped your cheek, gently caressing it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Neither of you had been faking anything, that much was clear as his lips found their place on top of your own. It was gentle, not rushed but relaxed, as if you had until the end of times to relish in each other's presence. He pulled away after a while, letting your lips hover– barely touching, breathing in each other's shaky breaths. “Do you think they’d notice if we left?” he asked, looking around the reception.

“No, everyone is focused on Max and Kelly.”

“Good,” he said, slightly out of breath as he led you towards the exit. You silently thanked Max and Kelly for choosing to have their wedding close to where you were all staying. 

It didn't take you long to get back to your room, instantly finding each other in a heated kiss. Bodies pressing against one another as you desperately tried to get closer, almost as if you wanted to become one. 

“Take this off,” Lando mumbled against your neck as he pulled at the zipper of your dress in a pitiful attempt to help you get undressed. You let the fabric pool on the floor, kicking off your heels, leaving you exposed to his hunger filled eyes. 

“It's not fair that I’m completely naked you’re not,” you complained as he guided you towards the bed, gently pushing you onto it when the back of your knees hit the edge. 

He tossed his suit jacket aside, his fingers attempting to quickly and smoothly unbutton his shirt, “better?” he asked as he was left shirtless. 

You sat up for a moment, your hands working to rid him of his trousers, smiling and resting back on the bed when you finally succeeded, “Much better.”

Lando pressed himself against you, placing kisses down your neck, “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, your hands tangling themselves into his hair as you pulled him up for a kiss. It was much more rushed than the previous kisses had been, his teeth clashing against your own, your tongues pressing against one another. His hands ran up and down the expanse of your body before finding their new home atop your breasts, each one kneading at them. 

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand down towards your pussy, gasping at his thumb rubbed against your clit. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you out of breath, kissing down your body. "Please,” you whispered as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your thighs. Running his tongue up your slit, wrapping his lips on to your sensitive nub. Lando continued to switch between lapping at your cunt and sucking at your clit– teasing your entrance with his middle finger, slowly pushing it in. Encouraged by your moans and the wet squelching sound coming from between your thighs, he sped up his actions, swallowing at you like a starved man. You pushed against his head, back arching off the bed as your first orgasm of the night washed over you. 

Lando pulled away, smiling up at you, “still know how to get you off,” he said smugly, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you urged him, pulling him back up, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“But teasing you is so fun.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your legs around him, quickly switching your position so that you were on top of him. “Don’t make me regret this,” you spat on your hand, taking his hard cock in your hand giving it a teasing jerk. 

“Please don’t” he grunted, your finger running against his slit. Your brows drawn together in concentration as you lined him up to your entrance, letting out a shaky breath as sank down onto him. You took a moment to adjust to having him inside you, resting your hand against his chest to steady yourself as you lifted your hips and brought them back down. You let out a shaky breath as you began to ride him, guiding his hands up to your breasts and they bounced with your movement. You had forgotten how full it felt to have him within you– clenching around his cock as he sucked at one of your breasts, rolling the other nipple between his fingers. 

Your pace faltered as you lost yourself in the pleasure, letting out loud gasps as Lando began to thrust up to meet your movements. He wrapped his hand around your hips, bringing them down harder to meet his thrusts. Landos pace increased as your nails dug into his chest, rhythm becoming sloppy as he felt his orgasm approach. “I should probably pull out,” he rasped but made no attempt to do so. 

“It's okay, I'm on birth control,” you breathed out. 

“Shit,” he stilled your movements, spilling inside of you, his fingers finding their way back to your clit in an attempt to pull another orgasm from you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck as you came for a second time. The room around you spinning slightly as you attempted to catch your breath. 

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” he asked breathlessly, voice still shaky. 

“Definitely.”

“Should we go back?”

“No,” you respond, lifting yourself off of Lando to lay beside him. You had no desire to redress and mingle at the reception after what had happened. You couldn't trust your feet to carry you for the rest of the night, especially when you still felt the dizzying effects of sex.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

They had noticed your absence, and they teased you relentlessly about it the few days after the wedding. You had reconciled with Lando, your relationship going back to the way it was before the stupid argument. And with that reconciliation came the confession, in which you confessed to everyone that you had briefly broken up. Although the break up had been entirely your fault, upon hearing the confession Carlos glared at Lando– muttering not so empty threats to him about not hurting you. You were certain he would have strangled Lando if you hadn’t reconciled. 

You smiled up at Lando as you lounged in the living room, resting your head back onto his chest. He placed a lingering kiss on the stop of your head, wrapping his arms around you. This had been your reality since Max and Kellys wedding, pure bliss. You couldn’t experience and explore for one another every waking moment. 

“I could stay like this forever,” Lando whispered into your hair, his grip around you tightening as if he were scared to lose you again. Or as if he thought this were a dream and you'd vanish at any moment with the simple sound of an alarm. But you were real and you weren’t going to lose one another again, you wouldn't allow that. 

“Me too,” you whispered back, “I love you.”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: feel free to request something, Beware: I am slow at posting and have a lot of drafts that are yet to be posted. I'm like running on 4 hours of sleep and celsius, so I apologize for the grammar and spelling mistakes. I didn't do this request justice but I tried (I swear)

[chris-prank]

A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 1 : Something warm

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

CW: NSFW, pet play?, praise kink, masturbation, humping, porn with plot, yandere behavior, mention of stalking and use of y/n

Next chapter

Word count: Over 3K

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The winter cold had arrived in town, but you had underestimated it. You could clearly see the vapor escape your mouth as you breathed on your palms to warm them up. It was lunch break, so you had decided to treat yourself with a hot drink at the local coffee shop. They had a large variety of food and drinks, which was always nice when in a rush.  It was really close to the place you worked at, so the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air in your system. 

I wonder if Jacce is going to be there today, you ask yourself while rubbing your hands together and placing them in your pockets. He was one of the baristas. He always took the time to make little doodles on your cup to go or make foam art if you stayed for longer. You never really had a deep conversation, but you often thought it would be nice to get to know him. 

You arrived in front of the open sign and swiftly pushed the door to take shelter from the cold. Jacce seemed to cheer up as he noticed you. He made his way to the counter, a small smile gracing his lips while he adjusted his apron. Despite his tall figure, Jacce’s hunched over pose almost made him eye to eye with you. Emphasis on almost, he was still way taller.

“Welcome back! Wh-what can I get you today?” 

You told him you wanted a chicken soup with your hot drink, since you had the time to stay a bit longer today. While ordering, you noticed little button pins on his neck strap. One was definitely the pansexual flag and the other was the band Ghost’s logo. 

“I like your button pins!” You commented while handing him the right amount of money, your fingers brushing lightly against his palm. 

“O-oh! Thanks! you're the first client to notice them… well to say something about it at least.”

He started fidgeting with them and gave you a sheepish grin. You swore his face had gotten more flushed than before, but not thinking much of it you made your way to a nearby table. Soon, Jacce arrived with your food ready in hand. You took the tray and admired his work of art. It was a cute Shiba Inu made of foam milk coming out of the mug. He really made it impressively detailed. You took a glance at the soup and the croissant next to it… A croissant? Your neurons finally made the connections that you didn’t order this, after a good second of zoning out. You looked up at Jacce, but he simply glanced away. Oh, it was on purpose. 

“Aw! You didn’t have to!” 

“It’s nothing really…You are m— our favorite regular after all, I need to treat you from time to time.” He pouted, as if it was an insult not to give you special attention. His comment turned your cheeks slightly red. You didn’t know at all that the people working here liked you this much. 

Jacce stayed in place despite already giving you your order. It seemed like the barista wanted to chat longer, but another customer was waiting, so he left reluctantly. 

“The art is really cute by the way!” You shouted from your seat. You saw Jacce lit up with a giddy smile, but in a matter of seconds he returned to his neutral face when addressing the man at the counter. 

You took out your phone to take a picture of the little foam dog before it disappeared into the warm liquid. After that you decided to attack the croissant first, not wanting to give your tongue a second degree burn with the chicken soup or the drink. You took a huge bite, crumbs falling on your laps despite your best efforts. They really had amazing pastry here. The price reflected that, and your wallet definitely knew it well. You were so wrapped in your own little world that your brain blocked out everything going on around you, until an angry voice disturbed your peace. 

“DON’T try to give excuses!”

“S-sir, p-please…”

A man, probably in his fifties, was menacingly pointing his finger at Jacce. He anxiously ran a hand through his mud brown hair, looking everywhere except in the clients eyes. Your heartbeat picked up in pace as you watched the scene unfold, you didn’t want to imagine how the poor barista felt. 

“I don’t have any music playing, I swear! It’s just to take out surrendering noises when I’m —”

“Your generation are such snowflakes! I want to talk to your manager!” 

Jacce let out an anxious laugh before answering.

“I a-am actually the… manager, but I’m als–”

“FOR GOD SAKE! Proof that this place is run by idiots!”

Ok, this guy is seriously going overboard. You looked around to watch the reaction of the other customers. They were understandably all silent, almost frozen in their seats. Seeing no one ready to advocate for the poor guy caused your protective side to kick in. 

“How is it even a problem if he can hear you perfectly?”

The man turned to you with a surprise expression, not expecting anyone to intervene, but soon enough he gave you the same angry stare Jacce had received.  

“It’s a matter of respect.”

“Well you're not being really respectful right now.”

“Are you fricking— You know what? You just lost a valuable customer.” He spat out at the barista and stormed off, but not before knocking over a stand of straws. 

Jacce was visibly affected by this whole encounter. He almost looked like he was going to have an anxiety attack, because of the way he was gripping his shirt. You quickly went up to the counter and kneeled down to clean up the mess. 

“I am so sorry for you, people can be so rude! That’s why I prefer a job without any social interaction, a pure paradise I tell you!” you joked, trying to soothe him. “I hope it didn’t ruin your day…”

Your attention wandered away as you picked off the ground the reusable straws. You could hear Jacce say something, but only for it to be mixed with the background noises. 

“Mm what did you say?”

“Oh em— I just said that it won’t affect the rest of my day, don't worry.”

Jacce’s hand reached up and it looked like he was scratching his neck. He seemed to have calmed down which made you a bit relieved. After all that, you went back to your table and finished your food and drink. You told Jacce goodbye before going back to your own job. 

The rest of your day went normally, but it was still pretty intense. You were at least glad that you didn’t have to deal with angry clients unlike a certain someone. On that note your mind wandered back to Jacce. Next time you should try to get to know him better. He seemed to be eager for it as well. 

***

I hope they’ll come by today,  Jacce whined internally as he tried to search out the window for a glimpse of his beloved. It has been two days since the last time he officially saw them, two days too much in his opinion. He did follow them after work, but it wasn’t the same. The barista wanted to talk to them, even if it was just for a second. 

Jacce mindlessly twisted the sleeve of his forest green turtleneck between his fingers. He had a huge collection of thrifted knitted turtleneck sweater, but this one was definitely his favorite since it was the softest on his skin. 

After one more hour of torture, waiting for a certain someone, they finally pushed open the door of the coffee shop. It took merely a second for Jacce to notice them. He wanted to run to the counter to make sure his coworkers didn't steal this moment from him, but it would have looked suspicious. Luckily, everyone else was too busy to take care of it.

“Welcome back! Wh-what can I get for you today?” The question was more a force of habits than an honest one. Jacce knew perfectly their favorite drink and how they wanted it to be prepared. Just like he expected, y/n ordered the same thing as usual, but with chicken soup. That’s a good sign, he thought; they always order something to eat when they are planning on staying. 

Jacce told them the price and took the chance to admire their complexion while they were busy searching in their wallet. He really loved everything about his darling, from head to toe. As they paid, he felt the tip of y/n finger brush against his palm, shooting heat to his face and somewhere else. 

“I like your button pins!”

The sudden compliment caught him off guard. He was already overjoyed by the touch of his favorite client, but this was definitely making his face burn ten times more. He awkwardly thanked them, but thankfully they didn’t seem to notice his intense reaction, instead leaving to take a seat soon after their interaction. 

Jacce calmed himself down as he brainstormed what he could possibly make in milk foam this time. He ended up with the idea of a cute dog. Everyone likes dogs, right? He sure hoped they did. Furthermore, he took the opportunity to add a croissant next to the bowl of soup. It was a slow day anyway and it's not like it was making the business lose a lot of money. The barista carefully took the tray and brought it to their table. Normally they would just call people at the counter to get their order, but he seriously wasn’t going to bother y/n for such a silly thing. 

Jacce was so proud at the stunned look on his the customers face when they saw the little Shiba Inu made out of foam milk and the free croissant. He couldn’t help but sweat as they looked up at him. 

“Aw Jacce! You didn’t have to!” 

“It’s nothing really…You are m— our favorite regular after all, I need to treat you from time to time.” He pouted. 

He soon noticed that they were blushing. Fuck! I made them blush! That’s what he wanted more than anything, to make them love him just as much as he loved them. This definitely was a good sign.  If only he could stay longer to admire them from up close, but no. Another customer had to enter and ruin the only good moment of his day. 

“The art is really cute by the way!” He heard them shout from their table as he left. Jacce lit up with a giddy smile, but in a matter of seconds he returned to his neutral face when addressing the man at the counter. 

“What can I get you sir?” He asks with a monotone voice while gently tugging at his only dark strand of hair. 

“I’ll get a black cof– are you listening to music, young man?” 

Jacce looked up at the client that had noticed his earbuds.

“No sir, I can assure you I’m not.”

“DON’T lie to me!”

“S-sir, p-please…”

The man, probably in his fifties, menacingly pointed his finger at him. Jacce anxiously ran a hand through his mud brown hair, looking everywhere except in the clients eyes. This was going worse than he expected. He could feel himself sweating profusely. 

“I don’t have a-any music playing, I swear! It’s just to take out surrendering noises when I’m —”

“Your generation are such snowflakes! I want to talk to your manager!” 

Jacce let out an anxious laugh before answering.

“I a-am actually the… manager, but I’m als–”

“FOR GOD SAKE! Proof that this place is run by idiots!”

A worker named Pierre opened his mouth to intervene, but he was not quick enough it seemed.  

“How is it even a problem sir if he can hear you perfectly?”

Jacce had to hold himself back to not cry from happiness. There they were, his precious love standing up for him. 

The man turned to them with a surprise expression, not expecting anyone to speak up, but soon enough gave y/n an angry stare. Jacce couldn’t let that slide. This man was definitely banned from the shop.   

“It’s a matter of respect.”

“Well you're not being really respectful right now.”

“Are you fricking— You know what? You just lost a valuable customer.” He spat out in Jacce’s way and stormed off, but not before knocking over a stand of straws. 

Jacce could never get used to situations like this, it always affected him. Still, he tried his best to regulate his breathing as he gripped his shirt. Y/n quickly went up to the counter and kneeled down out of view. The barista leaned against the counter to look at what they were doing. His darling was cleaning up the mess the waste of air had just caused. 

“I am so sorry for you, people can be so rude! That’s why I prefer a job without any social interaction, a pure paradise I tell you!” They joked, “I hope it didn’t ruin your day…”

It was so sweet of them, not only did they advocate on his behalf but they were thoughtful enough to lift his spirit too. Jacce really couldn’t wait to be theirs and repay them for all their kindness. 

“No need to worry about that, you made it perfect already.”

“Mm what did you say?”

“Oh em— I just said that it won’t affect the rest of my day, don’t worry.”

The man could feel his erection pressing painfully against the restraint of his pants. Instinctively, he reached up to the collar hidden under his clothes to brush it with his fingers. It had a tag with Jacce engraved on the front. On the backside it said “property of” followed by y/n and their phone number. He clenched his fist, he really couldn’t wait to get home.

When they left, the rest of Jacce’s day consisted of him daydreaming about the chivalry of his sweetheart. Once he arrived at his house, it was a matter of seconds before his pants were taken off. He didn’t even wait to be in his room, instead opting for the cold tile floor of his bathroom. He took out of one of the cabinets a small bottle of lotion, opened it with his left hand and generously poured the content on the other. He had these bottles scattered all around his home, including the bag that he brought with him everywhere he went. Biting his bottom lips, he ran his hand down his happy trail, where it connected to the base of his shaft. A doggy-like whine escaped his lips as he began to wrap his finger around it and slowly moved up.

“S-shit Mmfff! Please…A-aahh use me master.”

Wet noises soon started echoing around the room and the hallway, accompanying the incessant buzzing of electricity. It was a true miracle that Jacce never got a noise complaint since he moved into this house. His neighbor could definitely hear his nightly worshiping session if they went out into their backyard. It's not like he was loud on purpose, but when it came to the object of his affection he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It made him wonder on some occasions if he didn’t end up in a neighborhood full of perverts that loved listening to his lewd activities. At this point, his legs had started shaking violently from how sensitive he was, making him lean more against the wall for support.

“I’m just a dumb little puppy for y-you, t-touching my-myself everyday …Nnhg.”

He arched his back as his hand stroked his cock at a higher speed, crying out for them desperately. His imagination couldn’t settle on one vision. He kept switching from images of them bouncing on his cock to them bobbing their head up and down on it and even having them fuck his little ass raw. He only slowed down his movements to run his thumb under the foreskin of its head, filling his brain with an other wave of pleasure. 

“I’m a… greedy little mutt, so Uugh so greedy.” 

He cursed at himself under his breath for having such lewd fantasies about the person he loved, which turned him on even more. Precum was abundantly leaking out of the tip of his dick now, resembling pearly water drops. Wanting more, he used his free hand to reach under his turtleneck and pinched at his nipples. Jacce bullied the poor thing by twisting it between is fingers. He couldn’t help but shiver from the stimulation he was giving himself. 

“I j-just Unnf want to b-be yours.”

He sincerely wanted them to use him, ravage him even, but he also yearned for the sensations his darling would give his body. They would be so good for him just like he would be for them. 

Despite the fact that he wanted to continue more than anything, it had to last longer. As he felt his climax approaching, Jacce loosened his grip on his shaft. A pathetic whine escaped his lips while he tried to keep himself from cumming. He staggered to his feet, gripping the sink for support. He felt so weak, his legs hardly supporting his weight anymore. Every friction his dick received made him fold in half, prolonging even more his travel to his room. As he continued his journey, a long string of precum was left behind him. He will have clean it later, but for now he didn’t care if he made a mess. In a way, it was part of the fun.

He finally crawled onto the bed, lazily placing a pillow between his legs. It was wrapped with one of y/n stolen hoodies, in other words, his most prized possessions. Jacce winced when the fabric made direct contact with his glistening cock. He closed his eyes, trying to picture them under him, praising him for being able to hold his orgasm. He was being such a good boy for y/n, why couldn’t they see? 

He started humping that thing like the horny mutt he was. His ass wiggling cutely from the incessant movement. Jacce wanted them to see him like this so badly. A pure mess that couldn’t help but make high pitched whines at every trust. 

“I j–just want to cum for you, all f–for you.” He mumbled, while tears rolled down his face, cheek flushed. 

His cock was so sensitive, giving him the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. He wasn’t capable of closing his mouth anymore, drool leaking out of it like a waterfall. Jacce tried to keep up the speed as he chased his inevitable climax.

“Master, I'm c-cumming, A-ah… I'm cumming! I… l-love you!” He cried out while thrusting his hips forward uncontrollably, shooting hot ropes of cum all over the pillow. 

After falling face first onto the bed, he pulled it up to his chest, cradling the dirty hoodie as if it was really them, but ultimately it wasn’t enough. He was just too impatient to tease himself for an extended period of time. In addition, the desire to cum and becoming dumb for a few seconds was way too alluring. Jacce was sure that if he was with y/n, they would edge him way longer than what he could ever do. 

He knew for a fact that's what they would do, since, one time at the cafe, he had the chance to watch them enter the code on their computer. With that crucial information he was able to open it when he broke into their house came unannounced. He was stunned when he saw the tags of the spicy fanfiction his precious darling reads. They both had the same taste in terms of kinky sex. Another proof to fill his delusion that he was destined to be theirs. 

As he laid there, tired and dazed, he thought about how nice it would be to be enveloped by their smell. He took a big breath into the hoodie. Yay it lost the particular scent he was looking for. He knew it was wrong, but maybe he could pay them a “visit”…just to feel a bit closer. Jacce looked at the clock. He still had time to do it before they arrived at their apartment. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Even if I only post it now, this was actually the first yandere story I ever wrote, back in september of 2023, so the writing maybe be less good than my other stuff!

This story will also be posted on my ao3 account

Plus an old drawing I made back then for this chapter

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ Make U Love Me

logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x mutantfem!reader

♪ you’re tired of going places where you can’t scream and shout ♪

tags: featuring the biggest asshole, scott! cheating, a little angst, violence, mentions of blood and death, slight exhibitionism, kissing, edging, dom logan, sub reader, creampie, pregnancy, oral, multiple orgasms, falling in love, etc…

note: heavily inspired by robin thicke’s song with the same title. wc: 4.7k — put my heart into this.

you were scott’s girl. nothing more, nothing less.

it wasn’t what you thought it would be, well back then at least.

scott was loving when you two first started dating. he would take you out, treat you like a queen, and was very attentive. but, that all started to change when his first love died in the midst of battle. jean grey.

the day she died, is the day your relationship did too. that same guy you fell in love with, turned into the guy you hated. everything stopped. he was no longer the perfect boyfriend, he was more of a royal asshole.

he wouldn’t make love to you, he wouldn’t put you on missions with him and when you confronted him about the change—it would always end in a fight. you didn’t deserve this, you knew you didn’t. but, you couldn’t break up with him. that small piece of your heart wouldn’t allow you.

you knew there was a part of him that still loved you. well, you thought he did. that all changed when you and the crew got the news. jean was alive.

“i don’t want you going after her, scott! what’s so hard to understand about that?” you raised your voice, brushing past your boyfriend and putting the onions you just chopped into the hot skillet—continuing your recipe for tonight’s dinner.

when the professor told everyone that she was alive, scott’s ears perked up and practically begged the professor to let him be the one to go and find her. charles urged scott that it wasn’t a good idea. something could go wrong and she might no longer be the jean we all knew….she could be possessed by an evil force. the dark phoenix.

but, of course scott wasn’t trying to hear that. his mind was clouded with thoughts of the red head. he was still deeply in love with jean. just the thought of her had him going crazy. you knew it and it pissed you off, which brought upon the current argument you two were having now.

“what i don’t understand is why not? she’s one of us! i have to bring her back, with or without your permission!” you turned to him, eyes slowly turning into a deep red; the flames from the stove started to rise—searing the vegetables that sat in the iron pan.

scott started to slowly back up, swallowing thickly as you inched closer to him; afraid of what you might do next. he locked his visor onto the burning food, which he tried to pull your attention on to, but you didn’t budge. that is until you heard someone clearing their throat.

your eyes went back to its normal state and you calmed down once you took a look at logan, who stood there watching the whole ordeal. you looked back at the food and turned the stove off before looking back your boyfriend, “come back with her and see what happens, scott.”

———

you didn’t come out of your bedroom for dinner that night and neither did he. hell, you barely got any sleep last night—too busy tossing and turning in your bed, thinking about scott and jean together. and when you finally did get some sleep, the sun started to peak over the horizon—a beautiful hue of orange painting the sky.

when you finally woke up, you pulled yourself into a much needed hot shower, before putting on your favorite pair of flare jeans and a cute top paired with some leather boots—heading downstairs to see what was happening for today. the children passed by, running and walking to hangout after class, while you made your way down the wooden stairs—looking for your boyfriend.

you wanted to talk to him about yesterday, hopefully to make peace with what transpired—but it seems like he had other plans when you spotted him holding hands & walking with the newly resurrected jean. and to top it all off, he was wearing a big toothy smile like he was kid in a candy store. oh you were pissed.

they disappeared further into the mansion as you stormed downstairs—eyes darkening while you were hot on their tails, ready to confront them; that is until you were trapped between two big muscle bound arms. “let me go logan!” you tried to free yourself from his grasp, but there was no use. he wasn’t letting you go.

“need you to cool off. don’t need you to go all ‘flame on!’ on them today.” he chuckled and ushered you towards the front door, both of you going towards the academy’s garage and pulling off in his car.

you tossed back your shot of vodka, grimacing at the strong burning sensation, before tapping your glass for more. logan had took you to a bar, so you could drink to your hearts content and stop that flame from igniting within you.

“he’s a fucking asshole.” you spoke, downing your drink again then turning to look at the male sitting right next to you. he nodded in agreement and sipped on his whiskey, letting you vent to him.

“I feel like such an idiot, falling in love with someone who doesn’t love me.”

“his fault he couldn’t see what right in front of him.” you passed, wide eyed, looking at the side of his rugged face while he finished off his drink. what did he mean by that?

“pretty lil thing like you deserves to be treated like a princess, not by someone like him.” his compliment made you press your thighs together and shift in your seat.

“and who’s gonna treat me like one?” you hummed, placing your hand on his arm, pressing against him. it might been the liquid courage that had you feeling so bold, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

logan grunted and smirked, shaking his head before his pretty hazel eyes locked on yours, “careful, doll. don’t know what you might be getting yourself into.”

“maybe i do~” you flirted back, lips ghosting his ears, making goosebumps rise on his skin. you wanted him badly right now. you didn’t care that the two of you were out in a bar, it made no difference. you wanted to take him right here and now.

“let’s play some pool.” he got up from his seat and grabbed your hand, making you sigh in response. maybe you were getting ahead of yourself?

———

the two of you played pool for the next couple of hours. logan was surprised to see that you were really good at the game, even more shocked that you had him on a losing streak. “good thing you didn’t put money on it.” you teased, striking the 8ball into one of the holes, winning your fifth game for the night.

“would ask you to play another game, but it’s time we get back to the mansion. bar’s bout to close.” he pointed out and you took a look around, seeing only four patrons left and the bartenders cleaning their glasses. you pouted and racked the balls back into the middle of the table, before grabbing logan’s hands and leaving the bar.

the two of you stood outside of the car for a bit, logan puffing on his cigar while you enjoyed the night’s cool breeze—mind running rampant with what happened in the bar between you and him.

“lo—“ you began, making him turn his attention towards you—the sight of him blowing out smoke did something to you; everything about the male aroused you. why didn’t you see him like this before? maybe you would’ve been happier with him.

“can i kiss you?” you breathed out, stepping closer to him; body heat overpowering the crisp air outside. “doll….” he began, but you stopped him—not ready for him to reject your feelings just yet.

“I know you felt something in there with me. if i felt it, i know you did. so, kiss me. prove me wrong….” you pulled him by his flannel, eyes sparkling with hope and desire; as they flickered to his lips. he searched your face, before he flicked his cigar on the ground and pulled you in close—his lips melting on yours.

you wrapped your arms around his neck while his hands moved to the middle of your back, before falling to your ass—squeezing the plump flesh through your jeans. as much as he wanted to pull back, he didn’t—you were so addictive, he just had have all of you.

his tongue slipped into your mouth and he picked you up and placed you on the hood of the car—kiss becoming passionate by the moment. the taste of the cigar he just smoked and traces of his whiskey had your mind spinning, and your cunt throbbing. “logannn~”

“i know, princess. smelled how bad you wanted it inside of the bar.” he grunted and his thick fingers quickly unfastened your jean’s button, tugging them down slightly—before he slipped his hand into your pants, rubbing your throbbing clit through your yellow panties.

“shit you’re soaked. he’s never made you feel like this, right?” he grunted in your ear, pulling your panties to the side and finally connecting the tips of his fingers to your aching clit, rubbing it slowly.

“no never, he never made me wet like this—fuck—only you lo~” the sweet moan you let out drove him insane, it fueled him and he couldn’t help but to quicken his pace; making your back arch off the hood of the car. gasping, you reached down to hold onto his wrist, trying to stop his pleasurable torment—but it did nothing. he kept going, making you buck your hips up into his palm.

“so needy. summers is such an idiot for letting this go.” logan moves his fingers down to your sodden hole, palm pressing right down onto your clit, making your body jolt in response. despite the tight confinement of your pants, his hand was able to work wonders on your lower half—pumping in and out of your cunt.

you gushed over his fingers each time it hit your spot. the pressure that was building up in the pit of your tummy was becoming unbearable. you desperately needed to let go, show him how good he made you feel.

“gonna cum—all over your fingers!” you warned, eyes starting to roll back into your head as you felt that feeling you loved so much start to burst. that is, until he pulled his fingers away. your eyes shot opened and you watched him suck your juices off of his digits.

“gotta get you home, doll” he fastened your pants and helped you off the hood of the car; before going to the passenger side, opening the door for you. shooting daggers at him as you stomped your way to the car, you watched as he hopped in the driver seat—ignoring your stares.

you didn’t bother opening your mouth to speak either. too frustrated, tired and horny to talk. so, you opted to lay your head against the window and watched as the trees became blurred on the way back to the mansion.

as logan pulled the car up the school’s drive, you could see the resurrected red head and scott standing outside—their lips glued on one another. you shared a look with logan and shook your head. you didn’t have the energy anymore, it was obvious where his heart lied.

getting out of the car, the two pulled back once they noticed the both of you approaching—scott looking like he had seen a ghost. “baby! i-i—“

“go to hell scott” brushing past them, you slowly made your way to your room—logan a few feet behind. logan looked at scott and just shook his head. idiot.

he just planted you right into his hands, and boy was he going to keep you there.

———

the following weeks started to get better and better for you. getting closer to logan was the best thing to ever happen to you. the two of you would spend almost everyday together, most of the days ended with you finally getting to cum around his fingers and all over his face. you were happier, almost like you were in the beginning before scott ruined it. and he noticed it to.

but, you didn’t care what he thought about what you were doing. he ruined his chances of being happy with you ever again and he knew it.

currently you and logan were in an empty class room, with him between your plush thighs; working a third orgasm out of you for today. small hands were tangled in his soft brown locs—tugging them as you grinded your orgasm out on his face. logan pulled away once you calmed down, his beard and half of his face being covered in your slick—which he happily licked up; well what he could.

he helped you off the table and pulled your skirt up while peeling your cold wet panties off. “these? are for me,” you blushed, watching him put them in his pocket before pulling you close. his hands fell to your rear and those eyes that you loved to get lost in, stared right at you; before he pressed his lips against yours.

you melted in the kiss. your body relaxing as the two of you moved in sync, hands moving across each other’s bodies. ever since that day at the bar, you noticed a change in yourself. a change you slowly welcomed. love. you were falling deeply in love with the wolverine. it was different type of love you and scott had. this one felt like one of those love’s where you could see the two of you grow old and have a bunch of mutant babies.

you wanted to tell him how you felt, how he made you feel, but you were scared. scared that he might reject you. so, you opted for the latter. being his friend with benefits.

“logan, I wanna suck your dick~” you pulled back, eyes traveling down to his noticeable bulge, then back up at him.

“don’t wanna hurt you princess. plus ive got a class in fifteen minutes,” he warned and you smirked, slowly sinking down to your knees. “so? ill make you cum in ten~”.

the clinking sound of his belt being dropped to floor, along with his pants, filled the room. he watched with low eyes as you pulled his fully erect length out—cock twitching when he heard you gasp. you now understood why he never fucked you, he was way too big. there was no way your walls would survive that, right?

your mouth salivated at the sight and you could slowly feel yourself becoming even more aroused. gripping his cock and swiping your tongue over the tip, you moaned at the taste of his sweet precum, before you took him into your mouth. he tossed his head back, loving the feeling of your warm wet mouth around him, while you slowly started to take him even deeper.

his big hands practically flew to the back of your head when he felt you gag around him, once he hit the back of your mouth, slowly creeping into your throat.

“did you just cum? hm, princess?” he locked eyes with you, smelling the familiar scent of your arousal—knowing exactly how you smelled when you came.

you whimpered, still slobbering all over his cock before the grip on your head got tighter and he pressed your pretty little head down harder; nose nuzzled in his bush of brown hairs.

you gagged, but he didn’t give you time to adjust as he continued to repeat his actions—pulling you off of his cock by your hair before forcing you right back on; fucking your mouth to his liking. the more he moved the more arousing it became for the both of you, causing you to relax your throat, letting him fill it with his thick cock.

the sound of you gagging and sucking on his cock along with the smell of your cunt dripping with excitement, had the six foot two man going feral. his pretty eyes fluttered in the back of his head and he forcefully pushed your head deep in his bush— letting out one of the sexiest growls you ever heard as he poured thick ropes of cum down your throat.

the warm sensation had you dripping right onto the classroom’s wooden floors, moaning at his taste before you swallowed. his grip loosened and you pulled back, gasping for air.

“told ya i could make you cum~”

———

finding yourself back into your room, you were scared by the dark figure sitting on your bed; making you jump out of your clothes like a cartoon character. flickering on the light, scott sat on your bed wearing a plain look on his face.

“the hell you doing in my room, scott?” you kicked off your shoes, glaring at the brunette. he adjusted his visor before getting up, towering over you a bit.

“you and logan been really close lately. what’s up with that?” you stared at him before giggling. he wasn’t possibly serious? you ignored him and tried to move around him, only for him to grab you and pull you back.

“grab me again and that’ll be the last thing you’ll ever do. get out of my room and go be with jean. me and you are finished.” you stared into his ruby red colored visor, making sure he got the point. the mutant scoffed and shook his head, “fine. go be a whore for logan, sure he’d love that.”

you didn’t even give him time to react before sending a fire induced smack to his face, causing him to yell out from the painful sensation. he was quick to recover, ready to aim his optic lasers at you; until a fist came flying at him—knocking him to the ground. logan stood there for a minute, taking a look at you to make sure you were alright, before pouncing on scott.

you watched as logan nearly beat him bloody before stepping in, tugging on his black button up—begging him to stop. however, the raspy voice of the professor entered all of your minds, stopping everyone’s movements.

‘the dark phoenix has risen and attacked me. jean grey is no longer with us. teachers, meet me in the infirmary’

logan looked at you and grabbed scott, slinking him around his shoulders, “go meet me in the infirmary. im gonna take him to his room and have hank look after him.” you nodded and practically raced to the infirmary, meeting the rest of the x-men. they surround xavier’s comatose body, talking amongst each other about what was going on, until ororo started speaking.

“the professor was attacked a few minutes ago by the x-men we once knew as jean grey. however, the friend we knew and once loved is now gone and is being possessed by a dark entity. this being is catastrophic and we must stop it before it’s too late—” she paused and took a look at her fellow mutants, before raising an eyebrow.

“where’s scott?”

“he’s out of commission for a while. ill catch him up later.” logan’s arm snaked around you waist, appearing behind you and answering her question. she nodded and continued with the details of the mission, before listing out names of those who would be on it.

you and logan were the main frontmen for this mission. storm had converged a plan on how it should go down, along with a plan b; warning you guys that there’s a slight chance it might end bad. she put her faith in you and the team, before dismissing everyone. the mission would take place tomorrow.

———

sitting on logan’s surprisingly soft bed, you relaxed while he was in the shower. your mind was running rampant about what could possibly happen tomorrow. being that this could possibly be the end, frightened you, especially since you haven’t told him how you felt.

“logan?” you called out, listening to the calming sound of the shower running.

“yeah?” he responded and you got up from his bed and stripped out of your clothes, joining him in the shower. the sight of his nude, wet body was breathtaking. so very breathtaking, that you couldn’t help but break down and cry—sobbing as the warm water painted your face.

those thick eyebrows raised and he immediately pulled you close, rubbing circled on your back; along with rubbing your head. “hey, talk to me. won’t be able to understand you when you’re crying like this, princess.”

you nodded in his hairy chest before pulling back, sniffling. this was the time to let it all out, let him know how you feel.

“i love you. i love you so fucking bad, logan. you’re all i think about. i think about us getting married and having a litter or two of kids…” he laughed at and kissed your temple, before urging you to continue.

“you’ve been there for me for a while now. you uplifted me and showed me what true love is. and it pains me to know that there’s a possibility that tomorrow could take this away from me.” more tears poured out of your eyes and he cupped your face, kissing away your tears.

logan honestly felt the same. he fell in love with you the moment you joined the x-men. even when you got with scott, he still loved you. he just knew it was fate that the two of you were meant to be. he moved his lips down to your soft plump ones, making you melt on the spot.

the kiss the two of you shared held such passion, that you wished you could stay like this forever.

“i love you too, princess. but, you will tell me this tomorrow; when we win.” he kissed from your lips down to your neck before stopping at the middle of your chest—kissing one of your mounds and holding the other; earning a moan from you.

“in the meantime, how about we get started on that litter?” you giggled and nodded your head, before your back was against the wall with his cock in between your legs—warming up from your heat, while he pinched one of your perky nipples and sucked on the other.

slick started to pool and drip onto his cock as he continued to tease your sensitive breasts, fueling your arousal. “please, baby….don’t tease me—wan’ you inside of me~”

he pulled away from your nipple with a ‘pop’ echoing after, still teasing the other one with his rough hands, a smirk painted on his rugged face. “you sure you’re ready for that, doll?” he asked and you nodded profusely. lifting up your leg, he rubbed himself on your slick coated slit, using your essence as lubricant and then pushed himself into your tightness.

he threw his head back from how you felt, and your walls clung to him; clenching and unclenching around him. the pressure he was putting on your clit, had you cumming prematurely. he smirked and pulled himself out, making you whimper; already missing how he filled you up—even though it was just the tip.

he repeated that process, pushing his cock in and pulling you out, earning more lewd noises from you and your pretty pussy. “logannn, please fuck me already!” he grunted in response and slammed himself inside—filling you to the brim with his cock. you squealed from the pleasurably painful sensation that coursed through you, kissing him to distract you from the pain.

the grip on your leg tightened as he started to pound your sweet little pussy, walls stretching past its normals limits. the more he fucked you, the more your cunt became molded to the shape of his cock. it was evident that you were made for him.

by now, the water had gotten cold and he continued to rut inside of you—cunt coating his cock with your creamy white fluids. he was drowning in your sweet fluids and he didn't need a floatie—he had reached nirvana.

in one swift motion, the shower was off and you were in his arms—legs wrapped around his waist while he was still inside; carrying you out of the shower & over to the bathroom sink. he pulled out momentarily as he placed you on your feet and turned you around, your fat ass facing him; while he plunged right back inside of your middle.

pushing your arch down, placing his hands on your hips—he reached deeper than before, causing you to scream. “dick too big for you baby?” you nodded and he chuckled, grinding himself against you until he started to pound you silly.

you tried to open your mouth to speak, to warn him that you were going to cum, but your mind was too fucked out to process anything; so you let out a sweet moan. “go ahead and cum for me princess. could feel her twitching around me.”

it was amazing how he knew your body so well already and it didn’t take long for you to heed his words, cumming hard on his dick while he continued to make your cunt his. the tightness of your walls squeezing him, broke him and he couldn’t help but to cum buckets inside of you—filling your tummy up with his kids.

the two of you panted, bodies shaking as your orgasms came over you—your head being pulled back so he could press a kiss to your lips.

“i love you, princess.”

———

blood covered the blue and yellow suits the team wore as the dark phoenix made paint out of their blood. the fight wasn’t going so good. some of you were gravely injured, possibly on the brink of death, while some of you tried to catch your breaths; still able to fight.

you looked over at a bleeding logan, worried about the wounds he had received, catching his eyes. “don’t worry, it’ll heal.”

he charged towards the being, claws fully unsheathed, with you and few others following suit; only to be tossed away like peons. you laid there in pain, ready to accept defeat, until you heard the crunching of the dirt nearby. turning your head you were shocked to see scott, staring down the possessed body of his old lover.

scott turned to look at you and logan, and smiled before inching closer toward them. your eyes shot open, you knew exactly what he was going to do. “scott! wait,—“ but it was already too late.

with the help of colossus, the leader of the x-men was tossed over to jean—grabbing onto her before a red flash of light blinded you all. once it cleared, the two were gone. the only thing that stood where they once were, was scott’s yellow & red custom visor.

you sat there in disbelief. you never expected this to happen. yeah, you his guts, but you never expected him to sacrifice himself. better yet, die.

“c’mon doll, let’s go home~” logan’s raspy voice pulled you out of your thoughts, holding out his hand which you gladly accepted. you turned around, looking at where he was one last time, before turning around heading back to the jet.

——

5 months later.

“and here lies the visor that was once used by our leader and hero of the x-men, cyclops. he will be missed.” logan spoke to the new students joining the academy—giving them a tour, stopping at scott’s memorial.

“logan~” your voice called out to him, making him turn his attention over to you—his beautiful pregnant wife. “alright kids, gonna turn this over to our new teacher; ms. frost,” the blonde stepped up with a smile and took over while your husband jogged over to you—kissing your growing belly before moving up to your lips.

“we’re gonna be late! this is the appointment where we get to see the baby’s gender!”

it might’ve started off rough, but you were finally happy and in love.

[gutsby]

Benign

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.

Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.

You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.

Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.

The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.

But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.

After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.

You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.

Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.

But Steve would.

Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.

You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.

He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”

You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.

Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.

He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.

“Gentle?” he mumbled.

“Rough,” you countered.

“Baby—”

“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”

Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.

“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”

You turned onto your side.

“You still don’t remember what happened?”

The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.

“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.

“This Winter Soldier—”

“He isn’t me.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”

Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.

“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.

Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.

At last, you made up your mind.

You would try something new—and really, really stupid:

“Zhelaniye.”

“What?”

Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.

“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”

He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.

“Baby, baby, stop—”

“—pech, devyat—”

You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.

“Don’t—”

“—adin—”

No time at all.

“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”

Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.

“—dobroserdechniy—”

‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.

Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.

It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.

Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.

Faintly, you said:

“Soldat.”

The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.

“...Bucky?”

The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.

“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.

The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.

“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.

Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.

The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.

Or try to, anyway.

Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.

You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.

“James—”

“Zhena.”

The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.

To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.

Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.

“Zhena,” he repeated.

You blinked.

“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.

Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.

“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.

Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.

You whimpered. Bucky groaned.

Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.

You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.

Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—

“Stop!” you cried.

A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.

Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.

“Honey?”

You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.

Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.

The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.

Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.

But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.

Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?

“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.

You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.

Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.

And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.

“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.

You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.

When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.

You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.

Again, he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.

He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.

“Bucky?”

The man looked up at you and blinked.

“Yeah, honey?”

One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.

The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.

It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.

Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.

“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.

But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.

All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.

Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.

You wanted that part to change.

With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.

Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.

Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.

Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.

His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing—”

“My baby okay?”

He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.

You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.

Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.

“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.

You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.

You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.

Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.

When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.

His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.

“No, let me—”

“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.

Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.

His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.

“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”

He sounded irritated again.

Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.

It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.

“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.

The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.

Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.

You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.

This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.

The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.

But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.

Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:

“Bucky.”

The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

And slowed.

“Bucky,” he mumbled back.

Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.

“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.

The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.

“Years,” he answered.

“Years?”

Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?

No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.

You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.

Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.

You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.

It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.

For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”

“Since what?”

The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.

“Close now?” he muttered.

Ignoring the question you’d asked.

“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.

Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.

Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.

He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.

“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.

The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.

“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.

The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.

Pleading.

“I can’t lose you again.”

The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’

You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.

You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.

Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.

You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.

You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.

Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.

You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.

“James?” you mumbled into his hair.

Bucky didn’t respond.

You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.

Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.

He didn’t.

It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.

At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.

Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.

“Baby, it’s just—”

Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.

The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—

You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:

“Stay.”

Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.

But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.

And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.

Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.

You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.

“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.

If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.

But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.

If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.

Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.

You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.

SOS

Need help

Pick up please

Bucky’s stuck and he’s

About to hurt people here

A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.

“Bucky!”

Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.

You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.

The line went dead. You tried again.

Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.

The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:

“STEVE!”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.

You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:

“This is Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes,” you answered woodenly.

You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.

“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”

The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.

“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”

No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.

You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.

“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”

“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.

The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.

“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”

“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”

Another pause.

“Prenatals.”

You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”

Three weeks along.

Advised prenatal vitamins.

For the child growing inside of you.

A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.

Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.

You hung up.

—

Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

[sugugasm]

BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3